#we have a right to the cleanest air we can manage we have a right to bodily protection

[kchasm]

Ryu Number: Phil Collins

Phil Collins is a musician well-known for his work with the band Genesis, which doesn't help me with how I keep confusing him with Peter Gabriel. He definitely has a Ryu Number, but how large it is depends fully on the level of hinkiness you're willing to swallow.

Aight, in order of reverse hinkiness:

In the 2018 video game Spider-Man, a side mission sees Spider-Man catching a casino heist in the prep stages. The apparent ringleader of the heist group (carefully balaclavaed) is named Niko, and makes reference to Roman being the driver—a clear reference to the protagonist of Grand Theft Auto IV and his brother, if nothing else.

Interestingly, the dialogue in Spider-Man identifies Roman as Niko's nephew, not his brother—but Grand Theft Auto IV ends with (among other things) the birth of Roman's son, so if you accept that Roman's kid might also end up being named Roman (Roman's that kind of fella, unless he isn't, in which case the kid might end up called Roman for a different but still cromulent reason), the Spider-Man appearance doesn't necessarily not jibe with Grand Theft Auto canon.

Following this route—hinky though it may be—through Grand Theft Auto character Lazlow Jones' recurring appearance as a radio host gives Phil Collins a Ryu Number of at most 3.

(Oh, right, yeah—Phil Collins is in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories. His manager owes money to the mob, and it's the player character's job to make sure Mr. Collins doesn't end up with a bad case of hematic exosomosis. Once you're done with all of that, you can trade in a big wad of dough to watch him perform In the Air Tonight in late-noughties PlayStation glory. He does that thing where he walks all dramatic slowly down the stage till he gets to the drums to drop the beat and everything.)

Now, if you're leery about counting that as Bellic (which, fair), there's an alternate route of the same length, with the caveat that it requires the use of Grand Theft Auto Online, and I have no idea how that works. I've been informed that a content update called "The Contract" allows one to hear the melodious sound of Snoop Dogg playing guest host over the radio, but if you began a new game tomorrow, would you eventually be able to access to Contract-exclusive content? Are all the little fizzbangs and widgets of this level/mission/content/update kept sequestered away from the player unfortunate enough not to play this update when it first came out? Again, my knowledge of Grand Theft Auto Online is minus nil, but if this does work, then Phil Collins' Ryu Number is at most 4 again, except this time more cleanly.

(Yes, Snoop Dogg is in Tekken Tag Tournament 2. He's in the stage that's also called "Snoop Dogg," Snooping upon his Snoopish throne. You don't get to play as him, unfortunately. Try True Crime: Streets of LA. Or Call of Duty: Vanguard.)

Finally, just to cover my bases in case we must, after all, remain Snoopless: It's a longer route, but the cleanest one of the three, facilitated by Grand Theft Auto's tendency to staff its radio stations with real-life musicfolk. In this case, it's Funkmaster Flex to thank, giving Phil Collins a Ryu Number of at most 6.

...Yes, yes, "Frankenstein's Monster." They call him "Frankenstein" in the games. Blame Konami. And, um... *wikis frantically* ...Big Ape Productions.

[kringfriis92]

The Ultimate Guide to Geothermal HVAC: Benefits, Installment, and Expense.

Boost Your Indoor Air Top Quality with the help of Competent A/c Contractors At Increase Your Indoor Air High quality, we recognize the relevance of offering clean and healthy air for your home or organization. Poor indoor air high quality can lead to a range of health problems, from allergic reactions and respiratory system issues to a lot more severe conditions like bronchial asthma and lung illness. That's why it's essential to guarantee that your HVAC system is working at its ideal and supplying the cleanest air possible. As knowledgeable HVAC specialists, we have the understanding and knowledge to improve your indoor air top quality. Right here are some of the reasons that you must call our company for assistance:. 1. Proficiency in Cooling And Heating Equipments. Our team of competent a/c specialists has years of experience in managing all types of heating and cooling systems. We have the knowledge to evaluate your system, determine any type of issues that may be affecting your interior air high quality, and offer effective remedies. Whether it's a straightforward air filter substitute or an extra complex system overhaul, we can manage everything. 2. https://eastsheenhvac.co.uk Comprehensive Duct Cleansing. One of the leading root causes of inadequate interior air top quality is dirty duct. With time, dirt, debris, and other pollutants accumulate in the air ducts, distributing throughout your home or company whenever the a/c system is running. Our skilled a/c specialists have the necessary devices and techniques to thoroughly cleanse your air ducts, getting rid of all the built-up dirt and irritants. This makes sure that the air flowing in your building is tidy and safe to take a breath. 3. Air Filtering and Filtration Solutions. To better boost your indoor air high quality, we offer a range of air purification and purification options. Our knowledgeable a/c service providers can assist you select and install the best system to successfully get rid of toxins and allergens from the air. Whether it's HEPA filters, UV germicidal lights, or digital air cleansers, we have the experience to suggest the very best solution for your details requirements and spending plan. 4. https://eastsheenhvac.co.uk/index.html Normal Maintenance and Assessment. Prevention is constantly much better than treatment when it pertains to indoor air high quality. By frequently keeping and checking your a/c system, we can detect any type of potential issues prior to they become major issues. Our competent heating and cooling contractors will make certain that your system is running successfully, decreasing the risk of indoor air contamination. Routine upkeep also extends the life expectancy of your a/c system, saving you cash over time.

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At Increase Your Indoor Air Top quality, we recognize that every residential property is special. That's why we supply customized services customized to your specific needs. Our knowledgeable HVAC professionals will take the time to understand your issues, review your indoor air top quality, and advise the most suitable services. We prioritize your contentment and aim to surpass your assumptions with every job we carry out. In conclusion, ensuring clean and healthy and balanced interior air top quality is vital for your health. Do not take possibilities with the air you breathe-- call Increase Your Indoor Air High quality today and allow our knowledgeable cooling and heating service providers look after all your indoor air high quality demands.

[alliancesquare]

5 REASONS TO BUY YOUR FIRST PROPERTY IN MYSORE

The best investment on earth is Earth. It is even better if that piece of earth happens to be in Mysuru. Real estate investment in Mysuru, even when done on a small scale, remains a tried and tested means of building cash flow and wealth. The land value is rising meteorically. There are many reasons for this rise, but we list the 5 main reasons to buy your first property in Mysore.

1. Clean, Green & Serene!

One of the Cleanest cities in India, Mysuru was developed with foresight and planning. The Heritage City is well laid out with wide, tree-lined roads and has a good traffic management system in place. The city is blessed with a lush green cover and exceptional weather. It has one of the lowest crime rates in the country. Mysuru also has 86% domestic water connectivity.

2. Connecting People

Mysuru is a world-renowned travel destination. It is referred to as the Cultural Capital of Karnataka. Mysuru is well-connected to all the major parts of the country by Road, Rail and Air. Major Tourist Destinations like Kodagu, Bandipur & Nagarahole forests, Ooty, Wayanad etc are situated very close to the city. With the completion of the Double Railway Line & 10 Lane Highway, traveling between Bangalore & Mysore will soon be super quick! Mysuru has a fully operational airport with regular flight connectivity to major cities like Bangalore, Goa, Hyderabad, Kochi & Chennai. More routes will be added soon.

3. Learning Works Here!

Mysuru is a centre for learning. It is an educational hub with over 250 institutions of learning. It also an IT & Industrial hub. Infosys, Wipro, L&T Infotech, BEML, TVS Motors, JK Tyres, Kirloskar Electric etc have a firm presence in the city. 

4. The Charm of the Bygone

Mysuru has many super speciality hospitals. It is widely acknowledged as a pensioner’s paradise. The laid back ambience of the city and its super friendly people make the stay here extremely pleasant. Mysuru excuses an old-world charm with a blend of modernity.

5. A Culinary Delight!

Mysuru is a foodie's delight with over 200+ hotels & restaurants. Malls, Multiplexes & Amusement Parks cater to the entertainment needs of the young and the young-at-heart.

How to Invest in Property in Mysuru

Mysuru is indeed a Heaven on Earth. When it comes to investing in property in Mysore, there's no better choice than Alliance Square. Alliance Square is a pioneer in the real estate industry in Mysuru. It offers you the best investment opportunities in Mysuru. You can choose from a wide range of premium DTCP & RERA approved plots in all directions of Mysuru. Be it T. Narasipura road, Bannur road, Bogadi road, HD Kote road or Hunsur road, Alliance Square has well developed, ready-to-register MUDA sites at attractive EMIs available.

Why Alliance Square?

Our professional approach, right from curating the layouts to selling them to the end-user, is completely processed with a hassle-free and comfortable experience. We have more than 20 years of experience in the industry. We know the market better.

Our team is trained to deliver the best service to you. We have also streamlined our process to make it Covid-safe. We have more than 25000 happy customers so far and the whole team takes care of every customer right from the enquiry to registration.

To know more: https://www.alliancesquare.com/blogs/5-reasons-to-buy-your-first-property-in-mysore

[herthaveauxoxo]

scary story (unfinished)

this is a scary story i wrote years ago and im in the process of editing and continuing the story hope you enjoy what i have so far.

_______________________________________________________

Anna, can you tell us what happened that day?

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

12:00 AM 

I was 6 months pregnant. Me and my fiance, Bobby, were on a road trip. We were running out of gas, so we stopped at a gas station in Mcfarland, California. “Baby, I think we are running low on gas,” Bobby said as he was pulling our van into the deserted gas station. He hops out of the car to go search for someone to help us and I follow right after because I had to use the restroom. I shouted over to Bobby that I was going to the restroom, and he replied with a simple “okay.” I hobbled over to the restroom and went inside the bathroom. It wasn't the cleanest but it was a gas station bathroom so I wasn't expecting high class. Shrugging it off I squatted over the toilet to do my business. 

I finished and cleaned myself up, I started to wash my hands when I heard a creaking sound. I turned around and saw what looked like another door?

I walked up to it to see it was cracked open, and when I looked through the crack it was pitch black. I pulled my head back deciding I should go back out because Bobby was probably waiting out there worrying about me. But as I reached for the door to leave, a hand came out and I felt something hit my head, and I blacked out.

3:00 AM 

When I woke up my head was pounding and my vision was blurry, I felt pain surge through my whole body. When my vision steadied I saw I was in a room with no windows and no furniture. It was almost like I was in a box, there was only one door. I tried to get up but my legs were too weak, I managed to sit up but I couldn't stand. I put my back against the wall and lifted my knees to my chest when I heard a click. I looked up and saw a dirty old man watching me. He had on overalls with no undershirt and he was barefooted. He walked up to me and crouched down next to me and started introducing himself. My hands instantly guard my stomach.

 I can't let my baby get hurt, I thought.

I was too scared to really listen but I do remember him saying his name was Bill hayes. 

He started going on and on about his “family traditions” and how I’m going to be a part of them. 

He pulled a small dagger out of his pocket, I tried to scoot back but he had already got a hold of my arm and he said “stick your tongue out”. I hesitantly do what he says then he takes the dagger and rubs it all over my tongue. The metal taste of the dagger leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

He takes the dagger that's wet with my saliva and licks it then looks at me with a smirk. He starts to unbutton his overalls, strap by strap until the overalls dropped to his feet exposing his body. I frantically started shaking my head while using my arms to push myself back away from him. He grabbed my leg causing me to fall on my back, he held the dagger against my stomach.

“Don't move or i'll kill this baby” he growled

I stood still as he used the dagger to cut open my dress exposing my underwear. He licked his chapped lips as he stared down at me. He pulls my underwear to the side and slides himself in roughly and starts thrusting. I just lay there motionless as tears fall down my cheeks, i feel his hands grip my thighs as he starts to go harder. I let out a sob when he wrapped his hand around my throat, his nails digging into the skin of my neck.

“You like this you little slut” he growled as his hold on my throat tightened.

I started to feel light headed and my vision was starting to blur. Eventually, I blacked out.

4:00 AM

I woke up in a panic gasping for air, my head was throbbing badly. I tried to stand but pain shot through the lower half of my body, my legs gave in and I clutched my stomach as a protective reflex. When suddenly it all came back to me, the old man, what he did to me, Bobby!?. I start to hyperventilate as everything comes rushing back. I hear footsteps coming, keys jingling!? And 

The door suddenly opens. A man walks in but it's not the dirty old man, it's a younger-looking man. He  has a resemblance to the old man, his son maybe?

I slowly inched myself away from him, when he noticed he started to speak.

“Hey there little lady” he said with a thick accent and a creepy smile

“I'm not gonna hurt cha” he continued as he inched closer to me.

“Please leave me alone” I croaked out, my throat sore from last night.

He sat down in front of me and tried to grab my hand but I pulled my hand away. 

He growled and wrapped his hands around my throat, I gasped and scratched at his hands to no avail. I started to get light headed and passed out

10:00 AM

I woke up to my head throbbing and realized I wasn't in that isolated room anymore. I was in a bedroom, a man's bedroom. The doorknob turned and the dirty old man Bill walked in. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a bow tie. I looked around frantically and caught my reflection in the mirror across the room, when I walked up to it I noticed I was in a white dress with my hair tied in a messy bun and white heels strapped to my feet. He held out his hand and gestured for me to grab it. I kicked him on his side and tried to run but he caught me. He grabbed me by the neck, I started scratching at his hands to get him to loosen his grip. He pulled me out the room into the hallway, we started walking down the hall and stopped in front of a big door. On cue the door opened and revealed a beautiful decorated room with flowers and chairs, it looked exactly like some sort of wedding. Music started to play but it wasn't like soft music it was punk metal. I was walking down the aisle to a punk-metal song with my arm intertwined with Bills. We finally got to the top of the aisle but I had my head down the entire time. I was shaking with fear when I looked up and my body was facing Bills, both our hands were intertwined. A single tear rolled down my cheek causing more to start to fall. There was a recording of a priest playing in the background saying the normal wedding things a priest would say but I wasn't paying much attention because I was scared I wanted to go home, I was thinking I could make a run for it, but I was sure he would catch me. I was torn away from my thoughts when the priest said, “Now you may kiss the bride.” Bill leaned down and kissed me. his hands moving down to my waist and gripping hard. 

12:00 PM

The wedding ended and we went straight to the dining area only for me to be greeted by what I assume to be Bill's mom. She walked up to me and placed her arm around me leading me to a chair with leather straps. She forced me into the chair and tied the straps around my legs and arms. My heart was pounding so fast and the silence in the air was deafening.

She pulled up a chair and sat right in front of me and cleared her throat.

[moondonky]

Backwards world

They'll do anything to keep it the same, they do not want people to change,, because ur slaves and u don't even realize it,, divide and conquer,, the sides are polar opposite for a reason and each side is half wrong and half right,, neither can be either,, and both ignore actual arguments that focus on the real problems, because fixing those problems means they can't exist how they live above everyone else,, because it's always about money, but really it's rations,, u can't have rich people without poor people, and they put limits on people... they scare u with global warming and have u bicker about carbon, and its not the air temp u gotta worry about, it's the oceans, whether u want to be in denial the information is fact, easy to argue everything else, u can ignore the garbage that seeps into your water, chicks are literally pissing birth control into ur supply, but eventually u will run out of things to throw away,, plenty of food but no nutrients, there are solutions but it doesn't make money, people talk about nuclear not the buildup of waste, people talk solar panels not it's lifespan, those big ass wind turbines are inefficient, but never hydrogen the most abundant element and cleanest burning fuel on this planet what's byproduct is oxygen, healty disrupts the power house medical industry, better traveling methods disrupt the airline industry, there's still lead in your gas,, the supply chain employs to many can't disrupt that, gotta keep that war machine going in case someone wants to destroy half the planet,, and people selfish look at us isn't it great u would not be here if nature wasn't managing.. definitely not what it used to be, and at current pace will survive longer I guarantee.. understand they make people stupid so that ai and there flawed systems seem smart enough to run things.. luckily people docile and dependant i guess, no threat to that beast they would prolly make it worse.. those at the top just rapidly faling off, for those who watch they can only wait, for those who do sumthing it is only misery and pain..

