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lasquadrasfuckhouse · 3 years

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hello I am back with a request if that’s ok with you q w q ) for la squadra with scenario-hc’s with their s/o taking care of them ( can go nsfw if you’d like but for now sfw thoughts ) as much as I love them taking care of their s/o I love when the roles are switched. Can be injured or other— but the goal is to make them feel safe and loved for as much as possible, like my other ask tender emotional moments are my jam. If find the muse for it 💖 if not that’s completely ok too. Pls & thnk u 🥰

ALWAYS OKAY W/ ME I LOVE SEEING U IN MY ASKBOX!!!! it's tendie hours 😍

taking care of la squadra 😌

risotto ✂️

it isn't easy to get risotto to relax, he's a workaholic. sit on him and give him a Look that you're not moving and neither is he, and he'll be so charmed that he'll relent.

he's also more used to taking care of people than being taken care of, so it's a bit of an adjustment to sit on his ass for a few days until he's recovered from the worst of whatever injury/illness he's got, but he finds himself getting like, quietly kind of emotional about it. he hasn't allowed himself to be cared for in a long time and he expresses that to you, and how much he appreciates and loves you.

he finds he really enjoys the opportunity to relax, cause yeah he's under the weather but at least he can chill for a bit. and he'd very much love to chill with you if you have the time. quiet cuddles or existing comfortably in the same space will have him feeling very cozy, loved, and rested. kiss him on the forehead to remind him that he is soft and precious and he'll want to snuggle you all day with a little smile on his face.

prosciutto 🚬

also not used to being taken care of. he'll be grumpy and try to micromanage the house from his bed at first (and you probably banished him to bed because he wasn't getting any rest on the couch). he relaxes when he wants to!!!! remind him that he needs time to recover and he's only human, and you promise the house won't fall apart without him. not only is he soft for you but he trusts you completely, so he relaxes.

he might be a bit restless, but set him up with a book and he'll be good. you may even take on prosciutto-like mannerisms in his place, like shushing the others if they're being too noisy. if he overhears you insisting on peace and quiet so he can rest, he'll smile to himself.

what really gets him and lets him know he's loved is taking over what he usually does while he rests, like folding his laundry and putting it away in the order he likes. and if you initiate the classic forehead touch with a smile and tell him to chill so he can get better, he'll gladly lay around all day thinking of you.

pesci 🎣

he tries to power through it but no honey you need to rest. give him puppy eyes and say you really want him to relax and get better, and he'll do it for you. he will get SO better for his babe just u see!!!!

he's also kind of glad for the chance to have downtime tho, even tho he's typically eager to help and stuff. he just wishes he didn't feel like ass. cheer him up with lots of cuddles and quiet relaxing things u can do together and he'll feel loads better!!!

he may feel kind of bad at first like oh no he doesn't want to bother u. but reassure him that he is never a bother, u love him and love being with him and that doesn't change when he's under the weather. he will accept that and thank u wholeheartedly for taking care of him

formaggio 🧀

milks it for all its worth. OOOH BABE IM IN SO MUCH PAAAIN PLEASE HOLD MEEE 😩 if he's feeling like shit at least he's gonna get cuddles out of it

would love nothing more than to snuggle up and watch stupid movies with you all day. he may just cling to you if you try to get up and insists that someone else can fetch you both dinner/blankets/etc instead. you're his best medicine!!! his comfort!!!! do not seperate!!!!!

but he is a sucker for a home cooked meal. even if you go for a bit, if you come back with something u made urself, even if it's not the most amazing display of chef skills, he'll be falling all over himself with how much he loves you because you put love and effort into something to make him feel better

illuso ✨

one of the WORST when he gets sick or injured because he just complains and lays on the pity party even more than formaggio. everything sucks!!! woe is illuso!!!! he needs ur healing kisses!!!!!

he definitely goes into the mirror world to rest b/c he needs peace and quiet or he'll get cranky. but he will bring u ofc. not just to be pampered either he's just cozy and happy in ur company

lavishing him in attention aside, what will REALLY tug on his heart is taking initiative to take care of him, like asking first how he's feeling, bringing an extra blanket cause you know he likes to have a pile of them, offering to very gently brush his hair. just like, little genuine attentive things. it may get him blushing

melone 🍈

very practical about it, there's that whole thing of 'people with medical backgrounds are the worst patients for one reason or another' but he doesn't try to take shortcuts with the rest he knows he needs and he's very polite and patient with asking for/instructing on what he needs

he's great at finding ways to entertain himself so no worries in that regard. if he's worried about getting you sick he may actually discourage cuddles for once in his life but otherwise he'd love to snuggle up to his babe all day

he'd honestly just feel really comforted if you told him all about your day and shared cool things with him or the classic 'i saw this and thought of you' he'll be 😍

ghiaccio ❄️

EXTRA grumpy when he's uncomfortable or in pain and unable to work his energy out. he's very active, so his body (or you) making him sit on his ass when he doesn't want to will leave him very prickly even though logically he knows it's for the best.

he'll generally want his space but then have bouts of feeling very cuddly. picture him cocooned in blankets with only the top half of his face visible and his general grumpy glower relaxes as u massage his scalp like calming an angry cat.

he'll be very thankful for everything you do, including kissing his cheeks or leaving him to chill with some water and a book or shushing the others if they're being too rowdy. but he'll be extra super thankful and soft if you bundle him up and go for a walk with him around the block just to stretch his legs and get some fresh air cause you know how much he hates sitting around.

sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦

if one of them is under the weather, the house gets a brief respite from their antics cause you and the other one are there to entertain them and curb their restlessness. if they're both sick/injured, good fucking luck because their boredom will feed off each other and it will be a nightmare.

sorbet likes to chill but he always needs new surroundings. he'll want to stay on the couch to at least observe the house's regular chaos but if you (and maybe gelato) see that he's not getting enough rest you will have to literally drag him into your bedroom because 1) he's not letting go of his entertainment that easily 2) it's fun to watch you struggle. he is devising every way to cause problems on purpose without moving around too much

gelato HATES sitting still so he is slowly going insane and he will let you know it. get him a big stack of movies, let him have free reign of the tv, play cards with him etc if you know what's good for the whole house because otherwise he won't stay in bed or he'll do shit like scream for help just to see you rush in and then grin and be like oh nvm babe im fine :)

you thought they were a handful together regularly? HAH. when they're sick or injured together they enable each other even more than usual. you are the only one capable of placating them, enjoy being squished between your two extremely cuddly boyfriends.

cuddles and kisses and loving attention always make them feel better, a surefire way to get them to actually rest is by snuggling them. but even if you do go for a bit, what brightens them up is hearing about all the new happenings on base or this cute dog you saw or if you bring them new snacks every day or try making something different for dinner. like, not just to placate them, but cause you know they're bored and uncomfortable and you want to cheer them up, that's what gets them. and then they'll pull you down and hold you for the rest of the night.

#THIS WAS CUTE THANK U FOR THE ASK!!!!!#la squadra #la squadra x reader #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet #gelato #vento aureo #ask

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drakenology · 4 years

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I Hate Everything About You - Dabi

warnings: ANGST, smut, daddy kink, mentions of rape,violence, AND swearing (cause im a potty mouth)

author’s note: this lil story is inspired by my favorite song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace. im a lil emo bitch ok? I recommend listening to the song to get a better perspective of how the emotions of the lyrics and the story goes hand in hand. the chorus goes like “I hate everything about you. why do i love you?” and I immediately thought of something angsty and raw to write. hope yall enjoy! this one might be a little long.

summary: You and Dabi have worked together as villians for as long as you can remember but you two don’t get along at all. is this truly hatred or is this repressed feelings coming to surface?

You hated heroism. You viewed it as weak and meaningless. When both of your parents were murdered by an anonymous killer and no one came to their rescue when they could very well have been saved, something dark took over your spirit. You snapped. At the tender age of 17, your parents did not receive justice for the act of violence committed against them. The police told you there “wasn’t enough evidence” and that the killer had most likely killed himself.

There were simply too many holes in the case for it to be solved. Obviously this infuriated you. So much in fact that you planned to blow up the entire police precinct.

And you did.

Now being on the run at only 17 you fell into a life of crime, committing yourself to being a villain who killed police officers off duty earning yourself the villain name “Cop Killer” from the authorities. Not to mention your very dangerous quirk called “Leech”. You were able drain anyone you gazed at of their blood, the gaze having to be completely focused on the person’s eyes. Once concentrated enough it becomes hard for the person to look away from you. To trigger your quirk, you have to say the word “leech” in order to essentially stop the flow of someone’s blood to their heart; their blood being extracted from their veins to yours. The blood only made your quirk stronger as you can now manipulate it and use it in combat. You had enough control to where you could take a little or take it all. The stolen blood was also good for increasing your stamina and speed for a short period, manifesting a weapon with the blood you stole and of course leeching the person of their blood entirely, instantly killing them. The murders you committed granted you the number one spot of Japan’s wanted list. You were also the youngest assasin in Japan at the time so you had to move around a lot. You spent your teenage years living in abandoned buildings and sketchy motels; robbing, stealing and of course murdering for survival.

The day you met the League of Villains was your 23rd birthday. As a treat to yourself, you had cornered one of the dirtiest cops you had ever encountered. He was a known sex trafficker, a thief as well as a disgusting rapist. You had him right where you wanted him; wearing a disguise to hide your true visage in order to avoid being recognized. You had pretended to be a love interest to the cop, sitting in the seedy hotel room he rented to have a little “privacy” with you.

“Oh baby, you don’t know what you do to me. I wanna see that pretty little mouth of yours around my cock. Get on your knees for me.” The police man said, the sleazy bastard unbuckling his belt. You nod, secretly being disgusted by this man. But you had to keep your cool. You got down on your knees and took his hard cock into your hands and pumped, looking him directly in the eyes as you did so.

“Yeah, baby. You’re so hot.” He groaned, keeping his eyes locked on yours almost instinctively as sweat collected on his brow.

“Thanks.. but your time’s up, you sick fuck.” you say, standing up on your feet. You straddle him, watching the cop’s eyes become terrified as he finally realizes who you really are.

“Leech.” You say as you watched your quirk take effect. The reaction was instant as he starts to gasp and grab at his heart, clinging onto his last minutes of life as he died on the hotel bed. You moan as his blood is transferred into yours, creating a dagger out of his blood. You slice his neck, licking whatever was left off of his cold throat. You laugh, searching his dead body to take whatever he had on his person; money, personal possessions and his gun. Just as you’re about to get up and leave you get the feeling that you aren’t alone. You turn and see none other than the villain you had seen all over local news.

Shigaraki.

He chuckles dryly, admiring your work at killing the cop underneath you.

“Well done, little girl.” He said, peering over your shoulder to get a good look at the mess you made of him. You go to ask how the hell he got into the room until you hear the sound of police sirens blaring outside.

“We have the entire hotel surrounded. There are Heros on the way to assist us. Surrender now or face the consequences.” You hear the cops say on a megaphone.

“Shit.” You mumble, quickly grabbing your things; planning your escape in your head.

“Listen, I’ve admired your work since your attack on that police station, Cop Killer.” Shigaraki said. “We could use someone like you in the League of Villains. My friend Kurogiri here can get us both out of here in one piece. But only with your consent of course.”

You think for a moment. You’d rather make a smooth escape than risk being arrested. So you agree.

“We’ll explain everything once we get back to base.” Kurogiri says, morphing himself through the cracks of the door.

Kurogiri takes both you and Shigaraki and consumed you both into his portals, leading you to the secret hide-out of the League of Villains. You look around, your vision a little hazy from being in the dark portal. You see a few other people standing in the lobby. A guy with a weird mask on with two sides on it eagerly introduced himself as Twice. You see a cute girl that looked a little young to be in a place like this.

“Toga Himiko. Nice to meet ya. Hey, you’re way prettier in person. The police drawing of you is really unflattering.” She says, waving at you. You smile meekly as you turn away to see this guy standing at the corner of the bar. He had burn scars all over his face and neck, dark hair and the most mysterious eyes you’ve ever seen. You met his gaze when you noticed him staring at you, sizing you up. You found his stare threatening and kind of alluring. You almost couldn’t look away.

“Don’t stare at me for too long, Cop Killer. I know what those eyes can do.” He said sarcastically, not even caring to introduce himself. He felt familiar, like you’ve known him for a long time. You rolled your eyes and walked over to Shigaraki.

“Look, if you think just because you got me out of a tight spot that I’m just gonna beg to work for you, you’re wrong. I work alone.” You said, adjusting the top of your outfit.

“I know. But today that changes. You see, we’ve been watching you, Cop Kill-” He says, interrupted by your loud groan.

“My name is Y/N. Please just call me by my name. My mother didn’t name me Cop Killer.” You demand, folding your arms in protest.

“But that’s what you are, Y/N. Don’t be ashamed.” Shigaraki says, inching closer to you. “Look, the services of the League of Villains aren’t free. We helped you. Now you help us. You understand don’t you, Y/N?”

You sigh, wishing you had just leapt out of a nearby window back at the hotel instead of taking help from this creep.

“Fine.” You say, looking down at your shoes.

“Wonderful.” Shigaraki says, walking away from you. “Oh and one more thing. I hate back talkers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months pass and you’re well acquainted with all the villains of the organization. You were all usually partnered up for missions; you always alternating between Toga and Dabi, who had finally told you his “name”. You grew to be pestered by Dabi. You’d much rather be paired up with Toga than Dabi any day since you and Dabi just could not get along, you both arguing like an old married couple at every mission. You couldn’t stand him. His cockiness, his elitist attitude, his aloofness. He hated you because of your attitude, you thinking you knew better than everyone else. He thought you were a spoiled brat who hasn’t done anything remarkable to even earn a spot in the League. To you, he was everything you despised about some men.

One night you were all playing a friendly game of Blackjack; which seemed to be a ritual between the members. Shigaraki didn’t bother playing but Kurogiri always seemed to watch.

“Ugh.. Fold. What do I have to do to get a decent fucking hand, huh?” Twice said, his two voices seeming to contrast in differing personality. You laugh, slamming down a perfect hand worth 21.

“I stand, bitches.” You say, winning yet another round.

“I’m bored.” Dabi says, standing up and leaving the table.

“Oh don’t be like that, Dabi. Come back!” Toga says, throwing her cards down. She sighs and stands up from the table. “Well, I guess that’s it. I’m goin to bed. Nighty night, Y/N. Twice.” Everyone went their separate ways. You walk into your room and change into something more comfortable and walk outside to get some air. To your dismay, Dabi was already standing outside in the same spot you liked to chill and think.

“Yo.” He says, referring to you. You roll your eyes and walk over to him.

“What?” You say, annoyed to the point where you just want to turn around and go back inside.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Cop Killer? Don’t like me?” He asks, inching closer to you to whisper in your ear. You stand still for a moment and lunge at him, grabbing his throat and pushing him against the wall.

“Stop fucking testing me.” You say sternly, looking him deeply in the eyes with the intention to kill.

“Careful, little girl. You might just turn me on.” He says, grabbing your arm and pushing you back. You freeze, stunned at the sudden harsh movement from the tall man in front of you. ”You’re 5′4′’, sweetheart. If I wanted to, I could end you without even using my quirk. You ‘oughta be nicer to me.”

You get angrier by the second, yelling and screaming about how much you hate him all while trying to take jabs at him, throwing punches at his face. Dabi dodges every swing, smirking at your abilities. He was impressed, but he’d never tell you that.

“Huh. Keep it up and you might actually hit me.” He teased, swinging back at you, landing right on your jaw. You stumble and collect yourself, charging towards him once more. You were certain you’d hit him, the blood from someone you’ve killed earlier that day increasing your speed.

“Fuck you.” You hiss, taking another swing at him and connect, landing right on his cheek. He smirks, wiping blood from his mouth. You get cocky and go for another punch only for him to dodge you. He grabbed your arm and twisted it, pinning you against the brick wall in front of him with your back facing him.

“When?” He asked in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You hated that he could so easily overpower you, making you despise him even more. He releases you from his grip and stands close to you; you feeling the warmth of his skin radiating from his body.

“Listen. You hate me and quite frankly I can’t stand you either. But you don’t see me attacking you. Try it again and I won’t be so nice next time, little girl.” Dabi said, grabbing your face to daringly look into your poisonous eyes to mock your quirk. You focus, ready to end this asshole. Suddenly his lips crash into yours. At first, you’re disgusted and fucking pissed. But then you feel yourself start involuntarily melting into his kiss. So you kiss him back with no shame, all bitter feelings leaving your mind as the kiss gets more intense. You feel his hands groping and caressing your body, his hands exploring to stop at your neck; wrapping it around. You gasp, feeling yourself get hot.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. And then you spoke. And I couldn’t stand you. But I couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to bend you over and punish you for your slick mouth. You need a good hard dicking to keep your mouth shut and I’m the one to give it to you. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?” He asked, starting to kiss your neck harshly. You moan, embarrassed at his words. He was right. You found him attractive as soon as you saw him but his attitude rubbed you the wrong way. But right here and now, you realize that you might have been hiding your true feelings behind a façade of hatred. You wanted him too and you couldn’t stand it.

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” He persists, biting into your neck. You mewl, shocked at how good he was making you feel. You almost couldn’t believe you were in this situation. It was confusing but formalities could come later. You wanted him now.

“Yes, Dabi. I wanted you to fuck me the first time I saw you.” You say quietly, feeling him reach under your shirt and bra to grab at your naked breast. You bit your lip, feeling slick pool between your legs as you fall victim to his touch.

“Get inside and go in my room. I expect you to have nothing on when I get there. Understood?” He demands, pinching your nipple lightly. You gasp, nodding at his request.

“Words. You’ve already made me angry with that stunt you pulled punching me in the face. I wouldn’t try me further.” He said, grabbing your hair and pulling it to expose more of your neck. You moan, unable to control yourself suddenly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to turn you on. Fucking asshole.

“Y-Yes, daddy- I-I mean Dabi.” You flush. Damn. You couldn’t believe you let that slip. He laughs, kissing your lips once more as he lets you go.

