#you know my actual income is peanuts what the fuck

[homemoviess]

Post #17 - Reference Sheet

♫ - What I’m currently listening to.

Okay, I need a bit of consistency in the comic, so I decided to just quickly sketch up a base idea of what each character (well the main three) should look like throughout. I'm still stuck on finding a good skin shade for Frisk. I know she's supposed to be dark skin, but I still want the hint of that yellow we see the original model have—gah! Maybe we should just forget about adding a hint of yellow and just keep her a very realistic human color? Is the color above realistic? I think it looks okay, but then I don't. I'm too indecisive. This will just have to be a future me problem.

Also! Drawing Sans sucks major balls. My brain wants to draw a skull, like a human skull, but you see, Sans does not have a human skull. He has a cartoon character skull—face actually because I swear to God, its just... I can't do what I did with Papyrus (God, I enjoy drawing Papyrus). We can't go all realistic for Sans otherwise he doesn't flipping look like Sans! He looks like some random skeleton unrelated to Undertale. He has this stupid peanut head that I just want to squeeze and watch it pop! Fuck Sans. Fuck Sans right to hell.

Wow, I feel so much better after getting that off my chest.

Anyway, I was going to include this whole explanation of how much I want the setting of the Underground to be super low income Americana, inner-city in some areas, rural trailer park in others, motel baby, RV vagabonds bumming gas from strangers, blah, blah, blah. Would this be moving far away from base Undertale? Sure, I guess. Yeah, maybe. Do people want to see me bring all my transgressive edgelord shit into a very unrelated franchise? I suppose that's a yes? I mean, I did a bit of that with Lugubriosity, but I'm talking about going all out with my art and this story. I've been holding back, trying to keep things to what people are used to? God, I don't know, but I really wanna explore more. I want to get dirty and grimy with my artwork, spread my fuzzy moth wings and tear into some old fabric in the nearest linen closet, you know, not so pretty.

Here are few inspirational pictures for what I mean:

I love it. I wanna draw it, write about it, just consume it in all my media. But is it appropriate for Undertale? Perhaps not. Perhaps so. I'm torn on what I want to do, and now I'm just ranting and rambling. Half of me wishes I just stuck to writing, but then another half really wants to see this story visualized.

I guess I should just get the rough draft done and see what happens next. I already butchered this beloved franchise so what's a little more? I'm curious if others care to see this in the story? Otherwise, I could just get super dark and dirty with an original idea whenever I get around to it.

[abused-sides]

Hungry [dead dove: do not eat]

    Trigger warning: someone dies from a food allergy and it’s VERY graphic, it’s an unsympathetic character. This is also written from someone who has a ton of severe food allergies, including the one that’s used, so it’s not some random asshole making light of a situation. Abusive relationships, death, murder, unsympathetic character is murdered

note: please read the trigger warnings and do not fucking read if it’ll bother/trigger you, this is the last warning

    xxx 

    Every morning, Janus ran out to buy him and Remus coffees while Remus stayed behind and burnt their breakfast. 

    Logan woke up to the smoke detector screaming and the rest of their roommates groaning while Roman frantically waved a blanket and snapped at his brother (Janus still smiled when he came home). It was as good of an alarm clock as any. 

    Every morning, Logan scraped together breakfast for a boyfriend he didn’t love. 

    Remus and Janus’ voices carried over from the living room as they ate on the couch. Logan used the burnt remnants of their stove to make bacon and eggs, something he could cook in his sleep. He wasn’t sleeping, though—He was focused on Remus and Janus. 

    “So,” Remus stole a piece of bacon and talked with his mouth full, “when’s the oaf getting up?” 

    Janus sipped at his coffee. “Obligatory defensive comment incoming,” he murmured, and Remus wrapped an arm around his waist. 

    “Don’t make fun of him,” Logan announced. 

    As much as Patton begged everyone to get along, Remus was never one to hide how he felt. Neither was Jaxon. 

    “You know he doesn’t do it on purpose, and you know he’ll be down here any second,” he whispered, and bumped Remus with his hip, who laughed. “Get out of here!” 

    Remus finished the bacon and said, “I gotta get to work anyway.” 

    That didn’t stop him from making out with Janus a good few minutes before leaving. 

    Jaxon stumbled into the kitchen sleepily. 

    “Morning, J,” Logan said quietly. 

    He hated Jaxon’s first appearance—he was too tired for Logan to tell what type of mood he was in. He used to stay quiet until he knew for sure, but Jaxon snapped at him once and said, “When you don’t say good morning, it feels like you’re mad at me or you don’t care about me.”

    Logan always said good morning now.

    Jaxon ignored him, took his plate, and went back upstairs. Logan relaxed. 

    “Just let me know when you want me to kill him for you,” Janus sneered, then ducked into his and Remus’ room. 

    Roman left for work next, singing on his way out, followed by Patton, who kissed Logan’s cheek and told him to stay safe. Virgil worked nights and didn’t wake until well after 3pm. Janus used noise-cancelling headphones while he worked. As much as Logan tried, he couldn’t get a shift today. He was essentially alone with Jaxon. 

    His stomach churned. 

    He went to his computer. 

    It didn’t take long for Jaxon to come back downstairs. He wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. 

    “What’s going on?” Jaxon asked. “You’re tense.” 

    Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “I just have a lot of work to do.” 

    “So? Take a break. Come hang out with me.” 

    “Jaxon…” Logan frowned at the screen. “I have a deadline.” 

    Jaxon yanked his arms back. “Are you mad at me or something?” 

    Logan looked over his shoulder. “What? No. Why would I be mad?” 

    He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, brown eyes hard. “Because you haven’t hung out with me all week. I never see you anymore.” 

    “I work right here in the living room because you wanted to see me more,” Logan insisted. “And we watched three movies last night. We can watch three more tonight.” 

    “Well I don’t wanna force you.”

    Janus’ door creaked open. “That’s exactly what you want to do. Can you two quiet down?” 

    “Come with me,” Jaxon growled under his breath and grabbed Logan’s wrist. 

    Logan stumbled after him. 

