#this quote has been seared into my head for weeks

[evenlyevi]

Home is in the ribcage.

[curator-on-ao3]

Ten Random Lines

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I was tagged by @starrybouquet. 💕 Thank you so, so much for tagging me in this super-fun game!

1. Boots That Touch at the Toes (Una Chin-Riley/Christopher Pike, T)

Heat cracks like fire across her hand, sharp and searing as numbness gives way to life, Chris’ breath hot on her skin, his exhalations steady, even as she shudders.

His lips brush her palm, pain fading as quickly as it started. 

And her throat sticks with thank you and oh my God and don’t go.

2. Hello, Again (Una Chin-Riley/Jack Ransom, T)

“Captain,” Una turns toward Chris, all business, “I can recreate the solution Starfleet Academy devised to correct for the temporal imbalance in the planet’s atmosphere, which also explains the trouble we had with transport. It should take about a week to refit the transport ionizers, plus run a few tests.”

“I can help.” Jack flexes a bicep that didn’t need flexing. “Double Number One fist-punch to the problem.”

Is Una chuckling? Jack’s joke wasn’t that funny. Not compared to some of the really funny stuff Chris says. 

3. The One That Is You (Una Chin-Riley/Christopher Pike, M)

“Yeah, I’m going to go back in time.” My toes nudge her ankle monitor. Not enough for the metal to dig into her skin, but enough to remind us both of the present. “Someone once told me that she refused to believe there isn't another way. I listened. Now she’s in prison and I’m trapped in a war that the Klingons say could have been avoided if I’d met my fate. So, yes, I’m going to go back in time and convince my younger self to do what’s right, not what’s convenient.”

4. Hold My Hand and We’re Halfway There (Kelly Grayson/Ed Mercer, G)

“Hey there,” Kelly holds up a bottle of wine, “I wasn’t sure if this was business or pleasure, so I brought a red blend.”

“Because, ‘Sometimes being a little blended is the best way to enjoy all the cultures that blend to form the Union,’ right?” 

He expects her to chuckle. 

But her head tilts, light catching her hair and playing across her cheekbones. “Did you just quote my father?”

5. Chrysalis (Una Chin-Riley/Christopher Pike, E)

“What?” Chris pulls away just enough to look at her, confusion and pride chasing each other across his face. “One of the Talosians said that you … you fantasize about me?”

How is it possible to be more embarrassed the second time? Her cheeks warm, not even the distraction of irritation at an alien probing her mind available to save her.

6. Synchronous Orbit (Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris, G)

“I remember what you said about wanting my help to find the Maquis.” He forces his hands to rest on his lap, fingers splayed, useless. “But we both know you could have gotten that information and not taken me along for the ride. This has been the best seven years of my life and … before I go … I want to know why.”

Her chair, always so quiet when the ship pulsed with activity, creaks again. He swivels and the captain is the same size she’s always been, yet also somehow smaller.

“Looking back can be dangerous, Mr. Paris.” She glances toward the viewscreen, then at him. “Sometimes the best course is forward.”

7. The Haze (Una Chin-Riley/Christopher Pike, T)

There’s a rustling from his darkened alcove, then quiet again. “I’m glad not knowing your past is pleasant for you, Una.”

Maybe he’s not listening well because he’s very tired and having trouble falling asleep. 

“The haze is pleasant. Not knowing my past can be confusing. I like when you explain things so I can understand.”

There’s more rustling. “Is that why you didn’t want to go into your quarters? You didn’t want to be by yourself without someone there to explain things to you?”

8. Gotta Admit, It’s Pretty Sweet (Churrolivia/Jack Ransom, T)

Jack is about to ensure his irritation is clear in his voice, but he remembers just in time — he promised Olivia he would try to be more patient with the ensigns. So Jack’s pecs rise with a deep, calming breath and he calls out as cheerfully as he can, “Come on in, Ensign Mariner.” 

She waltzes in like she owns the place, sits crooked in a chair as if she’s Captain Riker or something. “Hey, do I smell cinnamon?”

9. The Melody of You (and Me) (Una Chin-Riley/Seven of Nine, T)

There’s a chuckle from Seven.

“This,” Seven squeezes Una’s hand, “isn’t solely your affections. You’re worried about me tripping and falling with my ocular implant low on power. I’m all right.”

10. City Lights (Seven of Nine/Liam Shaw, T)

He sits heavily in the chair across from her, all clean scents of soap and shampoo. “Look, Hansen, my buzz is nearly gone and I’m not exactly in the habit of entertaining mesmerizing company as yourself, so —” 

Mesmerizing? The captain is a lot of things, but he’s not a liar or a flatterer.

Her cheeks go warm, both from the unexpected compliment and from the frustration that balls her fists and hardens her voice. 

“So why don’t you call me by my damn name?”

As always, I love being tagged but my tag anxiety keeps me from tagging others. If you’re reading this and want to play, please consider yourself tagged! 💕

[wild-karrde]

first, I hope you feel better soon and congrats on 400!

for the ficlet, may I request a follow up to the Imperial Tech you did? any style you go with, maybe him having his chip removed and his family all escaping with him? or some introspective of him being without his family?

i am always in the mood for chip controlled clones and what they go through, especially with Crosshair or Tech.

thank you !

Alright alright I liked revisiting Imperial Tech and I hope you dig this too! For those new around here, this wound up being kind of a sequel to this Imperial Tech AU ficlet. I went with the classic quote: "Good soldiers follow orders."

Rating: G

He’d noted it a few weeks ago. He’d struggled to describe it. Not quite a gnawing, that felt too visceral to be an accurate description. Perhaps like the ringing in one’s ears after an explosion, but more of a steady hum that eventually started to crescendo, especially during certain interactions. Interactions that made him question what he was doing. 

It had been loud when he’d captured them, only to be drowned out by the same mantra that had nestled into his brain since the end of the war. 

Good soldiers follow orders. 

When Omega had looked at him mournfully, her small wrists in binders, following behind his former squad, it had nagged at him again. 

Good soldiers follow orders. 

He’d heard how startled Nala Se’s voice had seemed as each of his former squadmates was scanned. Her eyes widened, her voice rising slightly in pitch from her usual monotone delivery. 

“They’ve removed their inhibitor chips.” 

The hum had grown louder, like an itch at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite scratch. He didn’t hear the rest of the conversations around him, chewing at the inside of his cheek to try and ground himself.

Several of them had their heads bent as they’d been led past him on their way back to the cells. Wrecker looked wounded, Hunter stared at the ground, but Echo and Crosshair glared at him. Crosshair was especially aggressive, snarling at Tech as he walked past. The troopers escorting him had to restrain him as he’d rasped at his brother.  

“All those brains and they just flip off with the push of a button? What a kriffing waste. You of all people should have been the one to figure it out.” 

Figure it out.

The words had embedded themselves in his mind, and he’d been unable to sleep, turning them over and over until he’d risen, sneaking out of his barracks and down to one of the data centers. Tech’s brain was screaming at him as he accessed the Imperial database, easily bypassing the security measures to locate their individual files. 

GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS. 

He winced. 

I have to know. They told me it was out. That they’d removed my chip.

A searing pain shot across his vision, and he gasped for a second. He remembered waking in the med pod, the AZ unit hovering nearby. His head had ached then. Had there been a bandage? Removal of the organic tissue would have required an incision, but he hadn’t even thought to feel for one. He’d just blindly believed them. 

That’s very unlike me. 

His hands were shaking as he frantically pulled his gloves off, feeling along his skull for any scars he didn’t recognize. He’d had plenty throughout the war, but could find none he didn’t already have catalogued mentally. Tech chewed his lip. 

What if it’s still in?

The file he was searching for finally loaded. He quickly scanned past his previous medical records, frantically searching for the correct date. His breath caught in his throat when he found it. 

Procedure 99-66 performed - Experimental Enhancement of Inhibitor Chip. 

Subject to be monitored for increased control via chip. Preliminary results seem promising. Subject has shown increased loyalty to Empire, obedience, and despite mutations, has not shown resistance. Released for duty pending physical.

Tech’s hand flew to his mouth as he sat back in the chair. 

It’s still in. They lied. I’m… what am I? What have I done? 

The hum grew louder, the searing pain returning. Tech clutched the side of his head, grinding his teeth against the headache. 

Good soldiers… NO!

He slammed his fist on the workstation. 

I can fix this. I can fix it. 

Hurriedly, he closed the file, making sure to cover his tracks. He knew he had a few hours before his squad woke. His mind began turning. 

What medbay will be closest to the cell block? 

He pulled up schematics of Tipoca City. 

That one there. Shows as only a skeleton staff at the moment. Should be easy enough to subdue. And they’re listed as having four medpods, although one is down for maintenance. 

He squinted, adjusting his goggles. 

And that AZ unit is there. It’ll know how to undo this. 

The hum was growing to a piercing squeal in his brain, but Tech stood, unholstering his blasters from his hips. 

I have to get this out. I have to figure out what’s happening. 

Another blast of pain radiated across his vision, but this time, Tech didn’t waver, exhaling sharply out of his nose as he braced against it. 

I have to get this out… and then I have to get to my brothers and Omega.

Thanks for participating in my 400 Follower Celebration!

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[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hi, it’s me, Fanfic Anon #2. I read a quote in Le Point last week where some unnamed someone was quoted as saying "he is going to end up alone with Brigitte" in regards to this whole thing with the retirement reform. Without going into the politics of the situation or anything else depressing (because there is enough of that in the outside world), I haven’t been able to get that quote out of my head since I read it (maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a law of the universe that he always has Brigitte that even unnamed sources who want to tear him down know that even if he has no other allies he always has her that is just so 🥹) but I had to write something with it. Anyways, this is inspired by the quote, not the current situation ha ha. Hope you all enjoy.

As he stared at his wife’s beautiful face as she slept peacefully still pillowed on his chest, he let his mind wander. He was contented to just be in the quiet, safe, loving presence of his wife, alone with his soulmate, with his world.

He smiled as he recalled the first time they woke up together all those many, many years ago now, his mind painting the scene in such vivid detail, it was as if he was taken right back to the moment.

He blinks awake slowly, pulled from a deep, contented sleep, the likes of which he had never experienced before. He knows he’s never been this happy in his life, knows he’s never fallen asleep with a smile as large as he did last night, but he knows that’s not the reason he is so at peace.

That reason slowly shifts in his arms, as she too awakes, as if their internal alarm clocks were as linked together as every other part of them - their hearts, their minds, their souls, their destinies - unable to waste a single moment of his consciousness without her presence beside him.

He knows in the moment that he sees her blue eyes open, clouded first with sleep before focusing on his face and lighting up in an instant as if she was suddenly seeing the world, her world, for the first time that there is nothing he wouldn’t do to see that sight every single morning for the rest of his life.

"Good morning, mon cœur," he whispers, almost afraid that if he speaks any louder that he will break the magical spell they have been under since he took her to bed the night before.

"Good morning," she smiles radiantly back up at him before reaching up for a good morning kiss, completely unselfconscious about morning breath, just desperate to connect with him again. "Did you sleep well?" She asks gently, hoping this morning in the quiet stillness she brought him peace through the night, like he had her.

"I’ll be honest. I’ve never slept so well in my life," he blushes a little as he responds under the weight of her gaze. "I don’t know how I’ll ever sleep without you again."

"The feeling is mutual," she mumbles back, words pressed into his flesh as she snuggles herself ever closer to him, equally needing him to know the value of his presence to her.

He rolls them over, settling on top of her as he presses ever heated kisses to her lips, ready to continue where they left off last night, when a simple notion strikes him. He has spent a lot of his life alone and lonely - separate or different from his peers, from his family - but now that he has her, even if he is alone, he will never be lonely again.

The memory dissipates quickly before it gets to the good part, much to his chagrin, although it quickly changes to another scene, another morning about 10 years later.

He is staring at the morning light reflecting off his simple ring, still in awe that he was her husband now when she sees him after she awakes.

"Having second thoughts?" She teases, knowing he is the person on the planet the least likely to ever regret getting married. At least, getting married to her.

"Never," he swears, looking at his wife with such a searing intensity, she finds she has to look away. "Hey, hey," he soothes gently, moving her chin under his fingers so sweetly, her gaze can’t help but follow back to his, "are you?"

"Never," she vows back, sealing her words with a kiss. "You’re all mine now. Only mine."

"Oh, chérie, I’ve been yours since the moment I met you," he informs her casually, as if this status was a law of the universe, so simple, so obvious, it needed no further explanation once revealed.

His mind wandered again, this time to another morning with another 10 year gap.

He wakes to the sound of her sighing. He can tell she is trying to be quiet about it, can tell she doesn’t want to wake him, so he gives her a few more moments where he pretends to be asleep, gives her those few more minutes to be with her thoughts. She who has sacrificed so much for him, he can surely give her that.

"Oh, chéri," she whispers, so quietly, so heartbreakingly, it takes everything in him to remain still. "What have you gotten us into, huh?"

He doesn’t know. He thinks neither of them can know yet. He just knows he had to do it, and he is so grateful, oh so very grateful, she has stuck by his side. He cannot live without her, and if asked to chose between her and anything else, much less this job, it would not even be a choice. That she has never asked that of him - he cannot express his gratitude.

He can’t keep silent any longer, though, when he hears her whisper something about them never being alone again. He can’t let her fear that, think that, dread that.

"You know, I haven’t been alone in 20 years."

"What?" She asks confused.

"I haven’t been alone in 20 years, because I’ve always had you with me. Even when you weren’t present in the room with me, or in the same city as me, or hell, even on the same contient as me, I’ve always had you with me - in my heart, in my mind. Just like every time we’ve been together, even in the most crowded room in the world, it feels like I’m alone with you when I look into your eyes, or hear your voice, or see you smile.

"So maybe we won’t have the privacy we had before, maybe we won’t have all the time we want to spend together - and I’m truly, truly sorry for everything you’re about to give up for me. But we will be alone together, if only because I feel like we are the only two people in the world every time you hold my hand."

"What are you thinking about so early in the morning, huh?" She asked gently as she blinks awake, rolling further into his side as she does so, pressing a gentle kiss to his chest as she feels his arms tighten around her now that he knows she’s awake, pulling him out of his trip down memory lane.

"You and me," he replied, returning her kiss by pressing one to the top of her head.

"Anything in particular?" She asked with a contented smile, loving that she is as wedged into every crevice of his brain as he is in hers.

"How much I love you, how happy I feel when I’m alone with you, how much I need you" he replied honestly.

"Just you and me, mon cœur. That’s all we need - just you and me."

Hellooo fanfic Anon #2! ❤️

When I read that quote I thought “why are they making it sound like it’s something bad, like being alone with Brigitte is not the one thing he desires the most?”. And your piece just turned out so beautiful and aligned with my thoughts �� Emmanuel thinking back at all those moments with Brigitte... oh my heart... ❤️

Yes, I do believe that no matter what, as long as they have each other, they will get through everything ❤️

Thank you so much, fanfic Anon #2! ❤️❤️❤️

[slothspaghettiwrites]

From The Outside

From The Outside

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: cheating/infidelity, dub con (due to alcohol consumption), angst, feelings of worthlessness, weed, drug use, slight manipulation on Andy's part, OOC/shitty!Andy

Relationship: Andy Barber x Bottom!Reader

Word Count: 2k (or just over, on mobile)

Summary: You stand outside the office party, and think about what got you here.

A/N: For Lau's Quote Me On It 6k writing challenge! This was such a fun challenge for me to write. I didn't know what Body of Evidence was about when I picked the quote and Andy, but a happy coincidence I guess. 😂 Congratulations again @sweeterthanthis

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform.

Smoke fills your lungs, the herbal flavour clung to you and the air. It burns, tickles the back of your throat, but not enough to burn away the memories. No, nothing would get rid of those. They are forever ingrained in your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you showered, scrubbed your skin raw and covered yourself in something that smelled nothing like him. His touch is still there, his hands are still gripping at your flesh and tearing your clothes off. His ring still digs into your jaw like he is standing behind you, pulling your body taut against his. His lips still sear your skin, marking and claiming you like he had any right to your body. You blow smoke into the night air, watching it curl and float away in the breeze.

🚬

“Hey, you coming?” You asked Andy that Thursday so many weeks ago. “We’re all going out.”

He always said no, but every week you continued to ask. Too nice for your own good, you guessed. According to what you heard by the coffee machine, Andy was a homebody. He was a stick in the mud, didn’t make an effort to get to know all his new colleagues at the firm. In the six months since he started, he hadn’t once gone out for drinks on the company dime. He would politely decline, wave yet another case file at you as if it couldn’t wait till tomorrow.

It was assumed his wife was a hardass who didn’t like when he went out, but you hoped he just liked his wife, enjoyed her company above that of all others. He had so many pictures of her and his son on his desk. It was sweet, honestly. Made you daydream about the future, hoping when you found a partner, they’d be like Andy, wholly devoted to you and madly in love. It’s why you were so surprised by the way he looked at you and turned off his computer.

“Yeah, I could use a drink.”

🚬

Your lighter flicks to life, relighting the joint between your fingers. Another deep inhale, your eyes close for a moment as you try to steady yourself. There’s a buzz in the night air just outside the office. It’s risky taking your illicit activities outside, rather than following your coworkers into the bathroom stalls. But you didn’t need an upper right now, something that would make your skin crawl and your anxieties skyrocket. The celebration inside is a chaotic mess of stuffy partners with absent spouses trying to be sneaky about the coke they’re doing and trophy spouses gushing about how amazing their own partner is over expensive champagne.

She’s in there. More gorgeous and classy than the pictures did her justice, than you can ever hope to be. Truly, she’s flawless, from head to toe.

🚬

“The wife finally let you off your leash, Barber?” Someone joked, the first round of beers arriving at your large table.

Andy laughed good-naturedly, made some comments about how someone at the firm has to do their jobs. He fit into your small group with ease, like he’d been coming to drinks since he started. It was so easy to get drawn into his atmosphere. He talked with so much passion and conviction. It must be easy for him, being the center of attention. But then, you figured to be as successful as Andy was, you had to be commanding in a crowd. He told stories about his old job, bemoaned with everyone about ridiculous clients and their demands, somehow made talking about politics feel balanced amongst your mixed group.

You almost didn’t notice him pocketing his wedding ring when he offered to pick up the fifth, or was it the fourth, round of drinks. He asked you to help him carry things from the bar. Buzzed and glowing in the shine of his smile, you were more than happy to help. The bar was crowded by that point, people in suits pushing and shoving and demanding the attention of the bartenders. Andy leaned against the tacky wooden surface after your order had been placed and turned his mega-watt smile’s full force on you.

Drunk you couldn’t seem to stop laughing at his stories. Andy was so funny and nice and sweet. Everyone else had gone home, it’s so late and the bar was quiet. At some point, he suggested you sit in a vacant booth and you didn’t think anything of it when he slid in next to you, wrapped his arm around you, whispered in your ear

“Let’s get out of here.”

🚬

Stars try to poke through the haze of the night. They want to shine and be seen, just like you wish she would see through him and you. The way you wish she hadn’t smiled all big and brightened up at your presence like you were poking through the dull and formal part of the party before the booze had started to relax everyone. She acts like you’re a star, but really you are the haze, the smog that surrounds the city and pollutes anything it touches. You are disgusting, filthy, dirty.

🚬

“Shit, that’s it, baby, so fuckin’ dirty for me,” he moaned, thumb tracing the seam of your lips before thrusting in.

You sucked, swirled your tongue around the digit as his hips slammed into you. How had you ended up here together in your bed? Andy fucking into you with abandon, pinning you to your mattress with his cock and his eyes. He looked hungry, starved of this carnal love and dominance. The ride to your apartment felt like it happened hours ago, but like his lips were still teasing yours with suggestive kisses. You should have said no, but God did it feel so good. You could taste the whiskey he had switched to some time during the night, could smell his cologne on him. His hands felt so good on your skin, like each piece of clothing he tore off of you was releasing you from another chain that linked you to reality.

And when he finally pressed into you, pushed his cock so deep inside of you you thought for a moment it belonged to you, all you could do was beg for more. For him to fuck you harder, to make sure you felt it tomorrow and the next day. You wanted him, needed him, and he was fucking you like you were the last person on earth, like he needed you, like he didn’t have a wife at home who was probably waiting for him.

It was wrong and you knew it, but with his cock in you and his filthy mouth telling you all the things he’d dreamed about doing to you for months, you didn’t care. Right then was about you and Andy and the feeling of him owning you.

“Beg me, baby, beg me to cum. Need to feel you milkin’ my cock. Wanna hear you scream my name.”

🚬

You watch the paper on your smoke burn and turn to ash. Andy didn’t care about you. He never has, probably never will. If he cared about anyone other than himself he would have left his wife or you. But he stays glued to her side, except when he is screwing you. That’s really what it is, screwing. It’s not lustful or meaningless like a one off fuck, it’s not emotional or meaningful like lovemaking. It’s screwing like teenagers who are scared to get caught but do it anyway. Well, you are scared of getting caught, of ruining a marriage and destroying a family. It doesn’t matter if it is your bed, his car, a motel, Andy’s only concern after that ‘I’ll be home late, honey’ text is sent is getting his dick wet. If not you, then there were others who would be more than happy to beg for his cum. He’s told you that over and over again. You just beg the loudest.

🚬

“Sex is a game to her,” Andy explained when you’d asked him why he was doing this.