But God can still flood everything, but I have faith.. maybe something cool will happen.. take a miracle,, maybe it's a test, but then again the only way to God is through death.. maybe we are being sorted lol

[adorethedistance]

READING MY BOYFRIEND’S FANFICTION?? - Owen Joyner x Influencer!Reader

JATP masterlist

Requested: OMGGG!! Could you do a an Owen fic based around his girlfriend being an armature youtuber/social media influencer (shes also an actress and they met on set and have been dating for a while) and it’s “reading/reacting to my boyfriend’s fanfiction” ? You can do whatever you want with the fanfic part it’s just a concept that has been running around in my head for a while. LOVE ALL YOUR WORK!!

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, very mild

Words: 1460

A/N: A fic?? From Ace?? Hi. I’m off spring break officially and so my stress has dissipated immensely. School was becoming so much these last two weeks and I thought I’d be stressed or worried, but I’m actually fine? It’s weird lol so I decided I could be productive with my stress-free moment and post a little fic for y’all. I love this prompt, and before any of you writers panic, I’m using my own fics for the fanfictions because I wouldn’t want to put y’all on the spot like that. Also this is my 3000 post! thought that was cool lol

“Do you wanna do the intro?”

“I think I have to do the intro.”

“Okay, go for it.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out a heavy breath in exaggerated preparation for my (some would say lengthy) intro. “Hello, hi. Yes, okay, this is Y/n Y/l/n vlogs, welcome or welcome back to my channel!” Once Owen finishes his statement I’m so stunned I can’t generate any sort of response other than a slacked jaw semi smile.

“That was not even close. Do you know my intro?”

“I got the first part right!”

“You’ve lost intro privileges,” I turn back to the mess of lights and tripods in front of me and ignore the disaster of an intro Owen offered. “Oh, hello, hi! I am Y/n and this is: Reading My Boyfriend’s Fanfiction!”

“That’s basically what I did.”

“No, it is not! It’s ‘oh, hello, hi. I am ‘name’ and this is: ‘title of video’.”

“You don’t ‘welcome to my channel’?” Owen’s voice has dropped to a hushed volume as he genuinely inquires about the segments of my usual introduction.

“I do not.”

“Don’t use any of this,” he pleads when making direct eye contact with the camera. “Mister Sid. Editing Sid, please don’t embarrass me.” His pleas fall on deaf ears, knowing that I’ll be using the footage in full.

“Anyways. Butchered intro aside, I am Y/n and today I am here with my lovely “So Many Stars” costar and scene partner, Owen Joyner!”

“I’m also your boyfriend.”

“That too,” I give Owen’s pointed comment a soft place to land, “So, yesterday--it was actually like, two weeks ago, I don’t know why I said yesterday--a little while back, I came across a tweet telling me someone had written a fanfic about us-”

“Did you read it?”

“On Wattpad. Of course, I read it. There are only three chapters up right now and they’re all in the 2-3k range so it was a quick read.”

“2-3k?”

“Words,” I reply nonchalantly as I unlock my phone. I bookmarked a few one-shots beforehand for us to read, and I’m slightly cocky about my selections. Owen then responds with an outburst of shock.

“2-3 thousand words is a short read?” I merely give him a blank stare.

“Judging by that reaction, Owen hasn’t read any fanfics in his life.”

“Is that not long to you- That’s what she said.” Owen cuts me off with his own stupid joke and I briefly sigh before answering.

“No, that isn’t long. Baby, I’m here for that 130k slow burn enemies to lovers on AO3 with the ‘only one bed’ and ‘locked in a closet’ tropes.”

“The what?”

“Oh, we have so much to catch you up on.”

__________________________

“So I saved three fics, an angst, a fluff, and a smut. Which do you want to read?”

“Wait, what does that mean?”

“Oh my- okay. Angst is the sad shit, it’s what you read when you need your heartbroken and a good cry. Smut is pretty much in the name, it’s explicit content that will undoubtedly get this video demonetized, but that’s okay because we do have a sponsor. And fluff is the cute moments, domestic and sometimes mundane romance that makes you smile like an idiot and put the device down to screech into a pillow.” Throughout my whole explanation, I can tell Owen was becoming more and more lost, so I opt to give him a few moments to collect his thoughts.

“Let’s start with the fluff just to ease into things.”

“Smart choice. This fic I have saved is called ‘Baby Fever’ and the summary says ‘you and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own’.”

“That sounds so ominous.”

“Here, I’ll read the narration and reader’s POV, and then you’ll read your own dialogue.” Owen nods and leans over my right shoulder to read off of my computer screen.

“You actually start the fic.”

“‘You ready, little one?’” The instantaneous actor mode Owen slips into has me howling with laughter at which he looks at me confused. My gasping for air makes Owen laugh empathetically despite still being unsure as to what’s killing me at the moment.

“Why are you laughing?!” He yells, dramatically shaking my shoulder.

“Just the way you jumped into that, I wasn’t prepared for you to turn on the acting charm. Okay, uhhhh, ‘I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat’.”

The two of us go back and forth between reading the narrative, bouts of laughter, commentary on the accuracy of Owen’s character, and we finally manage to finish the 2.5k fic in about forty minutes.

“‘When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple-’.”

“‘I told you so.’”

“That was cute! I like the tie-in of having us watching over Baby Shada- or, sorry, you and ‘y/n’ watching over Baby Shada.”

“They wrote me kinda funny, I don’t think I’d ever fabricate a life to make conversation with a stranger due to baby fever.” My jaw drops slightly and before Owen can respond to my reaction, I cry,

“That is such a lie!”

“What?”

“You absolutely would do something like that, are you kidding me?!”

“No, I would not!” Owen punctuates every word with the utmost offense. He has the same look in his eye as when he was proving himself to be the cleanest phantom of the three on the Sunset Drive podcast.

“You literally told the guy at Home Depot yesterday that we were buying plants for our child’s nursery!”

“Okay, that’s different-”

“How is that different? That’s the exact same thing as fanfic you!” Owen’s furrowed brow and dropped jaw are a sight to be seen as he leans away from me, bending at the waist to stare at me with defiance. I raise my eyebrows pointedly as I await a response. Instead of actually producing a response, Owen lunges forward, grabbing my waist in his hands and squeezing gently. The feeling makes me screech and gasp of laughter from surprise and also being ticklish.

“Owen! Owe-STOP, I’m gonna drop my laptop!” I manage to say through my laughter and with one final grab, he releases me from his hold. It takes a minute for my laughter to settle but once I do, the two of us are simply breathing heavy and staring at one another with giddy smiles on our faces. In a moment’s clarity, I turn to look into the camera lens to talk directly to my editor,

“Sid, don’t use any of this. And please don’t cut to this after we finish reading to make it look like- things were happening.”

“Actually, I think you should, Sid. Just cut to right there and make the world think we-”

“OKAY, thanks for watching, bye!” I quickly stop the recording before Owen says something we’re unable to recover from. I hear him laugh gently behind me as I set my laptop down on the coffee table behind the tripod. Coming back to the couch, I move to plop down but before landing successfully on the cushion next to my phone, Owen grabs my body and moves me to sit on top of him.

“You are crazy, you know that?”

“Hmm. Crazy for you, maybe.” His cheesy line makes me scoff but smile nonetheless. I reach my right hand up to caress the side of his face as we sit cheek to cheek.

“Remind me to never film with you again.” The gesture is sweet and the sentiment is not which makes Owen laugh and he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. I lean back into him so my back is pressed flush with his chest as he lazily wraps both arms around me.

“You say that now but you’ll regret it when you wanna do a ‘boyfriend does my makeup’ challenge video.”

“Nah. I’ll just call Charlie to-” Without allowing me to finish my sentence, Owen is digging his fingertips back into the tissue of my sides and I squeal with laughter once more. This time the torment is short-lived and Owen releases me after a sweet, reconciling kiss. “Do you have baby fever now?”

“It was cute and all, but not really, no.”

“That’s too bad,” I stand up from my spot on his lap to grab my computer and hold it to my chest, “I was gonna say we could practice some baby-making.”

And with that, I turned on the balls of my feet, heading for my bedroom when I heard Owen stand up eagerly, quick to follow.

***

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[ifmywishescametrue]

#14 kissing each other breathless for samtony pls

thank you for sending this one!! i really loved trying out samtony, so i hope you like it :)

It’s a Friday night at around nine pm when Sam decides that he might be better off never leaving his house again. Every time he does, trouble seems to find him in one form or another. He supposes he can’t complain too much, not when a few of those times brought him some of the best friends he’s ever had, but he really can’t wait to see what this one has in store for him.

It starts with a cute guy coming up to him at the bar just a few seconds after Sam walks in, and he’s completely Sam’s type. He’s a little on the shorter side, with dark brown hair and eyes almost the exact same shade, and there’s an easy grin on his face that tells Sam that he knows exactly how attractive he is. 

The only problem is that his initial greeting of “Hey there, handsome,” is immediately followed by “would you mind pretending to be my date for the next ten minutes or so?”

Sam doesn’t quite manage to suppress his disappointed sigh, and the guy winces and says, “Yeah, okay, nevermind. Worth a shot, I guess.”

“No, no,” Sam quickly says, reaching out to grab the man’s wrist before he can walk away entirely. “It’s fine. Well, it might be fine, if you tell me why. Avoiding your ex or something?”

“Not so much avoiding my ex as much as trying to show them up. You know, the whole ‘I won the breakup because I’m with someone hotter than who you’re currently with’ thing.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, looking around the darkened room for who the ex might be. When he spots a man and a woman standing far too close together for a public place, he figures they’re a safe bet. He grimaces when he catches a flash of tongue as they kiss, and he looks away when hands start moving lower. 

He juts his chin out toward them to ask, “Which one is the ex?” 

“Well, uh, technically they both are,” the man admits, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “The guy more recently than the woman, though. It wasn’t exactly the cleanest breakup.”

Sam nods slowly. “Right, okay. Is he an asshole, then? That why we’re doing this?”

“Such a fucking asshole,” he sighs. 

“And what about her?”

“Let’s just say they deserve each other and leave it at that, shall we?”

Sam laughs, “Alright, in that case you’ve got yourself a fake date. My name is Sam, by the way.”

"I'm Tony, and if anybody asks, you've been dating me for two months, and it's starting to get pretty serious. I'm thinking a little bit still in the honeymoon phase, but not so much that we seem too perfect, you know?"

"Definitely not perfect," Sam says, leaning against the bar on one elbow. He figures if this is where his night is going, he might as well play along. The smile he aims Tony's way is flirty mixed with what he hopes comes off as familiar fondness. "I mean, we did just have our first fight the other night."

"Yeah, but we made up pretty quickly when you admitted that it was all your fault and I was completely right," Tony grins. 

"Did we now? I don't think I remember it going that way."

"Oh? How did it go then? Refresh my memory, darling."

Sam's stomach flips dangerously at the simple endearment, combined with the way Tony's eyes seem to be shining when he looks at him. "Well, as I remember it, you were the only one admitting to anything that night. By the end of it, you were practically on your knees begging me to stay, and I just couldn't leave you like that. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I had, you know? There were tears and dripping snot. The whole nine yards of pathetic, really." 

Tony laughs, shifting so his body language mirrors Sam's against the bar counter. "I'll have you know that I have never begged on my knees for anything."

Sam drags his eyes down Tony's body with intention, slowly enough that he catches Tony's shiver under the attention. "Not for anything?"

Tony shakes his head, and Sam wonders if it's completely subconscious when his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. 

"Bet I could change that."

The responding laugh is a little bit strangled this time, and Sam smirks. 

"I'd like to see you try," Tony says, voice seductively low, and Sam leans in closer on instinct. "But don't be too surprised if it ends up going the other way around."

And that, well, Sam doesn't mind it at all, actually. He might even prefer it, if he's being completely honest with himself. But he won't be honest about it with Tony.

"You're one cocky son of a bitch, aren't you?"

Tony grins, "You can admit that you like it. I won't tell anyone."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam catches a glimpse of Tony's exes as they come closer, seemingly having noticed Tony's presence. He angles himself in towards Tony more, sliding his hand from his own lap onto Tony's thigh. 

"I hate to ruin this, but incoming exes in about ten seconds," Sam whispers.

"Oh, god, kill me now," Tony mutters. "Or kill them, maybe. Either way works just fine for me right now." 

"I have an alternative, but you're just going to have to go with it."

It's all the warning Sam gives him before he's kissing him. 

Tony freezes at first, clearly not expecting it, but he melts into it just a second later. His knee slides between Sam's to slot their legs together between the stools, while his lips part easily for him. 

He doesn't really mean to get so carried away with it, but Tony makes a whining sound when Sam starts to pull back, and Sam goes right back in for more. He twines his hand into Tony's hair, and it's soft between his fingers when he curls them into it. 

His lungs are burning for air by the time they actually part, and Sam glances over to find that the exes are no longer there.

"I think they're gone," Sam murmurs. 

"Can't really be sure they won't come back, though, can we?" Tony asks.

Sam smiles, catching on immediately, "No, we can't. Think you might have to spend the rest of the night with me."

"Just in case," Tony nods.

Sam pulls him in again, repeating those words against his lips as an excuse. Trouble might follow him everywhere, but Sam thinks this time is going to be one of the good ones.

[peachytomi]

it was rare for nayeon and jeongyeon to be able to enjoy a date outside the dorm. usually they were so busy with schedules that they barely had anytime to themselves, and when they didn’t had a schedule it was most likely that chaengie would regress or be on the edge of regressing.

they have been planning this date night for almost three weeks. everything seemed to be alright, they were getting ready to go and picking up their stuff when nayeon felt a pair of hands holding her left leg, then she heard a whine that she could recognize even with her eyes closed.

“eomma no go! eomma stay!” chaeyoung whined, lifting her hands in the air and making a grabby motion. “uppie.”

“oh… baby” nayeon picked the girl up and adjusted her to be on her hip while nayeon’s hand made sure she couldn’t possible fall. jeongyeon gave nayeon a petty look and sighed.

they were almost ready to drop the entire plan and stay at home with their little; it wasn’t until tzuyu ran towards them with dahyun following behind.

“we can keep an eye on her while you two go out!” dahyun said, smiling widely at the little in nayeon’s hip. “hey chaengie! wanna stay with unnies tonight?”

“nu-uh” she refused while shaking her head, hugging nayeon tightly. “wan stay with eommas.”

“but baby, we can play all sort of games! we can even draw!” at the mention of drawing, chaeyoung seemed to reconsider. “don’t you wanna draw something nice for your eommas?”