“Daddy works just fine.” Dabi says smirking, watching you stumble towards the door to go back inside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You knew you should just go into your own room but, God you wanted to see what he’d do to you for almost punching him. You wondered how rough he’d be, your panties soaking at the thought as you gulp and open his room door. You sat on his bed and took off your clothes, leaving your underwear on to tease him. Suddenly his door opens and it’s him. He looked you up and down, loving what he saw. But to his dismay you had on too many clothes still.

“I thought I told you to get naked, little girl.” Dabi said, pushing you onto his bed. He stood above you, running his fingers down your stomach and stopping at the waistband of your panties. You shudder at his cold fingers.

“You never said naked.” You tease, looking back at him. He frowns, shaking his head.

“Man, you just love pushing my buttons don’t you? You’re gonna regret teasing me so much.” He says, pulling your panties down roughly, holding them up to his face. He smirked at the wet spot he saw on them, throwing them onto the ground. “This is gonna be fun.”

You hiss as he slid one measly finger inside you while rubbing your bundle of nerves with his thumb, the single finger not being enough to satisfy your craving for that certain pleasurable stretch. Somehow though, Dabi was making you feel good with that one finger. You roll your hips for more friction only to have Dabi hold you down with his other hand.

“Stop squirming so much. It makes you look desperate, doll.” He teased earning a whine from you. As if to be a little forgiving he adds another finger, watching your face twist up in pleasure. You were visually trying to hide your moans, Dabi not liking that at all.

“Come on now. It’s no fun if you don’t scream for me. Let everyone here know how good I make you feel.” He said, halting his movements. You nod, moaning loudly as he adds a third finger. Any shame or embarrassment is gone as he worked you up to your first orgasm. You grab at his sheets, trying to move for more friction only to once more be overpowered by Dabi.

“You don’t listen too well do you? I said stop squirming. You’ll have your fill but good girls wait to cum. Understand? I expect you to address me correctly this time.” He says, grabbing your face to make you look at him. Something about knowing you could kill him with your eyes turned him on, because he knew he could keep you from doing so. All he had to do was please you, knowing you won’t be able to focus on anything but screaming his name let alone his eyes.

“Y-Yes daddy.” You mewl, your eyes rolling back as he pulled out one of your breasts, sucking on your nipple harshly. The sound of your moans was music to Dabi’s ears, the only thing he ever wanted to hear come out of your mouth. He cooed praises into your ear, telling you hot sexy you are and how et your pussy is just for him. He crawls on top of you, pulling his fingers out of you as you whine at the sudden loss. He kissed you, ripping your bra off. He sat up and stared at the gorgeous naked woman underneath him.

“You’re so hot when you’re not talking shit.” He says, playing with your boobs. He was unsure of where to start. He wanted to please every inch of your lovely curves, his eyes drinking in your hips up to your beautiful breasts. He nearly drooled at the sight of them, your nipples seeming to perk up when he looked at them. You stare back at the man on top of you, his scars almost complimenting his skin as you watched him take off his shirt. You bit your lip as you feel a nice sized bulge grind up against your dripping core. You didn’t even notice that his pants were off, drooling at the sight of his body overpowering yours. He grinded up against you, leaning in close to your ear.

“Ready to get fucked, sweetheart?” He asked, nibbling on your ear lobe.

“Yes, god, yes!” You gasp, feeling him take off his boxers. He positioned his dick at your entrance, tapping it against you to tease you. You moan, going to grab his cock and shove it inside you but you think twice, already in trouble with him. Dabi smirks, excited to break you as he shoved himself inside you and started to rut his hips into you. You moan sinfully at the sudden stretch, loving how he filled you. You feel him speed up, not even fully adjusted to his length as you clawed at his back for dear life.

“You’re takin me so well, doll.” He said, grabbing your neck to lightly choke you. Your eyes roll back as you reveal a sinful ahegao face while he pounds you senseless. You’re moaning his name and telling him how good he feels inside you, cussing and screaming into the air as you feel yourself coming close to cumming.

“C-Can I-?” You ask, unable to finish your sentence as you feel yourself clenching around him. Dabi is relentlessly prodding at your g-spot, causing you to see stars as he notices he’s hitting that special spot. He smirks and angles himself so that he’s repeatedly hitting that spot, watching you cover your mouth as you scream. He snatched your hand away from your mouth and pinned it above your head.

“Tell me you’re sorry for punching me, kitten.” He demands, harshly pinching your nipples. You shake your head no to tease him. “No? Must need more convincing, huh brat?” He pulls out of you, you letting out a pathetic sob at the loss. He roughly flips you on your stomach and plants a hard smack on your ass. You yelp, your pussy aggravated as it throbs at the feeling of pleasure. He yanks you towards him and shoves himself back inside you, you laying flat on your stomach. You kick and scream under him, feeling him so deep it blinds you.

“Oh my god, daddy!” You whine, shoving your face into your pillow as he assaults your g-spot.

“Say it.” He demands, landing another hard smack on your ass this one sure to leave a mark.

“I-I’m sorry! Fuck, I’m sorry!” You scream, desperate for release.

“Good girl.” He hisses. Dabi grabs your hair and lifts your head off the pillow wanting to hear the last moans you can give before you cum.

“Go ‘head and cum for me. You’ve earned it.” He says. And just like that you clench around him hard, your orgasm washing over your body as you cum all over his dick. He rides out your orgasm, only to continue pounding you earning a sharp yelp from you as you throw your head into the pillow again.

“You didn’t think it was over did you? That’s cute.” He said, taking you further. At this point you’re overstimulated, the pleasure almost painful as he worked you to another orgasm.

“God, I love you!” You scream to his delight as you cum quicker than your mind can keep up.

“I love you too. Even though you’re fucking annoying.” He hisses, unable to hold himself back anymore. He cums hot inside you, grunting as he slaps your ass one last time before pulling himself out. You moan softly, breathing heavily as he cleaned you up. He kissed up your body, you unable to move from being completely fucked out of your mind.

“When you socked me, I knew you were a keeper.” He laughed.

“Shut up.” You say, smiling into your pillow.

“HEY, YOU TWO DONE IN THERE? YOU COULD HAVE WOKEN UP THE ENITRE CITY WITH ALL THAT RACKET!” Twice shouted through the walls, turning your face red with shame.

“SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS!” Dabi yelled back, rubbing soft circles on your ass to soothe his harsh marks on both cheeks.

bitch i.. i’m sick.

#bnha smut #bnha fanfiction #bnha dabi #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha shouta aizawa #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha midoriya x reader #bnha todoroki x reader #bnha oc

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miutonium · 3 years

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Omg wait i need to write this down before I go to bed and forget about it the next day ahhh so like I figured out how Older Utonium and Chloe would start talking hgnfbgn so someone dm'd me and said maybe the girls saved Chloe from a villain and i instantly have an idea lol.

Undercut because woo i didnt expect this to be long

So like I imagine that one day Chloe was a bystander for an attack and ended up becoming one of the villain's hostages. The girls eventually saved her and she wanted to pay them back out of courtesy. The next day she would approaced Utonium and thanked him and the girls for saving her life. Chloe wanted to pay back because she honestly felt grateful they saved her and thought she wants to pay for their dinner. Utonium would reject it first because he doesnt want her to think that she owes them but Chloe would insist she feels fine and he ended up accepting it since he knew her on a semi-personal level and he thought a dinner means no harm.

So like i said that Bubbles lowkey wanted Prof to go back to dating right? I'm pretty sure Blossom and Buttercup would think of the same thing too. They wanted their dad to have someone that can keep him company and make him happy. So one day when Prof tells them they're going to have dinner with a lady friend of his, an idea popped into their head. They wanted to pull the same thing they did when they're 6 and play matchmaker again.

On the day they suppose to go out for dinner, they would at first feign that they are sick and all of them have food poisoning and Prof almost called Chloe to call off the date since his kids are sick and they immediately changed their plan and became healthy again. They then say they have an important last minute class meeting online at night and they say they couldn't come and insisted that Prof should go to the dinner by himself.

Utonium in the end drove to meet Chloe at the restaurant they promised all by himself because at that point its too late for him to cancel it. While he thought that the girls are at home, they're actually following his trail not far from behind just to spy on their dad lol. When he finally arrives, he apologised profusely for being late and also regretfully tell her that his kids couldn't come. Chloe assures him its fine and glad that he could come at least and suggest maybe she can buy takeouts for them. They would go inside and have dinner together. They would talk for hours while they were enjoying their dinner and talk until the restaurant closes. Utonium didn't expect they would have a lot of thing in common and also not in common but he really loves to listen to others from another view and was very inteigued by Chloe's thought process hhhh

At this point, the girls probably gave up and went home because theyve been in the restaurant for hours and theyre tired of waiting lol. As for Utonium and Chloe, when they walked out the streets were almost dark and not too far from them one of the streetlights are blinking. Chloe wanted to call the night cab and go home but knowing that its late at night and worried for her safety, Utonium offered to drive her home instead. After he reached her flat she thanked him for a good time and Utonium blinked a few times before he chuckles and say "No, thank you for the dinner, it was wonderful. I'm sorry that the kids couldn't come but I really appreciate you buying takeouts for them".

The next day, Utonium came to have breakfast and instead of greeting Chloe with the usual hello and order through her as the usual sop, he would greet her and starts to talk about things outside of the usual "how's your day" and actually starts to interact with her. Previously he doesnt really notice Chloe other than he can tell she's coming by the sound of her heels but now he sees her more than a waitress at a diner.

Okay djekdkql now that I figured out how they start talking, I just need to figure out how Utonium starts to have feelings for her and ended up dating hsksksks im going to sleep now night

#im so sleepy but qhdialal im glad i get to figure this out lol this is so dumb but im doing this for myself #also i really need to draw Older Utonium fuckskekdksk im going to do that right after im done with my commissions i promise #anyway I didnt mean to make Utonium sound like he ignored Chloe because whes a waitress hhh i feel that he doesnt talk to her because-#-he knows here being friendly is just a part of her job and he has to constantly remind himself that she's not hitting on him #when in fact she does lol #Utonium just cant read signs lol but also Utonium's probably too deep into his own thoughts he didnt notice-#Chloe's fighting with her own thoughts 2 tables away every time he sits at the booth near the windows lol #ok fr im sleepy i am going to sleep goodnight #selfship #selfshipping #selfship headcanons #selfshipping community #ppg professor #professor utonium #i just hope my words makes sense im so sleep deprived rn ahshahqhqk #self insert oc #thinking bout' the new days ✨

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fuwahiko · 3 years

Note

NOT ME TAKING LITERAL DAYS TO FIGURE OUT HOW MUCH BACKSTORY I WANTED TO GIVE THIS AND ACCIDENTALLY CLOSING THE APP AND LOSING WHAT I HAD WHEN I WAS FINALLY GETTING SOMEWHERE I-

Im a disaster but i finally got my head on straight alright HERE'S SOME OUMOTA FOR YA

SO. The V3 kids have gone on the town to hang out. Why? They were sick of always going to Amami's house. They needed a change of scenery. What are they doing? Karaoke? Bowling? Who knows. But they're all making fun of each other.

Their collective love language towards each other is bullying.

At some point, a lot of people get hungry. Miu, for some ungodly reason, yells at Kokichi to go and order for them. And bring the food down when it's done. For some even ungodlier reason, Kokichi agrees. Without an argument. Not even an insult.

He does kiss Kaito while flipping everyone off before walking off, but now everyone's scared of what the gremlin's planning. Only Kaito's safe if Kokichi's got something planned. Boyfriend priveleges work...sometimes.

With Kokichi, he's waiting for everyone's food when someone shouts his name...or something close to it. Intrigued, he turns around and immediately tenses up. But only slightly.

It his ex-boyfriend. Kokichi never wanted to see this ex (who i call Fuckface McAsshole) again. It wasn't healthy, and when he tried to break it off, said ex lost it and dragged shit out for a week and a half. Kokichi was about to turn and rush towards Kaito and the others, because safety in numbers (plus Kaito could throw a mean punch), but the ex got there first. He had also accidentally left his phone on the table with the others.

There was no calling for help. Kokichi was stuck.

So he was forced to play the long game. He didn't wanna make a scene in such a public place. He let his ex talk and talk and talk while retaining none of what he was saying. When the ex noticed Kokichi wasn't listening, he commented. ("...why aren't you listening to me, Ko? Got somewhere better to be? With people that actually want you around? Fucking doubt it.")

When he hears that, Kokichi snaps. Not completely, but enough to get snappy

"Actually, my friends and boyfriend are waiting on their food. I'm here to get their food. And I can't hear the person calling out numbers because of your blabbering. So be quiet."

Kokichi knew he shouldn't have snapped. He knew as soon as his ex's eyes widened, then narrowed. He'd never admit it, but that look made him slightly nervous.

From there, everything escalates very quickly. Quicker than Kokichi anticipated. It's about to get real ugly in two seconds. And everyone's going to hear and stare at whatever's going to go down.

......soooooo now i hand it off to you. What exactly happens between Kokichi and his ex? How do the V3 kids find out about all this, and how do they react? How does Kokichi react after that fiasco? And what do they all (extra emphasis on Kaito bc Oumota) do to try and comfort and/or cheer up Kokichi after THAT?

(Did i listen to "Happier than Ever" by Billie Eilish when i thought of this...maybe i did and maybe i didn't. You can't prove anything.)

this is a really interesting scenario! kokichi feeling so backed up into a corner like that is certainly unusual, for one thing.

ok ok so I like the idea of like, kokichi trying to work on himself a lot. dude needs therapy. and in this au I can see it being the case that kokichi has been working through stuff a lot and has managed to become so close with everyone because of that - like I'm sure in a non despair au he wouldn't be quite so... ~the way that he is~ anyway, but he'd likely still have a lot of issues and struggle to get along with everyone at first, but then with some encouragement from someone he trusts and gets along with more (kaito? maybe someone else? maybe it's more of a slowburn with him getting closer to kaito?) he'd eventually start going to therapy and start slowly working on himself, as well as starting over with some people he maybe started off on the wrong foot with before. it might take some time, but eventually even the people that really didn't get along with him start to open up a little and try to understand him more, and he does the same for them. everyone sees how hard kokichi is trying, and he's really changing for the better, and that inspires them to work on themselves too and it brings everyone a lot closer.

so. when kokichi's ex shows up, it stirs all of this awfulness inside of him, all of this bitterness. it ends up starting to pull at the worst things within kokichi, trying to bring it all to the surface, and kokichi is trying his hardest to stop himself from saying something horrible, from making a scene, from making every stranger in the area turn to look at him with that look that makes him want to disappear. he's trying so hard not to fall back into old habits and old behaviours; he's been working so hard and finally things are looking up for once.

but then he slips up.

he knew he shouldn't have said anything, but his ex wasn't going to leave him alone anyway, and suppressing his own emotions was getting too difficult, so he had to do something. but now his ex was glaring at him even more than before, and kokichi could feel the rage radiating from him, and he immediately regretted ever opening his mouth. but he'd already come this far, and his ex had backed him so far into the corner that all kokichi could do was bite back just as hard.

kokichi's ex raised his voice, and it was like the floodgates had been opened. everything he was saying was blurring together into an endless string of sharp needles that pierced into kokichi, targeting all of his weak points, hurting him over and over, each needle piercing deeper than the last. kokichi snapped back, his own voice just as loud, throwing insult after insult and trying to dig up all that he could think of to hurt him back, trying to find just the right words to hurt his ex even deeper than he had hurt him, all the while a smirk spread across his face as kokichi pretended like he was enjoying himself, enjoying this conflict, but with every word he fired back he only felt more hatred towards himself. it was a form of self destruction, and now that he'd started hurting himself, kokichi didn't know how to stop.

just when kokichi felt like his own self hatred was going to swallow him whole, he half-registered footsteps growing louder just out of view. then, before he knew it, suddenly his ex was being lifted off the ground in front of him.

kokichi's eyes widened as he finally processed what he was looking at. it was kaito. kaito was here and he had grabbed the ex by his shirt and lifted him up, a furious expression spread across kaito's face.

"the fuck are you doing to kokichi?!" kaito practically roared as he held his free hand in a fist.

after maybe a brief moment of relief, kokichi felt fear and panic grab hold of him, and when he met eyes with kaito he seemed to immediately understand exactly what he was feeling.

kaito let go, letting kokichi's ex drop and stumble as he found his footing. "sorry. I wasn't gonna do anything, I didn't mean to scare you." kaito looked ashamed now, and he turned away from kokichi for a moment. kaito had been working on himself a lot too, specifically dealing with anger issues and his tendency to resort to violence when things got hard to deal with, and he'd been making a lot of progress. kaito knew he would've decked this guy if kokichi hadn't looked so upset, and he felt horrible about it. he felt awful that he was just reverting back to his usual ways, and he felt even more awful because he'd made kokichi feel worse, even if only for a second. he felt like such a disappointment. kokichi felt horrible too, and he felt like it was his own fault that kaito had gotten so worked up, that if he'd just dealt with his ex in another way then kaito never would've gotten dragged into this. kokichi had brought the worst out of himself, and now he felt he was doing the same to kaito, pulling him down with him.

just then, security showed up and asked them to leave. kokichi and kaito both had the thought of telling them that the ex was the problem and that they'd just been going about their day until he started shit, but neither of them said anything, just left without making any more fuss. they gave them their money back for the food at least, but now the whole thing had just been a waste.

when they grouped up with the others outside again, kaito holding kokichi's hand as they walked, everyone was chatting and laughing together as they had been doing all day, but they all quickly realised something was up as they saw how shaken kokichi looked and how kaito's face was scrunched up with frustration. of course they'd also seen that the two of them were empty handed, but that wasn't their main concern.

"guys? what's wrong?" kaede rushed over to see them, a look of worry spread across her face. kaito squeezed kokichi's hand a little tighter as he told them all what he'd walked in on. he decided to do the talking himself, knowing kokichi was struggling at the moment and not wanting him to have to explain everything on top of that. he didn't really know what had been happening exactly, but he'd gathered that this guy had been kokichi's ex, and he knew he'd started something with kokichi because he knew that kokichi would never start anything like that himself now.

maki suggested they all move to somewhere quieter, so they headed down a nearby street that lead to an open area with a park that was surrounded by a long wall that was low enough to sit on. kaito sat with kokichi on the wall, pulling him in close at his side and wrapping his arm around him firmly, reassuringly. kaede sat on kokichi's other side, speaking gently and offering to let him borrow her earphones to listen to some music to help him calm down. he refused, but he appreciated the thought. himiko sat on the grass at his feet in silence, but he knew her well enough now to know she was trying her best to support him, even if she didn't know what to say or do. shuichi and maki sat down beside kaito, who was calmer now, but concerned for kokichi and still upset with himself.