    “HEY!” Janus stormed forward and grabbed Logan’s other wrist. “He has a deadline. He needs to work. Have you no manners?” 

    “Sorry, princess, I wasn’t raised in a castle.” Jaxon yanked Logan hard enough for his shoulder to ache. 

    “You’re hurting me,” he said desperately. 

    “Let go of him.” Janus’ eyes were deadly slits. His teeth were fangs, his grip of a Boa. 

    Logan pulled—he’d get punished for that later—until Jaxon let go and he stumbled back into Janus’ arms. Janus quickly righted him then took his hands away. Logan shivered. 

    “We’ll talk about this later,” Jaxon mumbled, “when the snake isn’t around.” 

    He turned and stomped up the stairs. The door slammed, and Logan flinched. 

    “I’m sorry,” he spouted as he turned to Janus. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to interrupt your work.” 

    “Don’t worry about it.” 

    “And what he said—” 

    “I am a snake. It’s great. Is your wrist okay?” 

    Logan held it up. The skin was clear, but a bruise would surely show. “It’s fine. He almost…” He forced a laugh, “almost dislocated my shoulder, though.” 

    “Let me take a look at it. Sit down.” 

    Logan sat and Janus tugged his loose neckline down enough to expose his shoulder. Janus hummed. 

    “Is it hurting?” 

    “Just a little. I’m okay.” 

    “Let me get some ice.” 

    Janus came back a moment later and settled the icepack on Logan’s shoulder. 

    “Why haven’t you kicked us out?” Logan asked quietly. 

    “Because if he left, you’d go with him. And we like you a lot.” Janus ran his fingers through Logan’s hair, who leaned into the touch. “Besides, we have better plans for him. We’re killing him, remember?” 

    Logan laughed, and prayed to God Jaxon didn’t hear. 

    xxx 

    Logan didn’t see Jaxon again until dinner. Roman and Remus were play-fighting in the kitchen, yelling over the boiling of a stew. Patton and Virgil were watching a horror movie on the couch, Janus sat at their feet. Virgil kept kicking him. 

    Jaxon came down the stairs as Logan asked to help with dinner. Remus quickly took Logan under his arm. 

    “Yeah! Stir this for me. Hey, Jaxon. I’ve got Logan helping me here.” 

    “I missed you at lunch today,” Logan said over his shoulder. “Are you okay? Feeling sick?” 

    “A little,” he mumbled. “Will you eat with me?” 

    Logan melted. “Of course. Remus, is this safe for him?” 

    Remus grabbed Logan’s shoulder. Logan furrowed his eyebrows as they locked eyes. 

    “Yes.” Remus tapped something on the counter. “Janus and Roman helped me.” 

    Logan glanced down. 

    Peanut powder. 

    He swallowed. 

    “It’s perfectly safe for Jaxon.” 

    Blood rushed through Logan’s ears. 

    “No, actually.” Logan sucked in a shuddering breath. “No, I want to make him something myself.” 

    Remus’ shoulders slumped. “I understand. I guess.” 

    “But…” Logan grabbed his hand. “You can make it again if I ask?” 

    Roman set a hand on Logan’s lightly purpled shoulder. “We absolutely can.” 

    Logan got to work making Jaxon grilled cheese sandwiches, and they ate in the living room with everyone else. Jaxon kept wrinkling his nose and pursing his lips like he was rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. 

    “Everything okay, Jax?” Patton asked sweetly. 

    “There’s no peanuts in that, right? Something about the smell is setting me off.” 

    “Nope.” Janus laid his head in Remus’ lap. “We know about your allergy, Jaxon. We’re careful.” 

    xxx 

    That night, Logan stayed up late with Jaxon watching movies. Logan fell asleep cuddled against Jaxon’s chest and woke up the next morning snuggled with him in bed. 

    He hauled himself out of bed, heavy with exhaustion, as the smoke alarm screamed. Janus kissed Remus on the cheek before leaving for their coffees. Remus cracked another egg in the pan. Roman sang Disney at the top of his lungs as he got ready in the bathroom, Virgil pounding on the door demanding that he needed to piss. Patton snapped that there’s another bathroom upstairs and that if those two didn’t stop fighting he’d lose his mind. 

    Logan found a path in the kitchen to grab the stuff for French toast. He pushed aside Remus’ used dishes and ingredients to set his own down. 

    “How are you feeling?” Remus asked as Logan whisked. “You know, about the decision you made.” 

    “Good,” he admitted. “I think it was the right call.” 

    Remus set the spatula down hard. “So how else do you wanna proceed?” 

    Logan’s whisks slowed. “I… I don’t know. Last time I talked about maybe taking a break, he—” 

    “Hey, Jaxon!” Patton greeted cheerfully. 

    Logan snapped his mouth shut. 

    “Morning, handsome.” Jaxon kissed the back of Logan’s neck. 

    He smiled as Jaxon poured them both juice. “It was the right decision.”

    xxx 

    “Logan!” Jaxon bounded down the stairs. “When are you stopping for lunch?” 

    “Um…” Logan shifted in his seat. “I had lunch.” 

    Jaxon stopped. “What?” 

    “It was quick.” Logan pushed back in the chair to face Jaxon. “Just a snack, really. Then I got right back to work.” 

    “Why would you eat without me? I knew it, you are mad at me. We always have lunch together.” 

    “I know, I’m sorry—”

    “If you know, why did you eat without me? What did I even do?”

    “You didn’t do anything!” 

    “But you’re mad at me.” 

    “I’m not mad at you!”

    “THEN WHY WOULD YOU EAT WITHOUT ME?”

    Logan flinched. 

    Jaxon grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet. “Don’t be a baby! Just tell me!” 

    He slammed Logan into the wall just as Janus’ door opened. Logan’s head bounced off the paint, his eye erupting in pain. 

    “Get off,” Janus snapped. 

    “This is none of your business! Go back to work!” 

    Janus pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed three numbers. 

    “Put the phone down!” 

    “I need someone here right away, my roommate—”

    Jaxon leapt ten steps back. Logan crumpled in on himself, pressed against the wall where Jaxon left him. 