He had a happy family, a good home, why was he risking that? There was no wrapping your head around his choices or yours. Andy turned off the shower, and you handed him a towel. It was so easy for him to wash away the evidence of you. There was never a mark, never a bite, never a lingering touch. It was so easy for him to forget about you once he was done using your body, while you were left in tatters, covered in bruises that felt so good in the moment but left you feeling sick in the aftermath.

She thought he was at the pool again. That work stress was getting so bad he just needed to swim a few laps to feel better before coming home. You wondered sometimes if she left his dinner in the fridge or if she would wait to eat with him. Sometimes you thought about what it must be like to eat dinner with Andy.

“She gets off on the control. At winning in our relationship and lording it over me. She always used to tell me it had to be her way and I just can’t do that anymore. What about what I want?”

🚬

The air inside is stifling, the AC is cranked all the way up and your face still feels too warm. All you can smell is overpriced colognes and those shrimp cocktails that should really be on ice. You don’t care if they see your red eyes, or can smell the weed clinging to your clothes. What’s the worse they could do? Fire you? At this point that would be a welcome reprieve from the guilt that is eating you alive. Maybe it would finally give you the courage to ditch town, to ditch Andy like the bad drug he is to you.

You watch them from reception where a mini bar has been set up, an array of half-drunk bottles of warm white wine and forgotten cans of beer are your only companions. Andy’s hand rests on her low back like it belongs there, like it’s always meant to be there. It makes you angry- at him, at her, at you, at the universe for making you too stupid to break things off after that first night. He doesn’t even spare you a glance, doesn’t care that you were gone for a smoke break that lasted much longer than it should have, doesn’t care if you were really there or not.

His laugh rings out, he’s drunk enough that his face is flushed and his lips are wet. He pulls her closer to his side, places a sloppy looking kiss on her cheek that has her laughing too now. She sounds so happy, so free and unburdened by anything. She sounds ignorant and you are tired.

Everyone is too drunk or too busy with their own existence to notice one less body at the party. You don’t say goodbye to him, but you look back at them while you wait for your ride.

From the outside, Andy looks like the best husband you could ask for and she looks like the dotting, loving wife. From the outside, you would never guess that Andy is anything but madly in love with his wife. From the outside, they look right together, happy and complete.

The text from Andy sometime after midnight doesn’t surprise you. It’s routine. He’s proven to his wife publicly that he loves her, is invested in her and their relationship. He can do whatever he wants again. Your fingers hover over the screen. This is your chance to break things off. And you know you should, you’ve known since that first night, you’ve met his fucking wife for god’s sake and still you are hesitating. You know she deserves better and that you deserve nothing.

“I’ll see you then.”

🚬

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

but it is sunlight

Fandom: Kamen Rider Agito, Kamen Rider Kabuto, Kamen Rider Gaim, Kamen Rider Ghost Characters: Tsugami Shouichi, Hikawa Makoto, Tendou Souji, Kagami Arata, Kazuraba Kouta, Kureshima Takatora, Tenkuuji Takeru, Fukami Makoto, Alain Song: "Sunlight," Hozier (playlist here) Warning: Mildly NSFW--not especially explicit, but people do have sex in this story

a buried and a burning flame – i

A shared day off is rare, but it does happen sometimes, and today the weather is so warm and perfect that Makoto is content to sit on the step drinking a lemonade and watching Shouichi garden.

Their garden space here isn’t as big as the one Shouichi got used to at Professor Misugi’s house, but it’s been expanded upwards with poles and frames and other contraptions that Makoto isn’t quite clear on. Really, they’re lucky to have a plot at all—the restaurant has its own rooftop space, so it’s not like Shouichi’s hurting for plant contact, but he needs it for himself as well. Makoto’s not sure he’ll ever understand the way Shouichi craves the presence of growing things. But then, he’s just happy to see Shouichi enjoying himself.

He glances around the garden briefly as Shouichi’s murmuring over a cucumber plant and frowns. “Aren’t sunflowers always supposed to face the sun?”

“Generally, sure.” Shouichi smiles but doesn’t look up from his work. “Why?”

“Well, if they don’t then doesn’t that mean they might be sick? The sun’s south of us right now, but your flowers are facing west.”

“Our.”

“Mm?”

“It’s your garden too.”

“Well, sure, but I mean it’s really—”

“Anyway, don’t worry, if they were sick I’d know. They’re probably just a little slow today.”

Makoto’s dubious, but he nods, and Shouichi beams at him for a moment and then goes back to fussing with the cucumbers. Once he finishes with them, he does something with a tomato plant nearby, and then hurries over to a small patch of green onions on the other side of the garden.

The faces of the sunflowers move to follow him as he walks. Makoto almost misses it, catches their motion out of the corner of his eye as he, too, is turning, and then freezes as they continue to shift. “Do—did you just see that?”

Shouichi frowns. “See what?”

“Ah…no, never mind.” Makoto settles forward, elbows on his knees, watching in soft fascination as Shouichi continues to work. “It’s not that important, I probably imagined it.”

---

the icarus to your certainty – i

Tendou doesn’t make demands most of the time, but he doesn’t make suggestions either. He makes statements and then continues on in the calm assumption that they’re true.

When he gets back from his trip abroad, for example, the first conversation Arata has with him ends with, “We’ll see you for dinner at six.” It’s not an invitation, or a request, or a question. It’s just a statement of fact, its truth etched into the fabric of the universe, and so Arata gets to the house at six precisely.

There are other statements that follow, of course. Like, “I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow,” and, “Other people address me by surname, not you,” and, “It’s late, you’ll stay the night.” The thing is, Arata wants to bristle at this casual certainty, but he can’t manage it, because so far Tendou—Souji—hasn’t said anything incorrect. When he makes these statements, Arata wants them to be true, and so they becometrue by default. He shows up at the same time the next day. He says, “Souji,” instead of, “Tendou,” and is shaken by the faint, surprised smile he gets in response. He stays the night.

Tonight Souji’s making some kind of crab risotto thing, and Arata is helping, which is to say making a salad. This is already strange, since it used to be that he was barely even allowed in the kitchen. Hiyori, visiting for the evening, is sitting on the couch with Juka while Juka talks about one of her classes at Jounan University. It’s very domestic.

He finishes slicing cucumbers and is reaching for the lettuce when Souji turns to him holding a small spoon and says, “Taste this.”

On automatic, and because his hands are busy, Arata just leans forward and eats the spoonful of risotto, letting it spread out creamily over his tongue. “Mm.”

Souji is looking at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I think—wait, you’re actually asking me for my opinion?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“You just…don’t usually ask for opinions.”

“Not from other people, no, but other people aren’t you.”

Arata laughs in warm surprise. “Really? What makes me so different?”

He’s not really expecting an answer, but Souji looks at him for a long moment and then says, “If all of humanity were alchemically distilled into one specimen exhibiting only its finest qualities, that specimen would be you.”

Arata stares at him. “I. You. Are…is this a quotation, are you quoting something?”

Another one of the faint, surprised smiles he’s gotten to like seeing. “No. But perhaps someday, someone else will quote me, and rest assured, the recipient of the quotation will not deserve it nearly as much as you.” And, before Arata can really process that, “I would appreciate your opinion on the risotto now.”

“I…it’s really delicious, but. Maybe it could use a pinch more salt?”

Souji nods firmly. “I’d suspected as much. Thank you.”

He returns to his cooking, reaching for one of the little pots of salt next to the stove, and leaves Arata to cut up lettuce and try to figure out what just happened.

---

i had been lost to you – i

Kouta’s visits are infrequent, inconsistent, and never announced. The most warning Takatora ever gets is a sudden, powerful waft of flowers and fruit, moments before a zipper opens in the air in front of him. He’s gotten used to it, as much as one can get used to something like that.

(Kouta always comes to him. His house has more privacy than most other spots Kouta knows in Zawame, and anyway, according to him, “You’re always easy for me to find.”

Sometimes those visits are for “work,” as Kouta calls it, and he stays only for a brief moment before rushing off to whatever world-ending crisis has caught his attention. More often, though, the reason is nothing more than, “Things are aligned correctly right now, and I missed Zawame.”

He’s sitting in the park now, on a bench under a camellia tree. A casual observer wouldn’t look at him and see a god, just a smiling young man in a plaid shirt and dark jeans, shoes kicked off so that he can curl his bare toes in the grass. Maybe he’s waiting to meet a girlfriend, or a boyfriend; maybe he’s just enjoying the good weather. As Takatora watches, though, a squirrel runs down the trunk of the camellia tree and leaps onto Kouta’s shoulder, and he turns and beams at it, apparently listening intently to its chattering. A jay is perched on his knee. Two stray cats are sprawled on the grass flanking him like indolent sentries, and a dog with a collar, probably lost, is curled up against his hip on the bench.

He lifts a hand, cupped, and Takatora knows without being able to see it that his palm is filling with seeds, manifesting as if from his skin. He’s done it before. The squirrel runs downs his arm and begins to stuff itself, the jay hopping from his knee to his fingertips to do the same. With his other hand he reaches up absently to catch a gleaming red apple that drops down from the camellia tree and begins to eat. Only the plants nearby lean away from him, which seems strange until Takatora realizes that they’re not really leaning, they’re growing, extending outward from his presence like an aura, the grass increasingly tall around his ankles.

How strange to see him at peace. And what an astonishing thing, that he should turn his face even for a moment from the new world he guides and his cosmically-designated beloved to walk once more in the city that treated him so poorly.

(She doesn’t visit. She can’t set foot outside of her hallowed forest now. But Takatora did get to speak to her, once, and he knelt and begged her forgiveness for all that he allowed to happen and received in return a kiss so gentle and yet searing in its benediction that even now he can feel it on his skin, and sometimes has to look in the mirror to see if she left a mark on his forehead.)

“Hey!” Kouta is waving to him with the hand holding the apple core. “Takatora! Are you done with your meeting thing? Come on over, I want to hear everything that’s happened since the last time I was here.”

Takatora blinks and nods, shocked out of his reverie, and heads over to the camellia tree. The stray cats scatter as he approaches, but none of the other animals move, so after barely a moment’s hesitation he sits down in the grass at Kouta’s feet, unmindful of his suit, and says, “Well, reconstruction work is nearly finished, we’ve only got two or three more buildings left to repair. Did I tell you about the dance classes at the new community center?”

“The ones that Zack and Peko are running? I think you mentioned them a little last time, did those finally start?”

Camellias bloom out of season over their heads. “Yes, only a few weeks ago. There may be a few other Beat Riders assisting as well, possibly by running additional courses, apparently enrollment was well past what anyone had anticipated.” Takatora leans against Kouta’s shin as the grass slowly creeps up past his knees, comforted by his radiant warmth. “And Mitsuzane’s continuing to enjoy university, he’s going to be working for one of his professors next semester as a teaching assistant…”

---

love and its decisive pain – i

Being around Takeru is a strange experience now, because by simply existing he exerts a spiritual pressure unlike anything else Alain’s ever encountered. The pressure isn’t negative, but it is constant, the weight of a higher reality radiating from his skin. Or, not a higherreality—Alain isn’t sure what it is, but Takeru’s certainly of the human world.

Alain isn’t sure if people who aren’t from the Ganma World even notice it. Certainly he’s seen Javert twitch minutely when handing Takeru something, he’s seen how Igor goes tense around him, even Alia’s been known to flinch away from the intensity of his proximity. Are they unusually sensitive, or are the people of the human world just numb to it?

Perhaps it’s nothing new, and he’s just always been like that and that’s why people don’t notice. Makoto would know—he’s of the Ganma World now, even if he came to it late. “Has Takeru always had such…presence?”

Makoto glances at him, and then over at Takeru, who’s crouching to offer a rice ball to a child sniffling on the temple steps. The child takes it, hand brushing Takeru’s, and relaxes in the same way that Igor might tense at the same contact, perceptibly basking in that unseen but powerfully felt aura.

“No,” Makoto says. “No, this is new. He wasn’t like this before. Or at least he wasn’t like this when we were young.”

Somehow this answer isn’t reassuring at all. “I see. That’s…it’s a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

That’s the point at which Takeru hears them and looks up, face transformed by delight at the sight of them. “Makoto! Alain! When did you get here?” Behind him, Narita comes forward to walk the sniffling child over to a quieter corner, asking her as they go whether she knows either of her parents’ phone numbers. Takeru waves goodbye to her, beaming, and then hurries across the room to crash into Makoto’s arms, and Alain can see Makoto being overtaken by that benevolent pressure. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Nothing’s going on, right? Everything’s ok? Who’s taking care of things in the Ganma World?”

“Everything’s fine,” Makoto says into Takeru’s hair. “Alia’s got everything under control.”

“This is a social call,” Alain adds, and is favored with an embrace of his own, knees almost buckling under the warmth of Takeru’s presence. “We just missed you.”

“I missed you both too. I hope you’ll be here for a couple of days, at least?” The weight of his joyful expectation is so much that Alain can only nod. “Wonderful! Here, come on, you’re both probably hungry, let’s go get takoyaki.”

He’s human, Alain realizes as Takeru’s fingers wrap around his and he feels that shiver run through him again. That’s all it is, and also everything that it is. More than anyone else in this realm, he is human.

What an extraordinary thing.

“I’d like that,” Alain says out loud, and Takeru is already grabbing Makoto’s hand as well. “It’s been a while since we shared a meal.”

“It has, hasn’t it? Let’s go, you two can tell me all the news while we’re eating.”

---

a buried and a burning flame – ii

For the most part Shouichi doesn’t initiate. It’s not that he’s not enthusiastic about sex, he’s just an awful tease. Little gestures, bumps and brushes, obvious double entendre that he then winkingly denies; he’d rather drive Makoto to distraction and pretend innocence until Makoto finally loses patience and backs him up against the nearest wall. He even admitted to it once, in an unguarded moment of drowsiness. “I like when you do that, it’s fun. And it’s not like I can just ask you to.”

“You could, though,” Makoto had said, but Shouichi had already drifted off.

They’ve been together all day, but Makoto can barely remember any of it clearly except Shouichi. Everything else fades into the background when faced with the vividness of his smile.

Makoto’s shirt is somewhere back in the living room, he thinks maybe on the couch. They’ve been trying to get Shouichi’s shirt off, but that’s been a tougher prospect, because it’s a pullover. Finally, though, it comes off over his head and lands on the floor, and Makoto presses him to the wall again. And now, even more vivid than his smile is the feeling of his skin, burn-hot against Makoto’s lips and hands and chest, his fingers like a brand curling around the back of Makoto’s neck as Makoto kisses his throat.

They barely make it to the bedroom.

The heat of him is extraordinary, feverish, it would be frightening if Makoto wasn’t used to it. He is, though, they’ve been together for years now, so instead his own thoughts can melt away in the face of Shouichi and his pleasure, the taste of him, the sound of his breathless cries, Shouichi arching up against him. Sure, he gets off somewhere in there too, but the important thing is Shouichi, climaxing underneath him with a gasp of, “Makoto,” and a kiss that Makoto would be willing to end the world for.

Afterwards, they lie wrapped around each other in a state of abstracted bliss until Shouichi mumbles something about being thirsty, at which point Makoto extricates himself despite the attendant sleepy protests and heads to the kitchen with a blanket around his waist to get drinks. Passing the bathroom on the way back, he pauses, frowning, at the sliver of his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It hadn’t been sunny enough today to get a real sunburn, but there’s a sunburn on the back of his neck nevertheless, bright red although not painful. He sets down one of the glasses, reaches up and covers it almost perfectly.

When he realizes what it is—although Shouichi’s palm is slightly broader than his, Shouichi’s fingers slightly shorter—he blushes and picks up the glass again, heading for the bedroom, hoping that his hair is long enough that no one at work asks about the handprint burned into his skin.

---

the icarus to your certainty – ii

It’s not always so precipitous.

Normally they have to be quiet, because normally there’s at least one other person in the house. And in any case, Souji dislikes rush—he’ll approach anything and everything with a plan in mind, sex included.

Tonight, though, after dinner finished, Juka distributed a round of cheek kisses and then gathered up her bag and headed out, to meet up with a university friend she’s doing a project with. Hiyori left shortly after that. (She rarely stays the night anyway, she doesn’t like to leave her parakeet alone.) They’re alone in the house unless the Zecters are around somewhere, and they mostly keep to themselves, they’re hardly company in the same way.

But.

Precipitous.

They do dishes together, in comfortable silence, and once that’s done and his washing gloves are off Souji turns to make one of those true statements. Except that Arata decides he doesn’t feel like hearing one right now, so before Souji’s even gotten through one word Arata takes a step forward and kisses him, bracketing him against the edge of the counter with both arms. Souji makes one of those little surprised noises and drapes his arms over Arata’s shoulders and pulls him closer, and a couple of minutes later Arata’s hands shift down to lift and Souji’s legs wrap around his waist, and.

It’s good that they have the house to themselves.

They can’t stay at the kitchen counter, because it’s a bad height and also that’s not sanitary, and the dinner table won’t support their weight, which is a lesson they learned the hard way. The couch is an option, though, and it’s not easy to get over there with another person wrapped around him, but it is doable. He sits, or more lands, with a thump, Souji in his lap, Souji’s hands on the sides of his face tilting his chin up, and for some while lets himself be overwhelmed by having all of Souji’s considerable attention focused on him.

A pause for breath, for the removal of at least some clothing (and if Souji fumbles Arata’s shirt buttons, Arata’s going to save the memory for himself and certainly never mention it), for—“Are you all right?”

For Souji looking down at him, dizzy-eyed, and saying, slowly, “Your depths are such that I think I could drown in you.”

Arata reaches up, takes hold of his wrists, thumbs rubbing gently across the pulse points. “I mean, I can’t get poetic about it like you can,” more quietly than warranted given that they’re alone, “but you’re so much that sometimes I feel I could burn up, so that seems like a fair trade.”

He’s expecting that surprised look, but it doesn’t come, because what he gets instead is a kiss that would definitely have him on his ass in seconds if he wasn’t already sitting down. “More than fair.”

---

i had been lost to you – ii

Even before his apotheosis Kouta was a man built for pleasure. It must have been a glorious accident of his birth, Takatora thinks, that on his mouth smiles are so natural, that his body responds to any rhythm with grace, that he laughs so easily. Takatora has lived his entire life on the far other end of that spectrum—at best, he might call himself austere—but he can’t bring himself to be jealous of such an infectious and in-born joy. He can only hope to increase it, in whatever way he can.

So he kneels.

It isn’t worship, because Kouta will not accept his worship. Or anyone else’s, for that matter, he may be a god but he refuses to be treated like one. But love, as a great man once said, is a sacrament best taken kneeling, and while there are many points Kouta will argue, Takatora’s esteem and affection for him are not one of them.

Really, though, Kouta isn’t saying anything especially coherent right now.

His unnecessary but habitual breathing is coming short, and his hair flickers from deep brown to unearthly gold as his concentration disintegrates. If his eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they, too, would be flickering. His fingers, curled on the edge of the bed, have flowers blooming between them. And Takatora, the indirect cause of this riotous growth and rendered speechless for more immediately physical reasons, continues until his lips are numb and Kouta is pulling him up and flattening him to the bed with a kiss.

“You don’t have to stop me, you know I wouldn’t mind if you—”

“No,” and a kiss, “no, we don’t know if it could—” and another kiss, “so no, even though you know I, you know—Takatora, I—” and the dissolution of coherence once again, now for both of them, as Takatora dizzily allows himself to be subsumed by Kouta’s passion and enthusiasm.

The first few times he was able to visit, afterglow involved actual glowing on Kouta’s part, which was the cause of some mutual hysteria—Takatora doesn’t want to call it giggling, but that’s really the accurate term. The glow’s under control now, and Kouta lies against him, asleep, and does not look more divine than any other beautiful man in repose.

There are still flowers blooming on the edge of the bed, red and orange against the plain bedspread. They’ll be scolded away later, but for the moment they are bright and strong and vivid. Takatora, drowsy himself, drifts off gazing at them, Kouta’s arms tight around his waist.

---

love and its decisive pain – ii

They are devoted partners, and thus Takeru’s anger is their anger, Takeru’s sorrow is their sorrow, Takeru’s joy is their joy, and, most crucially in this moment, with the dawn not arrived and the day yet to start and make them all busy, Takeru’s pleasure is their pleasure. And because he is who he is, because he feels everything with such strength and fervency that it radiates from him like sunlight, it is such pleasure. On his back, hands above his head, eyes bound, he has given himself over to their loving mercy and yet the weight of his existence is still enough to envelope them both.

Alain leans down to kiss the smiling mouth below the blindfold and say, softly, “Is there something you want?”

“Isn’t the point of this that you two are making the decisions?” Takeru sounds like he might laugh.

Alain glances over Takeru’s chest at Makoto, who is already looking over at him, and who raises an eyebrow before saying, “Is that a serious question or are you just being difficult?”

It’s definitely suppressed laughter. “A little of both, really. I want you to do what you want. I trust you.”

So they do what they want, which, gloriously weighed down by Takeru’s unconditional trust, is what he wants too. And what they want is to kiss, to touch, to take their pleasure in ways that render him arch-backed and breathless and crying out as they take their turns on him. They take their pleasure until he’s coming in an unexpected avalanche of laughter which, like all avalanches, overtakes them as well.

Dawn is breaking, light spilling in through the open window for Takeru to flinch against as they uncover his eyes. He buries his face against Makoto’s chest as soon as his arms are free and he can move, mumbling, “It’s too bright, I’m going back to sleep, you both have to keep me company since you’re the ones who wore me out.”

“Right,” Makoto says drily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Alain is draping himself over Takeru’s back, “humans need sleep, I forget that sometimes.”