"it's all my fault..." kokichi mumbled sadly, his head resting against kaito and his hand clinging onto his shirt. "it's not your fault. he started it, didn't he?" kaito questioned, already knowing the answer. "not that. I mean... I got you involved." kaito ran the hand that was holding kokichi up and down gently along his arm to comfort him, his free hand reaching to stroke his hair. "don't worry about that, that's not your fault at all. I shouldn't have lost my cool. ...sorry again about startling you." kokichi shook his head. kaito felt kokichi's body start shaking, and he realised he was crying. "I'm the worst... I'm the worst, I'm the worst, I'm the worst." kokichi cried as he buried his face further and tried to hide away. "nothing's changed, I'm just as shitty and horrible and worthless as I always have been... I should've just... done things different... but I did the same as I always do..."

of course. kaito finally realised the real reason why he was so upset. sure he was upset over his ex showing up and the nasty things he'd been saying, but now that they were away from him he was more upset with himself than anything, because he'd worked so hard and he felt like none of that work had actually gotten him anywhere. he felt like change wasn't possible, because if he'd reacted that way then to him that surely meant that he was exactly the same as he'd always been, despite how much he'd tried.

"hey. that's not true and you know it." kaito was about to continue, but miu interrupted. "yep, that's bullshit. ha! if you think you're terrible, that guy sounds ten times worse! what a loser." gonta also spoke up, obviously very upset that anyone would raise their voice at his friend. "hmm... that not how gentleman should act. should be polite, even if ex doesn't like you."

"kokichi, we can all see how far you've come and how hard you've been working, so please don't beat yourself up over this one time. that guy is the one at fault, he put you in a difficult position, a really difficult position, and you wouldn't have reacted that way otherwise." kaede reassured him. "she's right, you wouldn't do that unless you felt you had no other choice." shuichi agreed as he handed kokichi some tissues. kokichi had calmed down somewhat, but he needed to get his emotions out still, so everyone waited patiently, offering words of support every so often, kaito still holding him and placing a few kisses on the top of his head, until kokichi stopped crying and pulled away, sitting up and drying his eyes.

angie jumped up off of the grass. "we should do something fun!" rantaro looked up at her from where he was sitting. "you mean like a distraction?" "nyahahaha! yes! doing something fun will help kokichi take his mind off things and feel better!" "do you have something in mind?" kiibo asked. angie thought about it for a moment. "hmm... nope!" rantaro sighed. "we shall just have to think of something, and we should also find somewhere else to eat as well." kirumi said as she stood up, dusting off the front and back of her dress.

ideas began getting thrown around and the atmosphere lightened up quickly - everyone chatting and suggesting fun things to do together, kokichi just quietly listening, but feeling a lot more comfortable again and appreciating his friends' efforts to cheer him up. it wasn't too long before kokichi was joining in, though, and everyone was relieved to see him slowly returning to his usual self; a bit immature, sometimes annoying, but funny, sweet, so full of life. kokichi was someone they'd all grown to love, no matter how things might have started out for some of them with him, and he wasn't at all who he thought he was when he was feeling down on himself. they hoped that one day kokichi would finally understand that.

#ask #oumota #ouma kokichi #group #drabble #aaaa ty for the ask!! it was rly fun writing some oumota uwu #I feel like there might be some cw tags needed for this one possibly?#but idk what to tag so lemme know if there's any warnings I should add #long post

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mintmatcha · 3 years

Text

9 months, 28 days

Chapter 3 of 10 Months

CW: discussions of death

A/N: this is the end of the beginning! im not sure exactly how long this stories going to be but yolo

The cafe is almost empty, just like always. That’s why they loved this place so much as kids. No one they knew was ever here, sitting in the mothball scented booths- only the occasional elderly couple who didn’t give a fuck that the place hadn’t updated it’s decor since 1995. Clouds rolled in overnight, painting the town a somber grey. Mattsun feels like it should match his mood, but it doesn’t. He’s not sad, he just… is. There’s this weird, turbulent void in his chest where his despair should lie.

Hanamaki’s in the corner when he arrives, nestled into the booth with a mug. He watches the rain trickle down the window, tracing the paths of the drops with his finger tips. It’s very ‘white girl protagonist’ Mattsun decides. Like he’s the star of a Hallmark movie. The void in his chest pulses and he swears, just for a flash, it was warm.

“Hanamaki.” Mattsun slides in across from him.

“Well, lookie here at the big boy in his big boy suit.” Hanamaki taps his nails against the glass, not even looking at his friend. “Did your mom help you pick that out?”

“This is technically a business meeting, so I had to wear something nice.” he explains. “Or else my boss is going to think I’m just screwing around.”

That’s what it feels like. It feels like work. He’s just putting all of this into his little box, so he can file it away in the storage files of his mind. He’ll process it later, when the moment’s right.

Or never.

Makki tents his fingers together, like he’s some sort of super villain. He’s always had this casual, uncaring air about him, but it seems to have developed further into a chaotic mess. “Ah, so you’ve decided to plan my fun-eral.”

The black haired man sighs. “Only if you stop calling it that.”

The waitress wanders up, expecting orders in her typical, unfriendly way. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume it was the same woman from years ago, still equally sick of her job.

Neither of the men look at the menu. Mattsun orders a cheeseburger omelette and a coffee with six sugars, the same horrible thing he’s been getting since high school. ‘The American Experience’, they called it. Makki orders plain toast, notably not the same thing he’s been getting since high school.

“You should eat more,” Mattsun says, “You’re too thin.”

“Who are you? My mom?” he takes a long swip from his mug,

“If I was, I wouldn’t be-” Mattsun stops himself, much to Makki’s delight.

“Oh, please make a dead mom joke. Please.” Makki’s on the edge of his seat, leaning halfway across the table, “My mom would have loved you making a joke about her.”

Mattsun slinks down so far that his knees pump against the booth across from him. “That’s… yeah, you’re right. She would have loved it.”

Mattsun wants to say he misses her, but it doesn't seem fair. To miss Hanamaki Hana would be to miss Hanamaki Takahiro, and he certainly wasn’t allowed to miss Hiro.

Makki looks exactly like his father. He's there in the too thin nose, the gap between his canines and molars, and the clubbed way their fingernails grew.

but his mom's in his idiosyncrasies. She's in the laughter, the winks, the tiny things that make Takahiro himself. Truly a mama's boy, Makki taps his cup against his front teeth the same way she did. It's their thinking face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mattsun regains control. His notebook and reading materials jut out against his stomach from their spot in his coat.

“Are you really sick?” It surprises both of them. Maybe it was the thought sitting at the top of his head, maybe he meant to say it. All of this just feels too sudden, too random, Mattsun just can’t quiet his doubts.

This is why the time apart was good; Makki made him do stupid things, made his brain stop working.

“I- uh. Yeah.” Makki's face doesn't change, but his shoulders fall. The tension in his body deflates as he goes back to looking out the window. "You're such a dick."

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You really think I’d lie about all of this?” he laughs, but it's flat, "To do what? To crawl back into your life?"

"That's not what-"

"Newsflash, asshole- I've been doing great without you.” the mug slams against the table, “I've been really, truly, wonderfully happy since-"

The other man picks up one of the pieces of toast and examines it, before carefully ripping the crust off. It’s a delicate procedure, carefully peeling off the edge on one, long piece. Makki opens his mouth to continue, then closes it with a low, thoughtful hum as he rolls the crust into a little ball.

"Makki." Mattsun holds up a finger, pausing the conversation for a moment as the waitress approaches. They sit in silence, mumbling only a quiet thank you as she

drops off the plates. She doesn't seem to notice the tension in the air or if she does, she doesn't care. She pours the coffee carefully, counts out the sugar packets like she's rationing them. As soon as she turns, he sighs and curls his hand into a tight fist, holding it in the air for a second before letting it fall. "Continue."

“This was a dumb idea. Forget I even asked you to do this.” he tosses the bread ball into his mouth and chews, “I’m just gonna go.” Standing suddenly, he grabs his coat from the booth beside him.

This would be the third time he let Makki leave and, according to the time left, the last. Life is fickle, an unpredictable lace pattern made by the people in your life coming and going. Mattsun was used to dealing with the final goodbyes and usually found comfort in it. No more chapters to write, all secrets buried and forgotten- truly, nothing left but what you can see in rose colored glasses.

And yet some part of him- the stupid part, the crazy part, the self loathing part- panics at the thought of seeing this end.

"I know you're better without me." Mattsun sighs, "But I want to help you, if you'll still let me."

“Stop.” Mattsun’s heart pounds so hard, dancing across his skin, that he can barely recognize he’s touching Makki, holding his wrist down against the table. “Sit. Eat."

Makki just raises a brow.

Reluctantly, he complies, but not before he tugs his hand out of his friend's grasp, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a sneer. A boundary has been set- no touching.

"I'll let you." he turns his attention back to the mangled food on his plate, "But only because I want to finish my toast."

"We good?" They are not, but Mattsun prays for a lie.

"For now. But watch yourself." It's a win, albeit a half hearted one. Mattsun pulls a tiny notebook from an inner pocket of his coat and flips through the pages until he reaches the last page; it's the farthest out thing he's planning, of course. It’s marked ‘The Hanamaki Service.’

They let the silence sit between them as they pick at what’s in front of them. The terrain of this relationship is uneven, constantly changing. It’s like hiking a mountain in the winter, Mattsun decides, one wrong move, one noise too loud, and the whole thing will come crashing down,

Why does he even care?

Makki’s happy without him, he’s fine without Makki.

He shouldn’t care, and yet he stays.

The black haired man stabs a hunk of egg and watches the half melted cheese try to stretch. “So, to put it all simply: what our home does for you is the basics: Legal procurement, transportation, preparation, and disposition- you don't have to worry about any of it. We also offer a location for interment and service, depending on the type of service you require, of course."

"Location?"

Mattsun takes a bite. "For the service and for you to, um, rest."

"You mean rot."

Maybe eating wasn’t the right choice for this conversation. The texture of egg now feels wrong in his mouth.

"Don't say it like that." The preservatives slow that down, so the rot won't happen for a long time, he brain reminds him. It doesn't help.

"I already have those places picked out though." Mattsun waits for a joke to follow, but he’s surprised when his friend says, "Bury me near my mom and hold the service here."

"Here?" Mattsun asks, “There’s nicer places.”

"Save a dying business with a dead guy. It's irony."

"Okay, well. That's-" he sighs and scribbles into his notebook. This wasn’t going to be a traditional job, was it? "At least the catering is done then."

"Perfect." Makki pushes away his empty plate, "I'm a natural at this. You should hire me.”

"Long term positions only, sorry." It slips out before Mattsun can censor himself, but Makki just snorts into his tea.

It’s frustrating that they click together so well, especially because nothing’s been resolved between them. One minute everything threatens to break, the next they can sit here and joke with each other. The issues sit there, waiting in the corner of the room, cocked and ready to fire. If they just didn’t look, maybe it wouldn’t hurt when it finally attacked.

If they didn’t look, maybe they can pretend nothing happened.

Mattsun reminds himself that he doesn’t care. There's still that blank space inside him.

“Next step would be flowers.”

It’s not. They should discuss embalming versus cremation, but the words stick to his throat. He’s asked so many times before, stared forward as loved ones debated what to do without a care in the world. This time shouldn’t be different.

“I’ll think about it. Can’t say I know too many flowers off the top of my head.” Makki digs his phone from his front pocket and scrolls, looking through everything before tapping out a quick question. There's a twitch of his brow, barely furrow, but it's gone in a flash. Before Mattsun can even ask, Makki's gathered his coat in his hands. “Gotta go.”

“What? We just started-” The whiplash is what hurts. Just as Mattsun feels like he's found his footing, it's gone again, slipping out from under him. This must be some level of hell

"Something came up." he shrugs, "Don't worry about it."

"I won't."

"You're such an asshole." he says, "You're supposed to at least pretend to care."

Yeah, he knows. That's how life works. But he can't just pretend; it's a gateway to actually feeling.

"I'll try." Mattsun offers, "It was nice to see you."

Makki rolls his left shoulder over and over again, like he's trying to work out a kink. "Was it? Was it really?"

"Kind of."

"Thanks," there's a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "We'll do this again."

And like that, with no formal goodbye, he just starts to leave. Mattsun wants to protest, but he’s grateful. He hadn’t realized how tense he had been, how hard he'd been digging his fingers into his thigh. The void in his stomach somehow feels smaller and larger all at once. He kind of wishes it would just swallow him up and this would all be done with.

It's so easy not to care.

“Oh, and Mattsun?” Makki pauses by the door and picks out a familiar black umbrella that was leaning against the doorframe. He twirls in in his fingers like a baton before pressing the button and letting it unfold. It's bad luck to open an umbrella inside. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Mattsun just looks down at the table. His food is barely touched but he doesn't plan to eat anymore. With his heart in his throat for no good reason, he feels nauseous. Despite himself, he wonders if Makki still smells like cedar aftershave and the discount brand laundry detergent.

“That fucker didn’t pay.”

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

Easy As A-B-C

Pairing: Professor!Gwilym Lee x Reader

Summery: Professor Lee is getting sick of marking papers, you offer an alternative. One where he doesn't need to think at all.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, bimbofication (without hypnosis), oral sex (m and f receiving), hand job, light dom/sub dynamic, dom!reader, sub!Gwil, overstimulation, maybe a little bit of hair pulling

Words: 4,537

A/N: This was massively massively inspired by my love @dracoladon and her Drarry fic Lucid (seriously, go read it because she’s a much better writer than me and also sex dumb Draco is hhhhhhh). Reading it made me want to write more himbo fics but without all the hypnosis stuff thats in my Future Management series. Then I got talking to @peachydeacon about himbo!Rog which led to talking about himbo!Gwil and this fic is the result of our discussion lmao. It was also partly inspired by a post on a porn blog that popped up on my dash but I can’t link to that because tumblrs dumb.

Also, it is a professor gwil fic but set after reader has graduated so it’s all above board lmao

Blurb Advent: Day 24

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

Gwilym looked unreasonably hot while he was grading papers, his brow knitted, wearing a look of serious concentration made all the more noticeable by the reading glasses sliding down his nose. His loose tie and the undone top buttons of his business shirt lent him a casually dishevelled air, and that wasn’t even mentioning the way he absentmindedly twisted his pen between his fingers as he read and reread sentences he was struggling to understand, occasionally pausing to underline something or write a note in the margins. It all painted a very sexy image, the kind of serious sexy only a professor could achieve, though this sexiness was nowhere near new. You’d found his manner oddly arousing even when he’d been your professor. Of course, that had been a few years ago and well before you’d had your chance encounter in the local second hand bookstore that led you to ask him out. He’d stuttered out something about never having even thought of you as more than his student and “really I feel almost as if I’ll get in trouble for the conversation as soon as I get back to campus.” But the awkwardness soon changed when you confessed to having had a minor crush on him back in the day and having since hoped to run into him. He seemed more open to the idea of dinner with you after that and, if you were being honest, more cocky too, but cocky in a decidedly dignified and charming way. Anyway, one thing led to another and now here you were somewhere close to a year and half later and you were struggling not to stare at Gwil as he graded papers and looked professor-ally disarrayed and hot.

You knew it was something to do with the Romantic era poets that the students had to write about because he’d read a question out to you earlier to get your opinion of if it was confusingly worded. “No, I don’t think so,” “Then why in god’s name do none of my students get it?” he looked about ready to hit his head against the desk until he passed out but he returned to the topmost paper with a sigh and ruffled hair from where he’d run his hand through it. That’s when you’d started trying not to stare. A tall order when all you could think about was dragging Gwil to the bedroom and ravishing him enough to make him forget all about John Keats and poetry and the English language itself. Not that that was exactly hard. No, Gwilym had a tendency to get a little dazed and confused when you really gave it to him. Sex drunk you’d decided to call it. A transformation that you quite delighted in witnessing and causing. Gwil was sharp as a tack usually, always ready with some obscure fact or quote from literature. It was part of what made him such a good teacher, his memory for all things bookish, as well as his approachable (if a little stern) demeanour and his determination to get the best from his students. But it wasn’t hard to shut down his brain, cloud his memory and entirely befuddle him. One time you’d snuck into the bathroom at the restaurant you’d gone to for dinner and poor Gwilym had become so spaced out he’d spilt half a glass of wine in his lap and then walked into the glass door as you left, even with you leading him by the hand. You supposed that what they said about great power and responsibility was true. All the same, it was a fun power to wield and you knew that, with the right sort of attention, you could have Gwilym babbling incomprehensible gibberish with no memory of what a poem even was, which was surely something he’d appreciate right about now.