“yes!” she wriggled her way out of nayeon’s hold and ran towards the maknae room to find her art supplies.

chaeyoung was always the easiest little to distract or entretain. dahyun and tzuyu rushed both unnies to leave quickly before chae could get a change to be fussy again.

the rest of the night when pretty easy, chaeyoung had some paper and crayons on the floor with her, she had drawn almost eight pieces already. one with her eommas, another one with her eommas and her, one with all the girls, one of boo, and like that.

it wasn’t until yeri arrived at the door that dahyun and tzuyu remembered they had a party to attend to. they cursed in their minds for being so occupied with playing and tanking care of chaeyoung to remember getting ready.

mina was playing and she didn’t like being disturbed, momo and sana also went out to get some food, meaning they had only jihyo left to ask.

they texted yeri to wait for them while they got ready, once they were all dressed they ran towards the big room and found jihyo there.

“unnie! can you do us a small favor?” tzuyu asked.

“sure, what is it?” hyo asked as she closed her laptop and sat on the bed to be able to look at the properly.

“chae is small and we told nayeon and jeongyeon unnie we would take care of her but then we remembered we had a party to go to so we were wondering if-” dahyun was interrupted.

“sure, i’ll take care of chaengie, don’t worry, you can go.”

“thank you unnie!” they both said as they ran to the door.

jihyo stood up and went to the maknae’s room where chaeyoung was still drawing on the floor. she lays on tzuyu’s bed while the little plays. a few minutes, almost an hour, went by until she realizes it’s time for dinner. she stands up and pick chaeyoung up, the little still grabbing her paper and crayon. she lays the little one the playmate in the living room while she goes to the kitchen to get dinner ready.

and, while jihyo was cooking, chaeyoung ran out of paper, not knowing where to find more she looked up and saw the cleanest white wall she had ever seen. in her eyes, that was just a giant piece of paper! great of a new drawing!

she wanted to draw her best unnie! jihyo unnie!

she started drawing with two crayons, it looked nothing like jihyo, but you could decipher what it was. jihyo and chaeyoung holding hands. it was simple, yet cute.

when jihyo came back with a tiny plate and a sippy cup, chae screamed happily, pointing at the draw she just made with so much love. “‘ook unnie! ‘ook! is ou an me!” the little was smiling from side to side, her eyes looked filled with joy and pride.

jihyo’s, on the other hand, not so much.

it was painted with crayons, so it wouldn’t be hard to remove, but in the heat of the moment jihyo didn’t even stopped to analyze the situation. she was just thinking on the consequence that the draw would have, like their manager calling to complain… again.

“chaeyoung! what have we talked about drawing on the walls!?” jihyo exclaimed, pissed. “you know better, don’t you!?” chaeyoung didn’t even answer, she was shocked for the sudden outburst her unnie just had, she was looking at her wide-eyed and scared. and, just to be clear, chaeyoung wasn’t a easy little to scare. “i- i can’t even deal with this right now, go stand in the corner for ten minutes!”

chaeyoung did as she was told, standing in the corner of the living room, tears running down her cheeks and a few sobs escaping her lips.

once jihyo calmed down and realized her mistake, it was already too late. chaeyoung refused to say a word, she couldn’t even talk with her unnie at all. she didn’t wanted to be close to jihyo right now… she was scared and extremely sad she mad her unnie mad at her.

“hey, chaengie?” she heard mina soft voice calling her from behind, she tuned around and saw this beautiful look of compassion and love in mina’s eyes. “come here” she pulled her in for a hug, chae hugging her as tight as possible. yet still don’t speaking. “do you want me to call your eommas?” she nodded. “alright, let’s go to my room and play some games until they arrived, yeah?”

so they spent almost half an hour waiting for nayeon and jeongyeon. chaeyoung seemed to be better tho, already calmed but still unable to speak.

it isn’t until she sees nayeon and jeongyeon walking in that she murmurs a soft “eommas.” and ran towards them. “don go! stay with chaengie! stay wif me!”

jeongyeon holds her and brushes her hair softly, murmuring reassuring words and assuring her everything is going to be okay, that her eommas are there…with her.

[thatsgay-writes]

Elle Greenaway x Reader

Summary: Elle makes a shocking discovery after they catch an unsub. (Follows along season 1 episode 7)

Warning: Criminal Mind stuff

The reader is given a name, for certain purposes and it is third person on purpose.

Word Count: 2.5k

Dr. Thomas Fuller wrote, “with foxes, we must play the fox.”

---

“Bad?” Agent Hotchner asks as Elle handed him a folder. “The worst.” Elle responds as they head to the round table room. Gideon stood in front of a board as he looked at all of the images. “Crawford family. Murdered 3 days ago.” He says just as Derek walked in, “Saw it on the news.” He says as he takes a quick look at the board as he walks by. “They were found in the basement of their house...” Gideon says, still staring at the images. “Bags packed for a vacation they never took.” JJ continues for him. “Report said it was a murder/suicide. The father stabbed the mom, then shot himself.” Derek says as he sits down, still not fully sure as to why they were taking it as a case. “That’s the conclusion the Maryland State police came to. The gun was next to the father, he had gunpower residue on his right hand.” JJ states as she states a few things listed on the report in front of her. “And now you must have some compelling reason to think that Chris Crawford didn’t off his family?” Derek asks, looking to JJ for a response. “Yeah. Another murdered family. The Millers-- found a month ago. The mother, Reese Miller, her two children and her new husband. Again, they were found in the basement and like the Crawford's, their suitcases were packed for a vacation.”

---

“Elle!” Bailey yelled as she ran towards her girlfriend. Elle Greenaway and Bailey Woods had been friends since Kindergarten, both managing to stay in the same school all the way through middle school and up to high school. In 8th grade, they both finally confessed the feelings they held for each other. “Bailey?” Elle asked in concern as she watched her girlfriend run up to her, tears visibly rolling down her face. “Bailey, baby, what’s wrong?” Elle asked as she scooped the younger girl, by a few months, into her arms. “Did someone do something? Tell me who and we can beat them up together.” Elle said, semi-seriously. You just shook your head as you held onto her shirt tightly. It was the week before Junior year ended, the only tears falling from your face should be happy ones. “What happened?” Elle asked concerned, you had never acted like this before. She knew it couldn’t have anything to do with your dad since he was home for the next few months.

Elle made a split second decision and led you out of the school before any of the teachers could notice. “C’mon, let’s go.” She said to you as she opened the passenger door to your car. She had taken the keys from your pocket, knowing you were in no condition to drive. As she drove to your secret spot, you managed to calm down some and were taking deep breaths to calm all the way down. Elle parked in one of the parking spots at the top of the abandoned parking garage and turned off the car. “Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” She asked as she reached over the middle section and grabbed your hand. You took a few more deep breaths before looking up at her, heartbreak shone through your eyes. “I’m moving.”

---

Elle stood outside the interrogation room as she watched Reid talk to Eric Miller. “Is that what this is about, hmm? You think I’m crazy, man? You think I suddenly snapped and slaughtered my own wife and kids?” Eric kept asking questions as he got more and more agitated. “You think I did this? Huh? Is that what you think!?” Eric yelled as he suddenly stood up. Elle looked to Hotch with wide eyes before they entered the room. “Sit down.” Hotch told Eric firmly. Reid was the youngest on the team and it was his first time doing an interrogation solo, so Elle and Hotch were a little protective over him. “Is this your daddy?”

--- South East Washington D.C

Elle sat quietly in her seat as she sat in the back seat of the car as they drove towards the address Hotch and Garcia had found while snooping through the Crawford’s financials. Reid and Hotch both shared a look at the unusually quiet Elle. Usually when in the car, she would be looking over a file or talking to others to understand more about the case but tis time she was just staring out a window. “Is... Um, is everything okay?” Reid asked, his voice going a little high at the end of his question. His question shook Elle out of whatever she was thinking about, “Yeah... Maryland just brings back some memories...” You’ve been here before?” Hotch asks, concerned about the other agent but also making sure that nothing would intervene with the case they were working on. Elle sat silently for a few seconds before answering right as they pulled up to their destination, “No.”

“Federal Agents!” “FBI” “Federal Agents!” “Clear!” Hotch, Elle, and Derek all yelled simultaneously as they busted through the front door of the home. Elle scrunched her nose in disgust at the sight of the home, “Cleanest thing in here...” She muttered as she kicked what looked like an empty dog bowl. She stayed at the front of the house with Gideon and Reid as Derek and Hotch went deeper into the home. She watched with a questioning gaze as Gideon walked over to the wall and picked up a single painting that was hanging. “What’s that?” She asked as Gideon looked down at the drawing. “It’s a child’s painting. It’s a colonial house. Mom, dad, 2 children out front holding hands.” Gideon listed what he saw. “And a big dog.” She states as she looks over his shoulder.

---

Bailey and Elle laid together in her bed, the end of summer coming faster than ever before. She and Elle had spent almost all their time together, going on dates, spending nights at each other’s houses, etc. Anywhere Elle went, Bailey were there, and anywhere Bailey went, Elle was there. Right now the two of them were laying in Bailey’s bed watching T.V. “Stop staring at me.” Elle mumbles as she stares at the television. Bailey lets out a breath of air and rolls her eyes with a groan, “Love meeee, I want attentionnnnn.” She draws out causing Elle to playfully roll her eyes in response. “Fine, come here.” Elle says as she opens her arms out for Bailey to lay in. Bailey plays with Elle’s hair as she laid her head on her girlfriends chest. “I want kisses...” “Bailey repeats over and over again, like a chant. “Geez, someone is clingy today.” Elle states as she sits up and leans back against the wall. Bailey shifted around so she was now straddling Elle. “I leave in 3 weeks... I just wanna kiss my girlfriend.” Bailey pouts as Elle finally gives in. “Okayyyy.” She says with fake annoyance.

Bailey and Elle were deep into a make out session when her door suddenly busted open. “Eww!” “Ezra!” Bailey yelled as her sister covered her eyes with her arms. “Eww! Not you too! Mommy and daddy were doing that too!” The 5 year old yelled causing Bailey to laugh. Bailey gets off of Elle’s lap and picks up her little sister. “Aww,” Bailey says with a fake pout, “Do you feel left out?” Bailey starts kissing all over Ezra’s face causing the little girl to giggle and try to get away. “No! Eww! Stop it!” Ezra yells as she gets out of Bailey’s hold and pretends to rub away the kiss in fake disgust. Bailey just rolls her eyes at her sisters action. “C’mon, let’s go see if Benson is awake. We’ll be right back Elle.” Bailey says over her shoulder as she and Ezra leave the room. Elle laid back on Bailey’s bed as she left the room, staring at the ceiling. All she could think about was how in love with the younger girl she was.

Her train of thought got cut off as a small body was laid on top of hers. Elle immediately moved her arms to hold him and make sure he didn’t fall off of her. “Hey buddy...” She said in a baby voice as Bailey laid down next to her and pulled her into her. Bailey let out a groan as Ezra jumped on top of her before snuggling up. “Alright... What do you want to watch?”

---

“Okay. No, I understand. Yeah, I figured as much. Thank you.” Derek says as he gets off the phone. “He’s been staring at those pictures all morning.” Elle states as she stares at Gideon who is staring at the drawings done by the murdered children. “well, I sure hope he sees a connection cause I’ve checked doctors, lawyers, travel agents, tutors, contract workers. I got nothing.” Derek says as Hotch walks by. “Why target those families?” Elle wonders still watching Gideon. “Well, to know that, we have to know how.” Hotch says as he sits down and continues looking at the file in his hands.

“ We know organized killers are often skilled workers with above-average intelligence. High birth status. And in most cases...male. In the workplace, he's socially confident. And with women...sexually confident. Every offense...is preplanned. Targeting the victim is almost as pleasurable as the actual kill. These guys, they're...they're meticulous. It's a compulsion. Everything has to have its proper place. They do exhaustive amounts of research on their victims. They watch their every move every last detail is observed. Everything has to be written ever so neatly in a book or possibly a journal. When the kids are comin' home from school. When daddy'll be home. Playtime. Suppertime. Bath time. Bedtime. Plan the work...work the plan. This is the way that he maintains control. It's also how he personalizes his target... So nothing's left to chance. Absolutely nothing... Is left out of place, ever. So he plans the work... And when he's good and ready, he works that plan. He takes great pride in his job. I think the workplace has to be the connection.” Derek says as they go over everything they have learned about the unsub.

Gideon walks out of the room he was in with two drawings in his hands. He holds both the pictures up side by side. “Both are by Emily, painted months apart.  This one...is full of color, life. The one I found at Emily's house has lines, dimensions. No color. I believe Emily was coerced to make this. It's a point of view. It is his point of view. This is where the killer stood, just watched the family.” Gideon says after having finally figured out the connection of the paintings to the case. Hotch drops a ring on the desk he was leaning on, letting it spins some before picking it up. “Each of the dead husbands was missing his wedding ring. This is the unsub’s trophy.”

---

Bailey and Elle sat on the edge of the cliff at their special place. Trying to soak up as much time as they could before Bailey had to leave in a few hours. “I can’t believe you’re leaving...” Elle state as she leans her head against Bailey’s shoulder. “We had everything planned out too...” She trails off, looking at the scenery in front of her. “Hey don’t speak like that...” Bailey says as she holds Elle’s face in her hands. “It’s just one school year apart and then we will go to college together like we planned.” Bailey states before she pauses. “Look, I’m going to make you a promise, okay?” Elle raised an eyebrow at Bailey skeptically, promises were a big thing for Bailey, she never broke them. Bailey lets go of Elle’s face and pulls a ring from her pocket. “No before you freak out, this is my dad’s ring.” Bailey says with a slight laugh as she watches Elle’s eyes get big before returning to normal. “Now, you know me and my dad are close... When I was 5 and he got sent on the first deployment I remember, I cried like a baby for weeks on end. It actually got so bad my mom had to take me out of school one time.” Bailey says with a smile as she stares down at the ring in her hand.

“When dad came back and heard about it, he got his ring modified.” Elle watches with slight confusion as Bailey slid the ring a certain way and it split in half. “And now, whenever he gets deployed, I get this half of the ring so I always have a piece of him with me.” Bailey continues her story as she puts the larger part of the ring on a chain. “It’s obviously too big to fit on my ringer so mom bought a chain to put it on.” Bailey says as she puts the chain around Elle’s neck and closes the clasp. “I asked my dad and he said it was okay for me to give my part to you so you know that I am always with you and thinking about you.” Bailey says as she gives Elle a goofy smile. Elle tries to cover her crying but lets a few tears slip. “Hey, it’s okay...” Bailey says as she pulls the girl she loves into a hug. “Senior year will be over before you know it and we’ll be back together again.”

---

The group all sits around the table in silence as Gideon stares into the box that Hotch had found in Karl Arnold’s office. Everyone’s heart dropping as Gideon lets the contents of the small box drop and 8 rings fall onto the table. Every sat in silence feeling remorse for whatever families had lost their life’s to Dr. Arnold. Elle takes a moment to look at each ring and feels herself get nauseous at the sight of one ring that looks a little different from the others. It can’t be... She thinks as she slowly reaches out, ignoring the looks from her friends, and grabs the ring that made her feel sick. She takes a minute to study the ring, her heart beating faster at how familiar it is. She can feel her friends and coworkers staring at her in confusion, wanting to know why she had picked up the ring.

Elle reach's into her shirt a little and pulls out a ring of her own. The group shares a confused look, wondering where the ring had came from and how long she had had it. Elle takes it off the chain and slides the two rings together like she had seen you do ten years ago. The clicking sound it made not only signifying the two rings becoming one but also her heart breaking into two. Elle looks up to see Hotch and Gideon looking at her with a worried face, it was obvious that Elle knew who that ring belonged to. Seeing her friends face’s filled with sorrow was enough for the dam to break and the tears to flow.