    “I think he’s calming down now,” Janus said into the phone. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I would like you to remain on the line.” 

    Jaxon grabbed his wallet and keys, and stormed out. The door slammed and Logan flinched. 

    “He’s gone now. Thank you for your help. Let me ask.” He pressed the phone to his shirt. “Do you want to press charges? Do you want the police to come?” 

    Logan shook his head, eyes watering. “I want to make dinner.” 

    xxx 

    “That again?” Jaxon asked, peering over Logan’s shoulder. 

    Logan stirred the thick broth. “You didn’t get to try it. It’s good.” 

    Jaxon shrugged. “Is your eye okay?”

    “It’ll heal.” 

    He left. Logan grabbed the peanut powder and dumped in a generous amount, then left it to boil and cook down. 

    Everyone stared at Jaxon as they ate. Logan finished his bowl and grabbed seconds. Pale blotches appeared on Jaxon’s face. His lips swelled. 

    “Are you sure this doesn’t have peanuts?” He asked nervously. “I don’t feel great.” 

    “My eye hurts,” Logan announced. 

    “I have some medicine for it.” Remus kissed Logan’s cheek. “I’ll be right back.” 

    Jaxon glared. “Kiss your own boyfriend!” 

    By the time Remus came back, Jaxon’s throat was swelling shut. “Drive me to a hospital,” he demanded in a hoarse voice. 

    Patton knelt between Logan’s legs and applied the cream Remus bought to Logan’s browbone and the top of his cheekbone. 

    “Dinner was good,” Virgil said. “Are you gonna finish yours, Jax?” 

    He glared and stumbled for the door. “What the hell is this?” 

    Virgil shrugged and grabbed Jaxon’s bowl, downing the rest. Roman leaned against the door with his arms crossed. Jaxon threw a punch, but Roman easily ducked against Jaxon’s weak, wobbling frame. 

    “Oh, God, are you okay?” Patton gasped. “Call an ambulance!” 

    Jaxon collapsed to his knees as his body convulsed. His hands dug into the carpet. He vomited, elbows and knees locking. 

    “Shit, did we add peanut?” Roman asked. “Old habits.” 

    “What’s the number again?” Remus stared at his phone in confusion. 

    “What’s… wrong… with you… all…” Jaxon gasped through his throw up. 

    “911, I think,” Logan mumbled. “Are you okay, love?” 

    “I need someone here right away. My roommate is having an allergic reaction. He was eating alone, we didn’t catch it very fast— yes. Okay, I understand. Mhm.” He gave them the address then hung up. 

    Janus, Remus, and Roman turned on the T.V. Logan and Patton got to work cleaning up after dinner. Virgil stared Jaxon down. 

    He was dead before the paramedics arrived. 

    xxx 

    The smoke alarm blared. Logan hauled himself out of the warm bed and came out of Janus and Remus’ room. 

    “Slept long enough,” Janus said, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist. 

    Logan leaned his head on Janus’ shoulder. “Coffee?” 

    “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

    “Breakfast is almost ready!” Remus called. “Hurry up!” 

    “I HAVE TO PISS, ROMAN!” 

    “THERE ARE TWO BATHROOMS!” 

    Logan got into the car with Janus. Janus pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the nearest coffee shop. 

    “How are you feeling?” Janus asked, reaching over and taking his hand. 

    “Hungry.” 

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 10- These Are Strange Times

Summary: Could something positive be truly on the horizon? With the random intrusion of though-to-be-dead Scott Lang at the Avengers Facility, your hope for seeing Bucky again may have yet to be a possibility.

Warning: yeah nothing enjoy the ride

Masterlist

-Five years since the Blip-

Throwing on a dark sleeveless top, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to sneeze which evidently causes your little furry companion to startle at the unexpected noise. The furry tigress lets out a meow of protest that pulls forth a humored snicker from you, while the little beast sends you an annoyed look.

Recovering her bearings in a flash, she walks across the short wooden dresser like a model strutting on the runway, her thick mane of mahogany and dark chocolate fur glossy and adequately brushed to perfection, just how your spoiled Main Coon, Silver, likes it.

She purrs happily as she begins playing with Bucky’s dog tags that lay across the small dresser top.

“What are you do..? Oh give me that you little shit.” Silver ignores you until she’s rudely lifted and placed firmly on the carpeted floor before you snatch up the valuable memorabilia. Placing it around your neck where it belongs then glancing down to give her a casual shrug, “Don’t give me that look Silv, I bought you a cool bird feathered cat toy like three days ago. What happened to that?” Silver meows, running her head against your worn out old boots as you smile, “Guess it’s as good as dead huh, you little beast. Now you staying or coming with me to find Nat?” Nothing but purrs of affection.

You lean down to gently rub her head before standing up fully and heading for the door, Silver hot on your heels. Soon you’re both traveling down the hallway until you finally reach the large study. Natasha’s on a conference call with Carol, Rodney, Okoye, and the last two guardians of the galaxy, Rocket and Nebula. And by the looks of it, nothing new has been reported. How disappointing.

Soon they all log off, leaving Natasha alone with Rodney who stays to give Nat a little insight into Barton’s violent whereabouts from the last couple years since he’s been rouge. Apparently he took out a whole cartel in Mexico, so he’s been busy. Definitely not keeping up with those group therapy sessions Steve makes you go to to help cope with the loss. Not that you’ve actually been that consistent with them if we’re being real here.

Quickly enough, Rodney logs out, leaving a tearfully conflicted Natasha as she slouches in her comfy swivel chair. Head in her hands as she holds back the waterfall that threatens to spill within her. You take a step forward, leaning casually against a steel rimmed display area for random nick-nacks. “I’d join you in the fun, but I’m limiting my crying sessions between 1 and 2 in the morning on Tuesdays. So, uh....I brought Silver.” You smile, pointing a finger down to your loyal companion, “Well I guess she brought herself but you know.”

Natasha breaks out into a reluctant grin, genuinely happy to have a bit of positive company within her gloom, “And you didn’t even want her to begin with.” Laughs the red head, “Now I never see one without the other.”