You blinked yourself from your reverie as, finally, Gwil set his glasses aside and rose from his seat, groaning as he stretched out the stiffness in his back. He rolled his neck back and forth, your eyes following, before letting his shoulders drop and moving to sit next to you on the couch. “I can’t do it anymore, I can’t read another word about Byron or I’ll loose it.” He sighed, draping an arm around your shoulders and leaning into your neck. “Byron? I remember that assignment. Everyone hated you for it,” His breath was warm against your skin as he spoke, sending a tingle down your spine, “Well if this year’s lot is anything to go by, the feeling was probably mutual,” “Mmm, I remember one girl saying she was going to shove her copy of Don Juan up your arse if she didn’t pass,” He lifted his head again and laughed, “And yet my rectum remains Byron fee and no other injuries befell me, so either I taught you enough to get by or you were all a bunch of cowards,” “Bit of both probably. And why would this year’s be any different, huh?” “I don’t know, you haven’t read any of their attempts at cohesive analysis. Some of them are just throwing out terms like allusion and anapestic and personification all willy-nilly, clearly without properly understanding them. ” “I think you’re being too harsh on them. They’re first years after all and it’s not always easy to understand all that poncy poetical bullshit. Plus, you know it all already so of course everyone else seems stupid to you,” “Maybe,” he conceded, though it seemed to take some effort. “Honestly, someone should put you in their position, see how well you go with it,” “Yeah? And who would do something like that?” Gwilym laughed as you shifted to straddle his lap, accepting the kiss you offered, “You?” “Maybe I will. Spell personification for me,” “You know it’s not high school English, right. We don’t do pop quizzes on spelling and grammar.” “I know you don’t, but this is my subject and I’m testing spelling. Besides,” you let your hand drop between you, brushing lightly over the front of his pants, “I promise it’ll be fun.” Gwil gave a half-hearted eye roll, “P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N, personification. D’you want me to use it in a sentence too?” You knew he’d get it right. Gwil always had been good at spelling off the top of his head which you supposed was a side effect of all his reading and the years devoted to the written word. But it was still a little annoying. Mostly because he was being a bit of a tool about the whole thing, but it didn’t help that you’d grown quite wet thinking about how you’d like to have him, like to turn him into the fucked out airhead you’d seen before. You shook your head and tutted at him as if he got it wrong. “No, that’s definitely it. I’ve just read it about a hundred times, I know I’m right. P-E-R-S-O-N-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N,” he spelt it faster that time, trying to prove that you were wrong. “Try allusion for me,” “A-L-L-U-S-I-O-N,” Right again. You sighed as if you were disappointed. Gwilym raised his eyebrows but said nothing. “What about caesura?” “C-E-A-S-U-R-A,” The mistake was an easy one to make, two letters flipped around the wrong way, and you could tell he knew it was wrong as soon as he’d said it. He was surprised when you leant forward to kiss him again, cupping his jaw with one hand as you dropped the other and slowly pulled down the zip on his work pants. “But I fucked up,” he said softly, eyes still closed as you pulled away a few centimetres. You just smiled as you thought of a new word, “Anapestic,” It was another word Gwil had mentioned as seeing in his student’s essays so you knew it would be fresh in his mind and he proved as much when he spelt it, “A-N-A-P-E-S-T-I-C,” He was right of course, so you tutted and pulled your hand away from his crotch, grabbing his chin with your other and forcing him to look at you, “You can do better than that.” His features shifted at the sudden loss of contact, the look of concentration returned once more. If anything, your much closer proximity to the expression made him seem all the more hot but you resisted the urge to give in and drag him to the bedroom, curious if he’d catch onto your little game now and, equally so, to see if he’d play along, “Try Onomatopoeia.” A longer word gave him more chances to get things wrong but would his pride and his brain allow that? Apparently so. “O-N-O-M-” Gwil paused and thought for a second, his eyes narrowed as his looked at you, “O-N-O-M-A-T-O-P-I-A,” the last three letters were said with such deliberate diction that you knew he’d figured it out. “Good boy,” you said, letting your hands slip inside his undone pants to massage his dick. His hips jolted at the contact and he let his hands fall to your arse, squeezing. “What about, dactyl?” His reply was instant, unthinking, and totally correct, “D-A-C-T-Y-L,” You clicked your tongue condescendingly as you once again removed your hands from him. “Fuck,” “Well that’s what happens when you get things wrong, honey, and such an easy one too,” “I didn’t get it wro- fine, give me another,” You smiled, unable to hide how delighted you were that he was interested in following your rules, even if it was just his competitive streak rearing its head to show that he could out smart you, “Assonance,” Gwilym spelt the word slowly and carefully, making sure to only say one ‘s’ and to leave off the ‘e’. And you made sure to reward him for it, shuffling backwards on his lap so you could shimmy his pants down his thighs and wrap your hand around his cock. He raised an eyebrow at you but otherwise made no comment as he leant back in his seat to enjoy the attention. “Romanticism,” Once again Gwilym was careful with his spelling, intentionally replacing the ‘c’ with a double ‘s’ but that was the kind of behaviour you wanted to encourage so you kept stroking him off, twisting your wrist, dragging your thumb over his flushed tip. It must have felt good with the way he was sighing, shifting his shoulders as if to move his whole body closer to yours. “So clever baby, what about,” you paused, dredging up memories of poetry analysis and the words you used to have burned into your brain but which you’d not had much use for recently, “Enjambment” “Ummm, E-N,” Gwil hummed as you leant over him and let a trail of spit drip onto his cock, using your hand to spread it over his length, “Enjamb-ment, uh, E-N-J-A- no E, no A, M-E-N-T,” You leant into his ear and spoke softly, “That’s right, being so good for me, so clever. What should I do next though? Ride you? Or maybe suck you off? Or just keep doing this?” “Uh,” Gwilym shook his head a little as if to clear it, “mouth? Please?” “Of course, baby. If you can spell dissonance for me.” You were quietly confident that he’d get the spelling wrong, already noticing the first sign of his impending brainlessness, extra filler words where he’d normally not need them. It was funny though, usually he wouldn’t reach that stage until he was much closer to nutting. “D-I-S” he rushed through the first three letters and then stopped, biting his lip, “T-um, A-N-E-N-C-E.” You were sure the errors in that word were less intentional than the previous few and, as promised, slipped off his lap and settled yourself between his legs, pulling his pants off so he could spread them wider for you. You held eye contact as you let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing along a vein, though you couldn’t help but smile as he groaned above you. “Can you spell Decasyllable for me?” you asked before closing your lips around the head of his cock. “What? Oh, um, D-E-C-K- fuck,” he broke off as you swirled your tongue around his tip. “Fuck’s not a letter, baby,” you sank down on him again, bobbing a little lower. “I know, um, Deck-syllable, D-E-C-K-A-S-Y-B-L-E, I think. Is that right?” In answer you hummed and took him a little deeper, pushing his shirt up towards his chest. Gwilym took the hint and pulled it off before he grabbed your hair, leaning his head against the back of the couch. For a moment you just focused on sucking him off, listening to his shallow breathing and whiny groans. But you weren’t finished with your game yet.

“Epigraph?” you asked before bobbing down on him again, pushing yourself to take him deeper still. Gwilym remained silent as you gagged and pulled back from him again to breath freely. “Well?” “What did you say?” “Epigraph. Can you spell that?” He nodded as you resumed your bobbing, his hand grabbing at your hair, “E-P-P-E-G-R-A-F-F.” You hummed around him and his hips bucked up, pushing him further down your throat for a second. “No, don’t stop,” he whined under his breath as once again you let him fall from between your lips. “Sorry baby,” you wrapped your hand around his base and switched back to jerking him off, “you’re so hard though and I know you want to earn your orgasm like a good boy,” Gwilym nodded. “Okay, so spell meter,” “M- oh, I don’t know,” “You do know, baby, you just gotta try. Meter,” He scrunched his face up in thought, “M-E-E-T-R,” “See, I said you knew it, and you did it so well!” Gwilym gave you a dopey smile, looking proud at your praise, “I did?” His mouth dropped open with the movement of your hand. “Of course baby! You got it completely right because you’re so clever. What about sonnet, do you think you can do that one for me?” He nodded enthusiastically, “S-N-E-T,” “Very good! Okay, three more and I’ll let you cum,” “Okay!” “Okay, what about,” you thought for a moment, watching your hand pumping over his shaft as you trailed your fingernails lightly over his thigh, “Spell rhyme,” “Ummm,” Gwilym bit his lip in thought, soft grunting noises rising in his throat in time with your strokes. “It’s a bit of a tricky one,” “Yeah.” “And it’s hard to concentrate isn’t it?” “Mmhmm, so hard to con-ten-tate,” he thought for a little longer as you slowed your hand, “rrr- R-I-M,” “So clever baby! Okay canto,” “Oh! Ummm,” Gwilym pouted and whined as you unexpectedly drew the tip of your tongue around his head, “I don’ know,” “No?” He shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay what about, poem?” Gwilym seemed to have reached the last dregs of his knowledge, grunting in frustration as he shook his head again.” “You sure you don’t know?” He bucked his hips up into your hand as he shook his head again. “Alright, I’ll give you an easy one then. Spell your name for me, spell Gwilym,” Gwil’s eyes lit up at the suggestion but his face quickly slipped into a frown again, the expression getting more pronounced with every passing second he didn’t say anything. He sought out your face, his eyes brimming with frustrated tears, “I don’t…” his fists balled up as he looked to you for help. “You don’t remember?” He shook his head once more, a tear shaking loose and rolling down his cheek, “you said it was easy.” “It’s okay if you don’t know,” “Really?” he sniffled. “Of course it’s okay. You’re not supposed to know things.” “I’m not?” “Awww, of course not baby. That’s why I’m here, to know things, and you’re just here to make me happy.” Gwilym sighed and leaned back against the couch, smiling again. “Do you want to give it a try for me?” “Umm,” he whined as you slowed your strokes “It would make me very happy,” “Okay, umm…G? L? ummmm, M?” “You’re so clever, baby!” Gwilym giggled proudly and grinned at you as you adjusted your grip on his cock. “You’re my good, smart boy, aren’t you baby?” “Mmhmm,” he bucked his hips towards you as you took him into your mouth again. “Feels go-od,” he mumbled, almost panting with how close he was. You dragged the hand that rested on his thigh up to cup his balls as you sucked on his tip until he moaned and came, spilling his seed over your tongue.

You kept working your hand along his length, even after you’d pulled your mouth from him. “Was that a good orgasm baby? Did it make you feel good?” He nodded, pouting a little as you kept wanking him, “good oggsam,” It took all your effort not to laugh at that, biting on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting so much as a chuckle slip. Very few things delighted you as much as when Gwil forgot how to talk properly. “You know,” you said as you finally let his cock free, “sometimes when people have orgasms they feel euphoric. Do you feel euphoric?” “Mmhmm, you-porik.” “Clever boy. Do you want to help me feel euphoric?” “How?” “With your mouth,” “Oh! Okay!” You braced yourself against his knees as you stood, leaning forward to give Gwil a small kiss on the lips. He closed his eyes and smiled up at you contentedly as you shimmied out of your own clothes, dropping them all to the floor. “You going to let me lie down?” you asked, tapping Gwil on the shoulder. He looked around confusedly for a moment before his eyes settled on you, growing wider as he realised how naked you were. Without warning he surged forward, his hands grabbing your arse as he nuzzled his face in the valley between your breasts. If it were up to Gwil he would have stayed there all day but you had need for him elsewhere so you yanked his head back by his hair, earning a small noise of displeasure. “Don’t complain, baby. You want to make me feel euphoric, right?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed earnestly. “And how do you think you could do that?” “I don’t know,” “Maybe, cunnilingus?” “cun-un-un-un-gus,” “Exactly,” you directed his gaze down to your pussy, failing to hide your amused grin. But he was too far gone to notice, happily slipping to his knees in front of you. Telling him to wait for a second, you climbed onto the couch and spread your legs, beckoning him between them once you were comfortable.

He hadn’t been able to say the word but that didn’t mean he wasn’t skilled at the act. A string of soft hums and throaty sounds rose to your lips as he licked your cunt, the scratchy sensation of his beard only amplifying the soft, wet, warmth of his tongue. “Can you, oh, can you spell poem for me baby?” Gwilym hummed and then started naming letters, his mouth still pressed against your cunt as if he didn’t realise he couldn’t talk and suck at the same time. You didn’t bother to stop him when he said too many letters or correct him when all of them were wrong. You just let his breath wash over you, his tongue flicking against your clit with each new letter, eliciting longer moans and sighs from you. “Fuck Gwil,” you panted, “keep going,” “Keep going,” he repeated, his voice muffled as he dragged his tongue all the way down your slit and then back up again, making you whine. You jolted when he reached your clit again and pressed against his head, keeping him close to you, your other hand trailing up your chest to tweak your nipples and knead your breasts. Occasionally you’d give him an instruction – “faster please,” or “do that again,” or “fuck Gwil, right there,” – and he’d repeat the words back to you, softened and often a little slurred together or mispronounced, before doing as he was asked, drawing you closer to release. He was pleased whenever another groan or mewl slipped from your lips, responding to them with sounds of his own as if he were savouring a particularly delicious meal. It seemed he’d taken what you’d said about making you happy to heart, though some of his whines might have had more to do with his cock, hard again and straining to be touched as his attention remained focused on you. “I’m c-lose ba-by,” you grunted as Gwilym pressed his mouth to your lower lips, as if to give you a soft chaste kiss, only to begin shaking his head side to side, rubbing his face against your cunt. “loase,” he muttered to himself, trailing his tongue back up to your clit, making you grind your hips up into him. It was impossible to keep your mouth shut in the face of such a feeling, wantonly moaning as you felt your orgasm bubbling to the surface. Gwilym hummed against you in response to a particularly loud moan which managed to be your undoing, your knees trying to clamp shut around his head as he continued to suck at your clit.

When you calmed enough to let go of his hair and loosen your thighs from around his ears, Gwilym looked up at you. His face was shiny and wet but he seemed to have regained some of his usual awareness. His eyes weren’t quite as vacant and his smile less dopey than it had been. “Feel good?” he asked, sounding almost normal except for a slight lightness in his tone. “Very good baby,” you leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips, tasting yourself as he opened his mouth and accepted your tongue. Slowly you dropped your hand between you, finding his cock again, not quite done with your brainless toy. He grunted against your lips and bucked into your hand as you stopped his return to sense. “Isn’t this fun?” you said softly as you pulled back, holding Gwil by the chin to stop him from trying to follow. “Yeah, fun,” a smile slowly tugging at his lips, “what is?” “Not needing to think, baby,” “Oh! Yes,” he laughed. “You’re too pretty to have a brain anyway, aren’t you? Much better off letting it leak out of your head,” “Mmhmm, much,” “And do you know what good, dumb boys get?” “No?” “They get fucked. Would you like that?” “Yes yes yes,” “Alright, lie back for me,” you chuckled, giving his cock a final stroke. Gwilym settled on the carpet on his back, grinning as you straddled his lap. Silently he held out his hand, all but two of his fingers folded against his palm. “No, I don’t need your fingers sweetie,” you said, giving the tips of his two fingers a light kiss, “as dextrous as they are and as much as I enjoy them, I think I’m okay skipping straight to your cock,” He nodded, letting you place his hand down on the floor again. You watched his face as you slowly sank down onto him, once again the picture of cunt drunk bliss with glazed eyes and his lip between his teeth. He smiled as you leaned down to kiss him, rolling your hips against his slowly. As you tongues entwined again, Gwilym framed your waist with his hands, slowly dragging them up your sides and onto your chest. He cupped each of your breasts in one of his palms, squeezing softly as you rocked forward and back. “Better than Byron isn’t this?” you asked, pushing yourself up a bit, but not so far you couldn’t kiss him again. “Wha’s Byron?” You laughed, “Y’know I think this might be the dumbest I’ve seen you. Can’t believe all it took was a rigged spelling test. He obviously didn’t understand, staring blankly back at you.

What he did understand was that you were moving further away from him and he whined as you pushed yourself to sit higher again, bracing your hands on his chest as you used your knees to raise and lower yourself. It still wasn’t enough though so you shifted again before too long, placing a hand behind you to grab Gwil’s leg. You leant back on it changing the angle of Gwilym’s cock, and felt his hands drop from your chest, no longer able to reach as easily. They came to rest on your leg, his fingertips digging into your skin as you rode him, keening as you felt the start of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. “Fuck Gwil, fill me so well, feels so good,” “My dex-ik-tus cock?” You couldn’t help but laugh, taken by surprise at his misunderstanding and mispronunciation of dextrous, but you nodded in agreement too, repeating your sentiments about how good it felt. “Wanna make me feel even better?” “How?” You sat forward again and reached for his hand, pulling it to your clit. Gwilym took the hint, messily rubbing as you bounced on his cock, but his whines and moans only grew as you rode him. “You’re close?” “Mmhmm,” You were on the verge of asking if he could hold it when he came with a groan, pulsing inside you. But you didn’t stop. “I’m close too, baby, so I’m gonna keep fucking you, okay?” He nodded, eyes fixed on you. “Good boy.” You panted, grabbing his wrist to hold his hand at your clit and adjusting your rhythm. Each time you sank back down onto him you did it harder, slamming his cock into you as deep as you could manage, groaning with each one. Your orgasm was frustratingly close but Gwilym was becoming steadily more sensitive as his subsided, wincing more with each of your thrusts. The winces turned to whimpers which turned to whines as you whispered that you were so close. “Almost baby, almost,” “Please. Hur’s,” “Nearly, just. One. More,” you threw your head back with a moan as you finally found your release, Gwil whining when you pulsed around him, a fresh tear running from the corner of his eye onto the carpet as he squirmed under you.

“Sorry, baby,” you said softly as you carefully dismounted him. He hummed as you kissed him again, leaving an extra kiss against the tip of his nose. “Did so well, such a good boy for me,” “Yeah?” “Mmhmm, so good,” He gave you a slightly watery smile and let you pull him into a cuddle, sighing contentedly when you brushed your fingers through his hair. You stayed like that for a while, knowing that later you’d regret lying on the floor for so long but unable to find the energy to move or the willpower to tell Gwilym you had to let him go. He gradually lost the fucked out expression, becoming more aware of his surroundings and more capable of clear speech. “How are you feeling?” you asked when you realised he’d blinked away the last of his sex drunk vacancy. “Better than before. Little tired but much more relaxed and very satisfied. And, before you ask, yes that’s satisfied and yes I can spell it if you want,” “I believe you.”

#my writing #my fics #smut fic #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut #gwilym lee imagine #this has been half written in my drafts for much too long now #but im very happy to be able to finally post it!#just got one more thing to write for this advent countdown #which i'll try and knock off after i get back from church #so that its ready to go in the morning #anyway #hope ya'll like this #i might kind of love writing pretty dumb boys #blurb advent 2020

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ad1thi · 4 years

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2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year.

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long.

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift: @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.��

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

#adi's rec list #mcdanno #stevetony #buckytony #brucetony #rhodeytony #zukka #samtony #january - june #there's so many different ships on this #and different authors #and it spans three fandoms #so hopefully you guys enjoy this!!