---

“Elle! Guess what!” Bailey yelled excitedly into the phone as Elle picked up. Elle laughed at her excitement. “What?” “I get to go on vacation tomorrow!”

[fandom-blackhole]

SINFUL SUNDAY

AN: So there are only two thots this week, unfortunately I have been a little busy with getting things ready for school next fall, as well as the new job I got for this summer. But I hope you like what I do have!

Sinful Sunday Masterlist

Pairings: Ezra (Prospect) x Reader, Captain Rex (Rebels) x Reader

Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

We got another Ezra thot this week, because this man live in my head rent free, and because I've been thinking waaaaaayyyyy too much about this senerio......

When Ezra and Cee got off the Green they were both rushed to the medical wing of the station based off of the injuries of Ezra alone. Cee had been cleared of serious injuries but had been given plenty of fluids and food as she was dehydrated and very clearly hungry as well as sent to spend at least a single night in the room that was pumped with the cleanest air on the station to help cleanse her lungs from being down on the poisonous moon. Ezra on the other hand had been rushed to surgery for both his arm, or the lack of, and the wound in his stomach. The medical staff worked on him for hours cleaning his wounds and suturing him up correctly. He also was stuck into the room with Cee because it was obvious his lungs were riddled with spores from the moon. The staff had also decided that a medically induced coma would be best for Ezra’s recovery, and they would bring him out of it once he was doing better. Cee stuck by Ezra’s side, always quiet and only giving short answers when asked question. Ezra stayed in the coma for about a month before they gradually started waking him up. That is when you had been assigned to help. You were sort of a care taker, physical therapist, and regular therapist rolled in one, it was your job to help those who had been injured terribly get back on to their feet.

You had started by coming into the room one day and introducing yourself to the pair. Ezra who was still woozy from the sleep he had just woken from, but he still managed to give, what you soon found to be his signature smirk that made him look like he held everything you ever wanted or ever would want. That smirk also made his eyes gleam with a certain deviousness that never failed to make you feel as if he was planning something nefarious. Cee had taken a bit to warm up to you, but once she did you were immediately endeared to the girl, who very obviously had a rough childhood. You watched over the two for about a month before the hospital made the decision to release the two to be watched over planet side.

Because of the severity of Ezra’s injuries, the three if you were sent to the nearest planet to a house where the two could get better. You of course were given your own apartment to sleep in, but it was on the completely opposite side of the town you all had been sent to. The first weeks of being there, you came and went from your apartment at odd hours, usually murderous early in the mornings and nauseous late at night. Ezra constantly apologized for his odd sleeping habits, but you always just smiled and told him it was nothing you were worried about, and that it was your job. And you did enjoy spending time with Ezra, he could be morose sometimes, but for the most part he always managed to make you smile with his words or stories. Not to mention watching him and Cee interact always warmed your heart as well as give you a few laughs.

But eventually the odd hours started getting to you and Ezra was keen to notice the dark circles forming under your eyes and the many yawns you had throughout the day. What finally broke Ezra was when one day, while he had his daily reading time in the afternoon, he had been shaken from his flow because of your head falling to his shoulder and feeling your soft breaths. He turned to find you asleep peacefully on his shoulder. When you had woken up hours later you had tried to apologize, but Ezra only hushed you and told you to move in with the two of them. You tried to protest saying it was unprofessional, but Ezra wouldn't have any of it.

After you moved in with them things both became easier and harder for you. Easier in the sense that you got more sleep and it improved your overall mood, but worse because the small feelings you had developed for Ezra has completely taken over your thoughts. And you weren't completely sure it was just you feeling these things. You often would feel Ezra’s eyes follow you, only to find him turning away when you glanced towards him. The tension continued to grow a mind grow until one night it boiled over.

It was late and Cee had been in bed for a couple of hours. The two of you had just been talking about this and that and slowly you found yourself moving closer and closer to Ezra, and then slowly the conversation trailed off, and the two of you just stared at eachother. You weren't sure who moved first but you soon found yourself caught in a sweet kiss with Ezra as he cradled your face in his hand.

You weren't sure how but that night you both ended up falling asleep on the couch, you cuddled into Ezra’s lap with your heads buried in eachother's neck.

Rebels!Captain Rex x Reader

Call me whatever you want but Grandpa Rex still owns my heart and thots so, here's this.....

When you reunited with Rex it was when the Rebels had all settled down together and made a base on Chopper Base. You hadn't seen him since the end of clone cars, and had always assumed the worst. But the second you rounded a corner and saw the blue and white armor and helmet under his arm, you knew this was Rex. He may have been missing his blond buzzcut and be thicker around the edges, but he was still handsome and perfect. With tears in your eyes you took off running towards where he was having a conversation with Hera. Though the second you yelled his name, he had whipped around to see you not slowing down for anything. He braced himself and when you got close enough you jumped into his arms and buried your face in his neck with a sob. The two of you held eachother tightly, before Rex pulled back to look at you. The two of you watched eachother for a few minutes before Rex spoke up, "You're still as beautiful as you were during the war." You felt his hand raise to cup your face and as you leaned into it, you told him, "And you, Rex, have aged like the finest whiskey." Rex only chuckled and shook his head before leaning down and giving you a sweet kiss. Then you both heard a small cough and turned to find a very amused Hera. Rex blushed and apologized, but Hera just shook her head and told Rex to take the rest of the day to spend time with you. You smiled and thanked her, before she turned and left.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening talking about what had happened after the war, all the while holding each other close and tightly like if they let go, then the other might disappear. The kisses were also frequent, and often interrupted whoever was talking. You weren't sure how late it was, but the two of you had some how ended up in Rex's room, cuddled up on his bed. Rex had your hand and was playing with your fingers as you talked, but you found yourself trailing off and scooting closer to Rex. He looked at you with a smile as you leaned in for another kiss, but this kiss got deeper and more passionate than the others had been. And by the time you pulled away for air, You were straddling Rex's lap. He cautiously put his hands on your hips. You looked into his eyes at his hesitation to find him just staring straight forward before he spoke up quietly, "I, um, cyare, I don't look the way I used to...... so I-" "Do you not want to have sex with me Rex?" His eyes jumped up to yours shocked before he rushed out, "Of course I do, I have never wanting anything than to be with you again in this moment." "Then whats the problem? Because from what I can see right now you are still as sexy as the first time I laid eyes on you." Rex only blushes again and looks down, before you grab the sides of his face and force him to look into your eyes as you smile deviously and ask innocently,"Or is it because a certain part of you doesn't work quite right anymore?" Rex's demeanor changed instantly and he growled flipping you over face down onto the bed and pinned your hands down as he ground his hips into yours and you could only moan at the very prominent buldge, as Rex mutter, "I'll show you just how well it still works, cyare." He managed to strip you both down in record time, before you felt the head of his cock nudge that your entrance and you could only moan and try and push back onto him. Rex grabbed your hips to steady them before he pushed in as slowly as he possibly could, savoring the feeling of your walls gripping him tightly again after all these years. When he bottomed out, both of you moaned and you couldn't help but clench around him at how full you felt, and wiggle your ass trying to get him to move. After a few seconds he did, pulling out slowly before slamming back into you and immediately hitting that spot inside of you that only he could ever reach. Rex repeated this over and over until you were a whiny mess and you were begging him to go faster. But rather than change his pace, Rex only pulled you up so your back was to his chest and as his pace stayed the same he reached around and pressed against your throbbing clit telling you, "Come one baby, I need you to cum around my cock..... I, kriff, I wanna feel yo-ou cum around me before I let go...Kri-iff please baby I'm so close." You could only roll yours eyes back as the pleasure of your orgasm instantly hit you as you heard Rex beg for you to cum. Only then did Rex curse and speed up his pace to something quicker and sloppy, and his pace did nothing but my your oversensitive walls hug his cock tighter, before with a low grunt Rex buried himself completely inside of you and you felt his cum fill you more than you already were.

After catching his breath, Rex pulled out and laid onto the bed pulling you on to his chest. You both laid there for a few minutes, you tracing you finger on his chest as you listened to his hear beat. Then you felt his cum start to seep out of you and you cringed and started to get up, only to be stopped by Rex's arms pulling you back down. "Where are you going cyare?" "I was just gonna get something to clean myself up with. I'll be right back i promise." This time as you started to move, Rex flipped you onto your back and said, "Who said we were done? I have lost time to make up for, cyare..." And when you felt his fully hard cock press into you again, you knew you were in for a L O N G but pleasure filled night.

[dakarimainink]

Story Time

WARNING: fluff, cute, angst, awkward, alcohol, stranger meets stranger

Character: Pedro Pascal

Wordcount: 1.8K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by me! 😊

Oh god, please let me know what you think of this. The way of telling it is new to me, but I kind of liked the flow of it. Keep in mind this is told in a vocal language as if I actually tell it to you. Let me know if you liked it or not, any feedback on this is very much welcome.

Okay, let me tell you about the first time I met Pedro Pascal. This was (I believe) right before shooting of GOT season 4. I was, at the time, not a huge TV or movie person, except I actually did watch GOT because it was so huge and my friends kinda got me in to it. And I also watched Breaking Bad, because let’s face it, it’s a brilliant series. Anyways, here is the story of my embarrassing first meeting with Pedro Pascal.

It was a late night in New York. I had been to a comedy club with some friends of mine; laughing our asses off and drinking. Not gonna lie, I don’t remember the comedian (sorry), but I do remember he wore the cleanest pair of white Converse shoes I’ve ever seen on a person. I don't know why I remember that, but yeah.

Now, I had told my friends I would walk home, as I only lived a few blocks down the road. They had insisted on me taking a taxi with them, but I refused. Honestly, I didn't want to waste money on it and I had walked home alone before. Being the stubborn woman I was, they gave up and let me walk. Besides, I sober faster up and avoid a hangover with some fresh air before bed (or at least as fresh air one can get in NYC).

Walking home, I stumbled a little on the slightly uneven sidewalk.

Now let me point out that I am not drunk. I am however tipsy, but not so gone that I am not aware of my surroundings. If someone was to walk up to me, I could easily punch them and run off, if necessary. But I would run with a slight tilt, if you know what I mean. Not that I actually want to punch someone, because I am honestly scared of hurting anyone (raise your hand if you have childhood trauma), but I will for survival.

Anyways. Walking home, the nightlife was booming. I think it was about nine in the evening, so the streets were littered with people either already drunk or going to the club getting drunk. Basically a normal Saturday evening. I did not envy the people bending over a bush, begging for nothing to splash back onto them as they puked their guts out, just to go back into the club and start the process all over again.

Being a woman walking alone that late, in NYC anywhere, you can already imagine the disgusting men catcalling me, throwing comments thinking I would rush to them and beg them to take me then and there.

It honestly baffles me how men actually think those kinds of things work, because newsflash, it doesn't. It's literally disgusting and I have to force myself to not gag and throw up.

So walking home, ignoring the nauseating comments, I passed by the same buildings, stores, clubs and restaurants I had done probably a million times before. I did consider stopping by my favourite burger shop Greasy Joe’s (classic name, am I rite?), but knew my body rather wanted to crash down in bed.

As I was just about two blocks away from my home, I managed to trip on my own feet. 

Now I am not a person who often trip over or stumble at all, but for some godforsaken reason, my feet decided that, right outside - what I would call an exclusive restaurant - (mostly because it was too expensive for mere mortals to eat there) I fell to my knees, luckily embracing myself on my hands.

For a moment I froze, my body trying to assess what happened and what the damage was. I remember it felt like needles prickling into the palms of my hands and on my knees. I was just begging I didn’t ruin my jeans as I had recently purchased them. (Jeans are seriously expensive, especially when you are gifted with thighs of a goddess, ready to crush anything coming in-between)

I also remember it felt like the whole world went silent for a moment, as if my hearing was not important as my brain was trying hard to get an overview of my own state.

I heard a male mumble and then a hand appearing in front of my face. Then a little more mumbling until I finally caught some words. “... Help you up.” I instinctively grabbed the hand, supporting myself as it pulled me up.

And again, my legs wanted to be difficult tonight for some reason, so of course my knees gave in - not sure if it was because of the fall or if I just truly had bad fortune that night, or perhaps that I was in fact, more than just tipsy - and I tumbled forward and smacked my head onto what I didn’t realise at first, was a human chest.

I placed my hands onto the torso and carefully pushed back awkwardly. I stared at my hands as I realised what I was pushing against and winced and snapped my hands away from the person in front of me.

I felt my ears and cheeks burn, I mean like, seriously burn so badly it felt like a second degree burn. I looked up to - what I quickly realised was - a man’s face and he seemed to be a bit embarrassed as well, as he was also coloured in his cheeks (definitely not as bad as mine though)

I didn’t recognise him at all, but you can already guess who the person was (Yup, Pedro himself).

What really caught me off guard was his eyes. They were so dark I could actually see my reflection in them. There was also a spark in them due to the yellow lights emitting from the restaurant he had apparently just exited.

We were both kind of frozen and embarrassed and my brain was not going to help me even form a single “thank you” and or “sorry”. Luckily, his brain was working better than mine, so he was the one to speak up first.

“That was quite the fall, are you alright?” He actually seemed worry for my little tumble. I hadn’t even hit my head and he looked down upon me as if I was a hurt child.

I said of course I was fine, I wasn’t really hurt and that I was just on my way home. He asked if I needed a taxi, but of course I didn’t need that, I was just two blocks away from my home, so I politely refused.

He asked if he could escort me the rest of the way, but I told him no, because he was a stranger, but not only a stranger, but a male stranger. He really didn’t want me to walk home alone, but he understood my point of view. He insisted on calling for a taxi, but I told him it would be a waste, as it would probably take longer for the taxi to arrive than me just walking straight home.

As I explained this, I was already kind of backing away from him and towards home. He didn’t push it any further, but I swear I could feel him watch me as I continued to walk away.

However, two doors down, was one of the hottest nightclubs in NYC. Mostly higher middle-class and lower high-class would go there. Especially “kids” with their parents credit cards would go there frequently. (Now I use the word kid, even though they are probably in their early twenties and I am in my mid twenties, but to me, kids because of their behaviour)

As I passed, a self entitled kid with too much alcohol and self esteem approached me - I could smell the alcohol before he reached me - and stopped me in my tracks. I fisted my hands as he tried to push himself onto me, which was quite disgusting by the way. His perfume were oozing off him, and that mixed with the alcohol was making me gag.

He kept asking for my name, if I was down for a good time, if he could buy me a drink, if I wanted to come into the club with him, if he could have my number, if I wanted to go home with him and so on and so forth. I gently pushed him away, which seemed to set something off in him and he began spitting rude comments. Mostly stuff I had heard before come out of a rejected man’s mouth; so nothing new.

He began walking quite widely and wobbly towards me, as if he wanted to pick a fight me. However, half way towards me, he suddenly stopped and I noticed a presence next to me.

You guessed it, it was Pedro again.

He asked the man to stop and waved over the security guard who somehow missed the loud kid.

As soon as the kid was forced away by the guard, I thanked him once more. He turned to walk away, but I called for him (I didn’t know his name, so I casually just said “Hey!”) He turned around and I told him he could walk me home if the offer still stood.

I remember a smile crossed his lips as I told him and he jogged over to me before we strolled towards my block.

As we began our walk, he held out his hand to me and introduced himself and I shook it and told him my first name as well. Now, instead of talking about our jobs or family or whatever, we actually started talking about African animals, more specifically Elephants as we both considered them our favourite animal. We also had a friendly feud about coffee or tea, as I was (and still am) a tea drinker and he was a coffee drinker.