You nod with an almost shy smile, “Yeah, she’s alright.” 

You hear soft movement making its way through the hallway behind you just as Silver meows when Steve casually saunters into the room, coming to stand next to your side as the furry beast paws at his shoes, “What are you here for? Doing some laundry?” You tease at the tall blonde.

Steve smiles at your little jab since he’s not usually always present, doing Captain America stuff and whatnot, “Just here to see some friends.”

Natasha chuckles through glossy eyes, “Well clearly your friends are doing just fine.” Steve knowingly nods paired with a small smile, both you and Natasha look relatively well kept and functional as usual. It’s just, there’s a palpable pain and hidden darkness that always appears to simmer lowly on the surface. Just enough for a skilled eye like Steve’s to notice.

“Exactly.” You add, wandering over to sit cross legged on Natasha’s desk as Steve moves to lean against the display, “But if you’re here to tell us to look on the bright side...”

“I’m gonna hit you in the head with this peanut butter sandwich.” Finishes Natasha with a pursued lipped grin as the 90 year old nods. “Um, right. Force of habit.” Admits Steve, pushing himself off the surface to find a seat next to you and directly across from Natasha. 

The three of you keep to a mutual silence for a long moment until he finally speaks, “You know,” Starts Steve thoughtfully, “I keep telling everybody they should move on...and grow. Some do.” He pauses for a moment as you frown, Natasha looking elsewhere as Steve finally continues, “But not us.”

She shakes her head, “If we move on, who does this?”

“Maybe it doesn’t need to be done.” Suggests Steve, he means well of course, but maybe he’s right after all, its been five fucking years with absolutely nothing to make for it. Nothing of any significant progress or even a possible way to fix what's happened. 

Natasha blinks through bleary eyes of saddened green while you pet Silver’s furry mane, refusing to give in to that notion, “No.” You whisper softly, causing them to look at you, “We can’t, it wouldn’t be right...at least,” You let out a gentle sigh, “at least not for me....before all of this, before I met all of you. I had nothing.” You admit thoughtfully, “Not a soul in the world who gave a damn whether I lived or died. Then I found Bucky, then I found this. This.....family. And because of it, I’m better off now then I was ten years ago.”

They keep a respectful silence as your breaths become shaky, teary eyes now trained onto Silver’s little ears, “And I know they’re gone now, believe me I fucking know it, but I’m still trying to be better.” Natasha nods in deep understanding, a couple stray tears falling down her cheeks as Steve crosses his arms.

“I think we all need to get a life.” He muses, his tone light as he tries to pull you two back from the edge of grief. You give him a friendly nudge at his annoying brotherliness, “You first.” He chuckles as you throw him a playful glare while Natasha checks an incoming call.

“Oh, hi! Hello! Is anyone home?” Speaks a man frantically from one of the security cameras, an orange van behind him, “This is, uh, Scott Lang. We met a few years ago at the airport.....in Germany?” Now you’ve got his attention.

“What the fuck?” You mutter in bewilderment at the blue tinged image of Scott as Steve and Nat share a confused glance, the three of you quickly rising to your feet while Scott keeps talking about who he is, how he got here, and what he’s learned about the world so far.

“Is this an old message?” Wonders Steve as he studies the image of Scott who’s still waving his hands up at the security camera.

“It’s the front gate.” Replies Natasha with a hopeful smile.

——

All you came here to do was shoot the shit with Natasha and maybe make some actual dinner, but here you are, laying across the study’s plush couch as Scott rambles on and on about the quantum realm. Whatever that happens to actually be, you’ve never heard of anything like that before, but then again you didn’t know aliens existed at one point. So perhaps anything's possible.

Silver brushes her fluffy head across your fingers as they dangle over the couches edge while Scott keeps at his long-winded tellings of how he got there, what it was like, that he’s been technically gone for only five hours, and now he thinks there’s a way to enter this new plane of existence and travel to a fresh alternate reality. Like through a time machine type deal, or whatever he’s on about.

Apparently he means one before Thanos. But it honestly sounds like a load of horseshit and gibberish coming from a desperate man refusing to acknowledge that this is the new shit reality. There’s no fucking way that’s even goddamn possible, right? No way. 

Maybe?

Drifting back out of your doubtful thoughts, you swiftly move yourself into a seated position as Scott begins to self doubt. Head lowering as he mumbles about how crazy that it. You start chuckling as he throws you an almost embarrassed look. “Scott.” You speak to gather his attention, “Nat gets emails from a raccoon. Your idea is admittedly a bit nuts, but nothings that crazy anymore considering all the wild shit I’ve witnessed in the past six years. So I don’t know, maybe there’s a way.”

Scott flashes a hopeful smile as his brows furrow in thought, uncertainty seeping right back into him, “So, uh...who do we talk to about this?”

——

“Stark! Miss us?” You shout at Tony as he holds Morgan in his left arm, an Ironman helmet grasped firmly in the right. He gives the four of you a less then enthusiastic nod of acknowledgment before wordlessly turning around and taking a step up onto the wooden porch.

You give Steve a shrug, “He misses us I can tell.”

Soon Tony let’s Morgan go off to play with you as you opt in to be the babysitter slash distraction from the grownups who are currently discussing if time travel and gathering the stones for ourselves is even a possibility, or even a palpable option that can be done. You skillfully listen to everything they’re saying as the little Stark shows off her array of multiple plant-life assortments picked from the local greenery.

“So I got this cone from that tree over there and then I put a frog in a glass but dad said I had to let him go so I did.” Babbles on the five year old as you entertain her constant musings.

You raise a brow, knowing her shenanigans all too well, “Is he in the garden?”

She mischievously smirks, sneakily peaking over at Tony who’s seated up on the porch, before giving you a nod, “Yeah. I made him a little house from some flat rocks I found too. I named him Froggo.”

You chuckle, “Oh really, Froggo? I like it, has a nice ring to it.” She nods in delight before walking into her tiny tent to retrieve something new as you catch either Scott or Steve saying something about a time heist, what the hell are they going on about now?