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never-quite-logistical · 3 years

Text

“The memory we used to share is no longer coherent.”

written for a sort of game with my friend, @little-kat07 (the sentence starter was edited to fit the context better, sorry Kat) (if there are any mistakes, plot-holes, or Logan being ooc: no there isn't i wrote this when i was very sick give me a break) so this doesn't actually have a happy end. this ends with both Logan and Roman sad. just. just warning you

au: human ig?? high-school?? Not Canon pairing: (post??/one-sided) logince cw: i don't think there's any, lmk if im wrong tho word count: ...1,272 (i'm sorry)

2:35P.M., just like they had decided; Logan was always so precise with time. It’s one of the things Roman had fallen in love with. But that was years ago, back in high school.

For some reason though, Logan wasn’t here yet. That was unusual for him. He was never lost, or distracted—or late, for that matter. He was always so… so focused, set on whatever he had planned. He should know where this cafe was, too, it was where they met every day after school, from sophomore to senior year, and a year after that.

Roman checked his phone. Maybe he was early? His time perception had been a little off, courtesy of the jet lag from travel. 2:37 and Logan still wasn’t there. Maybe he stood him up? No, Logan wasn’t the type. He never was–

The loud screech of metal on cement across from him broke Roman from his thoughts; Logan had arrived. He looked just as good as when they were in high school, too. The same nerd he fell in love with. Logan wore his glasses, button-up, jeans, and a tie. “Hey, nerd,” Roman greeted teasingly, a soft smile on his face.

“Salutations, Roman,” Logan replied, smoothing down his shirt. “How are you?” he asked. His usual monotone voice was tinted with a smile.

“Always so formal, even after all these years,” Roman commented. “I already ordered for us. What we always got,” he smiled. Nostalgia.

Logan nodded, glancing down at the table. What was he supposed to talk about? He was never good at conversation.

Well, Roman seemed to notice—or maybe even remember—that fact, and with another charming smile, he cleared his throat and began talking. “Do you remember the first party I took you to?” he asked.

A smile flashed over Logan’s face. Only a small one, but Roman caught it, even if only for a moment. “Yes, I remember. You told me we’d study because you were failing science. You picked me up and took me to the party instead. I didn’t appreciate it,” he commented, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

“It was fun though,” he insisted. “You thought it was fun. You stayed over at my house that night, remember?”

He sighed, but he couldn’t hide the small smile creeping across his face. “Yes, I remember. I still wanted to study,” he commented.

Roman scoffed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his seemingly always perfect hair. “You did not, liar.”

Logan laughed—oh, god, that amazing laughter that only Roman seemed to be able to draw out of him—and shook his head. “No, I didn’t. It was two in the morning. But you were still failing, even at two in the morning.”

He shook his head with a smile, his glowing smile that was always so contagious, and sighed. “How about that time we went for a walk on the beach, and it was raining? It was raining, hard, and you loved it.” God, he what he wouldn’t do to see Logan smile like he did that day every morning.

“I didn’t love being sick the next day,” he commented. “Though, what else was I expecting in winter, I suppose.”

“I took care of you though,” Roman added with a smile. “And I cuddled with you until you were all better.”

Logan sighed, glancing away for a moment. “You got sick, too.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think it mattered much if I got to spend the day with you,” Roman smiled at the memory. Oh, how he wanted to do that again.

He was saved from answering though, from telling Roman what he told him all those years ago, when their food came.

And Roman got them exactly what he got them back in high school, on their first date. He got them two coffees and a plate of assorted fruits. (Logan had always wanted to be healthy, no matter how often Roman suggested shakes and cupcakes.)

“Thank you, Ro,” Logan smiled softly, recognizing the fond memory they shared.

How he longed to hear Logan call him pet names again. He didn’t voice that though; instead, he just smiled. “You’re welcome, lovely.”

Logan hesitated at the name. Only for a second. “Right,” was all he mumbled before he picked up a strawberry.

Oh. That wasn’t the response he wanted from the old pet name. “So… what’ve you been doing since I left?” he asked, just wanting to lighten the mood again.

Logan, upon the changed topic, seemed to brighten again, or at least wasn’t as stoic. “I’ve been teaching,” he explained. “I sometimes tell them stories about you,” he admitted. “I tell them all about the Broadway-famous boyfriend I had in college,” he added in a teasing tone. The way the light shone in Logan’s eyes when he smiled couldn’t be rivaled by anything, but Roman had decided this long ago.

But Roman just gave a soft chuckle in response, a smile adorning his features, too. “I’m not on Broadway, Lo,” he reminded.

“Yet,” Logan corrected. And that’s why Roman had fallen so hard so fast. Logan might be grounded and calm, but he was always ready to motivate, compromise with, and encourage his loved ones.

He laughed, shaking his head gently and sighing. “Always so optimistic when it comes to me getting famous,” he teased.

They went on like this for a while. Logan got excited, Roman remembered how much he adored him. To anyone watching, they were still in love, too. And, god, how much Roman missed this. To be close, laughing and smiling, to go home together and watch cheesy romcoms, to sleep in bed with Logan’s softest blankets. To wake up before Logan and take a sweet picture of them cuddling and send it to the group chat (always to Logan’s dismay), to make him coffee and toast, to read together each morning, to do all the little things Roman so desperately missed. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been hooking up and indulging in quick relationships for all these years, trying to ignore his love for Logan.

But the moment they finished their coffees and fruit, the moment Logan paid for the check, the moment he got up to leave, Roman stood and took his hands. “Logan, I miss you. I’ve missed you. I’m sorry things weren’t working before. But we were happy, for the longest time we were happy. Do you,” he paused and took a deep breath, somehow managing to look into Logan’s eyes, “Would you maybe want to… try again?” he offered hopefully, an optimistic smile playing at his lips.

Logan glanced away, gently squeezing Roman’s hands. “Ro, I loved you. You know that,” he responded, his heart metaphorically sinking at the thought of having to do this again. “But… Roman, I’m afraid the memories we used to share… they’re no longer coherent,” he explained softly. “I’m sorry.”

And with that, he left. Again. And Roman was heartbroken. Again. This really should be left on a happier note, but unfortunately, some things just don’t work out that way. Roman will have always loved Logan, the thought of settling for second best being like the thought of stars falling from the skies or the seas drying up. And Logan felt awful going home that night. They may have still had feelings for each other, but he knew it wouldn’t work out; they were never the most compatible people.

Logan would be lying if he said that the reason for leaving wasn’t because a little part of him thought he wasn’t deserving of Roman.

#TAGGING wooooo #ts logan #ts roman #romantic logince #(i think)#(im sick im sorry if logince shippers don't want to see this im very tired)#logince #this was so fun to write #misc

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propertyofwicked · 5 years

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Your a-z s are so good!! Omg you’re so talented☺️ could you possibly do one for George? We would all love that💕

thank you anons for these requests. im quite busy atm so im sorry if other requests take a while and thank you for being patient with me.

a-z of dating george mackay

a - argue

neither you or george are shouters, instead you go very quiet when something goes wrong or upsets either one of you. george would huff and mumble, until one of you grew the balls to talk through the issue. you’d be sat on the sofa and he’d just come and sit facing you, taking your hands in his and press his lips to them softly. this was his way of saying he was ready to talk.

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

george loves your lips and your cheeks. he loves watching you talk, how your mouth moves and he loves how effortlessly your voice tumbles out. he loves how your smile grows when you laugh, small dimples forming in your cheeks - it was enough to make him smile with you. he loves to kiss your lips and your cheeks. whether it was a quick peck here and there or when he’d push you up against a wall and kiss you till you couldn’t breathe. he loved to kiss your lips till they went redder and more plump.

c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)

when george is ill, he pulls you back into bed anytime you get up, claiming he’s cold and needs your body warmth. whilst you’d comply, you also had stuff you needed to get on with. so you’d sit next to his sleeping figure, trying to quietly type on your laptop or write into your notebook. when you’re ill, george waits on you all day. he’d constantly ask if you needed a drink or food and if you’re being sick, he’ll follow you to the bathroom and hold your hair back. he’d gently rub small circles into your back and carry you back to your bed, when you were too weak to walk alone.

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

being an actor, george loves to take you to the cinema to watch new films that he’d seen about, or heard about at awards nights. sometimes, you’d go and see films that his friends or previous co-workers were in. you’d share popcorn and he’d let you rest your head on his shoulder whilst his arm was wrapped around your shoulders. afterwards, you’d maybe go out for dinner or to a coffee shop, and he’d love to have a discussion with you about the film, what you liked and didn’t, the directing, filming, acting. by the end of the evening, the entire film would’ve been deeply analysed by the two of you and you’d have it no other way.

e - engagements (how he proposed)

he’d take you out to dinner, to celebrate your birthday or anniversary, and after the meal, you’d take a walk back to your flat or the car. but, then he’d take a diversion and say he just wanted to show you something. next thing you know, you’re standing on the rooftop of the cafe you met, staring up at the stars. whilst you were looking away, he’d get down on his knee and then cough slightly to gain your attention. he had planned a small little speech, which went the window the moment you turned around. he tells you how much he loves you, what he loves about you, what he sees in the future for you two, and you can’t help but say yes.

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

george’s family were initially weary of your relationship. not because they didn’t like you, but because of how long george spent away from home working. they feared you would both end up ending it soon because you couldn’t cope. as soon as they met you, however, they saw how relaxed george was - different to his typically stressed exterior. when he was away, his mum invited you round for dinner, and his sister was similar in age, so you had a lot in common.

your family feared he would be a distraction from your studies, but once they saw your relationship thriving, they had no fears. your dad liked that he was politically aware and into football, whilst your mum liked the fact he was active in feminism (#pussypower)

g - gifts

when george went away for filming, he’d bring you home stuff. they could be really simple, such as local delicacies or fridge magnets. something simple, that was a small reminder of him every time you opened the fridge.

h - how you met

you met in a cafe. you were sat in the corner, typing away at a script you were working on, nothing official just something that kept you occupied. he happened to take the table next to you and notice you furiously typing away your ideas, jotting down notes in the book next to you. he stood up and walked over to you.

“um, hi. i’m george.”

“hi?”

he told you about him being an actor, asked what you were working on and then asked to read. he complimented your work, and you gave him your number to “keep him updated and ask for advice”. he made a habit of going back to the cafe every day that he could, just to see you. he’d take a seat opposite you and didn’t mind when the two of you sat in silence.

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)

oh that man may seem innocent, but he will take you any time, any where. when he came home, the first thing he’d do is take you to your bedroom. he’d go slow savouring the moment - similar to how he would be the night before he had to leave. and the morning. and maybe before he got in the taxi. and then maybe he’d send you some suggestive texts. he lead you to toilets at awards shows for a quickie, or just lay you down on the sofa and go to town.

j - jealousy

when you come to set, some of his male co workers got a little bit close. when you were gone, they’d make jokes to george - he laugh outwardly but inside he was seething. it was easy to feel jealous of people you interacted with when he was away, much as it was for you to be of him working with loads of people, that his character was physically intimate with. however, it didn’t take much for either of you to remind the other of your love ;)

k - kinks

idk if this is a kink but hickies. george loves to litter your neck, chest, stomach and inner thighs with small bruises. he loves seeing a quick flash of the marks whenever your shirt rides up, or your towel exposes a few. he very much loves to mark his territory, as much as likes to see marks you’ve left on him.

l - long distance

a lot of your relationship had been spent long distance, with him working away for 1917 and then the history of the ned kelly gang. every night, you facetimed, till one of you fell asleep, but you’d mostly just do your usual evening routine, just hundreds of miles apart. you’d cook your dinner at the same time, shower, and then sleep. it felt as if you were together, just through a screen. you were obviously limited to what you could do but there was many things you could do to replace what was physically missing. it didn’t take a massive toll on your relationship, but george found it really hard to see you struggling and knowing he couldn’t be there to help - and vice versa.

m - moving in

george asked you to move in, over facetime, whilst he was away filming 1917. he said he wanted to come home to your face every evening, and his flat wouldn’t feel like home without you there. his flat was closer to your uni/work place as it was, so even though you were quite early on into your relationship, it was ideal. whilst he was away, you kept the flat in order every time george came home, he damn near welled up at the thought of you being there waiting for him, in difference to the usual cold, empty flat.

n - nights out

being a student, you went out a lot with your friends. often when george was away, so he’d be delighted to wake up to barely legible texts from you. when he was home, however, the two of you found yourself going to a local pub with dean and some of your other friends and taking part in the pub quiz or darts. sometimes you’d just watch the game that was on.

o - open with each other

initially, you both found it hard to talk to each other, but as all good people do, he had a catharsis. he broke down, relaying all his stresses onto you, to which you comforted him and talked him through it. he can sense when your bottling it up, and even though you’re not massively open with him naturally, he knows when to ask you to talk, and you do, knowing he will be there to support you.

p - pda

george isn’t a massive fan of pda, but he would hold your hand when you walk through town, and when you accompanied him to award shows, his hand would be firmly stationed on your lower back, his fingers rubbing small circles. he’d press soft, small pecks onto your cheek, or your forehead or sometimes, just the simplest act of raising your hand and kissing your knuckles softly would be enough to comfort you.

q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)

you talk about your day usually. it’ll start of as being, “i cant sleep” which will then turn into either one of you starting to talk about something funny that happened or just an overview of how your day went. this would go on until you managed to fall asleep, you soft breathing lulling george into his own sleep.

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

george wants kids, in fact he definitely has notes on his phone of baby names that he wants to bring up with you. however, he respects your decisions and only wants what you want. he lives by “her body, her decision” but it is something he will ask you one night, casually. to which you respond however you feel.

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

he loves to dance. if a song is playing in the background or on the radio, he’ll stand up and dance. in the kitchen, he’ll take a wooden spoon and sing into it. then take your hand and twirl you around. he loves to slow dance with you under the stars and he loves to rock out with you, with air guitars and all.

t - together (what you do together)

as said before, you watch a lot of films and programmes together. you also write a lot together, carpooling ideas into scripts or stories. his imagination is phenomenal. sometimes, you’d go on road trips, and he’d have control of the aux. he’d play songs to you, to see if you knew them, and he’d serenade you with ABBA non stop. anything you did was made 10x better when you did it together.

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

drunk george is the softest man alive. he just wants to cuddle and tell you how madly in love he is with you. he’d press kisses all over your face and then pull you in close, to squeeze you tightly. when you’re drunk he loves to watch you get up to your antics, only intervening when it got dangerous or illegal. drunk together was a whole other force to be reckoned with. you’d both be doing stupid stuff until someone else had to step in. drunk you and sober you were both madly in love with george, just sober you was more willing to show absolutely everyone.

v - vacations

george definitely takes you to an island somewhere, like malta. or maybe he’d take you to a greek island. you’d spend the entire time exploring the city or the local markets, soaking up the local atmosphere and the sun. he’d defo get all artsy, taking photos of you from behind as you walked, the sun shining down on you angelically.

w - wedding

the cutest wedding ever. no cap. outside, in summer. you’d chosen a outside area, like a greenhouse kinda room, surrounded by the most beautiful flowers. the reception was afternoon tea in a little marquee. the next day, you had a family meal, where your two families came together to celebrate the two of you.

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

let’s say he injured himself on the set of 1917. a piece of rubble in the bunker scene fell and trapped on his arm, cutting it wide open. whilst it didn’t put him completely out of working, it did require him to go to hospital for stitches. it happened that you were on set on these days so accompanied the whole way. you held his hand as the nurse gave him stitches, and though he didn’t look scared of the needle, you could tell he was slightly panicking at the size. you walked with him back to the trailer where dean sat waiting, laughing slightly has a pale george sauntered up to him, you pulled into his side.

y - you (a random headcanon)

imagine that you both innocently take a shower together. “saving water” or something like that. george would spend his time massaging shampoo in your scalp and then brushing his fingers through it as the water washed it out. he’d turn around and you lather him in soap, your hands rubbing his shoulders, tense from a week of working. it wasn’t much but it was the little things that allowed the two of you to wind down at the end of a busy week.

z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

whilst you wouldn’t admit to being tired, george would watch you as you sat next to him, your eyelids falling heavy and your blinks getting longer and longer. he’d stand up himself, then hold out his hand for you to take. you’d follow him up the stairs and whilst he was brushing his teeth, you’d change into your pyjamas and then you’d swap. as you wander back into the room, george would hold out his arms for you to climb into, your head burying into the crook of his neck. nights like this, it was easier to fall asleep quickly.

#1917 #george mackay #george mackay imagine #george mackay x reader #will schofield #will schofield x reader #will schofield imagine #dean charles chapman #dean charles chapman smut #dean charles chapman imagine #dean charles chapman x reader #tom blake #tom blake x reader #tom blake imagine #Sam Mendes #the history of the ned kelly gang

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flowerslightning · 4 years

Text

(Part 2) Cloud Strife and his Mental Illness

a.k.a Psychiatric Disorder

| 1. Memory | ⇦ Click if u havent read it yet

2. Hallucinations, Illusions and Delusions

Since these three things relate well with Cloud's troubled memories, I'll be talking about them first before jumping to his Confused Personality

This post will bore u a bit or maybe a lot 😂 it depends. If ure interested with psychiatric stuff, u'll find this enjoyable as much as i do

Disclaimer : I'm 21 and still a tiny meany student. During my intern at Psychiatric Department, I learned and witnessed psychiatric problems from real life patients. And since Cloud (my fav FF character) has psychiatric issues, I'll be sharing some of my knowledge and interpretation of Cloud's character. Im not diagnosing him, rather i'm giving my own opinion about his status

@nibelheiim created a post about dissociation, she explained about hallucination, PTSD and more. Come and check her out! Her words were more direct and easier to understand. She explained about Psychological matter and she's a real psychology student too!

While my explanation will be more focusing on Psychiatric Topic and words used will be more complicated (with grammar errors). My facts will be based on ICD 10 and DSM-IV

A lot of people were confused with these three terms - Hallucination Illusion Delusion - These terms associated with abnormalities of perception. It is important to understand that this abnormality holds two keys; ● 1. Perception is the process of becoming aware of what is presented through the sense organs. ● 2. Imagery is an experience originating within the mind that usually lacks the sense of reality that is part of perception.