We were in the middle of talking books when I suddenly realised we were standing outside the entrance to my apartment building.

I'm not gonna lie, I was actually feeling a bit disappointed by this, as I had enjoyed our brief walk and conversation. A small part of me wanted to invite him in, just so we could continue our chat. I felt such a friendly vibe from him and knew if I didn’t get to know him now, I would probably never get to.

I had to, unfortunately, decide to end the journey here and smiled while thanking him. What I didn’t realise was my body slowly tilting forward and before I knew it, we were hugging each other. I had no idea why, but I sure as hell didn’t regret it.

Let me tell you, I have never, ever ever since, had a better or warmer hug ever. I seriously mean it, if you ever get the chance to hug this man, do it, because not only will it make you warm and fuzzy, but it seriously made me happy. Like I could feel the weight of the world seep out of my body and a light just burn within me. I am not kidding.

So we said our goodbyes. I unlocked the entrance door, stepped inside and we gave each other one last glance before I walked up the stairs to my floor.

What I didn’t know then, was that I would meet Pedro Pascal again.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know and I will happily add you)

@cynic-spirit, @lililolli, @notabotiswear, @sara-alonso, @blankmooon, @xoxo-callie, @mamacitapascal, @thewaythisis, @greeneyedblondie44​, @stevie75, @mswarriorbabe80​

[zuffer-weird-girl]

What about a fluff scenario when kai and his s/o both were out on the street when they were kids and pops took kai in and not his s/o so kai helped her out while she was still on the street until one day she stop coming to their spot. Kai in his early 20s and going to a meeting with pops and saw his s/o. She is the same but she's an highly skilled assassin and could kill you in an blink of an eye. (I can't figure out an ending😢😡)

"I found some food!" He flinched at your scream before seing you, upside down... hanging from a tree on the park you two usually met.

"You dont even know if that's safe to eat." He mumbled with a stoic face as you giggled, jumping perfectly back down.

"Bla bla bla you always need to make sure not to get sick, bla bla bla-!" You tried to mimicked his voice, smiling widely at the annoyed look he gave to you before snatching the fruit out of your hand.

"You're such a pain.." he mumbled whiel rubbing the fruit on the cleanest parts of his shirt... he knew it wouldn't clean although he could at least fool his pickup stomach enough.

"Oi!" You exclaimed with a mouthful "I am the pain who got yourself some food okay?!"

"Forgot about that part since it isn't always necessary." He smirked at the extremely offended look you had on as he took one careful bite out of the fruit-

He gasped as you tackled him on the ground with some screams as you two fought to at least mantain some balance... yet both of you rolled on the ground like cats playing on the mud. And just when he fought he won you pinned him on the ground as he let out a "oof" when his head hitted the grass.

"You're the worst on fights Chisaki~" you playfull teased him as he pushed you away from him with a huff as you laughed.

"I rather much prefer the nicknames you gave me than this stupid surname." He mumbled while patting himself as you got up with a frow but smiled.

"So I am THAT close to you to call you by your first name? Kai?" You singed his name and muffled your laugh as the pale cheeks of Chisaki started to flush.

"You are most like my only company. Unfortunately..." you scoffed as you got up with crossed arms.

"Since is such a pain to be my side then why do you follow me around huh?"

"Experience on the streets. You have those while I am still... learning." He muttered as you scoffed again. Such a lame excuse to being around you... Kai couldn't lie even he wanted to...

"Yeah yeah right. I'm going to search some food since after that play fight we pretty much lost it..."

"And whose fault is that?" He arche done of his eyebrows up as you poked your tongue at him.

"I will be back soon."

He nodded as you trailed off... although the least he could have expected it was to appear a man to offer him a home... a place to stay...

He was so shocked that for one moment he fprgoted about you... The old man said he was going to get the car just when he was about to ask if you could come along as well...

"So you got the locks now." He widened hsi golden eyes and turned around to see you smiling sadly at him.

"I will ask him if you-" you lifted your hand up with a shake of your head.

"No Kai. The man choosed you. So only you will go."

He furrowed his eyebrows before hearing the man calling for him. He turned his gaze back at you to see you were already walking away.

"I will help (Y/n)!" You stopped on your track and turned to him, with a determined look on his golden eyes "Just meet me on our usual spot and I will help! Just like you did for me, I own you!"

You frowned and smiled, before letting out one of the sweetest laughs he ever heard.

"You dont own me anything. But I will accept that!"

With that you walked away as he felt the man's hand on his shoulder to call him.

.

..

.

.

.

He sighed as he stared at the streets pacing by as he and Pops were sitted on the car. The last time he saw (Y/n) was only a few weeks after Pops took him in... it passed more than ten years since he searched that damn city for you...

It's funny how you never seemed to dissapear from his mind... ever time he passes by your meeting spot, he feels a ache on his chest yet a hidden feeling of hope to just see you back... waiting for him.

He blamed himself for it... he should had been more persistent on taking you back with him to the yakusa... you would have a better life than that oen you had.

"We're here." Pops voice broke out of his thoughts as the old man patted his shoulders "Try to not kill anyone, for our sake yeah?" It was meant as a joke but it came out as a scolding.

Pops would never leave it down his... outbursts on fights for the Shie Hassaikai.

They entered the underground ring and he cringed at how dirty it was that place... blood, sweat, tears, drool, food you name it. All sprawled out on the floor.

Pops sitted down on a table as he mentioned for Kai to stay back as the elders talked and he traveled his gaze around the place in judgement...

"So what about that my fella?"

"I dont rhink is a good idea. My son can be quite... harsh when it comes to these things." Pops muttered while eyeing Kai with a scowl.

"Dont worry buddy. My jewel can pretty much face your kiddo." The man with a cigarette spoke between chuckles as Pops made a thoughtful face before looking at Kai whose only sighed and nodded, already taking his jacket off.

"If your man there defeat then you will have our partnership."

"For sure. But this will happen on a secluded place. We're not animals." Pops spoke on a harsh tone as the other man laughed but nodded.

Kai only scowled at the audacity of the other male as he followed them and listened to Pops instructions on to NOT use his quirk to kill his opponent.

He was tired of listening to those rules.

He entered the place and it was quiet as Pops took his seat and the other elder took his. For a moment he was sure that it wasn't going to happen anything before he dodged with a grunt a chain that came on his way.

A woman with a metal mask covering half of her glace appeared as she dropped from the ceiling and glared at him through her hair.

He mantained on guard yet was eyeing her like she was no other than a piece of dirt.

She came at him running before he grabbed the chains on his gloved hands and twisted them around to cage her and throw his opponent in the air.

"Not so smug now huh?" He muttered to himself before tsking at how easily she freed herself from hsi grasp and landed on the ground on a crouched position.

E blocked her punchs and kicks easily despite from how fast she was being. It didn't even sounded like she even needed sto take a breath.

He used his quirk on the ground to push her all the way and cage her on the wall by the construction. For one second he thought it was all over before a explosion happened and his barrier of concret were broken as she took a knife out of her pocket.

"What's is the meaning of this?!" Pops shouted at his partner whose only laughed.

"Everything is fair on the wat my friend!"

Chisaki only scoffed and dodged all the attacks she made, wincing at when she actually manage to cut his cheeks as he lost his patient and grabbed on her wrist, already preparing to use the overhaul. Although on a moment of distraction when he pinned her down she kicked him so hard on the guts that he coughed as she was pinning him on the ground now, his head hitting teh concret with a grunt... her weapon discarded far away since he kicked.

Only one person would be able to do all of this and not provoke any hives to break out from his skin...

And staring with wide eyes better, he noticed the color of her eyes... (E/c) bright ones...

"(Y/n)?" He panted as he noticed her surprise on her feautures as she unthighten her grip on him and slowly got a bit away from him.

She arched one eyebrow at him, her face was only readable because of her eyes and the way her eyebrows moved.

Still on the ground. He got half of his body up, eyes still wide as the elders asked what was happening.

She slowly took off her mask and thoughts were confirmed. The one he was fighting was (Y/n)...

"Do I... know you? No one calls me that unless..." she slowly got up from him and maintained a safe distance as he grunted while getting up.

"Can't recognize me I see." He sighed, regret could come later as he slowly took his mask off and looked at her features widening in shock. "Kai Chisaki, ring any bells to you?"

It was silence for a bit before you gasped with a laugh and almost tackled him on the ground again if it wasn't from him being prepared this time.

"Oh my GOD! Is that really you?!" You shouted while hugging him as he awkwardly lowered his arms down to give you a proper hug.

"I could ask the same? What happened? You look so different than I remember!" He chuckled wearily as you gave out a hearted laugh, one he missed to hear.

"I could say the same thing to you! Look at how you got! The bony boy I met didn't had those muscles!" You circles around him before stopping and muttering "and such a nice package..."

He scoffed, ignoring the forming blush before twirling around to meet your gaze.

"More impulsive than you used to be, I see." You laughed before noticing the two elders entering, Pops with a confused as heck face as teh other opened his arm in confusion.

"The hell is going on here?"

"Chisaki my boy, you know this lady?"

"The girl I searched for years." He showed his palm at you "Is her, (Y/n)"

"Ah, lovely reunion between two killers. How adorable." You two let out confused noises before looking at eachother.

"You killed someone? You? Whose is scared of cockroaches?" He asked in disbelief and arrogance as you furrowed your eyebrows with crossed arms.

"(Y/n) happens to be one of my favorite and best assassins." The man spoke as Pops furrowed his eyebrows.

"So that's why we couldn't find her. You never reveal your assassins names to anyone, not even bussines neither of partners." Pops spoke as the man nodded.

As the elders talked they stopped to see you two, Pops smilling as the other furrowed his eyebrows at the way Chisaki looked at you and you looked back...

Oh, they can tell how this is going to end by only seing the two old friends reuniting...

[quidfree]

prompt: tdbk in a post-apocalyptic setting (HEHEH)

self-servicing AND a helping hand to a friend in need, we love a good strat

this got incredibly out of hand but i hope you enjoy!!

--

it’s been two months and five days since he last saw someone that katsuki lays eyes on him. two months and five days, and yes, he is fucking keeping score, why wouldn’t he be?

two months and five days is long. two months and five days is long enough that he’s taken up the habit of muttering to himself to fill the air, because dead silence makes him paranoid, always expecting sudden interruption, and he chooses to ignore the fact that muttering to himself is a quirk he might have picked up elsewhere. jesus. if deku, scrawny and asthmatic and perennially, psychotically self-sacrificing, is somehow still alive, he thinks he might be glad to see him again, just out of sheer disbelief.

there’s other people he’d be glad to see. perfect timing, for the zombie apocalypse to erupt right when he’d been on a summer internship in tokyo. to think the old crone had been bitching about it before he’d left- don’t get mugged on the underground, all that shit. like he was some hare-brained tourist. like people didn’t expect him to mug them. whatever. he thinks his parents are safer, out in a smaller city, than anyone has been in tokyo, tells himself it’s not blind hope that makes him explain the radio silence away. it’s statistics, and the geography of the outbreak, and the memory of his mother beating a would-be pickpocket over the head with her shoe until he passed out.

six months ago he’d first walked into his cramped rental flat in tokyo, barely the space to unroll his mat. six days later the pandemic had begun. slowly, first, confusingly, two weeks of shadowing jeanist to court and back while the news got increasingly weirder, and then by the third things took a turn for the fucked, and his parents were calling frantically telling him to come home stat, but by then it was too late. tokyo’s the new york of japan- in sci-fi movies it’s always struck first. the city was on lockdown before he could so much as book a flight out.

that was five months ago. by four and a half his phone carrier service had gone dead.

he doesn’t like to linger on anything, but he especially doesn’t like to linger on what happened between the start and the middle of it, the slow descent from incomprehending disbelief into hell on earth. he doesn’t throw the term around- not one for flowery prose. for the first while there’d been something almost rewarding to it, the whole survival strategy, him and the interns and lawyers at jeanist’s office taking scope of their resources and planning their ways out. now it’s been two months and five days since he’s run into anyone alive, he fails to see the bright side.

the media called them the infected, or the walkers, or some other dumb shit, but everyone knows they’re zombies. it’s some kind of chemical weapon- americans, if you ask him- that’s mutated them, but they’re zombies by anyone’s definition. lumbering, decaying, dead, very keen on extending the invitation. the first time he’d seen one up close- whatever. he’d killed it. he’s killed so many by now he’s lost count, and that’s not an exaggeration. these days he’s not so big on those.

the office had been overrun, in the end. some of the other interns, panicking. bitten. dead. jeanist had held them off while katsuki dragged hysterical staffers out of the window, and the last he’s seen of the man he was catching his unflappable gaze as the doors burst open and jeanist slammed the window shut.

they’d scattered. maybe he would have stayed on, tried the group thing out of a sense of responsibility alone, but there were too many subgroups for him to rotate around. he’d split off, eventually, cut his losses. sometimes he catches someone he recognises walking the streets, wonders when and how and what. he’s still never seen jeanist. he thinks probably he offed himself.

if it ever comes to it that’s what he’s doing. he has a gun ready for it. one bullet. in the apartment he’d stayed in for a while, some forensic doctor’s place, he’d studied the angle that worked best. straight through the temples, angled down.

then there had been that thing with the league. he doesn’t want to think about that, but he does, constantly, because that’s how he knows. two months and five days. the last person he spoke to was that fucking girl.

like zombies weren’t enough- criminals who fancy themselves cultists roam the streets in packs. it’s like every shitty blockbuster movie he’s never bothered to see packed into one.

two months. five days. there’s no way of communicating with the outside world. after he’d shaken off the league he’d had jack shit on him- lost his bag in the initial fight, and his apartment was a lost cause. in the end he’d made his way back to the firm, but that had been a literal dead end too. he’d managed to retrieve, of all things, his phone, skirting the streets around the firm, probably dropped in their original escape. it’s functionally useless but he’s managed to charge it once or twice, stare at old photos and texts that fail to send. he has nothing else of his own except the clothes he’d worn that last day with jeanist.

he’s remade his belongings, obviously. he’s competent, as it turns out, in apocalypses. somehow it doesn’t surprise him. he works out a routine. when he’d first found a hole to burrow himself in post-league he’d spent days just picking up patterns- when, who, from where, how. once he was entirely sure he’d gotten it down to a science he’d risked it back out, mapping the area out incrementally, one rotation at a time. two months and five days in he has it down to an art instead.

he moved regularly for the first month post-league, avoiding anywhere that seemed inhabited by zombies and people alike. can’t trust anyone, and besides it’s way too much of a liability having other people around to get themselves bitten. he can look after himself, but he’s not signing up for charity work. by the second month he’d found his current address, the top floor of a mid-rise apartment complex in meguro city. apartment complexes are risky, but this one’s door locks are still functional, and once he’d cleared out the ground floor and made the rounds to check for stragglers he’d wagered it about as secure as it could get. the stairs are a bitch, but the zombies don’t like them either, preferring to straggle in lobbies, and for another thing the height is convenient. the roof’s close by for a way out, and it gives him a good view of the surroundings.

the apartment itself is nothing special. residential. he picked the cleanest one, which also meant the one half-moved out in a hurry. he pretends like he thinks the owners got out but he spotted a suitcase with their name abandoned in the elevator. the guy was a teacher at the university. the woman was in sales. it’s decent for a tokyo flat, two bedrooms, a bathroom, good kitchen, nice living area. the fridge had been full of expired goods, but the shelves had some cans in them- soup, rice, beans. pots and pans. he’s been working through the floors of the place one room at a time taking inventory, lugging the useful shit back up. nothing beyond the strictly practical- he takes food, medecine, clothes, someone’s watch once, binoculars. he’s not making a home for himself, just stocking up. he sleeps with his bag on his back, the essentials locked and loaded. the gun was an apartment find too.