He can feel Takeru’s smile like a separate presence in the room, even though he can’t see it. “Oh, like you’re so inhuman.”

Alain presses his face to the back of Takeru’s neck and finds that, at least for the moment, the pressure of his reality is not so much a weight as it is an embrace, enfolding the three of them as they lie together drowsing. “It’s not that we are less, perhaps.” A yawn against Takeru’s warm skin, occasioning a ticklish wriggle. “It’s just that you’re so much.”

[commandersnips41]

A Padmé Oneshot

She wasn't sure what had changed. It was a sudden shift, as if someone had flipped a switch. Perhaps the stress of the war was finally disintegrating her hope that it would ever end. And more importantly, that the Republic would win.

But why should that happen now? It had been the quietest week she had had in so long, and the time she had taken for herself was more needed than she had realized. So why were minor inconveniences nearly causing panic attacks? When had Padmé Amidala lost her strength?

She sat on a hardened clay ledge, looking up into the sun and trying to hold back tears. It isn't really your fault, Padmé reminded herself, Dormé should have indicated which clearance passes to bring. But she couldn't help feeling like Captain Typho blamed her for not having the passes she needed.

"Padmé, are you alright?" Senator Bail Organa whispered softly.

Padmé nodded, but tears threatened to spill out of her closed eyelids.

"I am not convinced. But if it is a private matter...I will not intrude."

She took a deep breath, stabilizing her unwanted urge to cry. "It isn't private. Actually, I really don't know what's going on. I'm. bothered that Captain Typho has to go through so much to prove my clearance, but that isn't–" A lump in her throat kept her from finishing.

Bail gently placed a hand on her shoulder with a furrowed brow. "Has something else happened?"

"Nothing that should–" She closed her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I truly don't know."

Sometimes Breha could be this way around her time of month, Bail knew, but in the few years he had worked with Padmé, he had never known her to display such emotion while in professional mode. "I will do anything I can to help you," he promised.

"Thank you. I trust no other senator as much as you, Bail." She felt a little lighter now; she hoped to be able to keep herself together until–

"Afraid?! I'm the Hero With No Fear!" A small voice yelled defiantly.

Padmé immediately turned her attention to the Pantoran child who appeared to be in some sort of game where he played as the Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker. Little did he know how true he was to Anakin's character– He had unintentionally quoted her husband, causing her thoughts to travel to the night before he had left for the Outer Rim...

Anakin slid into bed beside her, pulling the sheets and comforter over their heads. "It's freezing tonight," he complained as he pulled her into his arms.

"And that's why you're holding me? For warmth?" Padmé said as she pushed him away slightly, pretending to be upset.

"Nothing else is as hot as you." His vivid eyes twinkled with mirth.

"Ani, that isn't romantic–"

A series of pecks on the cheek interrupted her, each one a little less gentle than the last. As his lips traveled up her jawline, her eyes closed involuntarily and she held to him tightly. When he at last kissed her lips with even more intensity, she pressed herself against him insistently, able to open her eyes enough to silently ask permission. The moment she lay on him, she felt his excitement as his chest began to rise and fall with increasing speed.

"Padmé..." Anakin breathed, his eyes glowing with passion; she felt it surge through her. She caressed his shoulders, but instead of relieving the tension, it increased as he started to squirm at her touch.

"You want me to stop?" She whispered.

Anakin nodded in response, so she moved on to playing with his hair, but he shook his head chuckling nervously. She kissed the scar on his face, but even this he wordlessly protested.

"Enough of this," she demanded, pinning his wrists above his head as he had often done to her. "You're my prisoner, and you are not allowed to move."

But he did.

"What is going on?" She smiled slyly. "Is Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker afraid of a senator from Naboo?"

That worked. Anakin took on his cockiest grin and matching tone. "Afraid?! I'm the Hero With No Fear?"

"Then don't resist me anymore."

He let out a throaty chuckle. "When have I ever been able to do that?"

It was then she realized he had been playing her all along. He snaked his arms around her when she least expected it, his touch desperate, as if she would disintegrate any second; his kisses so searing and powerful they paralyzed her, a moment he took full advantage of.

She was unable to remember much after that, until the next morning when he departed–

Hot tears were flowing freely now; Padmé quickly made her way to the public refresher a few steps away...too quickly.

Her head buzzed and her vision filled with spots. Once inside, she leaned against the wall for support, still crying uncontrollably. I miss him...what if he never comes back?

It had been eight weeks since she had last seen Anakin; they had no way of contacting each other. How much longer must they wait? She wanted to find whoever sent him on this mission and–

Stars, I'm beginning to sound like him.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

One week later

"Don't you know what this means, Padmé?" Dormé said with a soft smile, tearing up a bit.

Is it not stress? Something in Dormé's eyes said it wasn't. The gentle excitement there...

Oh my stars.

(To be continued)

[jeonqquk]

tattooing | jjh

Pairing- Jaehyun X Reader

Genre/ Tags- fluff, crack, bi jaehyun, lucas royally fucks up, tattooing

Age rating- 13+

Word count- 2.6k words

Summary- Tattooing doesn’t go as planned.

POV- Third person

Your whining wasn’t gonna get you anywhere, you were well aware of the fact. But you supposed that you might as well give it a shot. The ‘it’ here being the fact that you really wanted Jaehyun to get a tattoo. It wasn’t that you wanted to somehow blackmail Jae into getting a tattoo. Oh god, no. You’d never want that. It was just that you had always been fond of tattoos, the meaningful ones, not the totally unnecessary, really weird looking, out of the world ones. Jaehyun with a tattoo would be fucking hot though, that was just a plus point- not the main reason as to why you wanted him to get one. 

You were thinking a sweet quote or something, but that would only be possible of he was willing to get one.

“Jae, baby, what do you think about getting a tattoo?” your boyfriend of 3 years sighs, rubbing his hand on your knee that had been placed on his thigh. “I don’t know..maybe later. Why are you so intent on me getting a tattoo though?” he wiggles his eyebrows, suggestively or whatever, and you look at him in confusion, trying your level best to stop the blood threatening to creep up your cheeks. You clear your throat and reply simply “I feel like a tattoo would be beautiful. Just permanently inked onto your skin. It should be something purposeful though. I don’t want you going bald and tattooing a zipper on your scalp.” 

A snort is heard from him “Don’t worry, I’m not going bald. Although it’s a very tempting idea.” Rolling your eyes at his lame comment, you sit up and move over to cuddle closer to him on the couch. He wraps his left arm around you “Why don’t you get a tatto Y/n?” he questions and you look up at him in mild shock. Well, you could get a tattoo. You are of legal age and stuff but the thought had never crossed your mind. You don’t know why.

“....I could...” Jaehyun smiles, his dimples popping out and you can’t help but mirror the sweet action. “So why don’t you? We’re not even doing anything and I know for a fact that you have a lot of designs saved on your Pinterest board. Even if they were for me, you can try finding one that suits you too.”

Suddenly feeling giddy, you quickly grab your phone from the coffee table and unlock it, clicking on the app you needed. As you find the board, you see that you’ve gained 18 followers in the time span of 2 weeks. Huh.

As you scroll through the pins of small intricate designs that could be engraved onto a finger or hand, Jaehyun points out one that looked like watercolour art and was in the form of a small flower with red petals. It did look quite cute, to be honest. “Hmm, this does look nice. Won’t it look good on my collarbone?” Jaehyun nods in agreement “I was thinking that too.” Smiling up at him, you look into his eyes “Well, should I get this?” Your boyfriend chuckles at your excitement, and pats your head in adoration. “I know that you’re excited, sweetie. But don’t you wanna try looking at other designs before deciding?” Humming, you scroll a bit more as Jaehyun reads a novel. But you don’t find anything that captures your attention a lot. Sure the sweet quotes, couple tattoos and nature-related  designs are great ideas for a tattoo but you were set on the one with the rose.

Jaehyun coos when you tell him that, squishing your cheeks and telling you that the two of you could go to a shop tomorrow and get design inked onto your collarbone forever. 

It’s 9:28 am when you wake up from your slumber and turn to give Jaehyun who looks like he had also woken up just a few minutes ago a peck on his lips. His dimples are visible as he smiles and greets you. The two of you get up and freshen up before you’re sitting at the dining table to eat blueberry pancakes. 

The clock shows that it’s 10:30 am by the time you two leave the house and head for the tattoo store you had researched last night. It takes 15 minutes to reach said shop and Jaehyun parks the car before looking at you with concern evident on his face. “Y/n, you are sure about this right?” Smiling fondly at his worry, you keep your hand on his cheek “I’m sure Jae. Don’t worry.” One kiss is enough to relax him and you pull away before you get too carried away and end up dirtying his car again. Oops.

You enter the cosy shop hand-in-hand with Jaehyun and see someone sitting at the reception wearing an oversized blue shirt. Definitely not the vibes you had expected to get from a fucking tattoo parlour but oh well. You had expected everyone to be intimidating and were ready to hide behind Jaehyun as soon as you entered. But it seems as if that wasn’t happening because all you had deciphered from the shop called Inkphoric was that it was built in a way not to scare the people who had gathered the courage to even stop foot in it. 

The receptionist, she said her name was Nara, leads you both to a room in a corridor. Your hands are sweaty and thankfully she allows Jaehyun to go inside as well. When you’re seated on the chair comfortably, Jaehyun grabs a stool to sit beside you and you wait for the tattoo artist. The wait isn’t long because a minute later, a man who looks about your age is walking towards you all. His all black get-up matches the tattoos littering his arms and he also seems to have a piercing in his right ear, a silver dangling. 

“Hello, I’m Lucas. I’ll be tattooing…” he introduces himself and looks between the two of you, silently asking which one of you he would be tattooing. Honestly, you would have expected him to at least  know who he would be drawing on but quickly brush the thought off as you greet him, telling him that you would be the one getting the art onto her skin. He smiles cutely and nods, and you look at Jaehyun, his comforting smile relaxing your tense body. 

Nara talks to Lucas for a minute or so and then walks off, shooting you an encouraging smile before closing the door behind her. 

“So what is it that I’ll be tattooing onto you, ma’am?” Lucas speaks and you show him the image of the flower. Jaehyun is holding your left hand in his, the warmth seeping throughout your entire body and you’re grateful for Jae’s beautiful ability of being able to calm you down in only a matter of seconds- no matter how serious the situation would be. 

“Oh, that’s very pretty.” “Thank you.” you smile at him, and he prepares his stuff. You’re pulling down the hem of your shirt slightly and exposing part of your left collarbone, where you want your collarbone. 

Lucas says that he’s tracing the design out first and you wait patiently. 

“Now, don’t be scared. It’s gonna hurt at first, especially at the bone but it will soon go away. You can hold your boyfriend’s hand.” he instructs and gives you an encouraging look as Jaehyun moves to your  right to give Lucas space, his large hand completely enclosing yours. 

“Okay, here goes…” the sound of the gun whirring to life fills the room that has tattoo designs filling the wall. 

“Fuck!” your voice pierces through the air and you jolt from the sudden pain. It felt as if someone was impaling you with a sword- which was partly true- but they were doing it continuously. Jaehyun is shocked from your sudden movement and struggles to catch you in his arms. Lucas quickly tears the gun away from your neck and you whimper out, the pain searing through your entire being and Jaehyun tries shushing you, his attempts all going in vain. 

Shitshitshit. This is torture. It’s only the first touch of the needle against your skin and you’re already this close to crying. How the fuck do people get those huge ass tattoos?! Trying your best to calm down and ignore the pain spreading throughout your entire being, you squeeze Jaehyun’s hand hard enough for it to pain but you don’t really care at this point, the throbbing of your collarbone enough to send you flying. He’s stood up from the stool by now, standing behind you.

“Okay..sorry sorry, you can continue.” you whisper out and clamp your lips shut so as to not let out any more weird noises. You’re sweating by the time Lucas gets the gun closer to you and bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood when the feeling of the needle pressing against your skin fills you up again.

Holy heck, I can’t do this. 

Your face is an accurate representation of agony, your entire body tensing as Lucas tattoos your collarbone with his long hair slightly brushing against your neck. You try leaning your head back and lean against Jaehyun. He’s whispering soft comforting words as countless profanities leave your mouth and you feel sad for Lucas, having to hear the shit you were spewing. 

“It’s alright, baby. Just think about other things, happy things.” your boyfriend pecks your cheek and hugs you lightly, trying not to disturb Lucas.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale inh-

“I think I just popped a boner.”

You gasp. Lucas chokes. He moves. You shriek.

“Ah, shit!” the gun’s needle scraped against your skin, it was all so sudden. The pain suddenly shoots throughout your entire body, tears filling your eyes. Nononono. 

“Jesus! It’s paining too much!” you’re sobbing by now, Lucas is frantic and Jaehyun..well..he is burning. He’s too busy regretting all his choices to even notice what’s happening around him. Jaehyun bends down to fix his problem and emerges 5 minutes later, when you’re still twisting in torment. Everything is red, your lip being abused by your teeth in order to calm down.

“Y/n! Ma’am! I’m so sorry! Shit, no!” Lucas apologises and sprints over to get a cloth to wipe something you feel trickling down your chest now. Blood. You’re bleeding. 

Writhing in agony in your seat, you clench your hands as if that would somehow reduce the sting, and pant, trying to relax. Your eyes are widened at an attempt of keeping it all in but the throbbing just doesn’t seem to dissipate.

Oh God…

Lucas is now carefully dabbing at the source of blood with panic written clearly all on his face. You look at Jaehyun through the ache to see that he is now coming back to reality and upon seeing your state, a gasp tears his throat and he’s looking at you with his eyes widened. 

The distress prevents you from speaking properly but you manage to call out, “J-Jaehy..Jaehyun.” Said man is desperately looking between your blood gushing out and your face twisted in discomfort. He figures it out and as soon as he does, takes your whimpering form into his, murmuring endless apologies and if you could, you would stop him from saying that but the sting is still there, only lessening a tad bit.

It’s hell, trying to clean the blood away and getting it sorted out. You cried a bit during the process as well but you were perfectly entitled to do that, the gun had pierced your skin quite deep when Lucas had jolted upon hearing what Jae suddenly said. 

30 minutes later, you’re hiccupping slightly and trying to breathe normally after the mad incident. Surprisingly, no one had come in during that time and you were thankful for that, not having wanted anybody to see the mess that had been caused because of Jaehyun’s unexpected confession. Speaking of which, you wince and turn around to look at him and when his eyes meet yours, ask him what he meant “What was that about you popping a boner?” the incredulity just hit you now and you wait for his response impatiently.

“Nothing babe...just forget it. I’m so sorry for saying it so randomly, though. I should’ve thought before speaking. I’m so careless.” the look on his face melts  and you are about to pull him into your chest when you realise that you can’t.

The pain has subsided by now, it’s bearable and you turn to look at Lucas who- when he catches your gaze- immediately walks over to you and starts speaking. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry! That was so sudden and I messed up your tattoo. It’s all my fault, please forgive me if possible.” he looks scared, and you understand why. He probably thinks you’ll sue him or something but you weren’t planning on doing anything of the sort. “It’s alright Lucas. I’m also not gonna tell anyone. We’ll just tell everyone that as soon as the gun touched me, I chickened out and told you to stop.” you keep your hand on his head that’s bowed and he looks up. There are tears brimming his eyes and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or the fact that he genuinely feels terrible for what he did. It really wasn’t his fault anywhere though. You didn’t understand why he was so stressed. 

“I’m sorry Lucas, I just said something stupid without even thinking before. You don’t need to take nay of the blame.” Jaehyun’s voice fills the room and Lucas’ features relax a little before he smiles forcefully. “Well, if your cuts get better, then maybe I can continue the design?” he jokes and you laugh along, knowing all too well that you wouldn’t be coming here again. Your first tattoo and this had happened.

“So do you wanna tell me about that boner-popping now? Lucas isn’t even here.” you’re sitting at the dining table, having just finished your dinner with empty bowls of pasta in front of each of you. Jaehyun shifts slightly in his seat and you wonder if you made him uncomfortable, although you don’t understand why- the reason couldn’t have been that  bad. As soon as you start to backtrack, Jaehyun’s voice is heard.

“Well..just..you know when you were getting the tattoo?” you nod slightly “Lucas was just, his black clothes..and he was bending over and I don’t know. You were whimpering..” “So the scene was too hot and you popped a boner?” you complete his sentence and he meekly nods before you’re howling with laughter, almost falling iff the chair and forgetting about the pain around your collarbone. The bisexual in Jaehyun was showing and he was afraid to admit it, you don’t now why. He had told you about this when you started dating, and you were totally fine with  it, because you knew that he wouldn’t cheat on you. 

“Hey..” your boyfriend half-heartedly attempts to stop you but you’re too far gone to realise that he may be feeling bad. When your laughing fit is over, though, you look at him for any trace of sadness but are relieved to see that he’s only blushing lightly, his dimples showing when he smiles. 

“So, do you wanna get a  tattoo now?” the answer is obvious, given the fact that today did not go as planned. You’re surprised when he answers.

“I don’t think so. My body is a shrine and a tattoo will take away its chastity.”

“Shrine indeed.”

Ty for reading! Yes lmao ik the ending is weird asf, as is the entire story, but nvm

Feedback is always appreciated!

this was supposed to be a drabble for jae’s birthday 😭excuse the typos they’re terrible and i’m literally the most impatient living being you’ll ever encounter

also, the shop name lmao i just got it from google- not creative i know

Tagging: @neoculturedtrash , @jeongjeffrey , @orange-lemon-cross , @nanasimp , @bluejaem​

[americasass91]

Last Kiss

Hello lovelies!! I’m back with my second submission to @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ awesome Autumn challenge! This one once again stars Ransom! It’s not as smutty as I usually do(I know, what’s wrong with me?). There’s also a quote from Grey’s Anatomy in here. Every time I hear it, I get chills. Also there are flashbacks and those will be in italics. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!!

Verbal Prompts:

“I love you, Jerkface.”

“It’s all just a bunch of Hocus Pocus

Location/Activity Prompts:

Fall Festival

Hayride

Walking through a park with leaves

Words:4.9k

Rating: Explicit(Maybe Mature?)

Warnings: Angst, Ransom being an asshole, some smut, language

September 22nd, 2019. Today was the first official day of Fall. It used to be your favorite time of the year. Nothing made you happier than the colder weather, the leaves changing colors, and of course Halloween.

That was all tainted now by memories of him.

It was all your fault really. Your friends told you not to get involved with him. Told you it would end in nothing but heartbreak. You really wished you would’ve listened to them. It would have definitely saved you a lot of heartache.

You can’t believe you wasted 3 years of your life with him. 3 years you would never get back. The only good thing about any of it is the lessons you learned from the failed relationship.

They say it takes 2 people to make a relationship fail. You don’t think that’s the case this time. You were totally and 100% devoted to him and making it work. You thought he was as well. You thought wrong.

September 3rd, 2015

You really hated going to the clubs. Why go out when you could be on your couch huddled under a plethora of blankets and binge watching your newest obsession, Schitt’s Creek?

But, unfortunately you had promised your friends you would stop being a hermit and rejoin society for the evening.

So you put on some black leggings, a long burgundy sweater, and some black ankle boots and head to your friends. You decided to walk since it was only a couple of blocks from your apartment.

The smile couldn’t leave your face if you wanted it to on your little walk. The air was chilly, Fall was definitely almost here. Boston was the most beautiful place during Fall. You couldn’t wait for the hayrides, getting lost in a corn maze, and delicious hot apple cider.

You finally reach the club and head inside to find your friends. It takes you no time at all to spot them at a table near the back. You head to the bar to order a drink before heading to your girls.

It’s crowded tonight so you find the only open spot and squeeze your way through and attempt to flag down the busy bartender.

After a few minutes of failed attempts you decide to sit on the stool and patiently wait until he comes over to you.

“Having trouble getting his attention, sweetheart?”

You turn your head to the left and you momentarily forget how to speak. This man attempting to start a conversation with you is beautiful. You’d say handsome but that’s not nearly good enough. He has amazing blue eyes that you feel yourself getting lost in. He chuckles when he realizes the effect he has on you. It shakes you out of your trance.

“Sorry, my brain quit working there for a minute. Yes, I can’t seem to get his attention.”

He smiles and takes a sip of what you assume is whiskey in his glass. He gives you a quick wink before turning his attention to the bartender. “Hey, Earl! This gorgeous lady here would like a drink.”

You blush furiously. He just called you gorgeous. When he looks like the walking version of Adonis.

Earl comes right over. “Sorry dear. Super busy tonight. What can I get for you?”

Still being in a Fall mood you decide on an Angry Orchard.

He nods and goes to get it for you.

“I never would have pegged you as a hard cider girl.” The beautiful mystery man says as he not-so-discreetly checks you out.

“I guess I’m full of surprises. Thanks though for getting his attention. Are you guys friends? He came over here right away.”

“Nah, I just spend a lot of money here so he never makes me wait. I guess you could say I’m at the top of his priority list.” He gives you a heart stopping smile when Earl comes back over and sets your Cider in front of you.

“That’ll be 4.50 hun.”

As you’re reaching for your wallet, the mysterious man speaks up again. “Put it on my tab Earl. In fact, put whatever else she drinks tonight on my tab, too.”

Earl nods and goes to tend to one of the many other patrons. You look wide eyed over at the stranger. “Thank you but I can’t let you do that. You don’t even know me.”

“Well let’s remedy that shall we? I’m Ransom.” He holds out his hand to you.

You gladly shake it. “Y/N. What are these drinks going to cost me, Ransom?”