Abnormalities of perceptions have 4 theme, but I'll be focusing on two major types that relate with Cloud: (i) Hallucinations ; (ii) Illusions. Some cases, perception can be normal in intensity and quality but has a changed meaning for the person who experiences it - it is called as Delusional Perception. It is not an abnormal of perceptions, rather it is a disorder of a person's thinking.

Try guessing, how many from these terms does Cloud has?

1. Hallucinations

- A perception experienced in the absence of external stimulus to the corresponding sense organ. Eg - patient hears a voice when no one is speaking within a hearing distance or patient sees something approaching him when visually no one is there. There are 2 qualities to determine a hallucination: ●it is experienced as a true perception●it seems to come from outside of the head●

The above gif, where Sephiroth suddenly appear again before Cloud's eyes even able to touch Aerith's shoulder, it illustrate perfectly the 'Visual Hallucination'. No one can see Sephiroth, other than Cloud himself.

Cloud [Remake] kinda had anxiety when he stared at the fire and later he saw Sephiroth surrounded with flames, then poof, that silver guy disappeared along with the images of fire. He said he was hallucinating stuff after the first bombing mission. Idk how Sephiroth could create fake images of fire around him, either Cloud was really hallucinating or it was really Sephiroth that came to see him. But, this is what we call as 'Visual and Auditory Hallucinations'. Cloud SAW Sephiroth and HEARD him talking when no one else did. I can also add in 'Tactile Hallucination' because he probably felt the burning sensation on his skin from the flame around him that caused him to feel hot and sweating, or probably it was his anxiety that caused him sweating upon meeting Sephiroth with the flashback of his burning hometown

Hallucinations can occur in all sensory modalities; visual, olfactory, auditory etc. In the Remake, the Whispers could only be seen by certain people. To those who couldnt see it, they would be puzzled what was happening to u, and would've thought that u were hallucinating something, like in the case of Aerith.

In Cloud's case, perhaps Cloud [In OG] had auditory hallucination due to his severe case of Mako Addiction. But then, that wasnt exactly a hallucination though, cuz the thing he said "'Coming.. They're coming" was actually true. A monster fell from the sky.

Other 'hallucinations' that Cloud had was the images of Sephiroth that appeared in certain headache. Cloud may claimed it was his hallucinations, but i've read it somewhere that says it was really Sephiroth appeared before his eyes. Sephiroth was messing with Cloud's mind, trying to break his mental in order to control him. However, IF IT WASNT SEPHIROTH that came, Cloud's 'hallucination' would be known as a mental disorder that may lead to severe case - eg Schizophrenia.

2. Illusions

An illusion is a misperception of an external stimulus. It often occur in several circumstances: (i)level of sensory stimulation reduced (ii)attention is not focused on the sensory modality (iii)level of consciousness reduced (iv)being in a state of intense emotion- fear.

Does Cloud has it? Urm, maybe? Well, it can be proven when he saw his 'noisy neighbour next door' as Sephiroth. As stated above, illusions occur in 4 conditions, and Cloud was in number (i) and (iv). When Tifa yelled him to stop, Cloud came back to reality and got really confused when the 'Sephiroth' that attacked him was actually a sick guy. We can also add in 'Hallucinations of Deep sensation' in this scenario bcause Cloud experienced the feelings of being pushed down by 'Sephiroth'.

However, we all know that 'Sephiroth' was real at that moment. For Cloud, he thought it was an illusion, but for us the audience, it was a real thing.

If u want a better explanation and example, try watching Joker the movie. The main theme of the movie was 'mental illness'. There are lots of scenes that shows different type of hallucinations, illusions and also personality disorder.

3. Delusions

a.k.a fixed false belief. A belief that is held firmly despite evidence contrary. A delusion is nearly always a false belief but not always so. There are around 11 types of delusions according to the book. Half of it may suggest Shcizophrenia. Schizophrenia is certainly not in Cloud's case. I've studied one by one the type of delusions and none of them match with Cloud FF7.

I will surely give anyone a good punch in the face if they dare to say Cloud suffers from Schizophrenia. I've met with bunch of patients having it, and the way they see this world is totally different from us.

In some other cases, eg a spiritualist convince a person to believe in his spiritualism and he present with contrary evidence to the non-believer. This non-delusional belief is called 'overvalued ideas'

Overvalued ideas is an isolated , preoccupying and strongly held belief that dominates a person's life and may affect his action. One of the easiest example i can come up with; a friend who had skin cancer may be convinced to her roomate that cancer is contagious, and her roomate suspects any abnormal skin conditions she has is an evidence to show she too, may have developed the same cancer, when the truth is, she's just completely fine.

It is very hard to distinguish between a delusion and overvalued ideas.

I had a patient, he was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. He looked like an ordinary man, but when he talked, it sounded so unreal. He said he had jumped off from 10th floor several times and didnt get a scratch from it. He believed he wont die bcause he had gained super power. He even convinced me to try his 'so-called-secret technique- on how to survive a jump. By doing that often, I will have a superpower like him - a strong physical body. Up until now, I still dont know if he was being deluded with his thought or he was overvalued his idea, bcause from his psychiatric record, he did try to jump off from the second floor of his apartment's balcony a few times.

So, Im not really sure of myself did Cloud [FF7] really had delusion or not. Well, he believed he made it to SOLDIER bcause he had mako eyes. But was it something we called as delusion or was he just overvaluing his idea? He didnt know the truth and his memory messed up. No one could explain to him why he had Mako eyes, except Prof Hojo and Zack who knew the truth

Besides, after Tifa helped with his memory, Cloud accepted the fact he wasnt in SOLDIER. For patient who deluded with their own thoughts, they hardly could believe what people told him.

However, surely Cloud [in AC] had delusions of guilt and worthlessness due to the fact that he believed he had done something shameful and sinful - the main trigger of this theme was, he got infected with Geostigma while he was searching a cure for Denzel. Cloud got depressed with the loss of Aerith and the memory of Zack death had returned, but I think he was recovering very well in that two years time skip. The moment he got Geostigma, he became deluded he was worthless and his depression kicked in again.

Hallucinations and Illusions are normal to be experienced by healthy people, but it wont be if u encounter too many hallucinations & illusions in 2 weeks time. Believe it or not, a lot of people around us are actually mentally ill bcause some of them may have excessive certain delusions, such as delusions of jealousy, grandiose delusions, nihilistic, paranoid etc. Although 'it is consider as normal' in a few circumstance, a few cases need to refer to psychologist and in severer cases, must refer to psychiatrist. If u follow Dr Phil's show, u'll see a bunch of patients have different kind of crazy delusions.

Overall from my statement above, I would conclude that since Sephiroth always appear before Cloud's eyes, this resulting Cloud to think he has both Hallucination and Illusion, when in fact, he's just a normal guy with amnesia and personality confusion. Cloud doesnt have Delusion like how many fans said, neither he has an overvalued idea, even with the evidence of Mako eyes supporting his reasoning + he's a great fighter. I will have to say that perhaps it is his brain defence mechanism that tricks his mind to believe he is a Soldier.

If only Sephiroth stop disturbing Cloud's life, it will be a lot faster to fix Cloud. Tifa alone will be the main strength to get Cloud back to normal. Ah, but this is the beauty of the game. Life wont be exciting without the presence of a beautiful villain and a love triangle (Tifa-Cloud-Sephiroth). Lol Technically I see them trying to fight for Cloud's mental health. Tifa wants to help Cloud with his mental status while Sephiroth is trying to destroy it. Lolololol

My crack theory : Sephiroth says he's going to take Cloud's most precious thing, and he ends up choosing to kill Aerith, but ofc there's another reason why Aerith got killed. But if Sephiroth kills Tifa first, I think he can take over Cloud's mind faster, because then, no one will be holding Cloud back. Honestly no one can ever will, not even Aerith. So does that mean Sephiroth doesnt know about Cloud's deepest secret or is Cloud just good at hiding his weakness?

I WILL UPDATE THE NEXT POST LATER because I've reached tumblr limit images agaiiin. The next part will be focusing about his personality - Personality Disorder

If there is any part that I've mistaken, pls correct me. I'm sorry for my english. English is not my native language, so there are plenty of grammar errors.

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy gif #ff7r #mygif #ff7r spoilers #cloud ff7 #cloud strife gif #sephiroth gif #final fantasy sephiroth #character analysis #psychology #psychiatric disorders #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

Keep Trying: Nat

CW: Blood (like a lot of blood), implications of gore but no actual real gore, infected wound, referenced/implied past noncon/dubcon, referenced past abuse, referenced abusive relationship, very sick whumpee. Pet whump and dehumanization (referenced).

TIMELINE: Comes just after The Freedom to Run in Kauri’s story, right after Jenna kicks him out of the first safehouse he tries. References events in The Surgery . Blink-and-you’ll miss it character details for a side character.

The Jack referenced belongs to @spiffythespook and the Tara referenced belongs to @fairybean101

Tagging the Kauri crew: @im-not-rare-im-rarr, @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

Nat found him under a bush.

Most people might have been a bit more surprised to discover a young man curled into a tiny ball underneath the line of heavy landscaping that went around her property, but Nat had been at this a long, long time - eighteen years, give or take - and this wasn’t the first time she’d found a runaway curled up asleep in the shade of the leaves.

Sometimes they weren’t even runaway pets, just kids who needed to escape the rain, on their own or on the run from bad home lives. Kids the shelters turned away or who had maxed out their time, needed somewhere to crash for a day or two before they made the rounds again.

She didn’t care - Nat took care of anyone who came to her for help. Only the pets ever came into the house, though.

“I thought he was… I don’t know, an animal or something at first,” one of the rescues whispered, wringing her hands together.

She stood hunched over with narrow shoulders curved forward, drowning in a T-shirt at least three sizes too large, but it was all the poor thing ever wanted to wear. That and sweatpants that covered every inch. It was all the rescues ever wore, until they started to feel like their bodies belonged to them again. “I came to check to see if the bushes had flowers yet and I found him and I thought he was dead? I thought, I thought I should come g-g-get you, but then when I, um, I was going to get you the shovel because if it, if it was dead… but then he made a sound and he wasn’t an animal, and-”

“I understand, Krista,” Nat soothed, rubbing a hand in a slow circle on the young woman’s back. Krista relaxed at the touch and leaned back into it - the rescues usually came either horrified by touch or desperate for it, with no in-between. “I’ll take care of him from here. You did the right thing coming to get me. Now, maybe you should head inside.”

Krista nodded quickly, one hand to her mouth, chewing at her fingernails nervously. She hadn’t done that when she first showed up, too thin and nearly mute. She’d been dumped by her owner and found by a good Samaritan who took the time to find a storefront and drop her off.

The storefront had called Nat and Krista had been here ever since, going on three months now. She was a pretty thing, if faded and harried-looking, and she was fairly sure she was from somewhere near Tennessee - nearly across the country.

And she’d started biting her nails.

While biting fingernails wasn’t a habit Nat would normally encourage, she had a feeling it was parts of who Krista had been starting to show themselves, so she didn’t stop her.

Once Krista had gone back into the house, Nat stood with her hands on her hips, looking. It was still early morning, and the sun had only just barely begun to paint the deep blue-black sky with hints of pink and orange and, she thought with a hint of irritation, a bright and bloody red.

Red sky in the morning, farmer’s warning, her dad’s voice said in her head. Man had been gone for twenty years, and Nat never stopped hearing him. Never stopped feeling, in her mind, like maybe she still needed an adult to help her figure out what she’d done with her life and to give her some advice on the trajectory her life had taken since she was a twenty-two year old freshly graduated psych major shown a salary, a benefits package, and challenging work she couldn’t refuse… until she had.

She’d sort of lost her way - or found a better one - and become the den mother for a neverending rotation of frightened dehumanized amnesiacs who were, legally speaking, not even full people, but property.

Sometimes it occurred to her, with a bitter humor, that she had funneled, over the course of nearly twenty years, millions of dollars of stolen property through her old five-bedroom, three-story house in a town that had grown into a suburb with time and urban sprawl.

She was a goddamn criminal, but she couldn’t say her father wouldn’t have been fucking proud of her for picking the right side to fight for.

The boy curled up under the bushes shifted a little, the rustle of sticks and decaying leaves and dirt underneath him, and Nat dropped into an easy crouch, resting her elbows on her thighs and tilting her head.

Her braid slipped down towards her right shoulder, and more than a few strands of graying brown hair hung over her eyes.

“C’mon, kiddo,” She said, not bothering to keep her voice to a whisper. The boy shifted a little, rustling in the leaves. “Time to get up and moving.”

No one else in this neighborhood was up - and it wasn’t a great neighborhood, so even if anyone did get up they were fairly safe here. Everyone kept to themselves, and most of them understood why Nat did what she did.

The pets were unobtrusive - they came and went and kept to themselves - and so the neighbors pretended they didn’t see a thing. In return, Nat pretended she didn’t know what most of them were up to, the ways they made money in a city where the wealthy nearly never had to even look at the poor. It was a good enough system to get by.

“Hnnnnh, can’t,” the boy whispered. “S-sorry, not… I don’t… feel s’ well.”

She could see him a little better now. Black sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt - the rescue uniform, she thought with warmly affectionate dry humor, they all came out of captivity craving comfortable loose things that didn’t show any skin. Black curly hair - or maybe dark brown, he was shadowed under the leaves so it wasn’t clear. Eyes closed, long dark eyelashes, clammy pale skin with a sheen of sweat across his forehead…

And a lot of blood staining the front of his sweatshirt. A lot of blood.

Nat’s eyebrows raised. Rescues turned up in all sorts of shape, but they rarely showed up still bleeding. Usually by the time they made it to her, someone had bandaged them, someone had cleaned them up.

The boy was curled up around some kind of dark green bag, clutching onto it, and when he shifted hearing her voice, Nat watched his fingers close even more tightly around the rough canvas fabric.

“’m sorry,” the boy whispered, in a voice surprisingly deep for his delicately wrought looks. Clearly a Romantic, she thought, but this one looked like he’d been stabbed. “Think I'm… s-sick… please, just st-stay with me, Mr. Owen, please…”

Nat swallowed, reached out to lay a hand across his forehead. Mr. Owen.

Must be the owner’s name. Hope this isn’t an owner’s work - this poor thing has lost quite a bit of blood…

She didn’t crinkle her nose or pull back at the sticky sweat, only took in the heat that seemed to be boiling just under the surface. Some of that curly hair was plastered to his forehead, bits of leaves and sticks stuck in it from where he’d been lying, apparently for some time.

“Sick…” He rasped, leaning into her touch, pushing his forehead against the palm of her hand, shivering a little and managing a faint, tremulous smile at the touch. She didn’t react to that, either, although it seemed like confirmation that he was definitely a pet on the run.

“I think you’re more than sick, sweetheart,” she said, low and soft. Not threatening, not cajoling, just a calm, even tone. “We need to get you into the house, take a look at…” Her eyes dropped down to the bloody mess that made up the chest of his sweatshirt. “…that.”

If he was the kind of sick that had him throwing up blood, that definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“Jack…” He managed the word, drawn out too long, taking one syllable and turning it into two, to three. “I can’t go back f’r him yet… Jack, Jack might b’hurt…”

“Don’t worry about him just yet, honey,” She said softly, trying to think. Maybe another pet from the same home? Bonded pairs that got split up never did well… it had been years and Nine still acted like a shadow grieving the one he’d lost…

Stop it, Nat chided herself. ‘Bonded pair’ is company language. You mean the ones that are friends, that care for each other. He left someone behind, that’s all.

She glanced over her shoulder back towards the house. Krista stood on the front steps, biting her thumbnail, watching them with wide eyes.

“Krista, love,” Nat called. “Can you go grab Jake and Trev? We’ll have to carry this one.” Krista nodded quickly - the rescues mostly obeyed any order thoughtlessly until they were further along in recovery - and ducked back inside.

Nat turned back to the boy, only to jump when she realized his eyes were open. Wide blue eyes, a little glassy, barely seeing her. Even with his chalky pale skin, even with the sweat that seemed to coat him like dew, even with the blood…

“Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous,” she said softly. “I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere before… where did you come from?”

“Please,” the boy whispered, reaching out to grab onto her wrist. There was dried blood on his hands and Nat swallowed, hard., at the heat and odd strength of his grip, even as his hand shook. “Please. Jack n-needs help. S’my… my fault… him and, and… both of them, s’my fault…”

He started to cry, tears leaking out, making tracks in the layer of dirt and grime and dried blood on his face.

"Hoo boy,” Nat said softly. “You’re a mess, aren’t you? The guys will help me get you inside and we can talk a little more about what happened to you once you feel better. Can you help me understand why you’re bleeding?”

The boy nodded slowly, dazed, and pulled down the neckline of his sweatshirt.

Nat, who had seen a lot in her time helping the rescues and who had grown up working alongside her dad in the fields and with the cattle, recoiled in disgust from the sight - and the smell.

He hadn’t thrown up the blood - it had come from the open fucking wound that stretched from the ball of his right shoulder all the way across his collarbone, where it ended just over his breastbone. She could see the remains of some kind of bandage, but it had long since fallen apart and it wasn’t exactly doing him any good right now. “What the f-”

Behind her, the screen door slammed open and she heard the guys talking to each other as they thumped down the steps and headed her direction. The boy heard them - he flinched and looked in that direction, hazy eyes unable to focus.

Trev made it first - Nat heard his quick intake of breath as he saw, too. “Nat?” His voice shook, just a little - Trev had plenty of scars and this couldn’t be easy for him to see, either. “Is, um-… Krista said you needed help?”

Jake was on his heels - Jake who looked like a linebacker but was more of a lamb, a lib volunteer that Nat had always been able to rely on.

While Trev nervously backed up, Jake simply dropped into a crouch next to her, meaty forearms resting on his legs in an unconscious echo of Nat’s posture. “New rescue?” He asked, mildly, as though he didn’t see the blood, the shredded and destroyed skin across the boy’s chest, bandages so soaked in blood that you could barely tell them apart from the wound itself, and his bleary, unblinking eyes.

“New rescue,” Nat confirmed. “And he’s been fucked up all to hell. Sounds like he left some other pets behind when he ran - I’m guessing he ran because of that mess.”