his biggest problem is transport. he recognised this early on, because so could anyone with half a brain. tokyo’s teeming with public transports overrun by the undead, cars abandoned on the streets, but the actual streets are packed day in and day out. whatever movie said zombies hate the sun was full of shit, because as far as he can tell the only time they actually react to the weather is when it rains. all night and day they’re shuffling in tireless motions around the city, gaining numbers. there’s a rhythm to it, sure- they’re more sluggish at night- but it’s an incessant flow. he can’t drive a car, has found no convenient manual stored nearby, and google went and croaked on him when the electricity did, so there’s no way he can just take advantage of a lull and jump in. by the time he’s figured out how to get any given vehicle to start he’ll be surrounded. even if he could find a way in, there’s no way out- driving through streets packed with zombies is a doomed exercise, especially given that half of the cars in the city are busted or low on fuel.

his current plan involves boats. he’s not sure if zombies can swim yet, but they don’t like the rain so he’s betting no, and even if they do they’d fare no better than a human at climbing a boat from the waters below it. if he can make it to tokyo bay somehow- at least off the coast there’ll be room to manoeuvre. but he needs to figure out the basics of ship-operating first, and also to relocate his supplies nearer to the bay somehow. if he ends up on the open seas he’ll need the food to last him the journey.

so he’s been doing this. rounds, collecting shit. taking inventory. scoping the streets out. he spends the nights planning, the early mornings reading. there’s no power in the building. it’s freezing. six months since his internship, winter rolling in. if he gets to tokyo bay the waters will be frigid, but the sea doesn’t freeze over.

his biggest concern at the moment is hypothermia, if he’s being honest. he’s collected every fucking duvet in the building, it feels like, but there’s only so much he can bury himself under. he’d be warmer if he didn’t insist on bathing in melted snow, but he went so long without washing in autumn that he fucking refuses to waste the opportunity. he smells like some ridiculous apple berry blast bullshit because he’s cycling through shampoos, but sometimes he thinks he’s only sane when he’s brushing his teeth in the mornings so he’s not about to let up on the hygiene.

three and a half months ago he was meant to be back at school. he has no idea what’s happened to his classmates. most of them were home for the summer. he thinks yaoyorozu was abroad. lucky her. kirishima was the last he heard from, all suppressed terror, and even now it makes him feel sick to think about it, because he knows full well the asshole was scared for him. sometimes he thinks about what it would have been like facing this shit as a group, but he never dwells on it. he’s better off alone.

he’s cold. he’s tired. he needs to get to the nearest library, because no one in the building has shit about boats. he doesn’t want to leave the building yet, but he needs a book. can’t go into this shit blind, not without knowing what he’ll need once he gets there. and besides he needs to stay sharp on the streets- get back into the swing of it, literally. one month since he moved in and he’s barely seen a zombie in the rotting flesh. the doors have been holding up, and he’s far up enough that none of the regulars outside can smell him, decide to unionize and break the door down.

he’s had an assortment of weapons, since the start of this. most effective was the gun, also a heavy chair once. his trusty hockey stick had snapped on his way into the building, a month ago, leaving him to fend the last three tenants off with goldfish bowls and doors to the neck. he’s found a sturdy baseball bat since that he’s claimed as new weapon of choice, though never used. he takes this, when he goes. the bat, the backpack that never leaves his back, the longest coat he can find in his collection. not the heaviest, despite the biting cold, because that restrains movement, but the longest, to minimize contact. hat and gloves for the same reason. balaklava just for the cold.

the apartment is empty as he winds his way down, footsteps loud, and it’s dusk- just late enough that the zombies are slower, though not late enough that it really makes a difference. it’s be too dark if it were; he’s trying to save flashlights for real emergencies.

the setagaya library is the only actual library near him, as the maps inform him, but too far to risk. in the address book he finds a local bookshop three blocks away, and it’s there that he heads, already cold to the bone as he grits his teeth and locks the complex door assiduously behind him. there are zombies just across the street beginning to moan in his direction. he ignores them, breaking into a jog.

maybe because their blood doesn’t flow to their brains, maybe because their muscles are deteriorating: zombies aren’t incredibly fast or incredibly intelligent. what they are is resilient, and single-minded. but outrun them and outsmart them he can, and so he does- runs the paths he’s memorized, sticks to corners and shadows and scales ladders and crosses rooftops and just about manages to get to the street in question without even having to swing his bat.

once he gets there, though, he gets swinging. the bookshop is in an unfortunate position, and there’s an entire group parked in front of it. he lets them spot him first, so they break off in his direction, then climbs onto the overturned truck they’ve shifted to and springs back down into the doorframe of the bookshop, kicking the door in before they can register his itinerary. he slams it shut just before a greying hand scratches at it in outrage, heart pounding a steady tattoo, then glances around rapidly. no sign of life, but that means nothing.

there is, then, an unmistakable jingling sound from the very back corner of the room, behind rows and rows of antique-looking books. keys, or metal on metal. movement.

company, katsuki thinks, between anticipation and trepidation. his bat sits comfortably in his hands as he raises it.

jingling, closer, and he moves in on instinct, breathing feeling loud as he brushes past the anthropology section. he can just about see around the corner when a sudden sixth sense makes him whip around, bat swinging down heavily, and just in the nick of time- wood connects with metal, hard, knocking him back a pace as his teeth snap together from the impact, but he’s swinging again in self-defense just as there’s a sharp intake of breath and his brain catches up- red, white, painfully familiar. the bat makes an aborted spasm.

“bakugou,” shouto todoroki says, in disbelieving tones, crowbar lowered but not dropped. katsuki gapes.

“am i fucking hallucinating?”

the crowbar lowers further.

it is him, unmistakably. maybe with someone else he would have hesitated longer, but todoroki's hard not to single out. his red-white hair is tousled, long behind his ears like he's absently tucked it and forgotten about it, and he's grimy, smells sour and dusty, but it's him. katsuki's own hands stay gripped around the bat, their gazes playing some odd symmetrical game as they catalogue each other for the same exact thing- looking for bite-marks. todoroki's less covered than katsuki is, but there's blood on him, old, dried. too old for recent bites, anyways. inconclusive.

"what are you doing in-" todoroki starts, maybe having concluded that there's no way to assess his status with the layers he has on, but then his frown twists. "oh. your internship?"

which answers katsuki's own question, sort of, because now that he thinks of it enji was on that high-profile murder case in the high court. still- still, his brain is stuck on the incongruity of it, shouto todoroki in the apparently living flesh, and it's been two months and five days. he just keeps staring.

"i came for a book," is what leaves his lips, eventually, rough, and his voice sounds hoarse with disuse. it jars him into action, moving past todoroki on auto-pilot, because somehow he can't quite register his presence, doesn't know where to begin. he wasn't factoring this into his day.

it's dark inside, books hard to discern, so he gets his flashlight out, hits it against a shelf so it alights. there's a section on travel near the back. nautical travels of the eastern seas. useless. a map book of the japanese seas- maybe. he mechanically slides it into his bag. his fingers feel rigid. he's still cold. what the fuck is shouto todoroki doing holed up in a bookstore? where is his father? how long has he been here? what is he doing, alive, talking, walking, in the apocalypse, ambling into katsuki's routine with a crowbar in hand?

he can't see or hear him at all. now he's back here he can tell the ringing was rigged up- tiny trap-wires set around the store, what looks like fishing wire with bells attached. smart. of course it is. he's losing his mind. where has the bastard gone? is he even here? it's fucking freezing in the bookstore. where does he sleep? he hadn't looked starving. actually he hadn't looked anything- just blank as usual, barring the surprise. fuck! he's been staring at the same book for a good thirty seconds without registering the title.

beginner's guide to boating. miraculous. he nearly breaks todoroki's kneecaps when he sees his legs appear silently next to him.

"fuck! don't sneak up on me, you asshole!"

"boats," todoroki says. "that's your plan?"

it makes him flare hot with something like rage, because he doesn't fucking want input on it, doesn't want to be told odds, and it has him on his feet, slamming todoroki back into the opposite bookshelf within seconds.

"mind your own damn business!"

todoroki seems mildly startled at best, shifting a little so a book isn't digging into his neck, and for a moment katsuki is distracted by the scalding warmth of him under his arm. he doesn't know when he last came into contact with a living body. it's disorienting. he thinks probably it was the senior partner who fell down the stairs, minutes before the zombies swarmed the lobby, pulse skittering frantically with fear.

he drops todoroki, steps back. two months five days. maybe he's gone a little crazy.

whatever! whatever. he's fully functioning, he has his book, he's leaving. he's going to be off-schedule at this rate, times gone muddy with distraction. even without touching him he feels like there's residue warmth on his palm, making the rest of him shiver by contrast. if the zombies could have just gotten properly active in summer...

he's halfway to the door when he remembers- again- todoroki is actually there, watching him inscrutably from the bookshelf, swaying a little on his feet. despite himself he turns to stare back. he doesn't know what to- this wasn't in the plan, he doesn't know. he's going anyways.

it's because he's staring-cum-glaring at todoroki that he sees his eyes widen, and then he's leaping forwards on instinct as the window in the door shatters, decaying arm bursting through as loud moaning suddenly fills the dead silence.

"shit!"

"it's because there's two of us," todoroki reasons, in a tone like he's annoyed with himself for not realising this, which would make katsuki feel marginally better about his own stupid lack of thought if he wasn't so pissed. he'd counted on the zombies losing interest on his presence once he was out of sight, but the smell of two live humans in close proximity would obviously keep some of them near.

"is there another way out of this place?"

"back entrance, but it leads into a dead-end alley," todoroki retorts, suddenly functioning, eyeing the creaking door as thumping intensifies from the other side. "there's a way to scale onto the drain-pipe above but it wasn't made to take two people's weight."

"shit," katsuki curses, feelingly. "where's the drain-pipe lead?"

"roof. i don't know if either of us could scale it fast enough for the other to follow before they get there."

katsuki looks at him, crouched calmly stacking something or other into a loose duffel bag, rusty crowbar by his feet, then looks back to the groaning door. his gut tightens with a sort of pissed off fatalism.

"how long 'd it take you to get to the roof? five minutes?"

"i could do it in three, maybe less," todoroki estimates. "it's slower with the frost."

three minutes. katsuki hoists the bat higher, takes a step then two back from the door.

"fine. go. i'll follow."

"bakugou-"

"it's the most logical fucking plan of action," katsuki snaps, eyes still on the door, adrenaline spiking. "if you get up there before i get outside i can make it to the drainpipe before anyone nabs me. i can hold them off for three fucking minutes. and you're the one who knows the way up. you go."

"i know," todoroki says, which makes katsuki glance back at him, finds his face set with nothing but fixed determination. "i was going to say to give me your bag. it'll make it easier to climb."

there's something about this that makes katsuki's head briefly thud with something like a pounding headache, lungs gone tight, but he refocuses, blinks away the dizzy spell. the last fucking thing he wants is to give the bag away, but unless the plan goes as hoped he's dead anyways, so there's no point in arguing.

he shrugs his backpack off, slides the gun out, shoves it into his back pocket. todoroki fastens the straps around his shoulders without comment, then turns and runs, not wasting any time. it makes something in him-

the door breaks in.

there's five of them at least, the ones from before. the first one goes down with a direct hit to the head, skull caving in with a crunching sound, but he has to retreat immediately, make them spread out of their pack formation as he zig-zags back through the rows of books. they're slower than humans but not slow, breaking into a fast paced shuffle after him; he turns a sharp corner, doubles back as fast as he can to catch a second one from behind. crack, snap. the one in front lunges back before he can swing again, sending him running back; he jumps onto the seller's counter, dodging an arm, then brings the bat down full-force onto the zombie's neck. three. there's another one nearing the broken door, the other two circling back to the front at the commotion. he jumps over the counter, ducking under an arm, knocks into the nearest bookshelf with all of his weight, sending it sprawling towards the door, books flying and frame landing awkwardly across the doorframe. it doesn't block entry, but it befuddles the would-be incomers.

there's an arm grabbing his shoulder; he dodges a gaping mouth, bat spinning to hit at the rotting jaw, once, twice, bones splintering decisively on the second hit, but the last straggler is on him and the others are crawling in through the door. he runs, down to the back of the store, nearly trips over todoroki's traps himself as he goes, miraculously jumps clean of them as his pursuers stumble. it gives him the seconds to jump up to the back portion of the shop, grab a nearby chair and throw it at the advancing huddle, knocking them back a step, then turn sharply into a row, sprinting down to the back of the room where the emergency exit sign hangs half-broken. it's closed, likely behind todoroki, but he slams through it before any of the zombies near, staggers at the sharp gust of cold air that hits once he's out. the sun is nearly set, casting a red haze over the alley, and there's a pack of six zombies right beneath the glinting drainpipe, still trailing after todoroki's scent, moaning around the corner signalling backup. fuck.

there's a loud scraping from above, then todoroki's head appears over the edge of the roof, something grey and unwieldy in his hands; a satellite dish comes falling down, catching speed as it goes. it hits the pack dead-centre, crushing two of the zombies into pieces on impact, others reeling backwards in confusion, and he doesn't have the time to question his odds four-on-one. he runs in while they're still dazed, beats one into the wall, head splattering, turns and swings into the second as it zeroes in on him, head collapsing inward and drenching him in blood. the other two are too close to hit; he twists, jumps back, curses, eyes the alley entry where others have scented blood. fucking- no, two on one, god, he's not dying two on one, not after the bullshit he's been through. he kicks heavily into the one's chest, just missing the hand trying to nab his ankle, which sends it knocking into the other, and like that they're just aligned enough that he yells and slams the bat through the first one's head, in three rapid blows, hitting the one behind it on the third as bits of skull go flying. it's not enough to take it out; he hits again, manic, and it gets him on the second go. then he's scrambling to the drain pipe, mindful of the others closing in, shoves his bat down the back of his shirt and under his waistband before he throws himself at the drainpipe.

"brace against the wall," todoroki calls, almost in the moment he does so, hands slip-sliding on the damp pipe as his boots hit concrete; there are arms nearing, outstretched, but he bunches his stomach and drags himself up, feet first then arms, side of his arm scraping heavily against the wall as he moves almost horizontally upwards, fingers clenched around metal. the fucking gloves are no help; he pauses, braced and shaking with tension, to rip his gloves off with his teeth, one hand then the next, dropping to the floor below as his bare palms hit the freezing metal.

he's so cold it hurts, but he's halfway up the wall. methodically he moves. one foot. other foot. one hand. other hand. stomach muscles, straining, arms pulling. up a fraction. then another. then another.

"wait," todoroki says, closer than he feels, and he glances up for the first time, finds him an arm and a half's length away. "you'll slide at the top."

"then what the fuck do you suggest i do?" katsuki bites, half a yell, too strained to scream. todoroki leans, heavy, arms outstretched.

"do one more. then take my hand."

katsuki wishes he could spit on him. todoroki's expression has gone tight like he knows what he's thinking, like he's not sure katsuki won't let himself fall all the way down rather than put himself into the uncalloused hands of shouto todoroki.

the pipe creaks. katsuki moves up, ignores the way his blood boils, eyes the outstretched hands. he can hear todoroki breathing, hot against the cold air.