“Y/N! Look at this!” Calls Morgan excitedly while bursting out of the tent to run on short legs over to you who’s seated comfortably in the grass, “I got a cool rock from the lake but I didn’t get to show you last time cause you left early.”

Raising your brows in surprise, though you don’t exactly feel as thrilled as she is, you make sure she knows you care, “Woah! A cool rock from the lake, why Morgan I gotta see this.”

“Look.” She hands you a dull grey rock with a tiny fossil shell indentation on it, “It’s from the dinosaurs.”

Examining the small round object, you nod, “Next thing you know I’ll come back to a whole dinosaur excavation site. Impressive Professor Grant, I’m thoroughly amazed.”

She giggles in excitement, “Y/N I know what that means now.” You give her an inquiring look as she smiles proudly, “That’s from Jurassic Park.”

“And your dad let you watch that, with the big Trex eating the goat and everything?” You tease before handing her the prized object, “Next thing I know you’re going to have a whole dinosaur skeleton in your house.”

“Yeah that would be cool. Thanks ninja turtle.” Cackles Morgan as she hugs her rock, smiling brightly as you throw her a puzzled look before joining in on the laughter. “Okay, now you’ve lost me kid, I can’t say I have any idea what you’re talking about.”

She shrugs innocently, “Dad told me to call you that.” Clearly not understanding what she just called you either. A ninja turtle? The fuck is a ninja turtle?

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You muse before looking up to the four of them getting closer to a heated discussion, “Alright Morgs let’s go save your dad before he decides never to invite us back for dinner again.” You add, quickly rising to your feet as she laughs before racing past you, on a beeline for Tony.

You choose to stay out of the conversation and instead wait for Steve, Natasha, and Scott to start walking back towards the car. You lean against the metal as Steve round the corner before catching your eye as he goes down the three steps, “Are we banished from the castle? I was kinda hoping not cause I actually like Pepper’s cooking.”

Steve smiles, “No. He’s not gonna help us is all.”

“Damn that’s shitty.” You retort with a tinge of genuine disappointment, you don’t completely believe this shit is even possible. But dammit if you don’t want them to at least try for all it’s worth. “So what now? I’m guessing you bastards aren’t gonna let this go anytime soon. And cause Tony’s out for the count, we obviously need some different brain power.”

Steve nods while walking closer to the car, “We wanna do this right. So, yeah, we’re gonna need a really big brain.”

Scott turns from Steve to point a thumb in Tony’s general direction, face a mask of confused puzzlement, “Bigger then his?”

-

After a less then pleasant adventure to some cozy little diner in New Jersey where the four of you were subjected to Banner in his weird Hulkness body or whatever the hell he is now. Turns out he was most definitely on board for this time traveling experimentation. Of course he was, the weirdo takes fucking selfies with children nowadays. 

So here you five are now, in the giant glass and metal garage of the Avengers Facility getting things ready for whatever nonsense is about to take place next. The back of Scott’s orange van closed for the moment, keeping hidden some reactor core thing behind its doors. Scott in some safety quantum realm suit while Banner and Natasha stand behind a large intricate assembly of high tech equipment in preparation for the events to hopefully follow.

You keep an amused yet genuinely curious stance off to the side as Bruce gives you a thumbs up, nodding, you face Scott who’s walking over to the van. “Okay, here we go. Time travel test number one everybody! Scott get that bitch open!” You shout with a small bout of rare enthusiasm while he opens up the doors.

“Emergency generators are on standby.” Announces Steve as he walks into view from behind some large plastic containers covered in safety rope.

Banner nods, “Good, because if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose, uh..” He points a green thumb at Scott who’s getting his helmet ready, “Tiny here in the 1950’s.”

Scott’s head snaps up in an instant, “Excuse me?” He worries.

Natasha smiles while looking down at her touch pad, “He’s kidding.” She sing songs before shaking her head up at Banner, “You can’t say things like that.”

Banner turns around to face a fearful Scott as you snort at the small bout of humor that you did happen to find rather amusing. Then again, you’re not the labs guinea pig, so instead you casually shrug while giving Scott a half persuasive grin and a thumbs up of reassurance, “Bad joke.” You add as Bruce nervously laughs, “Yeah, it was a bad joke.”

Scott nods apprehensively before turning to walk over to the reactor, appearing to believe the two of you, “You were kidding, right?” Asks Natasha as you raise a brow at Bruce in question. Albeit a smidge doubtful he actually one-hundred percent knows what he’s doing.

“I have no idea.” Whisper yells Banner, confirming your suspicions, “We’re talking about time travel here. Either it’s all a joke, or none of it is.” Explains Bruce, suddenly smiling as he lifts his attention back over to Scott, “We’re good!” He shouts with a positive thumbs up of that prominently famous green.

“Oh we’re so fucked.” You mutter humorously while Natasha shares an uncertain look with you.

“Get your helmet on.” States Banner as Scott does just that, “Scott, I’m gonna send you back a week...let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in 10 seconds. Make sense?”

Scott smiles brightly, waving him off with confidence, “Perfectly not confusing.” He muses with an almost annoyingly positive expression.

“Good luck Scott. You got this.” Encourages Steve while Scott grins proudly. “You’re right. I do, Captain America.” Then just like that’s he’s gone, sucked into the reactor like a crumb into a vacuum cleaner.

“On a count of three..” Begins Banner, “Three, two, one.” Bruce flips some switches as the machine whirs before a second later and there’s Scott. In the body of a teen. “Uh, guys? This doesn’t feel right.” Worries teen Scott as his brows furrow in confusion, clearly not aware of how he looks. This just got interesting.

“What’s going on?” Questions Steve as Bruce urgently flicks more switches. “Who is that?” Wonders Natasha as you snort at teen Scott, snickering at how absolutely ridiculous your life is becoming and the weird shit you’re adding to the list.

“Oh my god he looks so innocent, like before the world hurt him.” You muse as Natasha’s brows raise in bewilderment, giving you a side glance as she focuses back on the person in question. “Is that, Scott?”

“Yes, it’s Scott!” Protests the sassy little 14 year old before whoosh and he’s gone once again while Banner squats down out of view to mess with some more buttons. A hot second later Scott’s back, this time looking significantly different.