He releases your hand as he smirks at you. “Well gorgeous, what will it get me?”

You put your finger to your chin and ponder for a moment. “Hmmm. Well I guess you could take me out on a date.”

He grins even wider. “Done. How about next Friday night? Say 7? We could meet here?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then, handsome-I mean, Ransom.” You wink as you grab your drink and head over to your friends.

“Geez took you long enough!” Jessica exclaims as you sit beside her.

“Sorry! I was in the middle of staring at the hottest man I’ve ever seen. And I must have charmed him because I have a date next Friday!”

Your 3 friends look towards the bar. “Okay, which lucky guy is it babe?” Rachel wants to know as she looks back at you.

“That one, in the blue sweater. His name is Ransom.” You point discreetly towards him.

Jessica looks at you with wide eyes. “No, Y/N! You can’t go out with him! He’s an asshole! Like I’m talking major asshole. He changes girlfriends like he changes underwear! Go cancel it.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard nothing but horrible things, Y/N. Save yourself the heartbreak and go end it now.” Rachel agrees with Jessica.

You can’t believe them. The first date you’ve had in god knows how long and they are both trying to shut you down. You turn towards Sophie, who has remained unusually quiet. “Well what about you, Soph? What’s your opinion?”

She glances over at him. “Look, I’ve also heard he’s an asshole but I also heard he’s phenomenal in bed so what’s wrong with her getting some?” She then directs her gaze at Jess and Rachel.

“Nothing is wrong with that at all! We just know how she gets. She can’t just sleep with him and then be done. That’s not her. She’ll catch feelings. Like always.”

You glare over at Jessica. “First of all stop talking about me like I’m not even here! And yes I know I’ve managed to catch feelings in the past but for Christ’s sake it’s just a date! It’s not like I accepted a marriage proposal. Who said I’d even want to see him again after Friday?”

You regret more than anything not canceling that date.

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October 27th, 2015

By now you were on your 10th date with Ransom. You had suggested a horror movie marathon at your place which he graciously accepted. You were still trying to find the asshole part of him. He’s been nothing but amazing to you so far.

You answer the door as soon as you hear him knocking. He greets you with a huge smile and a bag of snacks. “Hi, gorgeous.” He drops the bag and pulls you in for a searing kiss. This is as far as you two had gone and you were hoping to change that tonight.

You smile as you break from the kiss. “What movie do you want to start with first?”

He picks up the bag and hands it to you as he heads into the living room. “Why not start with a classic? Halloween.” He picks it up and heads to put it in the DVD player.

“Perfect! I’ll go get the drinks and snacks.”

After grabbing a couple of beers and some popcorn you head back in to find Ransom all comfy on your couch. He smiles and opens his arms for you. You happily oblige and get settled in them before pressing play.

You make it til almost the end before the kissing starts. Which leads to you straddling him. Which then leads to grinding down on his growing erection.

He groans and pulls out of the kiss. “Should we take this to your bedroom, gorgeous?”

You nod enthusiastically and lead him to it.

Well Sophie was definitely right about one thing, he was phenomenal in bed.

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November 15th, 2015

You’ve officially been dating Ransom for about 2 months now. And you couldn’t be happier.

You were currently in the throes of passion and tangled up in the sheets with Ransom buried deep inside of you.

“Come on, gorgeous. Move those hips faster. You’re the one that wanted to be on top.” He smacks your ass and grabs onto your hips.

You place your hands on his chest and move as fast as your body will allow. “I’m going as fast as I can, Ran. You could help you know.”

He smirks as he sits up and starts meeting your thrusts. He grabs onto your hips and starts basically moving them for you. All you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and hang on for the ride. You know you’re about to fall over the edge.

“God damn, gorgeous. I can feel you squeezing me tight. Come on, come for me. Make a mess all over this big cock.” He moves one hand and starts rubbing your clit in hard circles. That’s all you needed. You come with a scream of his name. Your release triggers his. He whispers your name as he spills inside of you. He thrusts into you a few more times before he stills and pulls you in for a hug.

After a few minutes both of your breathing comes back to normal. He pulls back a little and tucks some hair behind your ear. He cups your face and runs his thumb over your cheek. He pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss. So different from the heated ones you were sharing not even 2 minutes ago. He pulls away and looks at you with what you can only describe as love in his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I know it’s only been 2 months but, I do.”

A smile breaks out across your face. “Thank god you said it. I’ve been wanting to say it for weeks now!”

He gets the biggest smile on his face. “You have not! You’re just saying that because I was brave enough to say it first you chicken!” He says teasingly as he starts peppering kisses over your neck, causing you to giggle.

You gasp, pretending to be offended. “Chicken? Excuse you, I am no chicken. I just didn’t want to scare you away!”

He starts poking right under your ribs, knowing how ticklish you are. “You couldn’t scare me away even if you tried, chicken.”

You try to pull out of his grasp but he holds you even tighter. He pulls you back in for another toe curling kiss.

You pull enough away so that you can tell him, “I love you, Jerkface.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “I love you, too, gorgeous girl.”

September 1st, 2016

You were wrapped up in Ransom’s arms and listening to the sound of the rain hitting the windows. You both decided today was a great day to stay in bed and do nothing. You had recently moved in with Ransom and so far things had been amazing. Sure you had the occasional spat but the make-up sex was always fantastic. Sometimes you think he starts them on purpose.

You were almost asleep when you heard Ransom say something. You gaze sleepily up at him. “I’m sorry Ran, I didn’t hear you. What was that?”

He continues running his hand through your hair as he smiles down at you. “I asked if you wanted to go to the Fall Festival when it’s up and running? I know it’s your favorite thing.”

You sit up a little and look down at him. “Ransom, you hate the Fall Festival. You wouldn’t go with me last year.”

“Yeah, well I want to take you this year. I even promise to enjoy myself. Please?”

Well how could you say no to that?

“Okay, fine. You’ve pulled my leg.”

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October 21st, 2016

As soon as Ransom pulled into the festival you started squealing with excitement. He couldn’t help but laugh at your eagerness, almost feeling it himself. Nervous, but eager nonetheless.

You both get out of the car and head towards the gate. “What do you want to do first, Ransom?”

He pretends to ponder it for a moment. “How about we get you some cider and then go for a hayride?”

You beam up at him. “Perfect!”

You can’t help but notice as you’re in line for the hayride how weird Ransom is acting.

“You okay, babe? You’ve been acting off all day.”

He looks down at you. “Uh, yeah. Fine. Just a lot on my mind. Nothing for you to worry about.���

You furrow your brows. “Are you sure? You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Before he has a chance to reply, you’re being called for the next hayride.

You’re relaxing against Ransom and enjoying the beautiful view when he clears his throat. You give him a questioning look.

“Y/N. I know we haven’t been together terribly long and have only been living together for a few months but”...he reaches into his brown coat pocket and pulls out a small box. You gasp and put your hand over your mouth... “You have really changed my life for the better. You make me so happy and I just want to do the same for you. So with that being said”...He opens the box and reveals a beautiful diamond ring...“Will you marry me?”

You can’t even speak. You have tears pouring down your face. You are beyond happy. You furiously nod your head and throw your arms around his neck. He reciprocates the hug and wraps his arms around you. You hear clapping coming from the other people on the hayride.

He pulls away from you and grabs your left hand. He places the diamond on your finger. “Thank you gorgeous girl.”

“Thank you for what?”

“Making me the happiest I think I’ve ever been.”

“Is this why you wanted to bring me to the festival?”

He looks away sheepishly. “Well, yeah. What better way to propose to a girl who loves Fall than on a hayride?”

You smile and give him a kiss. “You know we’re having a Fall wedding right?”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t expect anything different. But can we be engaged for a while? Just enjoy it before the headache of wedding planning takes over?”

“Fine with me, handsome.”

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September 15th, 2018

With the wedding only a little over a month away, you were super busy. Not only did you have work but now you had to plan a wedding too.

Ransom didn’t help with it. He said he wanted you to do what you wanted and he’d be happy.

Well easier said than done. Of course your girls helped you out. After they got over the initial shock of Ransom proposing, they were on board for a Fall wedding and you couldn’t have gotten the planning done without them.

The stress of the wedding has really been taking its toll on you and Ransom. You guys have been fighting a lot more recently. You’ve actually taken your ring off a few times and threw it at him, claiming you could never marry a child like him. Of course that always blew over in a few hours and he would slide the ring right back on as he fucked you against the nearest surface.

You guys haven’t had much time together lately what with you working and wedding planning. You were in some desperate need of Ransom.

You decided to leave work at noon today to surprise him.

On your way home you stopped by his favorite sandwich shop to pick up lunch and even stopped by a bakery for some cookies. Pumpkin chocolate chip. His favorite.

You smile when you see his Beemer in the driveway. You couldn’t wait to see him. And let’s be real, fuck him.

Your smile falters however as you’re unlocking the door. You hear some odd noises coming from the kitchen.

You turn the corner and stop dead in your tracks. You drop everything in your hands to the floor. There was your fiancé, with some girl bent over the kitchen counter, fucking into her without abandon.

He looks over at the noise and notices the food spilled all over the floor. He moves his gaze up your body and reaches your tear-filled eyes. He holds out his finger to you, asking you to hold on a minute.

Your jaw drops. Not only is he fucking some bitch against YOUR kitchen counter, he has the audacity to tell you to wait?

He turns his attention back to the whore in front of him and picks up his pace a little. You can’t stand there any longer. You head upstairs to your shared bedroom and start looking for your suitcase. You find it buried in the closet and throw it opened onto the bed. You start throwing clothes into it, not even bothering to fold anything. You are trying your hardest not to let the tears fall. You couldn’t let him see you cry.

A few minutes later you hear him come into the room. “Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?”

You stop rummaging through your underwear drawer and turn towards him. He’s standing at the doorway looking shocked that you’re packing. “Excuse me, shouldn’t I have asked you that question when I walked in and found you fucking some random girl in our kitchen?”

He rolls his eyes as he walks in the room and starts taking your clothes out of the suitcase. “Would you calm down? It’s not like you’ve been willing lately. Had to find somebody else to take care of my needs.”

He was saying this like it was no big deal. You couldn’t believe it. Sure you’d been stressed and tired lately and had turned down a couple advances from him. But you had sex only 2 weeks ago so it hasn’t even been that long. You started yelling. “It’s been 2 weeks Ransom! Not 2 years! I’m sorry I’ve been busy working and planning our wedding alone!”

He once again rolls his eyes as he crosses his arms. You start throwing your clothes back in the suitcase. “You’re not leaving. It’s your fault I had to go find some slut to get off. You’ve been turning me down and acting like a real bitch lately. What did you expect me to do?”

You close your suitcase and zip it up. You look at him, the tears trying desperately to fall down your face. “I expected you to be faithful to me no matter what. But I guess that was asking too much.”

You brush past him and head down the stairs. You can hear him stomping behind you. “So that’s it? You find me fucking someone else and you’re done? What about all the others, huh?”

You stop dead in the hallway and turn around. “How many others have there been Ransom? Have you been faithful to me at all?”

He comes over and puts his hands on your shoulders. “I don’t think it really matters how many others. Haven’t I been nothing but good to you? What’s it matter if I fuck someone else from time to time?”

You shrug out of his grasp. “You just don’t get it do you? Am I not enough for you? Before this wedding planning we were having sex everyday! What more could you want?”

He puts his hands on his hips. “No, sometimes you’re not enough Y/N. Sometimes I want something different. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love you.” That did it. The tears started falling. You weren’t enough, apparently you’ve never been enough.

“I deserve someone who thinks I am enough, Ransom. You were always more than enough for me. I guess I was asking too much for the same in return. Now you can go fuck anyone you want. Don’t let me stand in your way.”

You turn to leave and feel him grab your arm. He makes you drop your suitcase and spins you around. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss. The tears are really falling now. You realize this will be the last time you kiss Ransom Drysdale so you indulge yourself a little and kiss him back. You wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair. He tries to push you back against the wall, that’s when you come back to reality.

You pull away from him and step back. “No, Ransom. You can’t just kiss me and make this better. Nothing is going to make this better. I’m done.”

“Then why the fuck did you kiss me back?”

You pick up your suitcase off the floor. “I guess I just wanted a last kiss from you.”

You turn to leave when he yells at you. “You could at least have the decency to give me back the fucking ring I spent 50 grand on!”

That struck a nerve. You drop your suitcase by the door. “You want it back? Fine!”

You head into the kitchen and remove the ring from your finger. You take a moment to look at it one more time. It really was beautiful.

You hear Ransom come into the kitchen. “Y/N, what are you doing? Give it to me!”

You chuck the ring down the sink drain and flip the switch for the disposal. You turn around to leave and see Ransom standing there with his mouth hanging open. “You fucking bitch! I was going to return that to get my money back!”

You don’t even respond. You just head towards the door and grab your suitcase and don’t look back.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

January 20th, 2019

Your friends allowed you to cry over Ransom for only a few months before they came to your apartment and did an intervention. You had only been leaving for work and groceries. Listening to Taylor Swift’s song, Last Kiss, on repeat.

You were thankful for them. Not once did any of your friends say I told you so. But they did all threaten to castrate him.

They also told you that the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else. So you did, a few times.

You decided that tonight was another great night to take someone home. You were hoping it would be this guy at the bar you've been staring at for the past hour.

You decide to just go for it. You ask your friends if you look okay before you start your way towards him. Unfortunately you were stopped about halfway there. By none other than Ransom.

“Well, look who we have here. Y/N, nice to see you.”

You knew this moment would come eventually. You’d been practicing what you were going to say to him. “Hugh, wish I could say the same.”

“Hugh? Ouch. I remember a time when you were moaning Ransom, sweetheart.”

“Yeah well you did a good job to make sure that wouldn’t happen again.”

“Who says it couldn’t? I wouldn’t mind taking you home tonight.” He runs a finger down your arm.

“Ugh, pass.” You start to walk past him. But of course he wasn’t done running his mouth.

“Oh, so you can whore around town and fuck random strangers but you won’t go to bed with me?”

You whip around and glare at him. “What did you just say to me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest and smirks at you. “Yeah, I heard you’ve been sleeping around. Turning into a little whore. I’m proud.”

You walk up and slap him hard across the face. Everyone in the bar has stopped to stare at the two of you. “You don’t get to call me a whore. I’m sorry that I thought you were going to be the person I spent the rest of my life with. You were it for me, Hugh. But you had to go and fuck someone else. So yes, I slept with a few people to try and forget you. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke. If anything, you’re the whore.”

He stands there, mouth agape, with his hand over his cheek where you had slapped him.

You don’t even give him time to say anything. You head back over to your friends. They all high five you and tell you how amazing you had been.

Ransom feels all eyes on him and decides it’s probably best if he leaves.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁 September 22nd, 2019(Current day)

Since Ransom ruined Fall for you last year, you decided to enjoy every second of it this year. Your goal for the day was to take a nice long walk in the park and then go to dinner with your girls tonight.

You get dressed in a pair of black leggings and a grey sweatshirt that says ‘It’s just a bunch of Hocus Pocus’ from your favorite movie ever.

You put on your tennis shoes and grab your keys and a 5 from your wallet and head out.

You moved to New York a few months ago for a new job. You love it here. And so far Fall is just as beautiful here as it was in Boston. The only downside was you missed your friends. That’s why you were so excited for dinner tonight. They were coming in just to see you. Okay and to shop.

You gasp as you enter the park. The leaves are just beautiful. Orange, yellow, and red as far as the eye can see. You can’t help but smile. You just know this Fall will be better than last year was. You just have a feeling.

You spot a cart selling hot apple cider. You remove the 5 from the pocket in your leggings and stand in line. You thank the man who hands it to you and tell him to keep the change. Nothing is going to ruin your mood today.

You start leisurely strolling down a random path and just enjoy the crisp autumn air. There’s a chill to it today and you absolutely love it. You take a sip of your cider. It’s perfect.

You look to your left and see children laughing and jumping into piles of leaves. That was your favorite activity when you were a kid. You smile and go to take another sip of your cider. But before it reaches your mouth, it’s knocked from your grasp. Something has hit you from behind. You start to fall forward and reach your hands out to brace yourself. But then you feel a pair of hands grab your waist.

You hear a deep voice behind you. “Oh my god! Are you okay? I’m so sorry! I was trying to change a song on this stupid IPod and didn’t see you!.”

You turn around and get ready to give whoever ran into you a piece of your mind. But you’re stopped cold. There's a pair of beautiful blue eyes looking back at you. You quickly shake your head and move your gaze over his face. He looked almost familiar. Almost like Ransom. But more handsome if that was possible. He had the same blue eyes but instead of brown he had a gorgeous head of blonde hair.

Once you realize he’s still holding onto you and you’re staring at him like a creeper,  you take a step back and clear your throat. “Oh, it’s okay. No blood, no foul.”

He smiles at you as he gives you a once over. “You sure? I didn’t injure you did I?”

You return his smile. “Not at all.” You hold your hand out. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

He shakes your hand. “Steve, nice to meet you too.” His gaze lowers to your shirt. “You like Hocus Pocus, too?”

You reluctantly release his hand. “Like it? It’s only my favorite movie.”

“One of mine too! Autumn is actually my favorite time of the year.”

You smile widely. “Me too! It’s the best!”

His gaze then falls to the ground behind you. “Oh, did I make you spill your cider? Please let me buy you another one. I know how important hot cider can be on a chilly day.” He holds out his arm for you to take.

You loop your arm through his. “Are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

He starts walking in the direction of the cider cart. “Of course I do. Besides it gives me an excuse to keep talking to the beautiful girl I almost ran over.”

You look down and blush. You knew this Fall was going to be better. You just felt it.

Every Cevans character tag list: @stargazingfangirl18​

[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 15

Wordcount: 3, 484 Rating: T for strong language and mild violence “For you, it can be. I'm actually conscious about the taste and origins. You know those protein jellies Zao makes? They're made of his roommates.” Chapter synopsis: Everyone goes out for a night in town for a day off. While Arthur is complaining about the venue of choice, Allen sulks about the prospect of being replaced. When you disappear to the bathroom, he follows you and comes clean about it, even suggesting that you run away with him. You're reminded that you picked the right choice when you come across some unfinished business. The reader is referred to as she/her.

15 - Blood was on the agenda

“Technology advances, but humans don't. We're smart monkeys, and what we want is always the same. Food, shelter, sex, and in all its forms, escape.”

He could repeat the quote word for word if he wanted.

A week had passed since Zao left the planet, leaving you buried to the neck with work, and him, with an unstable mechanic. Alfred was still wasting away, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when the guy was the source of all his problems. Ever since he returned to the guest room after comforting Arthur, this feeling of abandonment never stopped haunting him.

How could it, after seeing you curl up so comfortably with Alfred? Every night was the same. Allen would face you, hoping you could face him. But it was always your back. Your arms were coiled around the blonde's neck like they belonged there. And the image seared into his mind like branding. It only burned deeper into his soul at every passing day as you stuck closer to the man.

Down a narrow flight of stairs in a secluded street was a pounding nightclub. Two bouncers who could easily take his head off guarded the entrance. With tattoos of dragons etched into their skin, the sight was enough to get Arthur warbling again. “Why did we have to come here? The club across the street looked fine to me!”

Allen clicked his tongue and ruffled his hair.

“If it weren't for the fact that two of your friends are on the hit list, we'd go there. But we need every bit of protection we get.” Holding his hips as he gave the two men a squint, a tense silence fell around the group before they gave a soft grunt. A grin stretched over his face. “Good thing your boyfriend has connections.”

“... Hah...” Digging a hand through his choppy blonde locks, he shook his head with a hard frown. “And because of that, that idiot will turn up dead in a ditch one day...” As he trailed off, everyone entered the establishment. One of the bouncers whipped their head over their shoulder to stare at the group that just disappeared inside.

“Didn't we already let that guy in? The blonde one?” He pointed behind him with a thumb.

“... You're tripping balls, man.” The other sighed.

“Not today, I'm not. The one with the blue eyes. Like an hour ago.”

“Maybe he came in again cuz' he wanted to. It's not that deep.”

“This is why I'm better at this job than you.”

“Eat shit.”

It was a cloudy afternoon. A grayish-blue haze had been cast over the city, but what you walked into was so much dimmer in comparison. Nothing but neon illuminated the interior. Lights that faded from blue to purple lined the countertops. The tiles of the dancefloor were a blinding white. Next to it was a heated pool that glowed blue.

As fog clouded over the surface of the steaming water, it curled around the patrons wading in it. Needless to say, you were hypnotized. “Did nobody actually think of bringing their swimsuit?” Scrambling to the edge, you bent down to your knees and played with the white clouds. “A nice hot soak would do my sore muscles some good.” Before your fingers could do so little as graze against the water, Alfred grabbed your wrist.

“But not for your junk. They're practically swimming in STIs... Just do it at home in the bath.” He grumbled, pulling you up. Shivering at the thought, you let him pull you to the bar.

“But the bath doesn't glow...”

“Not yet, it doesn't.”

Allen narrowed his eyes. The guy was so quick to follow you, then lay hands on you, it had him rethinking his life purpose. Protecting you was meant to be his thing. Hell, it used to be his job, even. And yet, here Alfred was, having replaced him. No way. He was just an outsider in the end, wasn't he?

As he watched your interaction with him, he would soon learn he was right to some degree. Maybe Alfred didn't replace him, after all. He just became another figure in your life. Somebody he never managed to be--yet.

“Let's just grab some grub.”

Ever since Alfred arrived, he'd been wondering what was on the menu.