"drop me and i'll turn you."

he braces. one hand leaves the pipe, and for a godawful moment he's grasping at nothing. their hands connect, rearrange themselves; todoroki has a death-like grip on his wrist. his foot slides. the second hand is thrown rather than extended, and todoroki's eyes flash alarmingly as their fingers brush and miss, but he doesn't fall, hangs there by an arm for a heartbeat, jolt like he's dislocated his shoulder before his boot catches something and he shoves upwards, todoroki grabbing hold of his hand and yanking full-body at him.

katsuki falls over the top of the roof in disjointed movements, the both of them half-hitting each other as momentum carries them down, lands with an elbow in todoroki's stomach and a hit of tile to the jaw.

his head spins; he shoves up immediately, falls back down when his arms protest, adrenaline pounding hysterically. his limbs are shaking with belated exertion. todoroki is still holding his wrists, punishingly tight, his breaths heavy nearby. his body is still hot beneath him.

he scrabbles backwards, onto his knees, todoroki dropping his hands and dragging himself up to his elbows. for a moment they stare at each other, panting loudly.

he wants to yell at him but the words don't come. two months, five days. it's not even todoroki's fault, really. he was living there unperturbed. there's a flush of exertion over his cheeks now, and maybe he's just gone crazy what with the constant thinking about unbeating hearts but he feels a little obsessively interested in the visible flow of blood beneath his skin, wants him pink all over if that'll prove him living a minute longer.

he shakes himself, exhales in a burst.

"are you all right?" todoroki asks, and up close katsuki realises his voice is hoarser too. in the shop he'd been too dumbstruck to register it, but it's there beneath his normal cadence, a scratchy undertone. he hasn't spoken in a while either. something about it-

all right, he'd asked. unbitten, he means. katsuki shakes his head.

"we need to get going."

he hadn't meant the 'we', but he thinks at some point when todoroki's fingers dug into his arm hard enough to pierce flesh the message had gotten under his skin too. they're not fucking splitting up now. of course they're not. this isn't model un or a baseball match; it doesn't matter that the guy drives him insane. and this is todoroki, too- excruciatingly hyper-competent at every challenge life throws at him. if there's anyone less likely to rely on katsuki for the next however-long until one of them is forced to shoot the other, he hasn't met them.

"where?"

"my place. 's not far. how d'you get down from here?"

"the next building over has a fire-escape."

"fine. let's go then."

todoroki hands him back his backpack. he hits his bat against the wall to shake some bits of bone and flesh off, eyes unfocused on the task. he thinks desensitisation is the word. it's maybe the third or fourth time he's fought them off without registering anything about them once. usually he gets stuck on some detail or other, schoolgirl shirt or smile wrinkles. freckles. proof of life. there's that movie he watched once with kirishima and the rest of them, some kind of sci-fic thing, and at the end when the monsters come the dad shoots his whole family dead to spare them. turns out it's the military instead, come to rescue them. kirishima had cried.

questions pile up in his throat. he forces them down.

they jump from the rooftop to the next with relative ease, the gap narrow, his foot just catching on the edge before he rights himself. the fire escape is solid where the drain pipe wasn't. he wonders how in the fuck todoroki ended up here, in some old bookstore.

he's gotten good at scaling shit. he thinks in another life he'd have made a top-grade gymnast, or a superhero. when he'd broken out of the league's hold he'd made a spiderman worthy leap onto a clothes-line.

they make it back to the apartment as the sun vanishes, late, and because they're late his perfect scheduling is off, leaves them facing a pack of easily a dozen zombies swarming around the doors. there's another way in through the side, but it requires forcing a door open that he doesn't have keys for, and that means an entry-risk.

"i'll clear a way to the door," he says, hoisting his bat higher. "you keep them off my back."

todoroki follows his gaze, nods.

they advance in the dark, close together, and it's bizarre having someone breathing down his neck after so long, makes him on edge, expecting a bite that never comes. when the first zombie starts turning their way he breaks into a run, brings the bat down fast and heavy so it connects with a sick thud, flashlight clicking to life where he holds it between his teeth. it blinds one zombie long enough that he gets it too, and then it's chaos, flashlight swinging drunkenly as he batters this way and that, fighting off the clawing arms with irate kicks and loud swearing. if there's one thing he fucking loathes about the apocalypse it's how touchy-feely everyone is, all endlessly grasping hands and drooling maws straining for a piece of him. it makes his skin crawl, which makes him see red, which makes him go through fights like this, all furious movement, too keyed up to feel afraid. he never goes into a fight expecting to lose.

behind him, around him, wet crunching and moans track todoroki closing the pack; in off-beat synchronisation they move their way through the group, dropping bodies as they go. he's by the door before he knows it, light catching the heavy glass, switches the bat to one hand as he drags out the keys. the first time he'd gotten in the door had been open; his luckiest find since was the functioning key, sealing him out of harm's way. he's efficient with it, no fumbling, has it in and open in the time todoroki exhales sort of shortly as their backs connect. bakugou yanks the key out in the same movement he grabs blindly at todoroki's collar with his bat-holding hand, hooking a finger to swing him through the door and diving after him to slam the door shut on a wrist, bone snapping and the hand falling limply to the floor as they put their weight on the door for as long as it takes him to lock it again.

todoroki's crowbar is sopping red, guts in his hair; he casts a look around, doesn't even ask if katsuki thinks the door will hold, if katsuki has thought of their scent luring zombies in. most people would have.

he has, obviously. thought of it. that's why he lives on the top floor. the scent doesn't linger. doesn't matter if there's two of them up there. the door holds for as long as the stragglers press up against it, but as soon as they're out of sight the zombies will drift again.

they make their way up the stairs. he's warmer now, purely from the exercise. heat rises. another reason he lives at the top. doesn't feel like it when he's freezing his ass off at night, but he knows his science.

they make it to the top floor in silence, and he pushes his door open (unlocked, this one, because by the point anyone reaches him up here he'll be long gone), goes for the camping lamp on the floor, trudges along with it in hand. remembers his houseguest.

"kitchen's there. there's a bathroom. two rooms. living room. no power or running water but i have some water in the bathtub if you want to wash."

"it's nice," todoroki says, and the worst thing is he sounds like he means it, almost politely. it makes katsuki stop dead to look at him, struck again by how unreal it all feels, but it almost feels reassuringly normal, staring at todoroki in disbelief. in the bad lighting he looks otherworldly, even despite the filth and zombie gunk he's covered in, all half-lit and angelic like something out of a hazy dream.

"i can't fucking believe it's actually you, half 'n half."

it escapes him unthinkingly, but it's true, and besides that it has the unforeseen consequence of making todoroki's composure fracture, shoulders rising and falling on a mute laugh, exhausted wryness in the tilt of his head. for a split second his gaze is dizzyingly and uncharacteristically frank, almost intimate.

"the feeling is mutual."

if the moment stretches he might do something wholly deranged; he rolls his aching shoulder, gestures to the bathroom.

"you go first. you reek."

todoroki says his thanks to his back as he retreats.

he returns to routine. strips, despite how fucking cold he is, wraps his shoulder tight enough that it hurts, rubs alcohol onto the more worrying cuts and scrapes. drags some bedding to the second room, then drags himself to the kitchen, shivering, mentally redoing his maths, then pulling out his notebook to jot down the edited stock. pauses, hesitates. in the margin under the date he writes: found half 'n half. it's not a diary, but he feels like he should make note.

todoroki appears silently in the doorframe, wrapped in a towel and scrubbed red, and there's something reassuring about how clean he looks, balanced out by how disturbing it is to see him so casually bare. he's barely glanced up at him that he drops the towel.

"the fuck-"

todoroki just turns in a neat 360, then wraps himself back up. katsuki snaps his jaw shut, ears burning but head clear. no bites. right. the previous times- whatever. reluctantly he stands and turns. when todoroki eyes his boxers he glares.

"you don't think you would have noticed if i got bitten on the dick today?"

he's not entirely sure todoroki won't fight him on it, but he concedes after a moment's assessing stare, shifts from foot to foot.

"you can have some of my shit to wear," katsuki says, pointing to the wardrobe he's requisitioned. "some of it's too big. should fit."

todoroki just nods, follows suit.

he wonders, as he scrubs himself down with a bucketful of water, teeth chattering and bath-tub still half full, if todoroki was always so goddamn quiet or if he's traumatised or some shit. the guy was always the annoying silent type, but he doesn't remember him this monosyllabic. habit, probably. what does he know.

he dresses, layers up, shoves his dirty clothes with todoroki's in the basket. when it fills he'll dunk the whole lot into a tub of his used water, but until there's that many dirty clothes he leaves them out.

todoroki is sat on the couch wrapped in blankets and wearing someone's dad's heavy knitwear, illuminated by (of all things) a gas lamp that katsuki had found but never managed to light. so the asshole has matches.

"you hungry?" katsuki asks, really only to make him speak. todoroki nods, counter-productively, but he's talking next.

"don't waste your food on me."

"shut up, asshole," katsuki mutters, on instinct, fatigue setting into him. jesus. the martyrs he's surrounded with. "you can make the next grocery run."

todoroki only looks at him longly, but he follows him into the kitchen, eats the cold soup without complaint. he likes cold food, katsuki thinks, then stops at the thought. he has no idea how he knows it. it feels like a memory from a different life. he likes cold food. like that matters.

it's not very late, though it's pitch black out. he goes to bed early these days to make the most of the sunlight. he's not sure what to do with todoroki, though rationally that's not his concern.

he can't find it in himself to ask the obvious questions. it's partly because he doesn't want to hear the answers and partly because he doesn't want to have to give his own. it's not like they were fucking bosom buddies before this all went down- he's past hating the guy, despite how unbearable he finds him, would call them something adjacent to friends under duress, but it's not like they make a point of hanging out outside of class. and todoroki's a terrible conversationalist, always.

even so. two months, five days. he wants to talk, if only for the pleasure of getting to call him a superior bastard, if only to know that he's still the same confounding weirdo whose face he wears. it's not even the words, really- he wants to hear a pulse beat near him, to catch alert eyes on his, to watch his chest rise and fall. alive.

he can't believe the asshole stripped naked like that. pale flesh all over, but not that diseased grey tint, just regular winter cold, like the inside of a peach. bruises and scratches littering his limbs. nasty half-healed scar like someone had tried to gut him with a knife.

his lips are peeling when he licks them. he found vaseline in someone's drawer but he uses it sparingly. whenever he goes outside his lips crack to the point of blood. against the glow of the stove he can see only half of his new flatmate where he sits surveying his newly clean crowbar.

"what's in the duffel?"

he'd have bristled more at the invasion, pragmatic though it is, but todoroki only shifts obligingly to raise it to his lap.

"medical kit- bandages, aspirin, tweezers, needle and thread. three water bottles. instant noodles. biscuits. matchbox. a city map. a change of shoes. a space blanket. my wallet. wire. rope. an alarm clock. a mechanic's manual." he pauses, feels around, drags out a glass bottle. "this."

it's vodka, of all the things. katsuki half wants to laugh.

"you drink now?"

"kept me warm," todoroki shrugs. which is, maybe, all there is to it. maybe not.

"i'll run you through inventory in the morning," katsuki says, if reluctantly. best todoroki knows what they have on hand, despite how little he feels like letting him into his notebook. it's not like he's deku, writing down his little feelings all over it, but it feels revealing anyways, for todoroki to know what he's been tracking.

there's nothing else for them to talk about without heading into dangerous territory. todoroki packs his things back into the bag, careful, and katsuki is sick of his own weird emotional breakdown, doesn't know where this sudden needy cloying bullshit is even coming from.

two months five days, his brain says, chipper, and then offers to rewind the days preceding that. he hisses through his teeth before he remembers he has company.

"i'm going to bed. 's fuck all to do without wasting light. stay high up if you want to go exploring."

todoroki has gone back to muteness, because he only nods as katsuki glowers at nothing in particular and makes his way back to his room, unhappy at the sight of his diminished bedding. it's not like he's actually able to use the whole apartment's bedding anyways- too unwieldy, too heavy, whatever- but the three duvets and two quilts had been working well enough to insulate him against the chill, and with two sacrificed he's resigned to a night of tossing and turning.

fuck his life. he thinks maybe the reason he's been having these fits of weirdness across the days is just fatigue. between the nightmares and the cold and the actual zombie break-ins over the past six months he doesn't think he's managed a single night's good sleep beyond the times he's blacked out. he feels untethered, at times both more and less emotional than he's used to being.

no surprise that having a real life human being around- and one that he knows at that- is making him almost ill with conflicting urges. part of him wants to lock todoroki out in a cold sweat and never lay eyes on him again. part of him wants to cut him open and grab at his beating heart just to confirm he's not alone. the rest of him lies there wondering what the fuck is wrong with his brain.

he lies there for maybe an hour trying to get to sleep, but his mind has kicked into overdrive in the way that it does every goddamn night nowadays, replaying scenes he didn't even notice in the moment. one of the zombies by the bookstore had barely reached his shoulder. when he'd washed his bat there had been bits of an eye clinging to the base.

he's too busy being cold and annoyed and possibly hysterical to notice the soft footfall until it's close, jerking up on instinct to brandish his bat, but he can tell by the moonlight filtering in slivers through his blinds that it's todoroki, if the lack of shuffling hadn't given it away.

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i didn't mean to startle you," todoroki says. monotone, but in an off way, almost dreamy, like he's asleep. it makes katsuki's skin prickle with foreboding; he stares at the little he can see of his face, alert now.

"then what do you want?"

"you sound cold," todoroki says. still in the doorframe, unmoving. he wishes there was more light.

"it's the middle of winter, jackass, of course i'm cold. can you fuck off?"

"my father is dead," todoroki says, completely unprompted, voice not changing in timbre in the slightest, and it makes katsuki's heart jump before he sits fully upright, trying harder to make his face out.

enji todoroki, gone. he guesses he'd known that on some level, for todoroki to be roaming around like a ghost, but it doesn't compute. jesus. maybe todoroki's actually fucking lost it since. he imagines two months and five days tracking back to losing his father, feels that gut-punch of paralysis in his stomach.

he's so caught on processing it that he doesn't even register todoroki is climbing into the bed before he's halfway under the sheets.

"what the fuck are you doing?" his voice half-breaks on it, rising in sheer disbelief as he jerks violently back, because seriously- there's insane and there's insane, and he's starting to suspect todoroki is so out of it he'd snap his neck in his sleep.

todoroki has the audacity to shush him, distracted, and it takes katsuki actually grabbing him hard by the shoulder, braced to hit at the slightest flicker of intent, to stop him in his tracks.

"hey, asshole, i'm talking to you! are you out of your goddamn mind?"

where he's stopped now todoroki's one eye catches the moonlight, big and dark and eerie. he blinks slowly like he's coming out of a trance.

"oh, i-" he pauses. his pulse is sluggish under katsuki's hands, skin fire-hot. feverish, maybe. shit. feverish, very possibly. he'd had no layers in that shitty bookshop. "sorry."

he says it like he's not sure he means it. katsuki doesn't let up with his grip.

"how long you been sick, icyhot?"

"sick," todoroki repeats, processing it. his gaze sharpens. "days. i think maybe- what day is it?"

"wednesday. thirteenth."

"six days, then," todoroki says, quiet. their gazes catch, more consciously now. "i'm fine. the adrenaline helped."