“Oh, my back!” Complains the short wrinkly 80 year old man, Steve sending the back of Bruce a troubled look, “What is this?”

“Hold on a second. Could I get a little space guys.”

Steve hastily jogs around Bruce as he makes his way over to you and Nat, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Mumbles Banner with underlying urgency as he flicks more switches in hopes of getting a better result, whoosh, and Scott’s gone again before reappearing as a...

“It’s a baby.” Deadpans Steve in astonishment.

You burst with laughter, “It’s Scott! Let’s just keep him this way so we don’t have to hear him ramble about how amazing you are, Captain America.” You tease playfully as Steve throws you a what-the-fuck kinda expression. “Y/N! He’s a baby!”

“He‘ll grow.” Adds Bruce as you shrug in agreement. Crossing your arms as you study baby Scott, “Steve you can change the diapers.”

“Bring Scott back.” Urges Steve as he ignores you and Banners amusement of the situation.

“Alright fine.” Chides Bruce, “When I say kill the power, kill the power.”

Natasha rushes past you while mumbling, “Oh, my God.” As you await for Bruce’s fantastic technological skills.

“And....kill it!” Natasha turns the breaker switch downwards and a moment later Scott’s back, this time fully Scott. Whether that’s good or not is debatable.

He stands there, arms open and face twisted in confusion, “Somebody peed my pants. But I don’t know if it was baby me or old me.......Or just...me me.” Speculates Scott as you snort in amusement.

“It was probably just you.”

He sends you an unsure look that’s half offended yet he can’t exactly counter that claim considering he’s just jumped between three different age groups of himself. Bruce claps his hands together before spreading his arms out wide in excitement, “Time travel!” He shouts enthusiastically as Steve shakes his head before turning to walk elsewhere, “What?” Wonders Bruce, “I see this as an absolute win. 

——

In the following weeks after Banner’s half-successful attempt at legitimate time travel, Tony and Rocket have been toiling away tirelessly on Starks actual time machine since he’s agreed to help fix the mess that Thanos left behind. The Avengers base has honestly never been busier; with Tony, Banner, and Rocket working on the giant machine. Everyone else is going about their business helping when needed and hoping for good news.

So here you are now, in the middle of the night with all light sources retired for the evening, hanging out in the kitchen with a bowl of watermelon chunks in your hand, and greatly enjoying the recently rare peace and quiet. Though soon your silent midnight snacking is disrupted when the sounds of human feet padding on tile reaches your ears from down the hallway. Dammit.

The lights flicker on in an instant, blinding your vision for a brief moment before they adjust accordingly to find the blue eyes of Steve, he yelps in surprise, hand holding his chest as he relaxes once more when he realizes it’s just you. Then he does a double take, considering you’re seated crossed legged on the counter with a bowl of watermelon, “Uh, hey there Y/N.”

You nod, awkwardly taking a bite out of your snack, “Steve.”

He raises a curious brow, deciding to step farther into the large kitchen area, “Huh, never seen anyone eat watermelon like that before, but I respect it.” Says the blonde, nodding towards the chopsticks held in your right hand.

“Yeah. Less of a mess.” He nods before taking a Gatorade out of the fridge, “Mind if I sit?”

“Go for it.” He nods before promptly seating himself next to the marble table. “So, eating in the dark? Your inner night owl keeping you from sleeping again?”

You shrug, “I can kinda see in the dark so....yeah, a bit of a night owl.” You admit with a growing frown, not sure why you suddenly feel so down in the dumbs again, “....guess I haven’t really slept well for some time now....well, now since I think about it actually, I probably don’t get as much sleep as your average person.”

“I get that, yeah....I know what you mean.” Lightly chuckles Steve in understanding, taking a small moment of silence to let his mind think of something to sway the atmosphere away from an awkward tension. Parting his eyes away from his clasped hands, he looks up to meet your stoic gaze, “You think all this is possible? I mean they’ve made some real progress and I guess Tony really knows what he’s doing. Still after all this time I can’t help but find it amazing.”

Pursing your lips together in thought, you let a small sigh emit from your parted lips before answering, “I hope so, cause if not. Well, guess that would be as expected.” You admit with a frown, “Maybe that’s just how it’s supposed to go....a fitting punishment for my lengthy list of crimes. I guess that’s fair.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Counters Steve as he sends you a sympathetic look, “What happened to you isn’t your fault, neither is what they made you do, or everything Thanos did to the universe....”

“Yeah, guess you’re probably right....it’s just...just so difficult to move on you know? From all of it, everything swirling in my head, and even though it’s been five fucking years now. I still think of that shit, even worse, I still think of Bucky every single day, I miss him.....I just, I miss all of them.” You admit sadly, setting your snack down as Steve takes a moment to reflect on his own losses.

Suddenly his lips curl into a humored smile as he shakes his head, eyes looking down at the table before they connect with your curious ones, “God he was so different back in the 40’s....Y/N you wouldn’t believe the stuff we got up to, jeesh, the stuff he got up to.” Chuckles Steve as you raise an intrigued brow. 

“Alright Rogers care to elaborate?” You press with a growing smile at the thought of Bucky and learning more about him, “Bucky never told me a whole lot about that time. Considering he’ll probably never get the chance, I think I’d like to learn more about him and what shit you people did back then.”

“Aren’t you from the 1950′s?” Inquires Steve with a humored grin as you wave him off.

“Yeah, yeah, I was a baby back then I don’t remember what happened okay,” You explain, “I was born in 53 alright, and let’s not forget I didn’t exactly have a normal childhood.”

Steve nods, “Right. Fair point.....Okay so..” He laughs, “There was this one time and if you knew me back in the day, of course I was getting in an unsolicited scuffle with some boys who thought it was funny to argue with the paperboy.”

Raising a brow, you begin to smile as his eyes light up, “An unsolicited scuffle?” You muse, “Or is this when skinny Steve got his ass kicked by a couple of mangy dogs?”

“Dogs. Yeah that’s probably more fitting, well you know, of course I had to step in and do something.”