“Nooooo…” The boy’s voice trailed off until the word was more of a whimper. “No, didn’… I didn’ want to, had to… I had to…”

“Sssshhhhh.” Nat ran a hand back through the sweaty, dirty hair, and the boy shuddered and made a noise low in his throat, the pathetic little gratitude-sound so many rescues came out of captivity with, the desperate thankfulness for any touch that didn’t hurt. “Ssssshhhh, sweetheart, just calm down. We need to deal with the bleeding before we can deal with anything else.”

“Got that right,” Jake muttered, considering. He was unfazed by the blood, absolutely calm in the face of the deepest violence, and that was one reason Nat kept him close at hand. “Trev-”

Trev, standing just behind and to the left, flinched and shook his head. “No, Jake, I’m… I’m sorry b-but, but you know I don’t l-like blood, that much… so much blood… is, is he okay?”

“He’s rocking one hell of an infection, from the sight and smell of things,” Nat said heavily. “He’ll be all right, though, I’ve got some strong antibiotics in the spare room and I’ll call our doctor to come over and check him out-”

“No!” The boy grabbed her again, eyes wide and white-rimmed. “N-No, no, no doctors, no clinics, no no no, please, please-”

Nat swallowed, hard, glancing at Jake, gently freeing herself from the boy’s grip. “Well, that tells us something, doesn’t it?”

Jake nodded, short and firm. Something like fury entered his usually placid, kind face, took the blocky jaw and turned it to solid stone.

Trev spoke, a little tremulous. “Wh-what does it tell us, Nat? I don’t un, understand.”

“He’s Whumpees-R-Us, that’s what it tells us - and whoever owned him used their onsite clinic, which means he’s local, so…” Nat’s voice trailed off as it sunk in exactly why the boy looked so familiar to her.

She’d seen his picture on TV a couple of days ago, some press conference his owner gave with Karen fucking Renford standing next to him - and if Nat never saw that bitch again, it would be too soon. She’d seen a face just like his, only a few years older, at nearly every multiple-lib-group meetup she’d ever been to.

Vincent Shield the goddamn movie star slinking in with sunglasses and hats and big scarves to keep anyone from knowing who he was and giving their locations away.

This was Vincent Shield’s perfect fucking clone - this was Owen Grant’s runaway Romantic, that’s who this was.

This was fifty thousand dollars in reward money for anyone who gave a tip that led to him being recovered - recaptured - and returned to - dragged back to - his owner - the piece of shit treating him like property. This was a runaway Romantic pet - a traumatized rape victim fighting for freedom - and if anyone knew he was here, Nat’s whole operation was in danger, just like that.

“Shit,” Nat whispered. “Shit shit shit.”

Her heart began to pound inside her chest, and she looked up sharply, taking in the mostly-empty street, everyone still inside their houses as the sun began to fully rise. This kid was on every news channel, the company spending tons of money to get plenty of airtime proving that people like Nat were the villains, stealing sweet happy pets away from their loving owners - and here was one big risk half-conscious and giving off a sick smell and impossible body heat under the bushes in her front yard.

If she was smart, she’d do nothing. Leave him here, give him maybe some antibiotics and stuff for the road and tell him to move along, he was too recognizable. He looked exactly like Vincent Shield, just like all the rumors said, now that she was close to him and could really get a look at his face.

Some of the others had seen him in some video or something, but Nat wasn’t much for technology and she hadn’t seen any of it herself. She didn’t like watching videos of pets in captivity - made her sick to her stomach. She preferred nursing them back to remembering they were human.

But this one could get her raided, could bring the thing she’d spent eighteen years building crashing down on all their heads. She could go to prison once they figured out how many fugitives she’d harbored, how much of the company’s hard fucking work she’d undone.

It was the least she could do - she’d been one of the ones to build the fucking company in the first place.

“Nat?” Jake asked, his voice uncertain. “Nat, I don’t like that expression you’ve got going right now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not a good one. This is, uh, this is… this boy’s trouble on two legs, Jake.” At his confused expression, she shook her head. “This… is Owen Grant’s boy.”

A moment for realization to sink in.

Then Jake’s face went white.

“Holy fuck,” He breathed. “Yeah, I got a call from another shelter about him. Jenna said he’s a fucking mess and he’ll fuck us all over, that he’s in fucking love with his owner. Fuck fuck fuck, shit, he’s going to fuck us over, Jenna said he wants to go back. That he really is still in love with the sick fuck that owned him.”

“That’s not new. Krista was, too, when she first came.”

“Yeah, but… shit, Nat. What do you think? What do you want to do?”

“Wh-what do you want to do?” Trev echoed. “What do we do?” The poor love did a lot of echoing when he got scared - his owner had apparently done a lot of forcing him to repeat things when he was bad- had the good sense to question his situation. Nat tried to calm her expression back down to its usual patient warmth.

“Don’t worry, Trev - I’m sorry, when I called for you I didn’t realize what we were dealing with. You take Krista and get back inside, I’ll take care of this with Jake. Thanks for coming out, you’re a huge help, you’re always so reliable for us. I really appreciate you. Can you please stay in the back rooms until we’ve helped this poor boy?”

Trev nodded quickly, tight little jerks of the head with a smile of sheer relief, and then backed away from them and all but ran back into the house, Krista right on his heels with only a quick worried glance over her shoulder.

“Think they’ll be holed up in their rooms before we ever get this kid back inside?” Jake said - not a question, really, just a statement of fact.

“Yep,” Nat replied. Her mouth tasted bitter, suddenly. The boy was still watching them, his eyes shifting from one to the other and failing to focus.

“She’s out of charge,” The boy said in a voice like a hoarse rasp. He didn’t seem to have heard anything they had said to each other, or didn’t hold onto it long enough. “I can’t wake her up. Need t’ charge her. Listen, listen, I don’… I don’ want to stay, I’m sorry… jus’, um, some medicine and I’ll… go… ‘m sorry, I can’t, I’m dangerous… I’m, I’m dangerous, I’m sorry, Jack, I’m so sorry-”

Nat and Trev glanced sidelong at each other, and Nat finally just gave a firm, short nod, and reached out her hands. “We can talk about that inside, sweetheart. Let’s get you into my house, I can clean you up, okay?“

Fuck it all, she’d never turned a rescue away before, and she’d be damned if she’d start now.

Fuck you, Renford, and all you fucking soulless pieces of shit, for what you’ve turned these poor kids into. I made a mistake, twenty years ago, when I helped you lie to them. I won’t make another.

“Then I… I gotta go back t’Jack,” The boy said, in a voice that suggested he was arguing with her - or someone, anyway - inside his head, an argument Nat hadn’t actually been privy to. “He, he, he helped me… he helped… I got them both hurt, I got them both-… fucking, feels like my veins are on fire… h-hurts… I got him hurt. I got Jack hurt.”

“Do you know where Jack is?” Nat asked, keeping her voice low and gentle, monotone, but her eyes moved back and forth, constantly checking the street for signs someone was watching them. She saw nothing, and Jake was looking, too. No one was paying attention to them, at least not right now.

“I don’ know… hope, hope he’s okay, hope he’s… I j-just, I shouldn’t have… he was just, he was nice… he helped me… Shit, h-hurts-”

“I understand. I’m sure it does hurt,” Nat said, brushing at his hair again, watching the boy shift around under her touch, trying to press into it even though she was a total stranger and he had no way to know she wasn’t exactly as dangerous as whatever he had left behind. The shit they’ve done to them to make them this way… “Listen. We can’t fix the hurt until you come out from under my plants, sweetheart. Can you move by yourself?”

“Th… think so.” The boy nodded and shifted slowly, pushing himself out on his stomach until he was out from under the bushes. Jake had to pick him up from there - he couldn’t seem to stand on his own, let alone walk. He tried and fell, tried and fell, and finally Jake simply scooped him up, sweeping an arm under his knees and behind his back.

He hung limp in Jake’s arms like a ragdoll, blue eyes focused on the backpack right up until Nat slung it over one shoulder - “Fuck, what’s in here, kiddo, this feels heavy” - and then he finally drooped, tucking his head under Jake’s chin, his forehead pressed against the side of Jake’s neck.

“Jesus fuck, this kid is burning up, Nat,” Jake said, a little worriedly, as they walked back towards the house.

“Yeah, well, a giant gaping infected chest wound will do that to you,” Nat said calmly enough. “I need to make some phone calls. Can you take over the medical stuff until Dr. Masood gets here to look him over? I don’t think our in-house shit’s going to help him do anything more than hold it off. I’ll call him first, and then make some more calls, so you’re den dad until I’m done.”

“Who are you calling?”

“Everyone. As of the second I step foot back inside my house, we are on full lockdown - no contact, less risk that way if this kid is what Jenna says he is - and I want them all to know why. Nobody but the ones who’ve already met him gets to know his name or details, Jake… just that we’ve taken in a risky one and we need a couple weeks to figure out where we stand.”

“Got it. House on lockdown until you tell me otherwise.” Jake shifted the boy in his arms, who whimpered in pain and clung to him more tightly, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. “You think he’s really going to turn us in?”

“No,” Nat said flatly. “I think he would have gone back already or turned himself in by now, hurting like this. You don’t just walk around with something like that under your shirt unless you’re really fucking determined. But I don’t need the others on the phone lecturing me about taking him in, either. This boy needs help? We’ll give him help. That’s what we goddamn do.”

Jake nodded, firmly, a hint of a smile on his broad face. “That’s why I choose to stick with your house, Nat. I like that you don’t turn ‘em away.”

“Yeah, well. Tell me how much you appreciate that when this kid gets us up to our necks in trouble.”

Jake glanced down at the boy’s face - eyes clenched shut tightly, breathing in harsh, shallow little gasps so that his chest moved as little as possible. “I don’t think he will.”

“Hmph. Jenna clearly thought differently.”

Jake hesitated, then said softly, “I feel for her, but you know it wasn’t really him Jenna was kicking, right?”

“Yeah. I know. What do you think Nine was up to while they were throwing this kid out just for being what WRU trained him to be?”

“I imagine he was sitting in the fucking attic, Nat, that’s the only thing he ever does.”

“Fair. Nine definitely keeps to himself…” Nat stopped on the small front porch, wood creaking beneath her feet, turning to look at the boy who still stared at her, blue eyes unblinking. “You know what… I’m gonna call Vince myself. He should know what happened, he’s been a wreck ever since they announced the kid was missing after that whole… mess with the-… you know. He’s been absolutely sure Grant killed him and is using the whole runaway thing as a coverup for the murder.”

“You sure about that?” Jake blinked at her. “Maybe call Tara instead, Vince can be kind of… emotional-”

“No.” Nat shook her head. “I’ll call Vince. Honestly - Tara might already know he’s popped up and been turned away, if Jenna called you she definitely made a whole damn round of calls to everybody. Maybe this won’t be a surprise.”

Jake cracked a grin at that. “Oh, man. I bet Tara had her half-deaf from yelling at her for it, too. I can hear her voice. ‘Hey, you want a great way to get a pissed-off pet to get your safehouse raided, how about kicking it out for no reason, Fucknuts McGee? Get your shit together, Jenna, or you won’t have a fucking safe house to go home to’. Tara hates when people are shit to the Romantics.”

Nat couldn’t help herself - she laughed, and the boy in Jake’s arms startled and then settled back down, whimpering again. “That sounds like her. God, we’d be half of what we are without her fire. But… still. Jenna’s just scared. We’re all a little scared, if we’re smart. Helping rescues that might not want the help is… it’s a risk we take.” She sighed, and reached out, brushing hair from the boy’s forehead. His eyes fluttered slowly open, hazy and unfocused, drifting over her face and then snuggling himself harder into Jake’s arms.

Poor thing. A total stranger who could just be the next one to hurt him, and he still clings hard to any sign of kindness, even if it’s false. I’m partially responsible for this - for all of them - right from that first poor boy I helped sign their fucking contract.

She could still remember the first one she had lied to, remember the name he’d signed on his contract. Isaac Thompson. Sweet guy, worried, thought he was signing up for a self-help program for his anxiety…

Nat swallowed back the bitterness of the memories.

She knew, after all, what had happened to Isaac Thompson. She’d seen him since, what was left of him. It wasn’t like there was anything she could do for him, not now. Her first great crime couldn’t be forgiven… but she could work to the bone to find atonement through all the others that had come after him.

“Have to help Jack,” The boy whispered. “Will you help me go back to him?”

“In a little while. Honey, before we get started helping you… what happened to you?”

He blinked at her, then looked down, as if becoming aware of his absolutely blood-soaked shirt for the first time, then wrinkled his nose - maybe he hadn’t known how he smelled from the infection until just then.

Then he smiled.

It was a soft, dreamy smile, and it made Nat’s blood run cold - underneath the shivering, frightened, soft hurting boy they’d found in the bushes she saw the first sign of something made of furious anger underneath.

“I happened,” The boy said softly.

“You did this to yourself?”

“He promised,” The boy said, his voice cracking and broken. “He promised me and he lied, and he said I could see him again and it would be okay, but it, it wasn’t, and… he lied about everything. I… I couldn’t… I couldn’t be lied to anymore. There wasn’t anything left to believe him.”

Nat slowly nodded. “What did he do, honey?”

The boy shook his head. “He lied.” His lip began to tremble, and when he spoke his voice was airy, breathless, but thick with tears. “S-So I cut his fuh-fucking lies out.“

Then he began to cry, hoarse cracking sobs that made fresh blood well up, tears rolling down his face, leaving tracks that dried too quickly against the feverish heat of his skin.

All Nat could do was nod one more time and open the door so Jake could carry him in. Jake held him close, whispered soothing, soft, comforting nonsense words to him.

Jake didn’t flinch away from the smell of the infection, or the fever. He didn’t mind, it seemed, the blood that smeared along his own shirt, the sweat from the boy’s skin that was left as a film on his. Nat loved Jake - and her rescues did, too.

He was the strong pillar of comfort that the Romantics needed, without expecting or wanting anything out of them in return. He was the perfect introduction to a world where you deserved to ask for comfort without having to worry that comfort meant giving away your body one more time, in a life where you didn’t remember a time when someone wasn’t taking it anyway.

By the time they’d laid some plastic out on the couch and put the boy down on top of it, he had slipped back into semi-consciousness, babbling to Jake, seeming to think he was someone else entirely, some name that rang as familiar in Nat’s mind but wasn’t anyone she knew, she didn’t think. He seemed to think Jake was another pet, but that was common - there hadn’t been another in Owen’s household, but that didn’t mean the boy had never met any.

She stepped into the kitchen, taking a deep breath, putting her hands briefly up over her face. She was alone - for once, Nat was perfectly and totally alone - and she let the guilt knock her over like a wave, let it run up and down her body, filling in all the empty places with a chorus of this is your fault, you helped them make this happen, you were one of the first employees, you you you you you.

She allowed herself only a few seconds - maybe a full minute - of the guilt. Self-pity, in her life, was a kind of luxury. Then she shook herself all over, set it to the side, and walked over to the cell phone lying on the kitchen counter, picking it up, looking at her contacts list. A series of numbers without names or labels, the burner phones they all bought and passed around to make sure no one number was associated with an address anyone might actually use it at.

You can’t be absolved for the things you’ve done, Natalie. You were the Pied Piper, once, and you can’t ever wipe away that it’s your fault, in part, that all these poor kids have lost their minds in the deepest, most complete sense of the word.

No… you can’t make the past any different. You can only make the choice to try and rebuild the foundations you helped that bitch learn to tear down.

She had a lot of phone calls to make now. First, though…

“Hey,” Nat said into the phone when the first number she called picked up. “Yeah, it’s me. Look, uh… Vince, is Tara with you? No? No, that’s okay, this is really a call for you anyway. You might want to, uh, to get ahold of her after you hear-”

A pause.

“Yeah, okay. Look. I have… some weird fucking news.”

Nat glanced over her shoulder, to see the boy in the couch holding tightly to Jake’s hands, and Jake leaning over to listen to him with an expression of reassuring total focus on his face.

“Weirder than that. Vince…”

The boy pushed himself up on his elbows, saying something slurred and urgent to Jake that Nat couldn’t quite hear. Jake slowly leaned forwards and rested his forehead against the boy’s, whispering back.

Nat smiled, just a little. God, she loved Jake. Couldn’t do the work she did without people like him.

Jake, who knew when a rescue needed to be left alone, or just talked to, or knew how to balance affection just right when the Romantics filtered in, touch-starved and terrified. Jake, who had a perfect instinct for when someone needed to be shown that you could even be touched in ways that weren’t designed to break you all over again.

“… Vince. Owen Grant’s boy is alive, and he’s in my living room.” There was a pause, and in the pause Jake smiled into the boy’s face and gently laid his hands back down. Nat felt tears prick her eyes. Even after eighteen years of trying to save them, sometimes it hit her with real force that while she couldn’t undo all the damage that had been done, she could keep trying.

Then Vince’s voice caught her off-guard - or not his voice, but what he said - and Nat froze.

“How long until you can see him? Have you lost your fucking mind? Are you drunk? It’s seven-thirty in the-…. You are drunk. Jesus. Vince. Sober up and call me back if you still think… no. Sober up first. If you still want to see him, tell me after… I don’t think it’s a good idea, but-… Fine. Okay. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone, trying to think as she punched in Dr. Masood’s number next.

The wrong kind of attention and this boy could get her put in prison, her rescues hauled back to hell to be repaired or retrained or God forbid, refurbished. People like Jake would get put in jail for aiding and abetting if they were lucky, but Jake had a kind of fresh handsomeness to him and Nat was fairly sure he’d never see the inside of a jail cell… no, if this went south Jake would wake up in a white room, wearing a white shirt and black shorts, and since he knew all the tricks it might take a while, but soon enough he’d be a number and not a name.

Especially now that they had proof that it was happening already…

No.

She couldn’t live her life in fear of what could happen if she did the right thing. She could only keep trying.

They had to keep trying.

She couldn’t make up for Isaac Thompson and all the others, but she could keep trying to make up for it until the bitter end. Maybe, one day, it would feel like she had done even close to enough.

“Dr. Masood? I need you to come make a house call.”