Hunger might have been history, but not eating. And you knew it well. Shooting him a weird smile, you nudged him with your elbow. “You say you don't have organs, but you still have a digestive system. How else do you use the toilet, huh?” Alfred looked at you, turned away, then looked at you again with his face scrunched up in a scowl.

He couldn't admit it, but you were right down to a T. “It doesn't count. It's not exactly real if it's not made of organic materials.”

Taking a seat by the counter, the stools beside scraped back to be occupied by your friends. While Alfred sat on your left, Allen sat on your right. Arthur took the end. “It's all a social construct.” You piped, much to his displeasure. The word wasn't entirely accurate to describe the emotions flurrying in his chest, however.

Was he frustrated? Yes. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to hear what you had to say. And you didn't disappoint. “If something serves a function in your body, it's an organ. Doesn't matter what it's made of.”

Alfred waved over the bartender. “I'm not having this conversation with you. We're from different generations, so I have a right to brood in peace.”

“Fine. But I won't let it destroy you.”

His breath hitched while he was about to order. “Can I--” Darting his eyes to yours, his voice only faltered at the steely look in them. Tearing his gaze from you had never been so difficult. “... Can I get a yakisoba with extra bonito flakes on the top? And uh, six of these dim sum-thingos?” He slid the menu to you.

“What do you want?”

A soft laugh rumbled from your throat as he refused to look at you. I'm finally getting through to your thick-headed ass, huh? But you couldn't be unreasonable. This was always a touchy subject. “I'll just have these dumplings. What about you two?”

Allen raised his brows, unimpressed. “Lotus chips and beer for me. This isn't the most vegetarian-friendly place in the world. Sucks.”

Arthur smirked. “I know, right? But protection is the priority, I suppose. I'll have the BLT.”

“I don't think you get to side with me when you ordered the worst thing off the menu.” The redhead mused, causing the other to flare their nostrils. He slapped his hands down on the counter to sit further up his stool. “But I get it. Aw, everything reminds me of him! Except for this BLT cuz' it's white.”

“Shut your gob and bugger off, Allen! It's literally just food.”

The said man sipped his beer loudly. “For you, it can be. I'm actually conscious about the taste and origins. You know those protein jellies Zao makes? They're made of his roommates.”

“So what? Not everyone has the same eating habits as you. Deal with it!”

You exchanged funny looks with Alfred. “Don't they get along well?”

“Not as well as us. And it'll stay that way so long as you don't talk about your philosophies.”

“... And that's not happening.” The food finally arrived, so the murmur of conversations came to an end. But it wasn't long before they picked up again. “You're not the only one who can have opinions.” Alfred glanced at you with narrowed eyes. “I can't even say that they're as strong as yours. But you'll have to live with them. Maybe you could learn something new.”

He scoffed, but he couldn't bite back a defeated smile. “C'mon, not this again. You of all people should understand how I feel about that stuff.”

“And I've seen what it does to you.” Alfred hung his head at that. This was exactly what he wanted to hear, but it annoyed him all the same. The hardest topics were often the most worth discussing, and this was a perfect example of it. Giving your chest a few indignant bumps with his head, he sulked like a child much to your amusement. “I'd love to entertain you some more, but nature calls.”

Hopping off the stool at that, he thrust out a hand to grab yours. It all happened so fast, even he was shocked. But it became apparent to you both what just happened—he needed you for one last reckoning. For you to see that expectant look of his, saying how he wasn't done with you. After a few moments, he let go, letting you turn away and run off to do your business.

Life had been such a shitshow you almost forgot the situationship between you and him. Even with his lacking memories, he couldn't forget it either. And now, he just had to wait for the right time.

“Right. That's it.” Allen grumbled, scraping his chair back to hop off.

Arthur glanced up.

“And where the hell are you going?”

“Gonna go with her. I've learned to not trust anything anymore.” Jogging after you at that, the mechanic was left with a fellow blonde.

“Well, would you look at that? It takes two to tango.”

Alfred shook his head. “What?”

“You and Allen, I mean.”

The toilet flushed. Leaving the cubicle to wash your hands in one of the communal sinks, you stared at your reflection as you shook away the water droplets. The pandemonium of the club music had faded to a soft thumping, giving you some space to collect your thoughts. Even in the darkness, what you saw in the mirror couldn't be clearer. It was distinctly different from watching yourself in a pond—where the ripples of the water distorted your image—specifically the one in the garden back at headquarters.

Your old home.

But it could burn for all you cared. This was who you were now. Tired, resentful, and fuelled by a fire of hot vengeance.

“... Whatcha thinkin' about?”

Your heart jumped out of your chest as you turned to the voice. Leaning against the doorframe was none other than your old bodyguard himself. “Oh my god, you scared the crap outta me.”

He craned his head to the side with a grin. “Sorry, a force of habit. Security works better when they're discrete.” You responded wordlessly with a small, wistful smile. As nostalgic as it was to have the man by your side 24/7, he didn't have to do this anymore. And it was better that way. Something about bodyguarding never sat well with you. Not with a man of his talents, anyhow.

Walking in to join your side, he bent down to fold his arms across the sink. Then, he rolled his head up to you. “So... Wanna tell me why you look like that?”

“Like... Like what?” Blinking a few times at the mirror, you leaned in to peer at your reflection.

Allen snorted. “Not literally. Well, not your physical appearance. I can tell when something's on your mind.” Straightening up, he squeezed your shoulder as he stared at both of your reflections. Almost instantly, he felt you tense up beneath his fingertips. “I've known you for nearly eight years, dollface. I'm offended that you're underestimating me.” The man pressed his cheek to yours coyly. “Even if you don’t talk to me about your problems, I can smell em’.”

You outstretched your hands to hold the edge of the sink, breaking away from the contact on his skin. It wasn't anything worth paying mind on your end, but the feeling of your face separating from his was reminiscent of tearing something from its glue. It stung as much as it was destabilizing. It showed in his troubled frown, which deepened when he heard your mirthless laughs while you hung your head.

“I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you.” The loudest silence fell around you both as his eyes went round with grief. “It's... Too productive.” Returning his gaze with a bittersweet smile, he felt himself die a little inside. You weren't spared of the sensation as you continued with an honesty so brutal, it killed you to say it. “I've been trying so hard to make something out of myself.”

Your brows trembled ever so lightly as they furrowed together. “But I'm getting so tired, I wanted to just... Give up on the future. Maybe disappear for a bit. But I couldn't bring myself to come to you or anyone about it. You especially.”

Allen huffed out a pained breath. “Why? I wanna help you! You can trust me with anything, you know that! Out of everyone in the world, I'm the closest to you, aren't I?” Holding onto your shoulders, he gave you a desperate squeeze. “Or am I wrong to assume that?” In this space in time, he never felt more betrayed in his life. The hurt coursing through every fiber of his being was unbearable—he preferred being skewered into by your father's blade to this.

“Because it’s Alfred now?”

Your heart sank as you listened to and saw how wounded he was. His lips were trembling, and tears were threatening to spill from his glassy eyes. Never in your life had you seen him cry. The sight was so sobering you couldn’t hold yourself from pulling him down into a tight hug. “No! It's because you're you.” As your bodies swayed from side to side in the embrace, you dug a hand through his hair and screwed your own eyes shut. “You’re my only family in the world. Nothing and nobody will ever replace you, ever.”

He tightened his hold on you as he let a few tears roll down his face. His eyes had been shut as a last-ditch resort to keep that from happening, but they oozed out the tiny gaps of his lids. “Then talk to me.”

Allen never knew he had this fear, but here it stood before him in all its glory, threatening to undo his sanity at the seams. It was the fear of being a second choice. Being abandoned. He already was once, and it nearly cost him his life. But if you did it--“What makes me so different from the rest? Why would it be easier to say this to everyone else?”

“Because you’ve known me since I was thirteen!” You buried your face into your hands to hide how it contorted with pain. Falling deathly quiet at your sudden outburst, he could only watch as you trembled away. “I’ve been working towards something ever since. I always thought I was scared of disappointing dad. But in the end, I was more afraid of disappointing you.”

Allen pulled you in again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate to kiss your cheek. It wasn’t a first, but the way how his mouth lingered on your skin made it feel like something more—something beyond a platonic friendship—and pulling away felt like a sin in itself. “Don’t think that fucking low of me. You could never disappoint me.” Pressing his forehead to yours, he bit back a contented sigh as your cries quietened to sniffles.

“You have nothing to prove. Fuck expectations. You don't have to live the way everyone wanted you to. Just live how you want.” Reaching up to hold your face, he was at a loss from how satisfied it felt to finally say it. But the moment of truth had yet to come—the culmination of everything he wanted in this world.

“Just run away with me. We can put this all behind us. We don’t have to think about this ever again.”

You held onto his hands that found a place on your cheeks. It was a nice thought. To abandon everything you knew to live a carefree and blissful life with Allen. But you declined with little hesitation. “We don't run from things. It's not who we are.” A sad smile made its way to your face. “And I have too much unfinished business.”

Allen wasn't sure whether to think of your response as rejection. But he wasn't about to let it get to him. “... If you ever do, then tell me. Zao's got a nice retreat in the middle of nowhere. We'll pack our things in the middle of the night and disappear by morning.” Your smile spread to him, but his was more bittersweet.

“I just want you to know that you'll always have a way out of everything. I'll wait for you. So just... Give me a call.” He shoved his hands into his pockets to walk off. With one last wistful look over his shoulder, he added this. “I'll always be your guy.”

Going to the bathroom was meant to clear your head, but here you were, sitting in your lonesome in an empty pool room in the penthouse to mull over the conversation. You would be lying if you said you didn't want to run away with Allen. A part of you wanted to return to how things used to be—when it was just you and him. He was the most important person to you in the world, but so was Alfred. You couldn't just forget about him like fuck all, could you? Breathing out a drawn-out sigh, you watched the soft pulsing of lights of the city at night through the window.

Maybe Allen did want you to forget him.

Fiddling with the gun he left you, the barrel scraped against the counter in small slides. Then, you picked it up with a huff to slide off the stool. It was about time you joined the rest. As you did, you caught sight of a familiar silhouette by the window.

Shrouded in the dimness of the room, their body was nothing but a shadow against the scenery of neon holograms and billboards. With a brief squint, you could recognize the person almost right off the bat.

“Alfred? How did you know to come up here?” Tucking the gun into your back pocket, you couldn't help but grin at the pleasant surprise. The said man spun to your voice, then waved. Your grin would've widened at the sight, but it faded upon discovering he was in a different set of clothes than what he arrived in. He came in a dark khaki military jacket and navy blue jeans.

Weird. When did he change to a kimono?

“Hey! I haven't seen you in ages. Come gimme a hug, dammit!” Tightening his arms around your waist, he lifted you up a few inches off the ground. A few nervous laughs fell from your lips as you held onto his shoulders to stabilize yourself. And they felt... A little softer than you remembered. Warmer. Before you could linger too long on the sensation, he set you on your feet and gleamed.

“Whatcha doing in the club, (F/N)? I thought you didn't like places like these. 'Specially when this one's got ties to the underworld and stuff.”

You craned your head to the side—never have you been this baffled. “... You walked in here with us.”

Alfred blinked. “Oh, did I?”

“... Are you drunk?”

He patted his chest a few times without eliciting any sort of whirring noise—immediately, the interaction changed to an unsettling one. But his answer only confirmed your suspicions. “Nope! Stone-cold sober. It would take more than a few drinks to get this baby down.” He gloated, much to your surprise. But the shock soon morphed into a grim kind of understanding.

Alfred couldn't get drunk.

In a heartbeat, you grabbed his wrist, then felt down his forearm. The utmost terror contorted at your expression as you felt his soft flesh sink between your fingers. You only sucked in a horrified gasp when you witnessed his veins disappear under your presses. It was almost as if he was—“Heh. You having fun there?”

Glancing up at him in a dark glower, you never bothered to open your mouth. Instead, you reached for your back pocket. If he was who or what you thought he was, you couldn't let Alfred see him. He couldn't leave this room alive. However, your conviction couldn't triumph the smallest shred of hope that you were just seeing things. There was one way to confirm you weren't hallucinating.

Blood was on the agenda, and you wanted to see it.

You pulled out your gun at light speed and fired a shot into his palm.

The explosive bang was loud enough to reach a few floors down, including the elevator that just left this one. Allen was whistling to himself when he heard it.

As faint as it was, he couldn't mistake it for anything else.

He shouldn't have left you alone.

[barnesandco]

Icy Haloes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: brief mention of pneumonia and death in the first paragraph, excessive use of commas.

A/N: I’ve been suffering the worst writer’s block, but I think I’m starting to shake it off with this work, so finger’s crossed we get an update on one of my WIPs soon! Big thanks to @nacho-bucky and @captain-kelli for the extremely helpful advice that allowed me to produce a half-decent piece of writing after who-knows-how-long. It’s also hotter than Hell right now, and it was soothing to escape into a NYC winter while writing this, if you’re wondering where the inspiration came from.

Bucky hates the cold. He detests the way it bites into his bones, abhors the reminders of the graves he used to help dig every time another person in the neighborhood died of pneumonia, loathes remembering how the rattle in Steve’s lungs made him worry that his would be the next. But you, unlike Steve and possibly Sam and Nat, don’t know that. The new cook hired when a spike in missions made it increasingly more difficult for the Avengers to prepare their own meals, you have been here for all of three weeks when you appear in the living room requesting assistance with grocery shopping. 

Sam and Nat got back from a mission just yesterday and are still nursing their wounds splayed across multiple bean bags, Tony has Steve tied to the sofa by the latter’s promise to watch Star Wars, and while Wanda and Vision are available, Bucky stands at attention when you enter before you have even completed your sentence. Steve snickers, and Bucky would cuff him if he wasn’t two couches over and preoccupied with stifling a rising blush. As it is, he sends a discreet glare his best friend’s way, and volunteers to brave New York’s snow-clad streets with you instead, only because he’s a gentleman and definitely not to see the resounding smile in thanks that sends his heart racing.

“Let me go grab a jacket first,” he says, passing by you where you stand wearing a hand-knitted scarf under your jacket and a worn hat on your head, none of it able to suppress the scent of gingerbread on your person. 

“I’ll wait by the car,” you call from behind him, and he grins to himself when he hears Tony say not the Audi! as the elevator doors close. 

Five minutes later, you’re both in the garage, trying to determine which car to take if Tony’s precious Audi is unavailable, and since you’re going to be driving, he sees no reason to suggest otherwise when you head for the Tesla. Although Bucky is slowly catching up with the times, between frequent trips to the local library, the ever-so-helpful internet under F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s guidance, and the miracle of history documentaries, driving a car is one thing he still has not learnt. 

However, you were born and raised in Arlington, Texas, a city with a negligible public transport system, and therefore know how to drive. How you’ll fare on frosty streets remains to be seen. Now, he realizes neither of you really thought this trip through much beyond the date and time of the event, but you’re an experienced driver, and he has faith that you’ll adapt just fine. Besides, it’s not like it’s your first time out. 

The silence in the car is calm, warm, the gentle hum of the radiator only audible to Bucky beneath the still quieter murmur of the electric engine, and you nod your head to an invisible tune as the car speeds down country roads, towards the cluster of skyscrapers in the distance, made cloudy by winter haze. 

He’s so focused on the city ahead that he nearly jumps out of his skin when you speak for the first time since you got in the car. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go besides the supermarket?” You ask, and he sees that you think you’ve bothered him, that you’ve dragged him out against his will, and he doesn’t want to let you believe that.

“I’m happy to go wherever you like,” is his answer, with a smile that he hopes is more placating than nervous, because who knows what it’s like to be the newest part of a well-oiled machine that you think doesn’t need you. While you aren’t with them in the field, you live with them and have, in this short time, endeared yourself to each Avenger in a unique way. Recalling watching Peter do his homework a couple of months back, he thinks of nuclei and electrons, and how you seem to be an example of the first particle. Not only because he is attracted to you, but also because of how you pull people into your circle. Bucky hopes he can be granted the same joy.

“Okay,” you say softly, as if only to yourself, but he catches it and nods reassuringly. “You know, when Sam came with me last week, he actually said that you’re a lot more fun while grocery shopping.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “I’m more fun to be with while shopping than at home, or I’m more fun to go shopping with than Sam?” He asks, turning in his seat.

“The second one.”

“Did he say why?”

A thoughtful hum, and you bite the inside of your cheek while formulating an appropriate answer. “Something about your old-fashioned sensibilities being offended by the prices nowadays--”

“I am not old-fashioned--”

“-- and he warned me to keep you away from the snack aisle because you, and I quote, lose it at the sight of all those Doritos flavors,” you finish with a teasing smile, directed at the road. With no response to that, he resigns himself to sink back into his seat while crossing his arms and grumbling his displeasure, only to perk up with the sound of your laugh, just as you swing into the parking lot of Trader Joe’s.

One successful grocery round later, and Bucky’s closing the lid on a trunk full of grocery bags, one of which consists only of Doritos. He’s going to open the door for you when you stop him and gesture to the cafe across the street with a sheepish look on your face.

“Hot chocolate?” ¨

“Sure,” he answers, and you lock the door. The place is almost empty, what with it being a couple of hours before lunch on a workday, and you order to hot chocolates to go, explaining that you’re just a few minutes away from Central Park and you wanted to go for a brief walk, if that was okay with him, of course.

The hot chocolates arrive, both with every imaginable topping on them, and Bucky hurries to pull out his wallet despite your protests. “Let’s go,” he says, handing you your cup and praying that he can balance his without spilling over, and holding the door for you as you exit. 

New York’s boisterous bustle is dulled by the quiet of winter, the pulsing life of the city hushed as snow starts falling, this November precipitation hopefully a good omen for a white Christmas. This part of town seems to fall silent, and he relishes the peace, the rustle of your jackets as shoulders brush when a rare stranger passes by. 

Soon, the city falls away to the expanse of what used to be green but is now just a domesticated snowy tundra -- Central Park. A lone runner sprints across a pathway a hundred yards away, and you sit down on a bench.

“I love New York,” you say with a smile, and Bucky can see the enchantment of this city falling over you as you close your eyes. Less than a month, most of it spent outside the city lines, and you’re falling for the place he knows as home, and it makes him fall in love with it all over again. To see a familiar place through fresh and wondrous eyes is like getting to read a favorite book for the first time -- a privelege few are afforded, but he is fortunate to be amongst them. The way your eyes flit across the sky following a flock of pigeons, the way you inhale the scent of hot chocolate like no place else in the world can produce, and then how your gaze falls to the untouched, sacred blanket of snow in front of you. The ensuing gasp is one he cannot decipher, and so he asks.

“What is it?”

“I just realized I’ve never made snow angels,” you answer, trembling with childish epiphany, and he looks at you like you’ve grown another head. It’s been almost a century since he made his last one, too, at the age of 12, before he had to resist in order to avoid bringing Steve down with him lest the skinny rascal die from the cold.

“Do you,” he begins hesitantly, “do you want to, right now?” The expression on your face is one of barely controlled want and bashfulness at the desire. 

“Yeah,” you say after a full minute’s consideration. That’s how Bucky finds himself, despite his issues with the cold, on the ground in a field of snow like a starfish against the ground and waving his arms and legs wildly. Your giggles float to him on a cloud of air, breathless, shaking, and he stops after a while to lay there next to you, the silver bond of a new friendship glowing in the gray daylight. 

He’s the first to rise, carefully so as to not disturb the pattern, and he pulls you up after, watches the smile split your face into the fullest crescent moon, warming his insides more than the hot chocolate did. The cold is starting to soak through his clothes, but the pins and needles prickling at his skin soon start to sear with that white heat that comes after touching snow, and he’s warm all over. When you turn to look at him with a thank you on the tip of your tongue, his cheeks pink and eyes icy blue, he smiles back. Thinks he could learn to love the cold, if it comes with companionship like this.

[themrsdeanwinchester]

Choices

Author’s note: Hello! This is my entry for @deanwanddamons’ 1st Blogiversary & 2K Follower Celebration! The quote I chose to use is bolded within my entry. I have to say, I found this challenging. I’ve just been struggling to write lately and I hope you enjoy this. I did love writing this though because I loved the quote/prompt so much. I went back and forth on *semi spoiler* a happy or sad ending, so I wrote two. This one has the happy ending put there is a link at the bottom to take you to the sad, alternate ending. I hope you enjoy and feedback is welcome! Happy reading! 

Warnings: spoiler-is for season 15, violence, hurt, demon, major character death, language

Pairing: Dean x reader (Sam is platonically in this as well)

Word count: 2,290

Six months ago, Dean Winchester had come through your line at the Gilbert’s Grocery in Lawrence, Kansas. You’d been crushing on him for much longer than that though; it had really been ever since he and his brother had shown up in town. Or, back to town you figured, since Dean had told you they were both born and raised here but had been away for work. It did seem odd to you, a little part of your brain screamed “red flag” at his explanation. He had simply stated it was a family business and that he and his brother had inherited a home here so they had decided to come back. The fact you’d go weeks without seeing him was explained away by Dean as again, work related. You ignored every sensation that your body gave you that said none of what he said lined up or made sense. But he was so handsome, and nice. His smile sparkled and his green eyes hypnotized you.

“Hey, Y/N.” Dean set his groceries on the conveyer belt. “How’s it going?”

“Hi, Dean,” you breathed. You knew there were hearts in your eyes, you just couldn’t help it. “It’s going good. Almost done for the day so that makes it even better. You?”

“Good, good. Did you say you were almost off?” Dean questioned. 