“As expected.” You quickly add as he continues.

“Which I did. And let me tell you they were not a fan. Those assholes ran me for two blocks till I got cornered in some market when who would you know it.....Bucky was there, taking some cute strawberry blonde out for a date while he got groceries for his mom.” Chuckles Steve, blue eyes shimmering with the humorous memories coming back to him about his old friend.

You heart subconsciously swells with the thought of Bucky, “Clever man. Sweet talk your girl while doing something useful.”

“Exactly. I would have gotten a bloody nose if he hadn’t thrown a tomato right at the biggest guys head. That thing coated his hair like red paint, then...” Steve balls his fist as he presses it against his mouth to try and keep himself from losing it with laughter, “...then, his friend turned around and smack! Another tomato right in his face.”

Snickering in amusement, you run a hand down the side of your face at the vivid image forming in your head, “oh Bucky..”

“It was pretty damn accurate too. The other guy booked it down the sidewalk before Buck could get him. Then when he started walking towards us, the other guys took off like a couple of scared birds....fortunately leaving me with no bruises that day.” Says Steve proudly, no doubt thinking fondly on that old memory, “Then of course he told me I gotta be more careful and all that stuff, I said I was fine and he want back to shopping with that girl......huh, don’t think I ever saw her again, well....at least with him.”

“Don’t blame her, he sounded like a real ladies man back in the day, she probably got too jealous.” You joke with a small brow wiggle before your smile lessens again, God you miss him so fucking much, “Thanks Steve.....he seemed, so different. It’s just when I knew him, when I first met him that is, Bucky was very different.”

Steve’s face looses it’s once vibrant glow, he keeps a steady gaze set on you now, knowing your time with him was such a chilling contrast to Bucky in the 40’s. You sigh, “I think I would have liked to see that version of Bucky just once, but I liked the Bucky I got after everything we went through.....after everything’s that’s happened. Maybe 40’s Bucky wouldn’t even look in my direction, I’d probably scare the socks off of him anyways.”

Steve shakes his head, “No way Y/N, you’d have him wrapped around your finger so fast, not a doubt in my mind he’d do anything for you in a heartbeat. That’s just who he was, a player yes, but a kind one who treated everyone with respect through that famous charm of his.....and you, you’d have caught his attention in an instant.”

Looking down at your hands, you raise the corner of your lips into a small half grin at the thought of Sergeant Barnes losing it all to the dangerous vixen that is no doubt yourself, now that’s an interesting thought indeed. Bucky in the 40′s, how about that.

“Maybe you’re right, maybe you’re not....but I know one thing. That I’m glad to have even known him at all, he was...so special and he didn’t even know it.” You pause for a moment, lips pursing together as you think fondly of your past lover. Steve keeps silent, studying your disheartened features as you gather your words, “So if, if they can somehow do this....if it’s even actually possible to get those fucking stones again. I’ll do whatever it takes, Steve.”

Whatever it takes.

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[ayybtch]

Alcoholic Juice Box

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Adulthood sucks. You know what doesn’t suck? Blanket forts and alcoholic juice boxes.

Word count: 1,773

Warnings: Liberal use of the word ‘fuck’ and variations of the word ‘fuck’, brief mention of financial troubles, brief mention of crappy friends and family who are too focused on their own nonsense to care about the well being of anyone else, alcohol mentions and some alcohol consumption at the very end.

A/N: This maybe got a tad personal and self indulgent (oops). Before anyone asks, yes this was my actual stress response. I’m not proud of it but it worked! 😂 also, a very special thank you goes to the lovely @kellyn1604​ for giving this a quick read for me 💕

A Mutual Weirdness Masterlist 

Bucky sighed in relief as he finally sat down in the back of the Quinjet. He, Sam, and Steve had been on a mission nonstop for the past twelve days tracking down Hydra agents. His whole body ached and he was desperate for some normal human interaction. Specifically, he was desperate for normal human interaction with you. All nonessential phone calls or text conversations had been prohibited, so it truly had been twelve days of uninterrupted Steve and Sam. Normally they made for great company and he enjoyed being around them. But now? Now Bucky was almost ready to never see their faces again. He thought on multiple occasions during the mission that all SHIELD trainees should have to endure Sam’s singing for hours on end as a part of their hostage training. If they can survive that with Steve’s occasional attempts at harmonizing, they can survive anything.

Once the Quinjet was in the air, he took out his phone and sent you a quick text saying they were on their way back. Not even a minute later, Bucky’s screen lit up with an incoming Facetime call from you. His heart surged at the thought of seeing you hours before he initially expected to and answered without a moment's hesitation. The smile written on his face fell as soon as he saw you.

You looked terrible. The exhaustion he felt after twelve days of work suddenly seemed like nothing compared to the exhaustion written on your face. You tried to smile at him, but the smile didn’t fully reach your eyes. Bucky’s gut twisted.

“Doll, what’s going on? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice dripping with worry.

You tried to nod yes but burst out in tears instead. The tears kept coming and after a few minutes, Bucky really started to worry.

“When you feel ready, take a couple deep breaths for me. Tell me what’s going on so I know how to help.”

It took a few minutes, but your tears started to slow and your breathing began to even out. Bucky smiled at you reassuringly as you took a few deep breaths before starting to talk.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry. You’ve been on a mission and here I am crying before you even had the chance to say hello,” you said, wiping away a stray tear rolling down your cheek.

“These past few days have just been really hard. Well, the past couple of months really, but everything’s starting to hit me all at once. School sucks, I can’t believe they’re allowed to charge me what they are. College is stressful enough as it is, why does paying for it have to be challenging too? I work thirty hours a week during the semester and over forty during breaks, yet I still can’t afford to go to school without taking out student loans. It’s bullshit. On top of all of that, I still have my regular bills to pay too!

“And as if financial stress isn’t enough, my family and friends have all decided that this week was the week to start up as much drama as possible…” you trailed off and a new round of tears began.

Bucky’s heart broke as he watched your body shake with each new sob. He desperately wished it was his hands wiping away your tears instead of your own.