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btaffy02 · 4 years

Text

“Friends”

This is a draco x reader fanfiction. I used she/her pronouns and nothing too “serious” happens. I hope you like it! Sorry for incorrect grammar and also italic writing is your thoughts.

“y/n?” You turn to your right so see draco greeting you. You're kind of caught off guard by how handsome he's gotten. He's a bit taller and his hair sits almost perfectly. “Hey! I see you've lost the hair gel. It took you long enough.” You say. He pulls you in by your right sleeve for a hug. “Haha very funny y/l/n.” Draco has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Your families were always close so you two kind of grew up together. He's always had a special place in your heart but you can never determine if the feeling is romantic or if it's just because you care for him. He pulls out his schedule so you two can compare and see how many classes you have together. He rolls his finger down the papers and counts, “1, 2, 3… I guess thats it. Three classes together. I suppose it better than none.” You nod in agreement. You guys head into the great hall so the first years can get sorted and you can all feast. Of course, you sit beside Draco. He's kind of your anchor. You just follow his lead mainly because you're socially anxious but you also just want to stay out of things. You don't want to be the center of attention.

You've never really been the talkative type ever. You're just average. Your grades are fine, your looks are fine (though you'd never admit it outloud), your parents are still together, you only have a few friends. There's not really anything special about you, but you have something they don't, him. After dinner you say goodnight and head your separate ways.

A COUPLE OF WEEKS HAVE PASSED

As much as you hate to admit it you've found yourself staring at Draco frequently. And for the most part, no ones noticed, until today that is. “Miss y/l/n am i a bore to you?” Professor Snape slams a book shut.

Uh oh.

“Ye- i mean no sir.” You respond in panic. “Oh I am? Well maybe detention will be less boring.”

Ugh youve got to be kidding me. Detention? I'll miss my only free time with Draco.

You frown. Draco snickers in the distance and Snape turns to him. “You too Malfoy.” He continues teaching. Draco smiles at you. You finish the day and go to detention like you were ordered to.

IN DETENTION

Lucky for you detention is pretty relaxed and you're hardly monitored or checked on. You sit down and whip out your herbology homework. It's easily your favorite subject and you're very good at it. It's actually introduced you to Neville Longbottom who has taken a liking to herbology studies. You consider him your friend but you aren't close. Your thoughts are interrupted when you notice feet walking up in front of you. You look up from your book to see Draco in his typical black turtleneck. “I know why you have detention.” He says. “Uhm yeah i wasn't paying attention in class.” You say confused.

Oh god did he see me staring at him?

“Yeah right, you were staring at me.” “What? Full of yourself much?” You joke with him.

I didn't think he could see me.

“I mean what's not to love.” He raises his brows. “Omg, in your dreams.” You give him a little shove. “No, but im in yours.” He winks at you and smiles. You both laugh it off. The conversation is innocent but it actually means something to you. You love little flirty jokes and whatnot and no one does it better than Malfoy. The rest of detention is pretty boring and you guys make small talk and he helps you with potions and spells but nothing else really happens. When you're dismissed he walks you to your common room and says goodnight like usual. You're pretty restless because you don't know what to think

Do i have feelings for Draco Malfoy? Do i even have a chance? I mean he knows pretty much everything about me and i know everything about him. I could never tell him how I feel though, I don't want to make things awkward.

You stay up an hour later than usual but decide your thoughts can wait till morning.

WEEKS PASS

It's been weeks since detention and ever since then things have been different. You see a different side of Draco and he's a bit more “friendly” to you. You don't really think much of it and just wait for things to play out.

Most people think Draco is snobby and closed off. I beg to differ. He puts up this like barrier between his feelings and the world so he doesn't seem weak. I blame Lucius for that, I've honestly never liked him. He's a bit strange and expects too much of Draco.

You can 100% say you have feelings for him now. Though it pains you to say it's true. Day by day your feelings have grown stronger and so have his. Or at least you think, you can't really speak for him but he is more flirty than usual and less pissy in general. Tomorrow is October first, it marks 10 years of friendship with Draco.

Yes, I remember the date and everything. Not that he would remember because it probably doesn't mean much to him if he even remembers the day you became friends.

But it doesn't matter because this is something for you to celebrate and keep to yourself. Whether he notices or not you know you will be happy.

OCTOBER 1ST

You wake up to the scent of your roommate's apple cinnamon candle slowly burning.

Today is a good day.

You think to yourself.

Nothing could make this day bad.

Well you were wrong. In all today was not a good day. Nothing super bad happened, it's just little things kept going wrong. You failed a test, you tripped on multiple occasions, and one of your only friends, neville, got sick. You don't come out and say that today has been a bad day because you so desperately wanted it to be a good one. School has finished so you head to your room to chill out for a bit. You grab a notebook and begin a sketch to take your mind off of things. You hear a knock from the door and get up to see who it is. You're a bit shocked to see Draco standing outside your door. “Bloody hell- shhh what are you doing here you could get into trouble.” “I need to talk to you about something.” He says. “Is it that urgent? Im not really in the mood.” You look around to make sure no one sees you two. “Yes it is. Let's go somewhere that I don't have to look behind my shoulder every five seconds.” He grabs your hand and you walk to the stairs to get some privacy.

What's going on? Is he in some sort of trouble or does he just want to gossip? It's probably something to deal with Potter. He absolutely despises him.

“What's wrong?” You're actually a bit worried. “Uhm- nothing. There's something I need to tell- give you.” “All right. What is it?” He's never given you a gift before. Not even on your birthday. He pulls out a small box from his pocket and gives it to you. You smile at him. “Happy friendaversary loser.” He says while he smiles back at you.

He remembered. He actually remembered. I'm so happy I could scream. But he didn't have to give me a gift. I feel bad, maybe i should've gotten him one too i just didn't think he would remember it.

You untie the bow on top of the box and open it. Inside the small box was a bunch of extremely small flowers and a necklace in the middle.

I'm not the type to usually like the whole necklace cliche but for some reason with him it's different. I'm grateful for anything he could give me.

The necklace has one single charm of a serpent with a small diamond flower attached. “Thank you!” You fling into his arms and he wraps his arms around your waist. You're absolutely ecstatic and a bit shocked all at the same time. You were expecting maybe a chocolate of the sorts but not a necklace.

What does this mean?

“Do you like it?” He asks you. “Oh absolutely! It's beautiful, and wicked, and I love it.” He looks a bit nervous but you can see some relief when you answer yes to his question. You stare at the necklace for a bit before you actually pick it up. “Here I'll put it on for you.” He takes the necklace out of your hands. He moves your hair out of the way. His hands are cold, but you find them comforting somehow. He wraps the necklace around you and hooks it into place. “Thanks.” You turn around and smile at him. You're so close you think you can smell his cologne. “Y/n can i confess something?” He looks into your eyes.

Blimey does he feel the same way? I'm nervous, what if he tries to kiss me, am i ready for that? I need to stop freaking myself out. It's not going to help anything.

“Sure, what's on your mind?” He takes his eyes off of you and looks around the room. “I like you.” You're a bit confused on how he means it so you say, “Well i like you too.” He looks a bit annoyed, “No I like you. A lot. I have all school year. I don't know what made me realize it but I did. You're so beautiful and confident-”

I'm really not but I won't interrupt.

“-and you light up every room you walk into. You know me better than anyone and i don't know if this is overwhelming but i just had to say it. I understand if you don't like me back i just-”

Is he serious right now. Of course I like him back. I more than like him.

Before you can even let him finish or gather your thoughts you put your right hand on his face and pull him in by his shirt with your left. He's a bit shocked but then puts his icy hands on your waist. The kiss is good. A long time in the making but good.

Holy Sh*t! Did I seriously just do that? Wow who would've thought I could do that. I never want the kiss to end. I could kiss him a million times again and again.

When your lips finally part he makes a funny face by lifting his eyebrows and widening his eyes. You laugh. “I like you too.” You don't even notice you've been smiling for the past five minutes and you don't think you could stop smiling. “Bloody hell i hope so.” He puts his hands in his pockets and smiles at you. It's one of the few times you've seen him genuinely smile in a really long time. You finally got what you've always wanted, to make him happy.

-thank you for reading <3 sorry it was so short.

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #fanfiction

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writingpuddle · 5 years

Note

The foxes and Andrew reacting to Neil with a British accent?

Hey anon im p sure you sent me this like a million years agobut I found it again when going thru my asks yesterday so here goes myattempt at a bulletpoint fic:

Neil grew up in the states, sohis default accent is American, but he is ridiculouslygood at imitating. Like give him a ten second audio clip and he canextrapolate basically an entire dialect from it

The Foxes discover this aroundHalloween when watching a spooky movie and Neil goes into a perfect deadpanmockery of the Dracula character’s terrible Transylvanian accent

It becomes a thing

The Foxes will give him an accentand just set him loose

Neil is kind of surprised bytheir enthusiasm but also secretly very pleased to have found a way to amusehis Foxes

He likes making them happy so henever denies them

Except Kevin, but that is mostlybecause the team gets more amusement from watching Kevin get frustrated and trynot to show how annoyed he is over Neil being such a petty little asshole

Also they discover that if Neilputs on an Irish accent when Kevin isn’t paying attention he will absolutelyJUMP

Give him an order in an Irishaccent and he just instantly starts to follow through before he wakes up,blinking in disorientation as he realizes what he was doing

It’s funny at first, then theyrealize it’s because he associates the accent with his mother, and then itskind of sad, and then Kevin starts telling more stories about his mum and someof the few good memories he has of her, and then it gets funny again because Foxesare Foxes and they do love a good roast

Kevin complains outwardly but itsactually kind of cathartic to talk about his mother

He tells Andrew this inconfidence and Andrew just glares at him like no shit dude, you need fuckingtherapy

Anyways

That summer is going to be thesummer of the girls graduation

So they’re all determined to dosomething big to celebrate

And they get it in their heads todo a Eurotrip

Neil isn’t really payingattention at first because he’s more concerned about whether Andrew will bewilling to do a transatlantic flight

(Andrew is obviously going tocome. Flights suck, but there is no way he can cope with his whole family beingthat far away. He does not feel the need to explain this. It should beobvious.)

That’s when the Foxes pause, alldevious.

They’ve been plotting

“So, Neil,” Allison says. “At what point are you going to introduce usto your British uncle?”

Neil does not see where this isgoing

In fact he is largely baffled bythe suggestion.

“You realize my uncle is agangster, right? Like, literally a crime boss. Possibly the most dangerousperson in Britain.”

“Mm-hmmmmm.”

Neil is ???

“But he saved you Neil,” Nicky says emphatically. “We need to thank him.”

“Uh, kind of by accident, butyeah, technically.”

“You should call him. Just toask. You know, at least give the guy some warning that you’ll be in the area.”

Neil is still kinda confused butokay, fine.

Now here’s the thing

The Foxes have heard any numberof accents from Neil by this point

Including a magnificent Godfatherimitation

And probably half a dozendifferent British ones

But those were always for the laughs

He always picked a terribleaccent or would mock the living hell out of a posh one

Neil isn’t used to being thefunny one so he’s trying his best okay

And it’s fun and all but Neil can’tbe seductive to save his life

Even if you made him speak theFrench, the language of love itself,he’d just sound like he’s talking about the next game because he has zeroflirtability

Face it his and Andrew’sflirting sounds kind of like death threats to outsiders

They deserve each other

SO the Foxes convince Neil tocall up his uncle and they huddle around the phone

Only to be utterly disappointed

Neil talks with Stuart for all ofa minute and a half, just normal voice

He hangs up and tells them thatStuart will meet them in London in May and that they’re going to get him inshit with the FBI for this

The Foxes retreat, mutteringmutinously

Andrew is well aware of what’sgoing on, but it’s halfway amusing so he doesn’t say anything

As the months pass the Foxesbecome increasingly desperate in their attempts to make Neil say something sexy

They make him quote movies, TVshows, read out flirty text messages

One memorable time they even gethim to read out a page from Fifty Shades of Grey in a stuck-up British accent

They almost die laughing

It’s like a fucking superpower

Neil can say absolutely anythingand make it come across totally non-sexual

The Foxes have pretty much givenup by the time the summer trip comes around

Neil spends the plane ridepretending not to fuss over Andrew so by the time he arrives he’s totallyexhausted

And here is what he didn’texpect:

He is totally used to listeningto the local accents and then blending in naturally

It’s very disorienting beingamong the Foxes and their various Americanism, but hearing British accents allaround him

And his instincts are snarled upin knots

Plus he’s fucking tired

So he keeps slipping

First it happens when they passthrough customs, just a little lilt to his voice to put the officer at ease

But then it keeps happening

Stuart sends a couple cars topick them up and take them to this massive place he owns right in centralLondon

Being a crimeboss comes withcertain perks okay

Neil slips up again when he’stalking to the driver, his accent washing back and forth

Everyone else isn’t really payingattention because as excited as they are about Neil’s accent they’re in London and they’re all exhausted and fora lot of them it’s the first time they’ve been outside of the States, ever

Andrew notices

But he doesn’t say anything

They get to the apartment andfind a note there from Stuart saying he’ll pick them up tomorrow for a tour

Everyone splits off into theirrooms to sleep

Neil falls into bed exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come

And Andrew knows this but is tooexhausted himself from the stress of flying to deal with it right away

So he just wraps an arm aroundNeil’s stomach and holds him there as he drifts off

And it’s not enough for Neil toreally relax but it’s enough to make him feel grounded

The next morning Stuart shows upand everyone blinks at him bleary eyed and suspicious

But he’s charming and most ofthem find it kinda disarming

Which is how the Foxes end up takingwhat is probably the most expensive tour they’ve ever had (Allison excepted),lead entirely by a crime boss

Neil is lagging behind a bit buteveryone is so caught up in it that they don’t really notice

Except Andrew

That boy is always attuned to Neil

So he drops back with him andthey have a brief intense staring contest which ends in Neil looking away

They’re standing in Trafalgarsquare watching some street performers so no one is listening

Neil is obviously chewing onsomething and Andrew waits him out

He would wait forever

Finally, Neil just says, “I’vebeen here before.”

Which isn’t much but Andrew’smemory has never failed him before

I couldn’t live there again. I couldn’t retrace my steps to any ofthose places

Andrew knows what its like to feelsick at things that other people would love

So he nods and stands next toNeil the whole day

Not quite touching but closeenough that they can feel each others gravity

At the end of the day Stuart andNeil have a very cordial goodbye and then Stuart leaves them back at theapartment

Everyone is gushing about how charismatiche is and Neil doesn’t bother to correct them

His uncle has always been a bitof a snake-charmer but at least he knows he’ll never hurt his Foxes

They’ve still got a few days inLondon and Stuart’s secured them tickets to an underground dungeon tour thingthat usually has months worth of waiting list

Neil’s a little leery of goinginto a dark underground space, but with his Foxes there he’s sure he’ll beFine™

The team breaks out drinks aftersupper but Neil doesn’t have the energy

(Honestly according to thistimeline they’ve been in London for twenty-four hours they should be jet-laggedto hell and back, but w/e)

So he retires to their room andAndrew follows him like he always will

He sits next to Neil on the bedand waits

God there’s so much fuckingpointed silence between these two dear lord guys learn to communicate

Eventually Neil sighs. “I thoughtit would be okay. With all of them here.”

Andrew mulls that over

He doesn’t know how to admit thatit bothers him too. Seeing Neil reverting back to old habits, trying to blendin like its second nature

But he knows Neil is here to stayso he just slips a hand around the back of Neil’s neck and tugs him in untiltheir foreheads touch, breathing in the same air

Gradually the tension eases outof Neil

“We can go home,” Andrew says

“No,” Neil says. “I want to stay.I want to learn how to…do all of this, as Neil.”

Andrew squeezes the back of hisneck one more time. “Okay.”

It’s a silent promise, one he’sbeen keeping for over a year now: that any time Neil drifts too far, Andrewwill keep him anchored.

Neil knows it and he can’t helpbut smile a little, watching Andrew’s hazel eyes disappear into the shadowbetween their faces.

“Yes or no?” he asks

Andrew draws back a little

“You’ve been dissociating allday.”

“I’m here now.”

Andrew scowls and let’s go ofhim, standing up to go dig out his pajamas from his luggage

Neil flops down on the bed andadmires the view while Andrew changes

(That’s a nice thing. Andrewbeing comfortable enough to change in front of him. Sure, he’s always partiallychanged out in the locker room, but in private it’s different. It’s more. And Andrew is willing to give thatto Neil.)

(It’s very nice.)

“Staring,” Andrew grunts

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes.”

Neil sits up again and tugs onthe front of Andrew’s shirt until he gives in and steps up close, betweenNeil’s legs

His hands go to Neil’s sideswithout conscious decision

“Nicky wants the genuine Europeexperience,” Neil murmurs, toying with Andrew’s hem. He still hasn’t been givenpermission to touch, so he doesn’t. “We’re going to be staying in hostels.Might be the last time we have a room to ourselves.”

Andrew bites down on a thousandimpulses, reflexes to shut Neil down, cuthim out

Instead he just kisses Neil, goodand slow, a reassurance that they’re there,they’re real, and that this isn’t going away

“Andrew—”

“Yes,” he says, and pushes Neilback onto the bed.

You know what happens next

They love each other deeply andprofoundly and all that but they also like each other’s butts ya know

So afterwards they get cleaned upand curl back up in bed to sleep

Andrew climbs over Neil andnearly knees him in the balls and Neil’s laughing a little and Andrew scowls inannoyance as Neil scoots closer

And with the most obnoxious chav accent that’s ever been heard says, “Any chance a bloke could get a bit of a snog before bed?”

It is quite possibly the worstthing Neil has ever said and Andrew does not hesitate in slapping a pillow overhis face to try and smother him

Neil is laughing his ass off andit devolves into some pretty stupid wrestling before Andrew gets Neil pinneddown, straddling his hips

“Bloody wanker,” Neil says, unable to contain his grin

“Shut the fuck up,” Andrew says,and kisses him so that he does.

#i dont think this is what you asked for but its what my brain spat out lol #anon #writing prompt #have i been sitting on this for months?#probably #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten #andreil #accents #fic #my writing #Chav!Neil #the foxes go on vacation

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