“Yup.” You scanned his last item, beer. “$65.10 today.”

He handed you cash, as always, and said, “I’d love to take you out to dinner tonight. If you’re available?” 

Your hand was still midair, clutching the money you’d just taken from him. Had you heard him correctly? Did he just ask you out to dinner? “I’m - I’m available,” you stuttered.

“Fantastic. What’s your number? I’ll text you and then you can send me your address.”

You gave Dean you number and felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You pulled it out to see Dean’s text. “Got it.” You flashed your phone at him and smiled.

“Pick you up at 7?” Dean asked, grabbing his bag.

“Sounds good.”

“See you then, sweetheart.” Dean started to walk away but spun back around, “oh, keep the change.” He winked and walked out the door.

It was only then you realized your hand was still holding the cash he’d given you for his groceries.

Six months, you were living in the bunker with Sam and Dean, helping with research and a “rookie hunter” as Dean had dubbed you. 

“You ready?” Dean asked, popping his head into your shared bedroom.

You zipped up your duffle. “Yup! Let’s go.” 

You slowly opened your eyes. Your eyelids were heavy, so heavy they felt cemented shut.  You closed then again and squeezed them, trying to shake off the sensation. You opened them again, blinking hard a few times as your eyes adjusted. You were lying flat on your back, your left arm up over your head and your right in excruciating pain. You tried to sit up and yelped in pain. Your entire body hurt. You slowly shifted your head, trying to look around. Your eyes landed on the door of the room. It was wide open. Where were Sam and Dean?

Footsteps behind you made your ears perked up. The footsteps quickened and Dean was kneeling beside you.

“Y/N!” He hissed.

“Yes, don’t yell. I can hear you,” you mumbled. Your mouth felt thick; you needed water. “What happened?”

“Christo,” Dean spat. Then he dumped holy water on your forehead. When you didn’t react he sighed, letting his head fall, his chin resting against his chest. “A demon possessed you. We’ve been looking for you for hours. I thought we’d lost you for good.” He looked up as Sam came into the room.

“Oh, good,” Sam said, breathless from running. “Let’s get out of here. Y/N, can you walk?”

“My whole fucking body hurts. I can’t even sit up,” you whined. Your eyes welled with tears as you attempted to sit up again.

Sam came along the other side of you and pushed his hand under your right shoulder to try and help you up. You screamed in pain.

“I think her shoulder is dislocated,” Sam said to Dean.

“We have to get you up, sweetheart. It’s going to hurt but we have to get you out of here.”

You nodded, swallowing hard, knowing you were in for a rough ride in the Impala.

Back at the Bunker, Dean gave you whiskey, a lot of whiskey, so Sam could put your shoulder back into place.

“I think,” you slurred, “I’m ready.” You set your empty glass in the table. “Hold my hand.” You stretched your left hand out to Dean and he took it, giving you a little squeeze.

“Take a deep breath,” Sam said. He placed a palm between your shoulder blades and the other on the front of your right shoulder. “Let it out.”

As you let out air in your lungs, Sam quickly shoved your shoulder into place. You squeezed Dean’s hand as you screamed, pain searing throughout your body.

“All done!” Sam said, taking a step back, arms raised. “I’m done! You’re good!” He was trying to reassure you but fuck, that hurt.

Later that night, as you lay propped up in bed, Dean shuffled into the room, his hair spiky and wet from his shower. You watched as he pulled clean pajamas from the dresser.

“If I had any dollars, I’d throw them at you,” you said. You were still a little drunk from the whiskey earlier.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Easy tiger. You maybe be feeling pretty good right now but if you get too frisky with me tonight, you will regret it in the morning.” Dean pulled back the covers and nestled into the bed next to you.

“Wanna bet?” You teased, your voice low as you started to move closer to Dean.

“Hey, I’m serious, Y/N.” Dean’s tone changed. “We’re not doing... that tonight.” He sighed and ran his hand through his wet hair. He looked over and saw the look on your face, a mix of hurt and anger.  “I’m sorry.”

Part of you knew you didn’t need to feel hurt or mad. Dean was right, your body was still hurting badly. “No, it’s okay. You’re totally right. Think we can at least cuddle?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Dean raised his arm, your cue to settle your head on his chest, his  arm coming down around you once you did.

“Goodnight. I love you, Dean,” you said quietly, sleep already overcoming you.

“Love you, too, sweetheart.”

The next morning you woke up in the same spot; Dean’s arm around you and your head on his chest. You shifted slightly and were immediately met with searing pain throughout your body. Your movement and hissing of pain woke Dean up. After you assuring him multiple times you were fine, he got up to get the two of you coffee and some breakfast.

He reappeared 20 minutes later with a tray of coffee, eggs, toast, and bacon. He watched you struggle to eat with your left hand, laughing with you because you’d dropped eggs down your shirt and were trying to fish them out from between your cleavage.

Again his tone changed, his face became somber. “Y/N, we need to talk about something.”

His words made you freeze and you just nodded your head.

“Yesterday really scared me. I … we, thought you were gone. Thought we’d lost you.” Dean took in a shaky breath. “This life is not meant for everyone. And most of us were born into it. But you,” he looked up at you, his green eyes glistening with tears. “I’m going to give you the choice I never had.”

“What... what do you mean ‘give me a choice?’” You asked.

“I mean you have a choice here. To stay or go. You still have a shot at a normal life. You can go back, find a guy with a real job, and have a family, Y/N. And I want that for you. I want you to be happy. I would prefer it be with me but I can’t give you what you deserve. And I won’t let you put yourself in danger.” Tears were now sliding down Dean’s cheeks and you watched them, watched them slide down the curve of his jaw onto his neck.

“Are you...” your mouth was so dry. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I’m telling you to break up with me,” Dean choked.

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to. I just need you to be safe. Goddamit, Y/N.” Dean put his head in his hands. 

“What did I do?” You asked, defensive now.

“Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by that,” Dean mumbled into his hands.

The two of you sat in silence. You knew Dean was right. This job, this life, it was hard. Really fucking hard. And dangerous. You loved Dean and you had to admit that it was hard to be in this life with him. Day in and day out, wondering what was going to happen to him, or you, or Sam.

And so, Dean helped you packed your things. Slowly, stopping every so often to exchange a glance and exchange assurances that this was what was best for the both of you. 

You hugged Sam with tears in your eyes. “I can still help with research from my house,” you whispered to him.

Sam smiled, pulled away from you and shook his head. “Dean doesn’t want you involved at all. It’s for your safety.”

“I knew that was a long shot,” you shrugged, a small laugh escaping your lips.  “I’ll miss you, Sam.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Y/N.” He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. 

Dean appeared in the doorway. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you said through a sigh. 

The ride to your house was silent other than the purr of the Impala. You glanced at Dean, his green eyes in the road, left hand griping the wheel and his right holding your hand, fingers laced together. He was holding it firmer than he ever had, all because he worried it’d be the last time. You understood, you really did. You tossed it all up to right person, wrong time. In another world without monsters, demons, angels, and Chuck, maybe you and Dean could be together. But this was Chuck’s world and you were being written out.

On the porch of your house, you caught Dean staring at you, concern in his eyes.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ll call me if you need anything, right?” His eyes searched yours.

“Yes. And you me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” But Dean knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t going to contact you while still living the hunter life style. He wouldn’t risk it. He pulled you into a kiss. His body tense as he held back the urge to fling the door open and carry you straight to the bedroom, the one he grew accustomed to over the last six months when you two wanted to get away.

“I’ll wait for you, Dean,” you whispered against his lips.

“If you don’t that’s okay,” he mumbled, his forehead pressed against yours, eyes closed.

4 Years Later

You pulled into your drive way around 6 as the sun was just starting to set. You had been able to get your job back at the grocery store and move up to manager. You had hoped and prayed you’d seen Sam and Dean but you never did. You started wondering if they’d moved away, to another place, and your heart ached at the thought. But it also didn’t surprise you.

You trudged up your steps, balancing a pizza on one hand and a 6 pack of beer in the other. After a shower, you settled into the couch in your pajamas and one of Dean’s flannel shirts you’d “accidentally” packed when you moved out. 

Just as you went to take your first bite, there was a knock at your door. You heaved a sigh as you threw the pizza back into the box.

You opened the door and Dean was standing there. Your Dean. You stared at him, shocked. It couldn’t be real.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He smiled, his eyes crinkling a little more than they used to, laugh lines more prominent. 

“Christo,” you stuttered, the first thing to come to your mind, and Dean laughed.

“It’s me.”

You threw yourself at him then, tears streaming down your face. “Dean!” You cried into his shoulder. 

Dean lifted you up, feet off the ground, and walked you both inside, closing the door with his foot. He set you down as he looked you over. “I wondered what happened to this shirt,” he chuckled, his hands stopping at the buttons on your chest. He popped one open, smirking at you. 

“Wait,” you pushed his hands away. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re finished. Me and Sam. We rendered Chuck human and... we’re free.” Dean’s voice caught in his throat, the last two words coming out as a whisper of relief.

You grabbed Dean, hands in whether side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist and you both relaxed into each other. You could feel how much lighter he felt, the weight of literally the entire world was now off his shoulders and he could just be himself. He could work on Baby, have movie marathons whenever he wanted, work a real job, and love. He could have his apple pie life and he wanted it with you.

Dean broke the kiss, eyes locked with yours. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.” 

Ready the sad, alternate ending here.

Masterlist

Feedback is amazing :)

Taglist: @akshi8278, @notan-applepielife, @mynightmaresstuff, @vicmc624, @smokeychu, @supernatural-bellawinchester

[moneymingyu]

Like in The Movies

summary: in which hoshi watches way too many romance movies and has too many friends who like to watch him suffer.

word count: 2.7k words

pairing: nonidol!hoshi x reader

genre: fluff, comedy

a/n: not very proof read bc i’m super exhausted and my eyes are barely opened atm.

master list

Hoshi has always had this romanticized version of himself playing in the back of his mind.

The cool dude next to the jukebox with a leather jacket who flips a coin then plays the soundtrack to his life. The guy who you spill coffee all over in a Seattle coffee shop then exchange numbers as a form of an apology. The best friend you ask to fake date before realizing he’s been the one for you since day one. The enemy to lover, the boy next door, the childhood best friend you reunite with after years of separation. He partly blames it on all of the movies he watched growing up. A guilty pleasure of his has always been romance movies that he’d watch deep into the night when everything was still and calm. His favorites were the kinds that had him struggling to keep his hiccup at bay, the kinds that made him cry so hard that he’d wake up the next day with swollen eyes and a headache.

“Aren’t you tired of these movies?” Jihoon, his long time best friend and roommate, would ask.

“Never,” Hoshi would reply, unashamed.

He’s seen them all. The Notebook, More Than Blue, The Names of Love, Love Actually. Hoshi can quote them line by line with the same blocking. His friends think it’s impressive but Jihoon is tired of walking into the kitchen at 2AM just to see a Broadway musical in place.

So you’d think that somebody who is basically a book smart Romeo would have a better dating history but...Not Hoshi.

Look. It’s not Hoshi’s fault he’s so awkward. He didn’t ask for the lonely life! The lonely life chose him! So what if romance movies are the only way that he can feel butterflies in his stomach. Whose business is it other than his own?

“Hey Hosh! Remember that time freshman year your crush asked you to the spring fling and you responded by doing a tiger growl at them?”

“Oh my god, I almost forgot about that!” Jun covers his face, bursting into giggles at Jihoon’s trip down memory lane. “He got called a furry for the rest of the year!”

“Oh yeah? And who sat and ate lunch with said furry for the rest of the year?” Hoshi crosses his arms. “Till the day, you’re still eating lunch with the said furry!” A few head turn their way, giving the table an incredulous look. Hoshi sinks in his chair, silently wishing that the floor open and swallow him hole.

“Well maybe that’s because said furry is paying today,” Wonwoo smirks, swiping a fry from Hoshi’s plate.

“Aw, not you too!” Hoshi pouts. “Wonwoo, I put all my faith into you and this is what I get? Slander like a salamander?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jun (who, in Hoshi’s opinion, has said way more questionable things) asks with raised eyebrows.

“Nevermind. It sounded better in my head.” Hoshi sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples.

“C’mon Hoshi,” Wonwoo leans his head on his shoulder. “You know I was kidding. I would sit with you even if you were a real furry.”

“Can we stop talking about furries?!”

“Yo. What do you got against furries? We don’t kink shame around here.”

“Jun, if you say one more thing, I’m going to do an eagle screech right here.”

“That’s not really helping with the furry situation,” Jun mumbles under his breath.

Hoshi decides right then and there that he needs to invest in new friends for the sake of his sanity.

-

“I’m sure somebody likes you, Soon!” Seungkwan offers. “What about the dance studio? Lots of potential there,” he shimmies his shoulders while Dokyeom nudged him from the other side of the couch.

These are his people, he thinks as they watch My Sassy Girl for the tenth time this week.

“He’s right! You’re always a ball of confidence there! Why not try to pick somebody up? Oh!” Dokyeom looks like a lightbulb has gone off inside his head. “What about the receptionist? They’re cute! I heard they’re single too and with Valentine’s Day coming up-“

“Dokyeom! Don’t talk about the V word!”

“Virginity?”

“The other V-word!”

“V-vagi-“

“VALENTINES DAY!” Seungkwan smacks his hand over his mouth like the saying had seared his tongue.

“Oh my god, Valentine’s Day is coming up!” Hoshi whines, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. “I’m going to be alone again!”

“Hey! You always spend Valentine’s Day with us!” Dokyeom frowns.

“We’re going to be alone again!” he moans out.

Seungkwan scoffs. “Speak for yourself. I have a date.”

This causes Soonyoung’s head to snap up. “Huh? A date?” Seungkwan nods, crossing his arms and turning his nose up. “Ah, c’mon! Who is it! You know you wanna tell us!”

“I would tell you if I knew who it was,” Seungkwan sighs, falling back into the couch. “Vernon and Dino set me up on a blind date. Wait? Should I ask them to set you up on one too? You know, Dino’s really good at using Tinder. He made me a profile and then swiped with matches for me and now I’m going on a blind date! Wait, should me and Dokyeom make you one? Quick Dokyeom, what would be the anthem to Hoshi’s life?”

Hoshi gawks at how quick his friends are to move. Seungkwan already has the dating app open while Dokyeom searches up the Les Misérable soundtrack. “Can you guys not?” Hoshi frowns.

But it’s too late. His words are unheard as Dokyeom starts to belt out the words to “Do You Hear the People Sing?” all while Seungkwan is editing pictures of Hoshi for his profile picture.

Hoshi decides right then and there that he needs to invest in new friends for the sake of his sanity.

-

“Thanks for inviting me out, Joshua! I needed some new shoes.”

Joshua is one of the sanest people Hoshi knows. Hoshi thinks it’s because he’s from LA and the people from LA in all the movies he’s watched are super carefree and accepting.

“Don’t mention it,” Joshua smiles while shoving his feet into a pair of slides. “Jeonghan broke my slides yesterday while taking out the trash and tried to pin it on Kkuma. Seungcheol then lectured us for two hours about how we shouldn’t blame things on his daughter then made Jeonghan transfer me the money.”

“Isn’t Kkuma a dog?..” Hoshi smiles from the bench across from him.

“You know Cheol,” Joshua chuckles. “Actually, I also invited you out because I have to ask you a favor! You can object, of course, and I won’t be mad.” Hoshi nods, signaling the older to go on. “Well, actually...The three of us are going away for the weekend. And we usually ask Mingyu and Myungho to watch Kkuma when we’re gone but Myungho has this giant art exhibition and Mingyu’s working double shifts at his bakery so-“ he shrugs. “I think you know where I’m going with this. Could you dog sit Kkuma for us? I’m sure Jihoon will be fine with it. But if you have plans for the Valentine’s Day weekend-“

“No!” Hoshi sighs in relief. “Please give me Kkuma. I’m begging at this point!” Joshua laughs, nodding his head. “You really saved my ass, hyung. The guys are trying to set me up on a blind date but I checked out Seungkwan’s phone while he was in the bathroom and none of them were my type.”

“Consider it a deal,” Joshua smiles, reaching across and ruffling his hair. “Knew I could count on you, Soonie.” Hoshi smiles. He’s so glad to have a friend like Joshua. He really keeps his sanity in tact.

-

Hoshi decides right then and there that he needs to invest new friends for the sake of his sanity.

Kkuma has been barking nonstop all night, whining and crying and even peed in Hoshi’s brand new pair of shoes.

Hoshi doesn’t even know why Kkuma hates him so much but the dog’s antics are enough to have Jihoon packing up and telling him he’ll be back Monday afternoon before leaving to Jun and Wonwoo’s apartment. To make matters worse, Joshua told Hoshi that their trip was technology free so that they could “become spiritually woke.” So any hopes of calling for advice is hopeless.

Hoshi doesn’t understand why Kkuma hates him. He’s a very likeable guy, in his opinion. Bobpul (Mingyu’s dog) would never treat him like this.

“Kkuma, please!” he whines. “I’m standing up a date for this! Please spare me some mercy!” he cries out. The dog jumps up and barks repeatedly. He rubs his eyes over his face. “I don’t understand how something so tiny can make so much noise!”

He rubs his temples. “Okay. If I were Seungcheol, what would I do? Think like Seungcheol. What would Seungcheol do?” Hoshi pouts his lips, puffs out his chest and lowers his voice. “Yah! Kim Mingyu! Watch where you’re walking!” he imitates him from the thousands of times the group has hung out.

He holds the position for a couple of seconds before deflating. “I can’t even hear myself think!” he groans over the barking. “You haven’t even slept yet! Aren’t you tired?” Suddenly an idea pops into his mind.

“I know! Let’s go to the park! Maybe that’ll tire you out! Would you like that? Let’s go!” And they’re off within ten minutes.

It’s a nice day out, thankfully. Warm but not too hot. And though Kkuma is jumping with joy to be at the park, Hoshi thinks he’d rather be at home listening to the dog’s endless whining when he sees the grassy area is packed with couples having a picnic.

He can’t hate, honestly. Picnics are cliché and Hoshi is all for clichés. But it does remind him that today is Valentine’s day and he’s the only one here without somebody to hold hands with.

“Kkuma, you’ll be my Valentine. Right?” he asks as he unclips her leash. But sadly, the dog has other plans as she runs off to play with another dog.

He sighs, plopping down in the grass and picking at the blades. He can’t believe that Kkuma ditched him. After Hoshi bought a new frisbee just for them to play with! He’s deeply offended and will not let Seungcheol live it down when he comes back.

He gives up trying to braid the grass and leans back on his hands, watching the other couples and making up stories about them in their head. He guesses how they met, what their plans are for the day and almost plays it out like a movie in his head.

He’s contemplating becoming a director but then decides that’s too hard and decides maybe he should try writing fanfiction on Archive of Our Own. He’s already picking out his favorite ships from Monsta X when he suddenly hears a shriek from behind him.

“Oh no!” the person whines. “I can’t believe I stepped in dog-“

“Shit!” Hoshi pops up as he sees Kkuma standing at the sidewalk. He sees the disgruntled look on your face then looks down at Kkmua, who looks the happiest she’s been since Hoshi got her. “Hi!” he says rather worriedly. “I’m so sorry! This is my fault! I wasn’t watching Kkuma and to be honest, this dog kind of hates me but here!” He shoves a packet of tissues he had in his back pocket into your hands. “You can have these! Wait I think I have wet wipes in my bag. Just give me a second and,” he drops to his knees, fumbling with his backpack, “Kkuma is just a baby but I promise she’s not usually like this! She’s so well behaved but I think she has some kind of hidden agenda against me because her dad took me out to eat pork belly the other week. Oh! Here they are! Here, do you want me to wipe it off for you? I don’t mind! It’s my fault and plus, I’ve been picking up Kkuma’s dog poop all day. For somebody so small, she sure does poop a lot! And-“ Hoshi suddenly freezes, a heat rising up from the back of his neck onto his cheeks and into his ears.

Seriously?! he thinks. You seriously went on a rant about dog poop! Just when I thought I had some hope in you, Soonyoung, you prove me wrong again! You’re gonna die alone! You hear me? ALONE!

Hoshi slowly brings himself up from his kneeling position. “I mean...” he awkwardly laughs. And to his surprise, you laugh back. But not in a mocking way like people usually do. You seem genuinely amused by his rant.

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m over it,” you giggle. “I just have to be dramatic about it first.” Hoshi nods slowly, too scared to say anything else. “My names YN.”

“Soonyoung,” he bows slightly. “But my friends call me Hoshi.”

“Oh! Like tiger gaze?” you ask, making claws at him for emphasis.

“Oh! Uh! Exactly, actually!” he grins.

You nod. “I think I’ve heard of you actually,” you explain. “My friend works at Seventeen Dance Company and he’s always talking about his funny friend Hoshi.”

“Oh? Who’s your friend? I must know them!”

“It’s Minghao,” you reply. “I was actually on my way to his art exhibition.” Hoshi nods his head, understanding. “Were you not going to go?”

“Myungho doesn’t like when our friend group goes to his art exhibitions. We got fired after Mingyu had one too many drinks and started to strip talking about some ‘life imitates art’ while standing next to a bust.” His face flushes an even deeper red. “I’m sorry! I don’t know when to shut up sometimes. I’m not good at this.”

You shrug, “I’m having fun.”

“Really?” Hoshi gasps.

You nod. “Yeah. Now c’mon, give me those wet wipes. You’re gonna come with me to Hao’s event. He told me I can bring a plus one and the venue is pet friendly!”