"sit still," katsuki warns, and then pulls up quickly, shrugs his backpack off, digs out the medical kit. he has a decent stock of medicine in the apartment, enough that he only hesitates a beat before pulling out the advil bottle, unscrewing the cap to fill it. he knows the dosage by heart. "drink."

he nearly drops the whole bottle when todoroki just obediently sticks his mouth to the rim of the cap instead of taking it himself, hot breath fanning over his fingers as he drinks. it makes his own pulse go skittering with discomfort when he fills it a second time, brandishes it back. the cap is sticky and wet when he screws it back on; todoroki is still half-sitting where he told him to when he's done his bag up and slid it back onto his back.

"why'd you tell me about your dad just then?" katsuki asks, despite himself, if only to fill the silence.

"did i?" todoroki asks, on an exhale, visible eye swivelling to him. "i don't know. i was thinking about the cold, i think. he wasn't cold in the end."

he resists the urge to check his temperature. probably it got worse once he tried to go to sleep, all the residue adrenaline gone. it can't have been peaking all day, or they'd have never made it out in the first place. and it's not from a bite. just a fever. he's medicated. he'll sleep it off.

"i'm not crazy," todoroki informs him, suddenly cool, not so hazy. "just sick. i could hear you tossing and turning. that's why i came."

"why're you in my bed?" katsuki shoots back, on the edge of combative, not really. maybe he's a little relieved. he's a lot pissed off, even though he knows todoroki probably genuinely didn't realise what a state he was in the last week, might have actually been trying to make sense of his fluctuating mood himself. no shit he'd been so weird when they first ran into each other.

"i'm not sure," todoroki admits. "it seemed important at the time."

this makes him want to laugh, though he doesn't. the cracked-open raw part of him that still smarts loudly whenever he thinks of jeanist thinks he missed him somehow.

"glad we solved that mystery. get out now."

todoroki makes to move, stops when they're facing each other, blue eye white-pale on his. "actually i remember now, i think."

"i swear to god, half 'n half..."

"you're cold," todoroki repeats, factual, then back to floaty. "and i couldn't hear..."

he doesn't expect him to do what he does, which is why he doesn't stop him when he puts a too-hot palm directly over his heart, doesn't even pull back when he pushes, knocking him onto the bed.

"todoroki-"

"it's fine," todoroki says, scratchy, sweat-warm. he slides onto his own side in a heavy, graceless motion. face to face, half an arm between them, palm stuck to his chest. "it's fine."

it's the scratchiness that wins him over, or maybe the fever flush of him. todoroki may be fucked in the head but he's not, which is why he knows full well he's being insane by not shoving him out. it's just that on some extremely uncomfortable and deranged level he gets it, because he's been tracking his pulse like a shark since they first ran into each other. there's something less insane beneath it too, pragmatic acknowledgment that it is actually a great deal warmer when there's body heat to share, but he knows full well he'd have toughed it out, six months ago, sent him back to bed and spent the night half-awake in spiteful resignation.

it's six months later, though, and somewhere along the line he's been rewired wrong. he thinks it's not unlikely that he's just this desperate for a full night's sleep.

it doesn't really matter why, though. he lets him stay. in the morning if todoroki is back to himself he'll see right through whatever he says, and on balance he doesn't fucking care.

he's so fucking tired. two months and five days, six months and three. the last time someone touched him for more than a second without trying to kill him it was a crying intern, this bespectacled guy whose name he'd never bothered to learn choking on his own blood as he clutched katsuki's wrist for comfort. before that he thinks it was his mother, exchanging their usual routine of brusque ruffling before he got on the train. he hasn't cried since the start of this, but he feels like crying now, hot throbbing behind his eyes. he sucks in a breath, forces it down. time and place. he's said it like a mantra since the start, like there's ever going to be one.

todoroki is fast asleep, but his hand's still there. his fingers have curled into the wool.

two months and five days, he thinks again, remembering other hands, clutching his face, pinning his arms. that's changed now, he realises. still marks the date, but not the last time he's spoken to someone.

ten minutes, thirty seconds. he reaches to pull the covers higher over todoroki's shoulders, feels his stomach constrict when his hand brushes medicine-sticky lips in passing.

maybe todoroki can sail. that's a rich kid thing to do. he'll have to ask in the morning.

he falls asleep within fifteen minutes, forty seconds of todoroki, and doesn't wake until the sun rises.

[lavendersb]

Can I request for the Mandalorian in which the reader is dating Mando and helps him take care of baby Yoda? The reader suffers from high anxiety but doesn’t inform Mando about it. One day, he sees her having an episode of a panic attack for the first time and because he didn’t know about it, he was unsure of how to help her. As she was going through it, he begins to hold her as the experience scared him. She eventually settles down and he continues to comfort her.

You absolutely can :)

Cold Rock

The Mandalorian x reader

Requests are open!

  You’d spent a few months now with Mando and the child. Hired under the conditions you’d care for the little green terror and mind him whilst his adopted father collected bounties, you took pride in your job. It really wasn’t hard to, seeing the child tuckered out after a long day made you feel accomplished and gave you a sense of belonging. You could see yourself in this situation for a long time coming.

As bubbly and responsive as the child was, his beskar-clad guardian was stoic and serious. He had never been cruel to you, but when he was so hard to read it often made you nervous. Did he think you were doing your job right? Did he think you were too lenient with the child?  Frequently you found yourself putting words into Mando’s bucket, which you fought to shake off. You had to remind yourself that if he had a problem with you, he would surely raise it, right?

“Do you want to come with me today?” Mando’s modulated voice rings out as he climbs down into the hold.

“Is it safe?” you ask instinctively

Mando had picked a quiet unsuspecting planet to stock up on supplies, one with a decent population spread thin across its many villages but with a reputation for being an otherwise tranquil spot. Nobody would be tracking you here.

“I’m sure it is, but we’ll stay together” Mando approaches you and the child, and the little womp-rat in your arms wriggles impatiently. He gargles and throws his little arms about in protest and you can hardly blame him, it’s been a while since Mando has felt comfortable enough to let him out of the ship.

“He needs it” Mando comments, letting the child hold on to his gloved finger and watching as the wriggling stops.

“We all do” you comment gently.

Maker knows you need fresh air. You’ve been wound far too tight these last few weeks. The crest is spacious compared to many ships you’ve seen but its not meant for comfort. Mando is careful never to let any aspect of his job get close to you. His bounties are in carbonite before you can climb down from the cockpit, but you still can’t help the overwhelming nerves that come from being so close to danger.

You and Mando descend the ramp, both with empty satchels in hand and the child floating in his pod behind you. The planet is beautiful, in a cold and wet way. The ground beneath your feet is a dark grey rock, smooth and covered in a sheen of water. Rock pools filled with tiny little crabs and fish weave everywhere, and in the distance far behind the little village you’ve arrived at, dark mountains loom imposingly. The air is fresh and crisp. Salty too, and it’s the cleanest air you’ve breathed in a long while.

“We’ll make this quick” Mando says to your dismay “we’ll come back to the ship and rest there for a few nights. Just in case”

Just in case we’re spotted you finish in your head. You know Mando is paranoid, you both know how important it is to leave at a moments notice. Even in a place this remote, you’re never far from those that wish your little group harm.

The market in this little village is surprisingly busy for its unassuming appearance. The little orange fish from the nearby rockpools, Mando tells you, are a famed delicacy. Merchants buy them here cheap and sell them for much more to high class restaurants on wealthy city planets.

“They don’t taste good” He tells you “Its an acquired taste”

“You’ve tried them?” you question, looking at the abundance of storage containers filled with fluttering orange fish.

“When I was younger” he says simply. He rarely speaks about the time before the child, but from what you’ve heard he led an interesting life. One day you hope he’ll tell you more.

The three of you weave through the market for a while and you find yourself relaxing. You stock up on food supplies, and Mando even lets you buy one of the special fish for the child to try, after the little green menace wails and makes grabby hands at them.

“He has expensive tastes” you joke when the child swallows it whole.

You swear you hear Mando laugh at that.

The trip was thankfully uneventful. The most exciting thing to happen so far was you loosing your footing on the wet rock beneath you. Mando had reacted fast and caught you, of course and he let you hold onto the crook oh his arm for the rest of the trip.

“I think that’s enough for the day” He says, looking to the sky.

Thick clouds, dark as night had started to emerge over the mountains and drift towards the village. You couldn’t imagine this planet could get any wetter, but you didn’t really want to stick around and find out.

You let Mando lead you through the market again, somehow it seemed busier. People pushed and jostled each other as they prepared to escape the incoming rain. Instinctively you reached out to rest your hand on the child’s open pod, and Mando pulled you against him ever so slightly.

You were thankful for it. The market seemed so much less idyllic now, people pushing and calling loudly. You felt nervous again, that winding coil in your belly getting tighter with each body that brushed past you. You were nervous about the child, about yourself. What if Mando let go of you, and you lost him in the crowd? What if you couldn’t find your way back to the ship alone?

The thoughts in your head got loud enough to rival the sounds of the market, and you could feel your lungs constrict. You knew this feeling all too well, an incoming panic attack was the last thing you needed, especially in front of Mando. The more you tried to suppress the fear, the harder it was to hold in your tears.

You tripped again, in your shock letting out a wet hiccup which you disguised as a gasp. Mando kept his grip on you, preventing your fall but still he looked at you.

You prayed that your impending tears were not as obvious as you felt they were, but after meeting where you assumed his eyes were Mando pulls you to stand in front of him. Both his hands grip each of your upper arms, guiding you through the rest of the village and back towards the razor crest.

Maker you felt embarrassed. What must he think of you? Crying because of a busy village square. Mando had hired you only after you accepted the dangers of the job, that you would need to be strong. All you wanted to do now was curl up in your cot and avoid Mando, wait for this panic attack to finish and hope he doesn’t figure out what’s made you so upset.

Mando doesn’t speak a word, not even as the ramp of the ship descends and he lets you free from his grasp. You try not to make it obvious that you’re hurrying into the hold. Your chest aches with the strength it’s taking to hold in the gasping, desperate sobs that threaten to spill out. To maintain a vaguely normal breathing pattern even though your lungs spasm behind your ribs.

Tucking yourself into a quiet space near the back of the hold, you press yourself against the wall and let out the desperate gasps you’ve been holding in. You still try vainly to stay quiet, conscious that Mando might still hear you from the cockpit. Once we take off, you think, then he won’t hear me over the engines.

But the crest doesn’t move, and the engines don’t roar to life. Instead a large, warm hand presses against your shoulder.

“What’s happened?” Mando turns you around to face him. His voice and posture unreadable as ever.

“N-nothing” You manage to sputter between gasps “It’s f-fine Mando. Really”

Mando doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t leave either. His hand trails from your shoulder to flatten oddly against your breast bone. He presses against your jittery torso, as if he can push your frantic gasps back into your lungs like this. Its strange, but the pressure grounds you as his free hand comes up to rest at the base of your skull, his thumb rubbing into the muscle running up the back of your neck.

“This isn’t nothing. I know that”

Your confusion must show on your face, because he squeezes his hands on your flesh and says

“I used to get like this too, back when I was younger. I never paced myself, got worked up and then-“ he pauses, like he’s searching for a word “and then this”

Dumbstruck at his confession, you stare blankly at him. Your tears slowing, and your breath interrupted by only a few sharp gasps.

“I didn’t have anyone to help me back then.”

His unspoken words ring loud “But I want to help you now”

It comforts you, knowing you don’t always have to pretend to be calm anymore. That he understands. That even the strongest, most capable people like Mando have their moments.

Awkwardly, Mando pulls you to him. His beskar is cold, and a little damp from outside but its far from uncomfortable. You wouldn’t dream of pushing him away. He holds you there in his grounding embrace,  silent except for the rain that beats down outside.

[quinintheclouds]

The Sides in Order of How Tidy Their Rooms Are, From Cleanest to Messiest:

(I have thought this through so hear me out!)

      1. Roman       2. Janus       3. Virgil       4. Patton       5. Logan       6. Remus

To Elaborate:

      1. Roman’s room’s cleanliness occasionally dips below Janus’ when he’s immersed in a project, but then he gets a burst of energy and makes sure it’s spotless. Or he just uses his imagination magic to make everything neat and presentable. He did say he wants Thomas to keep his clothes clean and folded in the right drawers. He cares a lot about appearances, and is very idealistic. Vaulted ceilings, art in golden frames, velvet curtains, an ornate canopy bed... Only the absolute best for a Prince!

      2. Janus is all about seeing things for exactly what they are. He wants clarity. Everything has a place. But his judgment can be clouded or his intentions murky. Not to mention that he's so precise in his edginess I expect he'd hold his room to the same standard as his outfits and cool demeanor. Even if he's a mess, deceit can keep things looking perfect on the surface. Unfortunately, every time Remus visits he tracks in mud, even though there shouldn’t be any mud. They’re inside, where did--?

      3. If we hadn’t already seen Virgil and Patton’s rooms, I may have considered switching them here, but I think I’d have stuck with this order. Virgil’s spiderwebs are an aesthetic choice and as such do not count as mess. It's not the most put-together of rooms, but it's lived-in and has breathing room. It's designed to make him feel cozy, so it's not overwhelmingly crowded with things. And Janus did catch Virgil doing some housekeeping and dusting.

      4. Patton’s room, on the other hand, is cluttered to all heck, but his things themselves are at least clean. His room is messy, but not dirty. However, he has no idea where anything is. When something's added to one of the piles, it's lost immediately, so Patton randomly finds things he'd forgotten about all the time. He wants to keep the memories in good condition, though, plus he doesn’t like icky stuff. Though I suppose it's possible both Pat and Virgil's rooms collect some dust after a while. Patton just doesn't actually dust often. (Twist: the floaty specks in the air in Patton's room was actually just a LOT of dust fdjhsgjk)

      5. This is why Logan doesn’t want anyone in his room (well, one reason). There are too many books to fit on the bookshelves, open jars of Crofter’s, papers strewn about covered in coffee stains and scrawled-on useful facts, calendars too ambitious to read, hyperbolically millions of tabs open with podcasts and research, journals documenting Thomas’ life, post-it notes everywhere losing their stickiness and falling to the floor, chemistry experiments, glow-in-the-dark star stickers, unsolved puzzles, binders of organizational tips to try and help manage Thomas’ schedule (none of which have worked yet), etc. The only thing that’s neat is his closet: ironed shirts, pants, and ties, and a garment bag containing the unicorn onesie. He keeps everything sanitized, doesn't let anyone in, and knows exactly where everything is. Therefore, this system doesn't significantly inhibit productivity, so cleaning isn't first priority. He doesn’t WANT his room to be in such disarray, but he’s Character!Thomas’ logic and structure, and we all know that’s a mess, so.. it stands to reason that Logan isn't exactly thriving. He’s too busy trying to establish order and efficiency in Thomas’ life to keep up with his own problems (not realizing that since he’s a part of Thomas... his problems ARE ALSO Thomas’ problems).

      6. As for Remus... you’ll never step into the same room twice. One day it’s flooded with some mystery substance and Remus is in a canoe trying to paddle with a slotted spoon, the next day it’s filled with radioactive bees, and the next it just looks like a junkyard where sex toys go to die. The walls are covered with burns and holes from blowing things up. Not even Remus can find what he's looking for in his own room, but he doesn't mind. Messy, dirty, moldy. Unoraganized chaos. The natural habitat of our local rat man. Filthy filthy.

_____________

Okay, yes -- this is mostly headcanon. I just thought it'd be fun :P If you agree/disagree I'm intrigued to hear your take!