-

“And that’d how I met YN!” Hoshi grins at the round table of his friends.

“I can’t believe romance movie enthusiast met the person of his dreams over dog poop,” Jeonghan scoffs. “I’m taking full credit for this relationship, by the way. I call best man at the wedding.”

“What? Why do you get credit?!” Seungkwan rebuttals.

“Because the weekend get away was my idea,” he smirks.

“Yeah well Kkuma is my dog so I should be the best man!” Seungcheol argues.

“Hold up. If it weren’t for me and Seungkwan making Hoshi a tinder, who knows what would’ve happened this weekend while he was avoiding us,” Dokyeom points outs out, crossing his arms.

“But Vernon and I were the ones who taught Seungkwan how to even use tinder!” Dino retorts.

Jun scoffs, “You guys wouldn’t even know what tinder was if it weren’t for me and Wonwoo.”

“But I’m his roommate so I get automatic best man rights,” Jihoon says.

“Yeah but YN is my friend and she was heading to my exhibition so by default, I’m going to be the best man because I didn’t even kick Hoshi out when he showed up.”

“Yeah, still offended,” Mingyu rolls his eyes. “How many times do I have to say sorry until you accept my apology?!”

“Until I’m not known as the artist who had a quote unquote ‘model’ take his clothes off in the middle of my show so that I could prove that life can imitate art!”

Hoshi shakes his head and laughs as the argument wages on with you tucked under his chin.

“Are they always like that?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah but...I don’t think I’d trade them for the world,” Hoshi replies, smiling.

It’s right then and there that Hoshi decides that he has all the friends that he needs and for the sake of his sanity, he will have to keep them. They did, after all, lead them to you.

[letteredlettered]

Hm, I think something went wrong with the message I sent you. So sorry! I'm trying again. It seems so frivolous to ask you a question but I'm in dire need of escapism after already one week of lockdown in Germany. I hope you are ok! I've only discovered your Drarry fics beginning of this month, love them! And "Another mask behind you is really lingering. I can't seem to get over it. Brilliant!

I’m sorry it took me so long to reply to you! I know lockdown is over in Germany, but I hope you made it through okay, and thank you so much for this ask.

Since the ask is very long and my answer even longer, I have placed the remaining portions of the ask and the response under this cut. The discussion is about Another Mask Behind You, which is a Harry/Draco I wrote that involves Draco being a sex worker. It also has elements of both non-con and dub-con. If any of these topics disturb you in fiction, please take heed if you check out the fic or read the reply. I do not think this ask or answer will make sense unless you have read the fic, which I can’t really say that I recommend, though there are parts of it I like.

The way you brilliantly use searing, toe-curling sex-scenes to draw me in, but because the drivers behind the intense need for both characters are not sexual, it’s never enough, NEVER ENOUGH, and I keep getting more and more frantic as the fic progresses, just like Draco. Well done :-)The way you disregard expected tropes and make the journey so much more complicated, so much more nuanced ….. well, so much more painful – it’s just incredibly rewarding. So painful, but so rewarding. (2/7)

The brilliant way you use the unreliable narrator, always delusionally speaking through his survival-shell of shame defense, his biased perception of reality in general and Potter specifically, but especially himself. And this confrontation-scene when he finally implodes into his shame – my god, do you really want to break my heart? Seriously? (3/7)

Then the way you capture the obviously intergenerationally transmitted Malfoy-steel-spine, the “holding on to the last thread of myself in impossible circumstances” - the emotions that invokes I can’t even put into words. There is so much more I want to say, but this format is too restricted. I postest a long comment on Archiveof OurOwns. I'm getting to my question :-) (4/7)

Another thing I adore about your writing is that you write powerful endings. This fic and “Away with childish things” are so, so psychologically satisfying but with quite a bit of narrative tension unresolved - so that I’m forced to spend joyful days with filling in the gaps.However, with one gap of this fic I’m really struggling and I would love to hear your take. (5/7)

I get the struggle with the betrayal and all, but as Draco so accurately puts it “So many unfamiliar expressions had he made in the last two times Draco had seen him, that Draco was no longer sure he’d ever really known him – as though in some sense, Potter had been playing a part as much as Draco had.”I don’t see any awareness develop in Harry regarding his obvious control-compulsion, the covert objectification hidden behind feelings of “love”, that made Tristan a “safe” partner. (6/7)

It will be so bitterly precarious for Harry (not so much Draco) to ever share this side of him within a power-balanced relationship, so risky and hazardous. Will he ever be able to work himself up there? It could be potentially so incredibly cathartic but I’m not so sure. Harry would need extensive aftercare, I guess. Would love to hear your head canon and thoughts? Do you have a story in your head how things would develop between these two? Thank you so much for your art! (7/7)

For those who are interested, I replied to the full comment on AO3. I’ve reproduced most of my answer below for those who are interested:

I'm glad you enjoy the unreliable narrator, and I’m very touched you like my stories.

Regarding my endings--thank you for your kind words, but I have to say most of my H/D fics do not end the way I plan. Most of them were written in a big rush to meet a fest deadline, including this one. I was not at all satisfied with the end of this fic, but I realized that to get satisfaction from it, I would either need to rewrite the fic or write a whole sequel, because the story of Harry and Draco working toward a healthy relationship is not this fic. This fic is about getting them to a point where they might even want to work on a healthy relationship, and so by the time I got finished there was just not room to write the other things I wanted and I didn’t have time to fix it because of the deadline.

I think Harry could get to the point where he would bottom for Draco. I also think he could get to the point where there is a balance of power in their relationship. I think it would take much longer for him to get to the point where he would say that the reason he was comfortable with Tristan was because he held all the power. I honestly believe that that understanding would not come intuitively for him, that he would either need therapy or many many years to get there, possibly both.

I'm guessing you saw this, as you quoted the part about his unfamiliar expressions, but part of the point is supposed to be that Harry is lying to himself just as much as Draco, just in different ways. The way Harry sees things is:  Tristan as an essentially good person with many great qualities. Tristan's snobbery and selfishness and arrogance and entitlement and pettiness seem to be his flaws, but because Harry sees Tristan as good, Harry can accept these flaws. This leads Harry to not take the flaws very seriously--he feels they are surface attributes of someone who is deep down good. He even finds these flaws charming. When Harry finds out Draco is Tristan, because Harry believes Draco is not a good person, he takes the flaws seriously. He no longer sees them as surface attributes and takes them as evidence of Draco's deep down horrible character.

I think that because Harry still wants Draco so viscerally even after everything, and because Harry can still see all the ways that Draco is Tristan despite Draco's betrayal, Harry begins to understand that this is a very simplistic view of people and the world. Just because we're on the side that is against the side of the genocidal bigots does not make us fundamentally good, and being fundamentally good does not make our flaws light and fluffy and charming. And just because we're on the side of the genocidal bigots does not mean that nothing can be good in us, that everything you found good and lovely in us was a complete lie. Eventually, Harry learns  that Draco is a whole person, neither good nor bad in essence, just really someone who has done lots of horrible things, but has the capacity to grow beyond that. And as Draco does grow beyond that, Harry begins to love him as a whole person, rather than a black and white one.

This is the story that Harry sees and thinks that he experiences as he learns to love Draco.

However, I do believe there's another story under that, and that story is possibly one that Harry never understands.This story is about power, as you mention, but it's also about the depth of Harry's delusion. The main premise that drives this under-story is why Harry was so willing to believe Tristan was, in essence, good. Why was he so willing to see Tristan's faults as charming, when some of Tristan's snootier comments actually suggest some underlying pure-blood bigotry?

The answer is that Harry wanted to believe that. He wanted a person who wasn't real, and Tristan having flaws just made Tristan feel more real, even though he wasn't. And why does Harry want a fake? Because Harry doesn't want to be real either. He doesn't want to really share himself, or give pieces of himself he doesn't want to; he doesn't want to stop being a hero or spend time that may make himself face himself and who he is. In this fic, Harry is someone who does not know how to love except to perform acts of service, which I find believable because so much of his friendships were built on saving each other and working together to save others. He does not know how to relax, which I also find believable given all the abuse and hardship. This leads to repression and difficulty seeing to his own needs, which in this fic leads to him becoming quite controlling. In this fic he wants to relax; he wants to stop and take time with himself and those he loves, but he has become so pent-up that he doesn't know how to relax without being forced to do it.

However, being forced to relax is a loss of control, and the Harry of this fic is too messed up to find a way to do it straightforwardly. Thus, for him, hiring a sex worker means he is in control of the situation on one level, but can let go of control on another level. The fact that he wants to bottom right away with Tristan but took a long time with Weatherby (his ex in this fic) is further evidence of the fact that Harry is really only okay with ceding this control because he has a different kind of control over what is happening. It's the same, actually, with Tristan demanding that Harry not work so much and spend time with him. Harry wouldn't like it if a non-sex-worker-boyfriend were asking the same thing, because he wouldn't feel that he ultimately had control of the situation.

So, again, no, I do not think Harry would admit any of this or understand it about himself without a lot of work and time.

However, I'm just not sure he has to for Draco and him to have a happy, healthy relationship.

I think the story Harry tells himself--that he saw Tristan as good, Draco as bad, and that this is ultimately too simplistic--is actually enough for Harry to begin to let go of some of this control. Harry would have to realize, with this understanding that people are not black and white, that he wanted to spoil Tristan not just because Tristan was morally good, but because he likes to spoil people. Harry would have to realize that he enjoyed Tristan being selfish and demanding not just because Tristan was morally pristine, but because Harry actually gets hot for that kind of behavior. Harry would have to realize he enjoyed Tristan topping the fuck out of him not just because Tristan was morally flawless, but because Harry just really likes to get fucked and fucked hard. With Draco, Harry wants the happiness he had with Tristan. To get it, Harry has to allow some of the behavior that happened with Tristan, without that extra veneer of control Harry once had because Tristan was a sexworker that Harry was paying.

Draco would learn from this too--that he can still be himself, that he can still be demanding, that he can still fuck Harry. And with that would come more self-acceptance for Draco and more confidence, which would actually help him grow to become more like Tristan was. And that would make Harry more accepting as well. I think eventually they could have something that approximates a lot of the love and comfort and domesticity they felt during the month Harry contracted Draco, but it would be without lies, and without control, and without attempts to manipulate each other.

I think for that, Harry would not need to know that the reason it worked for him was because he had all the power.

I do feel like Draco probably understands it very well. I could see a long time after they finally become quite comfortable with each other, them lying in bed after fucking, Draco finally saying, "You do know you were only okay with me doing that to you at first because you were paying me." And Harry would say, "No, it's because you lied to me and had a different face." And Draco would say, "Mm-hm," and trace the circle on Harry's chest, and then eventually say, "It's also because you were paying me. You wouldn't have let anyone else do those things I did." And Harry would say, "I don't think you understand how attracted I was to you." And Draco would say, "Mm-hm," and trace some more. "But it was also because you were paying me," Draco would say finally. "You knew you were in control." And then I think Harry would finally think about it, but it would be so long ago, that finally he could say something like, "Yeah. I don't know. I guess you're right." "I'm always right," Draco would say, and Harry would find this charming too.

I hope I answered this very interesting question to your satisfaction, and sorry again for the wait!

[vannahfanfics]

Happy Birthday, Izuku!

Category: Friendship Fluff, Family Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Class 1-A, Inko Midoriya, Toshinori Yagi, Shouta Aizawa

Hey, everybody! This story is a submission for two of @bnhabookclub’s events; I’m incorporating the prompt “Gifts” from the Bingo Event as well as the prompt “Happy Birthday!” from the Celebrating Deku event! I hope you enjoy it! Let’s give a little love to our favorite adorkable hero-in-training! :)

“Wake up! Wake up! For I am here!”

Izuku groaned loudly and rolled on his side to blindly fumble for the button on his alarm clock. He uselessly slapped the nightstand a few times, making the various items situated atop it jump and jostle. Still, after a few unsuccessful tries, he managed to bang the bright red button that turned off the alarm. The slightly grainy, robotic voice of All Might faded into silence, and Izuku laid in his bed for a few minutes, blissfully trapped in the twilight of half-sleep. However, a dull ache soon began to throb in his left arm. The pain stubbornly drove him into consciousness, and so with a sigh, he opened his emerald eyes to stare uninterestedly up at his white bedroom ceiling.

He reached around with his right hand to ghost his fingertips over the blotchy red scar tissue that marred his upper left arm. It had been a month since the incident at the Forest Training Camp, but the injuries he had sustained in the fight with Muscular were still very much healing. In another two or three weeks, the U.A. students would be returning to the campus- living in dormitories thanks to the relentless villain attacks- and Izuku wondered how his mangled arm would fare. It doesn’t matter, he thought obstinately. I’ll make myself stronger and stronger, because I have to!

“Izukuuuu!” The green-haired boy sat up in bed as his mother’s voice floated down the hallway. “Are you awake, dear?”

“Yeah! I’m just getting up,” he responded in an equally loud call. When he threw the covers off himself and swung around to get off the bed, he caught a glimpse of the date glowing in bright red numbers in the black screen of his alarm clock. June 15th… Oh! It’s my sixteenth birthday! He remembered with a gleeful smile. Now that he had sufficient motivation to get up, Izuku jumped out of bed to wrestle himself into some slippers. When he opened his door, his mother was waiting in the hallway, twiddling her fingers.

“Oh! Good morning, sweetie. Happy birthday!” she smiled broadly and shuffled forward to envelop him in a hug. Izuku hummed contentedly and wrapped his arms around her middle to embrace her with equal enthusiasm. “Ah! My little boy is sixteen… Oh, dear, I’m getting old,” Inko moaned forlornly and began to sniffle. Izuku laughed and pulled back to blot at his mother’s tears with the hem of his tee-shirt.

“Aw, Mom, it’s okay,” he chuckled.

“Yes, yes,” she tutted and wiped harshly at her face. “Today is your day! I’ve already prepared breakfast for you!” Izuku exclaimed in delight and scuttled into the kitchen, with his mother tottering behind him and laughing good-naturedly. He was greeted with a scrumptious array of fried eggs over buttered toast, seared beef, and white rice. He scarfed it down and chased it with sweet black tea his mother had also prepared, bleating compliments and gratuitous remarks to his mother all the while. Afterward, he helped her clean all the dishes, although she kept dithering around him and insisting that he shouldn’t have to do any chores today.

“Mom, just because I’m sixteen today doesn’t mean I have to lump all the work on you!” he snickered while putting the pots and pans in the cabinets. He blinked when the chime of the doorbell rang through the small apartment. “Oh? Who could that be?” he wondered aloud, abandoning the dish he had been drying to trot up to the front door. He opened it and nearly jumped out of his skin when a big, broad, muscular body shoved its way into the room, which now rang with bawdy laughter.

“I am here, young Midoriya, to wish you a happy birthday!” All Might crowed, his button-up shirt straining to keep from snapping into threads as he flexed his massive biceps. Izuku let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a warble at his mentor’s sudden appearance.

“Ah! All Might!” he cried. His mother called greeting from the other room, peering around the wall with a shy wave, to which the number-one pro hero laughed audaciously and responded accordingly. Izuku’s cheeks turned pink, and he hurriedly bundled the large man into a room where his mother couldn’t see him. “All Might, are you sure this is wise? How long can you hold your muscle form?”

“Not long,” he admitted with a slight frown. “However, that doesn’t matter, for I am here to take you on a super-duper special outing, my young Midoriya!” he crowed with another loud laugh. He then peeked his head around the crown molding to smile dazzlingly at Inko, who squeaked and straightened up. “Of course, if your dear mother doesn’t mind me stealing you for a few hours. I wouldn’t want to ruin a mother’s wonderful day with her son!”

“Oh no! Please, go ahead! I have to go shopping for dinner anyway,” Inko laughed amiably with a dismissive wave of her hand. Izuku yelped as All Might then grabbed him to bundle him back to his bedroom.

“Excellent, excellent! Now then, young Midoriya, get dressed!” As the door slammed shut behind him, Izuku exhaled deeply and fiddled with his fingers.

I never would’ve dreamed that I would be spending my birthday with All Might, he thought. The notion brought a giddy smile to his lips, and he hastily began rifling through his closet to find something suitable to wear.

~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the apartment was out of eyeshot, All Might released his muscle form. He collapsed against the brick wall of a nearby building with an exaggerated sigh, wiping blood from his lips with a pink-stained rag. Izuku fluttered nervously around him, arms flapping.

“All Might, are you sure about this?! You’re not in the greatest of health! I mean, you really ought to be in bed being tended to by a doctor or two or three, not spending the day with me! I’m certainly not worth it; it’s only my sixteenth birthday, after all! I can’t smoke or drink or vote or drive- wait, no, I can technically drive now. I wonder when Mom will take me to get my driver’s license. Wait, are you taking me to get my driver’s license? I’m not nearly prepared! I need to practice a little first!” He continued to babble, nervously fiddling his fingers, until Toshinori slapped both his hands down onto his slim shoulders. He clamped his mouth shut with a squeak.

“Young Midoriya. Focus.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m taking you out today because I wanted to be here for you on your birthday.”

“Thank you, sir!” Izuku smiled gratefully at him. The fact that his beloved teacher and mentor desired to spend such quality time with him outside of training made a warm feeling bubble up inside his body. “If I may ask, what are we doing today?” he inquired as the thin man began a leisurely pace down the sidewalk. Toshinori chuckled amiably and patted him on the head.

“Patience, young Midoriya. Some of life’s great joys come by surprise!” Izuku gasped in awe and mentally committed the sage advice to memory to hopefully quote later. Together, they plodded merrily through the subdivision to soon transition into the business district. It was a lovely day for a jaunt to town; it was pleasurably warm with just a faint breeze to keep things cool, and the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. Izuku found himself in high spirits, considering the lovely weather and the fact he was strolling around with his cherished teacher. I wonder what he has planned! Oh, I’m so excited! He thought, unable to contain and eager wiggle. Toshinori chuckled warmly beside him.

After about a twenty-minute walk, they arrived at a nice restaurant in the center of town. An iron-wrought fence enclosed a garden eating area with elegant stone paths and a cloth veranda to protect restaurant-goers from the elements. Izuku recognized it as one of the ritziest venues in town- and therefore the most expensive. When Toshinori stopped walking to smile at him expectantly, Izuku’s jaw nearly struck the floor.

“What? N-n-n-n-no way, All Might! I can’t-! You can’t-!” The taller man snorted with laughter and unceremoniously bundled him inside despite his sputtering protests. Izuku’s back straightened like a rod when the usher regarded him with a critical look. “Why are you doing this?” he hissed under his breath as Toshinori whispered something to the attendant, who nodded curtly and whirled around. Izuku and his mentor followed the tuxedoed man to the back of the restaurant, where they were escorted into a spacious room with a long table set for over twenty people. Izuku’s emerald eyes were as wide as green moons as he beheld the setup. “Um… All Might, are we expecting others…?”

“Dekuuuuuu!”

“OHMYGOSH!” Izuku screamed as someone abruptly hugged him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder to see Ochako’s round smiling face blinking up at him.

“Happy birthday!” she giggled happily. Pink-faced and thoroughly flustered, Izuku could only release a high-pitched whine as she scuttled around him. In her moment of distraction, All Might had assumed his muscular form. “Hello, All Might, sir!” she chirped jovially as she bounced over to him. The hero chortled good-naturedly and patted her shoulder.

“Hello there, Uraraka! Good to have you.”

“Umm, All Might? What is happening?” Izuku whispered as Ochako procured a small wrapped package and set it at the center of the table.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ochako laughed and hopped into a seat. “We’re here to celebrate your birthday, Deku!” Izuku’s face turned the color of a tomato. When he looked wide-eyed at his mentor, he just grinned broadly and shrugged. At this point, Tenya game bundling in.

“Midoriya! Happy birthday!” he cried with exaggerated waves of his arms. Izuku squirmed uncomfortably as the tall boy plopped a large wrapped present atop the table right beside Ochako’s. He took the seat beside the bubbly girl, and they devolved into avid conversation; Izuku took the opportunity to scamper over to the muscle-bound hero.

“All Might! Did you arrange this?” he whispered fervently.

“Why, of course, young Midoriya! I imagined that you wanted to spend your birthday with your friends,” the pro hero answered. A bright haze of pink blazed over his cheeks, and that bubbly happy feeling rose inside of him again.

“My friends…” he echoed in wonder. Izuku jumped when someone kicked the door open.

“Oi! Are we late?!”

“Ka-Kacchan!” Izuku stammered in shock as the explosive blond boy charged in through the door. Frankly, the green-haired boy was shocked to see Katsuki attending his birthday celebration. When Eijirou poked his head over his shoulder to grin toothily at him, Izuku reasoned that perhaps Katsuki had been persuaded to attend. Izuku jumped and squeaked when Katsuki tromped over to slam a crudely-wrapped package into his chest.

“Here, loser, for your stupid birthday. Now, where’s the food?! I’m starvin’!” Katsuki complained loudly and stomped over to Ochako. “Oi, Cheeks, you got any food?” Eijirou chuckled and set a present down by the others before also wishing Izuku a happy birthday. Izuku was basically short-circuiting, because his poor brain couldn’t handle all the information being thrown at him at once.

“Looks like I’m right on time,” droned a gravelly voice from the door. Izuku’s jaw flopped open when his teacher, Mr. Aizawa, sauntered in bearing a small package for a gift card. He casually tossed it beside the others before striding over, hands stuffed in his jumpsuit pants pockets. Izuku was amazed that the underground hero would have the gall to stroll into such an upscale place wearing such casual clothing. Props to Mr. Aizawa… “Happy birthday, Midoriya.”

“Th-thank you, sir! I’m very grateful to everybody for planning this,” Izuku smiled sheepishly. Aizawa gave him a charming smile before walking over to keep Katsuki from clambering on the table to punch Tenya in the jaw over some silliness or another.

It wasn’t long before the rest of Izuku’s classmates showed up, and they were soon embroiled in a fun and raucous lunch. Izuku tried not to think about the terrible mess that the staff would have to clean up, nor the enormity of the bill that All Might would have to foot as a result of their avid celebration. Instead, he tore into the filet mignon and grilled asparagus before him. He purred happily at the excellent flavors bursting over his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut as he savored the spices and marinade. After enjoying the delicious food, they piled up all the plates, glassware, and silverware on the edge of the table so that Izuku could have ample room to open his gifts.

“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” Izuku laughed sheepishly as Mina shoved the sizeable pile of gifts over to him.

“Oh, hush! Now open mine first!” the pink girl insisted while shoving a glittery pink bag over to him. The sparkly confetti rained from the tissue paper as he tugged it free from the confines of the plastic container. His face turned nearly as pink as the solid plastic when he peered down into the bottom. “I’m funny, right? Right?” Mina cackled as Izuku pulled a container of calcium gummies and a bottle of milk from the bag. “’Cuz you break your bones all the time!” she howled as she doubled over and held her belly.

“Very funny, Mina,” he muttered blankly, not sure whether to be offended or amused.

“Aha, I know, I’m a genius,” she sighed as her laughs faded down into giggles. “Here’s your real gift, though,” she said and held out something to him. Izuku flushed when he realized that it was a pair of All Might-patterned socks. He spluttered a simple thanks and tried to suppress the urge to rip off his shoes and slide the socks onto his feet. He elected just to push the item aside and go on to the next gift. Katsuki eyed him intensely as he grabbed the roughly-wrapped package and tore away the gift paper. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he beheld the limited-edition All Might hoodie, holding it with trembling hands.

“Ka-Kacchan,” he breathed in amazement and looked at his childhood friend and rival. Katsuki snorted derisively and looked down at his feet.

“Don’t gimme that dumb stare, loser,” the blond huffed. “What, did you think I was gonna turn up empty-handed? I’m not an asshole.”

“Uh… That’s exactly what you are, Bakugo,” Denki snickered. He then yelped when Katsuki boxed him over the head.

“Mind your own damn business, Pikachu! Gah!” Katsuki growled and shot Izuku an intimidating stare. “Anyway, happy birthday, or whatever…”

“Aw. Bakugo, you can be sweet when you put your mind to it!” Ochako praised. A pink tinge came to Katsuki’s cheeks, and he muttered something under his breath. Izuku looked down to admire the soft fabric of the exclusive hoodie and smiled.

“Thanks, Kacchan…”

~~~~~~~~~~

Izuku’s friends were very generous. He scored a multitude of fun gifts, including a quaint mug and some tea bags from Momo, a new videogame from Denki, and some cool new laces for his signature red tennis shoes from Ochako. Mineta even managed to give him something halfway-decent, a gift card to the local bookstore. However, the small purple-haired boy naturally began salivating and talking about the very indecent things that Izuku could spend it on. By some feat of acrobat-like ingenuity, Tsuyu flipped him head-first into the busboy’s dirty dishwater.

The sky was dyed red, and the sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time Izuku bid his friends and Mr. Aizawa adieu and set out for home. As soon as the last student vanished from sight, All Might released his muscle form and collapsed against the alleyway wall.

“Ugh, that was rough. I didn’t know if I was going to make it,” Toshinori lamented as he wiped the blood dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand. Izuku smiled gratefully at him.

“I really appreciate you for putting this on for me, All Might… I can honestly say this has been one of my best birthdays ever!” Izuku chirped. Toshinori chuckled lightheartedly and stepped forward to pat him a few times on the back. All the gifts bundled in Izuku’s arms bounced slightly with the jostling of his body.

“Of course. I’m glad I could be there for you. Oh! I almost forgot,” he said and began fishing in his back pocket. As much as he could with his arms laden with presents, Izuku waved a hand in refusal.

“What? No, All Might, I can’t accept anything more than you’ve already given me!” he protested. “You spent so much on that dinner, and all this effort into inviting everyone over and straining yourself to keep up that form- I can’t! I refuse! No!” All Might ignored him and procured a Polaroid camera. Izuku blinked, very confused, and the tall, lanky man held the camera above their heads and jerked him by the arm to pull him into the camera frame.

“Cheese, young Midoriya!” he grinned before the bright white of the camera flash nearly blinded the shocked boy. He just managed to squeeze in an uneven, shaky smile before Toshinori’s thumb tapped the button to take the picture. Immediately, the camera spat out a black photo rimmed in white. Toshinori plucked it from the printer and shook it vigorously until the color finally developed. The blond man inspected the photograph before smiling in satisfaction, and then pulled out a marker. He plucked the cap off with his teeth and scrawled something across the bottom of the photo. Izuku blinked as Toshinori plopped the camera down atop the mountain of gifts, then showed him the picture.

Happy birthday, young Midoriya. Smiling, his teacher tucked the photo between some boxes. Their happy faces grinned at Izuku, and he felt his eyes watering. It was such a simple gesture, yet it meant more to him than the most expensive gift in the world.

“Thank you, All Might. This is the best birthday ever,” he repeated in a soft voice, and the tears dripped down his cheeks. All Might chortled and ruffled his green hair.

“Always with the waterworks. That’s all right. Sensitive people make great heroes because they’re very empathetic,” he mused. Izuku sniffed and nodded, but he didn’t want to cry all day, so he struggled to wipe his face with his upper arms. Somehow, he didn’t knock any of his gifts out of his hands. “All right then!” All Might announced and clapped his hands together. “Your mother is probably hard at work on dinner for you. Let’s not keep her waiting, eh, young Midoriya?”

“All Might! Please stay for dinner.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t-“

“Please! I insist! Plus, knowing Mom, she probably already has the table set for three.” All Might grimaced and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Well… If she’s already burdened herself…” Izuku didn’t let him finish the thought and hurriedly bustled out of the alleyway. “Ah! Wait, young Midoriya!”

Izuku ignored him, trotting down the sidewalk towards his home. The fruits of his friendship bobbled in his arms, and a big bright smile graced his face. Maybe he couldn’t do much with turning sixteen, but if the day led to him spending time with the most important people in his life, he would argue that’s a pretty momentous occasion indeed.

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[allyvampirelass29]

The Besiege of Bruce Wayne McQueen

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

I didn't say you could get up I'll swing the hammer back Until you've had enough Your armor cracking, amidst your son's frantic call Tell me, Victoria Who's the Strongest Creative of them all? Bones breaking You cower before me shaking As I wield my blunt instrument without relent You've had your fun, Bad Mother I hope you've gallivanted to your heart's content I am the magic your beautiful boy has so long lacked Bruce Wayne best behave Or I'll break his mother's back Lost Boys belong in Neverland Consider me, his Peter Pan You don't care for him like I can Neglect and endangerment is the McQueen way, isn't it? You selfish fake C'mon Vic He's safer with his Uncle Manx You ungrateful Brat....... Just say THANKS!!!!

Three words. PULSE. POUNDING. PHENOMENAL!!!!!!! I write this wide-eyed and shell-shocked, a trembling wreck of electric emotion, the prevalent being pure, paralyzing BLISS!!!! DAMN, NOS4A2 you are SPOILING us!!!! Is it Christmas!? Last week I watched the glowing potential of the ascending firework disappear, and just as I lamented its predicted fizzle out, it SHATTERED the skies around me with an explosion of colours brighter and more vivid than anything I've ever seen, in a deafening ROAR!!!! HOLY SMASH!!! I LOVED THIS EPISODE, so much so, that I feel like I lived it, every death defying second, so ALIVE with the rawest emotion, the most terrifyingly beautiful villainy, my every sense heightened, and in this bloody besiege for one, Bruce Wayne McQueen, our spectacular cast shines BLINDING, giving their best, and most authentic performances of the series. Prepare yourselves for a Lake House excursion, you will NEVER forget!!!!

I LOVED how this episode sent us sprawling right into the action, and I was so so so wrong about the fantastic build-up of the suspense from last week going to waste, because it lit the fuse for one HELL of a firework display. Where last week didn't hit me quite hard enough, this episode STRUCK like LIGHTNING, electrifying every vein, and barely taken breath. The fight scene....... yes, you know the one, the all out, claws drawn, hammer wielding, haughty taunting, smoulder and slashing duel to the death was pure, screaming, POETRY!!! It's ART, the most electric, ENTHRALLING, aria of wit and savagery, it's the single most INTOXICATING scene, not just in an episode full of instant iconic images, but of the ENTIRE series.

Vic VS Manx, a faceoff fraught with revenge and raw energy, no special powers, no knives even, just hurling razor-edged words, fighting, grappling, scraping, nothing but an autopsy hammer between the two of them, was MESMERIZING!!! Charlie is a black, roiling wave of breathtaking rage, coming down on his worst enemy like hurricane thunder, with a ruthless, ferocity, such as we have never before seen. I loved every second, even as I fell apart at the seams, hand clasped over my mouth, trying not to scream. While some might say this head on collision lacked his usual finesse and refined showmanship, I must vehemently disagree. How clever of the writers to give us a Charlie driven to the verge, snapping, shaking off his gentleman's cape, to reveal his sharpest edge, and rawest fury, not to mention darkest intent. Charlie's done playing the game....... he's ready to win, to take the queen. Or in this case, the prince.

The juxtaposition of his elegantly brandished wit, and the brutality of his swiftly dealt blows, is pure, and utter genius, not to mention one hundred percent CHARLIE!!! I grinned like a lovesick schoolgirl when he told Vic, "I hope you have galivanted to your heart's content." I'm swooning, even as I write that, his dialogue was on point, as the kids say, as perfectly tailored to his elegant malevolence, his beautiful wickedness, as that magnificent chauffer's coat!!! Also, forgive me my shameless fawning, but can we TALK about his shiny, raven especially gorgeous HAIR during this episode!? Whether it's falling wild in his eyes, as he draws back his blood-thirsty hammer, or hanging in dark, feathery waves, as he smirks, leaning over his seemingly vanquished nemesis, Charlie's iconic silken strands were as deadly as his backswing, drawing my eye, and stoking my passion something fierce!

I loved how he laid it all out for her in his Malicious Manx Rhetoric, and one of the things I desperately love about Charlie, is how he can speak such vulnerable truth, even in the midst, of a rasping seethe. He explains it all, passes his sentence, this is why you don't deserve him, this is what I'm going to do, and why you can't stop me, even as he pounds the hammer against her back, oblivious to the protective armor, cleverly concealed in her biker jacket, due to some quick thinking, and a fun, surprising telepathic assist from the miniature McQueen. "No Mom, just play dead......" I loved all the nerves Charlie touched on, not just physical nerves, but the exposed, emotional ones as well. He knows how insecure Vic has felt, about the kind of mother she's been, her shortcomings, her fear about not being good for him, not able to love him like she should, provide for him, and Charlie exploits that to profound perfection. "You won't be able to ride away from your Beautiful Boy. He'll call you, sometimes, from Christmasland, and you will see...... He's BETTER with me!!!"

But the thing that shook me the most, was the bleeding truth of his words as he told her, "That's what you do, Victoria, you run. Even from the things that you LOVE!" WOW Charlie....... the depth, the piercing insight in that quote still gives me chills like mad, and it's a searing revelation. I also marveled at Charlie's outright admission of having been in love with Vic, which I'd always suspected, especially after Parnassus, but he's never just come out and said it, and definitely not to her face. "It's a dangerous game...... endeavoring to love Vic McQueen, I found that out myself with Craig, after you set us both on FIRE." I love how he snuck that in there, how he makes Craig and himself out to be HER victims, and I think Charlie's relationship status with Vic will always be, "It's Complicated," because while she holds a special fascination for him, most of her allure lies in the challenge. What he loves is the most about Vic is hating her. Hell hath no fury like Charlie Manx scorned.

You know what else, was just....... a THRILLING chill!? After giving her a good and proper thrashing, and tongue-lashing, Charlie's voice is a spiteful growl as he rasps furious, "Just say THANKS!!!" I could NOT breathe!! WOW........ What SPLENDID writing!!! It's not enough for Vic to lie there, and take her punishment, the punishment that in Charlie's eyes she so obviously deserves, but he demands her thanks as well, for taking her only child, reprimanding her wicked, wanton ways, sparing her from having to be a bad mother. "If you had a grateful bone in your body, you'd thank me......" Charlie has always seen himself as the hero of NOS4A2, saving children from their broken homes, and lonely lives, and if you told him point blank he was actually the villain, the antagonist, he'd scoff in your face. This idea that he's being generous, actually helping Vic, even as he enacts his ultimate revenge speaks volumes to that, and I loved it. He even tells her young son, with such soothe, "Don't worry........ She can never hurt you again."

That being said, I also loved how Vic fearlessly turned the tables on our handsome phantom, dropping the pretense of excruciating pain to strike hard, breaking Charlie's leg, and leaving a nasty gash across his lovely cheek, before reigning down hell on the Wraith. This was especially jaw-dropping for me, since I had written a scene eerily similar, over a YEAR ago, in my NOS4A2 Series, and it was such a giddy, breathless joy, to see it all play out, exactly as I had imagined it!!! I loved how Vic gives Charlie his insisted upon thank you, after making her move, even though, yes, I was a little heartsick, seeing that impossibly perfect face so drastically marred. The warm, happy, fuzzy feel of Wayne's childhood memories, interspersed with the impassioned violence was yet another INSPIRED, and poignant stroke of brilliance, and in my opinion made the scene even more powerful and intense. It also inspired a fascinating theory....... That Wayne is a Strong Creative, that can speak through his memories telepathically to his mother. There are several instances in, "Bruce Wayne McQueen," where our adorable title character floods his mother's mind with happier times, and words of wisdom. Yes, Vic is a powerful Creative, and this could very well be her own doing, but as she's never been one for sentiment before, something tells me Wayne is speaking to her, calming her down, keeping her safe.

This episode is a masterwork of action and suspense, a transformative audience EXPERIENCE. You're in the Wraith with Charlie and Wayne, sitting on the edge of the backseat, you're treading water, traumatized with Vic, as the bullets whizz past you under the surface, flinching with every shot Bing fires, and you're pressed up against the window with Wayne, hands on the glass, as his mother sobs her devastated goodbye, promising to find him, her stricken eyes so full of love, knowing she has to leave him, if ever she'll have the chance to fight again. It's so beautifully executed, every shot, drawing us into our creative heroes' journey with immersive cinematography. It's unique to any other episode that has come before, and stands out as a groundbreaking method of emotional storytelling.

I must say this though....... This episode was as close to achingly perfect as you can get, right up there with Sleigh House, a MAGIC that I never EVER thought anything in my natural life could touch, but as much enamour as I feel, there were a few slightly detracting flaws. I absolutely LOVED the shifts between different points of view, it may be an unpopular opinion, but I thought that was another daring risk, that definitely paid off. My issue however, lies in the repeated events from one person's point of view to the next. I felt that the needless repetition slowed down the breakneck action, throwing a kink in the timeline. There were more than a few times where I was like WAIT, did that happen before or after what we've just seen!? I appreciate that they were trying to give us a new vantage point to what we'd just witnessed, maybe even belabor the moment for dramatic effect, but it ate up valuable runtime, and undercut the flow in my opinion, as well as shortchanged the suspense, knowing full well what was going to happen, because we'd already seen it from another character's point of view! How much better to show a scene from one perspective, and then jump right into the consequent action with the change to the next? How much MORE would we have gotten to see!?!? Had they done that, then this episode would have surpassed even Sleigh House, my ultimate ideal.

Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy getting to see what happened in the car with the boys, during Vic's ride through the woods. I LOVED how Charlie, ever the paternal guardian, was so taxed by Wayne's vehement cries, and frantic banging on the windows, that he says, in true exhausted parent fashion, "Please Wayne, just a small nap......" There were times that the rewind worked, but most times, I just wanted to get on with the story. Another grievance....... What the HELL are the Wraith's windows made of!? Yes, I understand that this is a supernatural, sentient car, but SERIOUSLY!!!! No amount of force, be it from a swung wrench, or slammed autopsy hammer, or SPEEDING bullet, could shatter even one of the Wraith's windows. Yes, I know it added to the suspense, watching both parents try desperately, and still fail to free their son, but it detracted from the reality, suspending my suspension of disbelief. They should have been able to at least break ONE!!!

I was also a tad bit disappointed with The Hour Glass Man, how about you guys? The way Abe set him up to be this heavy hitter, this "Fixer," in the Dark Creative World, I was so excited to see his knife and how it worked!!! At the beginning of the episode, our calm, sharply-dressed secondary villain, uses an hour glass, not to stop time, not to rewind time, not to alter time, but....... to hypnotize the two feds long enough to assault the lake house, SHOOTING Chris McQueen in the leg, before turning the gun on themselves. Yes, it was only our first look, and I'm sure our man of unsolved mystery has more than a few tricks up his ironed sleeves, he isn't in high demand for nothing, but....... as he was supposed to be Charlie's ace in the hole, I had prepared myself for something truly mind-boggling, something more than just compulsion, an everyday occurrence on The Vampire Diaries. Even in his second go at Vic, he pulls a Manx, and just hits her with his far less supernatural SUV. I knew something was up, the way Charlie didn't veer, and try to run Vic off the road as she pursued him on her new motorcycle, firing shots into the driver side window. He let her ride alongside him, so calm, and I KNEW he was leading her into a trap, and leading me straight into my second disappointment with The Hour Glass Man. I don't know, even though it got the job done, and landed her in the hospital, him hitting her with the SUV just felt....... underwhelming, which this episode is definitely NOT.

The hidden hero of "Bruce Wayne McQueen," is by far Chris Freaking McQueen, who has redeemed himself in my eyes through his fearless fight, both to stay sober for his daughter, and to keep her from losing her son. Not gonna lie guys, I was HORRIFIED, when I thought the Feds killed him at the beginning of the episode, and for the longest time after he got shot I was like DON'T you dare FREAKING kill Chris, oh god, is Chris dead!? A question to which there is no answer until nearly the end of the episode. Vic, still treading water underneath the dock, shakes violently as she hears the gunshots go off a little too close, and I, myself, was scared as HELL, thinking Bing was firing straight down, having discovered her. A horrible moment, as the blood falls thick from between the wooden slats of the dock, directly onto Vic's forehead. And then....... Chris Freaking McQueen, like a gun wielding white knight charges the sick BASTARD, Bing Partridge, shooting him repeatedly, although, to our collective chagrin, does not kill him!!! Seriously. Somebody gut that Creepster Pervert like a fish!!! Chris even takes on Charlie all by himself, firing at the Wraith, as it speeds off to my complete and utter delight WITHOUT Bing Partridge leaving him behind, FINALLY!!! You GO, Charlie, time to sever ties with that obnoxious deadweight.

Where this episode uncovers Charlie in his most heightened, dangerous state, raw and intense, Bing is portrayed at his detestable WORST, and my hatred for this hulking henchman was infinite. I HATE the way he is with Wayne, it literally made me sick to my stomach. Charlie is so sweet and gentle, paternal, and patient with our dear little Bats, doting upon him, and you can tell how excited he is to be his father, how this particular child, Vic's only son, is the second most important entry into Christmasland, after his own daughter. I'm still dyyyying from the way he said, "You and I have been dreaming about each other, haven't we?" How PRECIOUS!!! In counterpart, Bing is disgustingly abusive, grabbing him up off the ground, dangling him by his arm, threatening to shoot him, bite him, calling Wayne a, "pretty girl," (GOD, YOU SICKO!!!!) and I just couldn't stand it, I was so damn furious, I couldn't see straight, and I'm DONE with Bing, I want to put a hit out on that lewd, child abusing, BASTARD!!! It would seem Charlie is done with him too, leaving him behind to die, and I especially enjoyed that cleverly veiled threat in the car, Bing droning on and on about what he wants to do when he gets to Christmasland, and Charlie smirking with a coy mention of a special feast. Yeah...... I see what you did there, Babe. It's time to hang a Partridge, swinging from a pear tree.

Another thing I particularly loved about this episode, was that it had the unique symmetry of beginning and ending in the hospital, and in both instances, Wayne's birth, and the aftermath of his abduction, Vic loses him. Even as a newborn, after a harrowing C-section, Vic knows something is wrong, crying out to the nurses, as they do CPR on the tender little babe, and after only just bringing him into the world, Vic already has to face the threat of one without him. That was beautifully mirrored in the final, heartbreaking scene, when Vic, seeing her boyfriend, and father in hospital beds from her own, but no Wayne, realizes, with abject terror, her son is gone. Her worst fear, the ONE man she'd fought for eight years to protect him from, has taken him. BEAUTIFUL, heart-wrenching, devastatingly good acting from Ashleigh, the desolate sobs, as her mother holds her in her arms, the hopelessness, and fear in her eyes. It shattered me.

An all time high for NOS4A2, "Bruce Wayne McQueen," holds all the emotional drama, and high risk of a proper Season Finale, and we're only FIVE episodes in!!!! If it's THIS good, this early in the story, I can't even imagine what lays in wait, as the Wraith races away with a very special boy in tow. Hold on, Strong Creatives....... Our WILDEST dreams are about to come true.........