The tears ended a little quicker this time, but the sadness didn’t quite leave your face as you started to speak, “My family is fighting over something stupid and using me as the go-between because I wasn’t there when the argument started. But at the same time, they’re bitching at me for ‘never being there’ when it’s their own fault for not inviting me!

“My friends are also upset that I don’t have the time to see them as often anymore and are bitching about that. One of them is freaking out in particular because she thinks she’s about to be dumped, while another is complaining about how much she doesn’t like being married because now her mother-in-law expects grandbabies. I’m fucking tired of everything and everyone.”

Bucky waited to see if you were going to continue before he spoke. “Doll, I am so sorry. That’s a lot to handle all at once. What can I do to help?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think there’s much you can do, Bucky. I just let things build up too much and they all exploded at once.” You paused for a moment and let out a bitter chuckle, “This whole adulting thing is a load of garbage. What a fucking scam. I can’t believe I ever wanted to grow up.”

Bucky couldn’t hold back his laughter. Before he could say anything though, you spoke up again

“You know what? Fuck it. I’m done being an adult. I’m going to go do something childish and ignore all my adult responsibilities.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh yeah? What childish thing are you going to do?”

You pondered for a moment, eyebrows furrowed together as you considered your options. Bucky could see the lightbulb go off in your head before a smug smile crept up onto your face. “I’m going to build a blanket fort. Nobody expects adult things from someone who’s hanging out in a blanket fort”

If you hadn’t looked and sounded so serious, Bucky would’ve laughed again. Instead, he just nodded and smiled.

You weren’t amused by his lack of enthusiasm. “Oh c’mon, are you really telling me that a blanket fort isn’t the obvious solution to my problems?”

Bucky went to reply, but you cut him off with a gasp as a look of pure joy swept across your face. The joy soon transitioned into a look that screamed pure chaos. Bucky suddenly felt nervous.

“I’m going to go to the store and get juice boxes before I start. The blanket fort was a brilliant first step in my ‘Fuck The Scam That Is Adulthood’ plan, but the juice boxes -” you mimed a chef kiss “- are the icing on the cake.”

“Juice boxes, huh? That one’s a little surprising,” he teased. “Do you want me to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to go along with that? Or maybe you’d like some fruit snacks?”

You smiled devilishly back at him, “Well, it needs to be an alcoholic juice box though. That’s the one part of adulting I do like, so it gets to be the exception.”

This time Bucky didn’t even bother trying to hold back his laughter. “I’m not sure anything describes you better than an alcoholic juice box.”

“Agreed. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to go buy myself some juice boxes, make the blanket fort of my dreams, and then hide in it whilst pretending the world doesn’t exist. Come over as soon as you’re home and ready. Bring some food with you!”

The call ended abruptly and Bucky stared at the screen in disbelief for a moment before he chuckled. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, wondering how he ended up with someone as beautiful and crazy as you. He was still worried of course. Everything you had mentioned that was contributing to your stress was a lot. He fell asleep trying to plan out how to help you and what he could do to help keep things from being bottled up for this long again.

Three hours and a hot shower later, Bucky found himself walking up the steps to your apartment with food from your favorite Chinese restaurant in hand. He unlocked the door and made his way in, kicking off his shoes by the door.

“Doll, it’s me. Where are you?”

He heard you giggle slightly before calling out to him, “I’m in my room.”

He made his way back towards your room and his feet froze before he was fully in the door. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. You had built the most massive blanket fort he had ever seen. Fort was no longer the appropriate word to use; it was a blanket castle. He knew you were chaotic, but this...this was an entirely new level of chaotic, even for you.

Chairs from the living room and kitchen had been brought in as support beams, packing tape was being used to hold up one side of a sheet against the wall, and couch cushions were arranged to create a small tunnel as an entrance to the fort. The empty bed frame suggested you had even moved your mattress onto the floor for the sake of this damn fort. Once the initial shock wore off, he crouched down and carefully crawled inside.

Every pillow and cushion in your apartment was inside the fort with you, along with the few blankets that somehow hadn’t been used in the fort itself. You were curled up under your comforter with a bottle of wine in hand.

“I have to say when you said you were building a blanket fort I certainly did not expect something this big.” He leaned forward and gave you a quick kiss to the forehead as you giggled at his surprise.

““That’s what you get for underestimating my fort-making abilities,” You took a long sip of wine straight from the bottle before handing it to Bucky.

“I commend you on your taste in juice boxes, though I’d hardly call this a box.” he teased. He held up the bottle and looked at it closer before adding, “You also seem to have drunk most of it already. Guess I should have brought my own.” He estimated there was barely enough wine left to fill half of a glass. You sat there and shrugged.

“I’ll have you know I did consider getting a boxed wine to be more authentic. I decided against it though because that one’s harder to casually drink from. But bottle, schmottle - it’s a minor detail at this point. As to your astute observation about that one being almost empty, there are two more in the fridge. You can go open one up if you’re wanting some,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “The far more important concern right now is if you remembered to get extra egg rolls. You know how much drunk me loves egg rolls.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before dutifully reaching into the bag of takeout that had been haphazardly pushed to the side and pulling out three orders of egg rolls. A happy squeal and a quick peck on the cheek was all he needed to think that maybe your approach to adulthood wasn’t half bad.

[poorwayfaringstrxnger]

My friends that know nothing about Formula 1 make assumptions about Formula 1 drivers (long post incoming)

I joined in on the bandwagon! It was the most chaotic half an hour I’ve ever had and I need somewhere to express that. I asked for assumptions + a name based on what they look like! They knew Lewis, and one of them knew Kimi because of her dad. Oh, and one of them made no contribution except to say what foods they either looked like or looked like they would eat for their breakfast LOL

Here’s what they said...

I forget who started this trend I’m so sorry

Daniel:

"Is that Chewbacca?" ................................. "He seems like a fairly friendly bloke... though he'd probably run me over." (he literally wouldn’t) "His name is.... uhhh... James Harkinson."

Max:

"That's a motherfucking twink." (I SCREAMED)

"His trim (hair)'s a little offputting, but he seems nice."

"Name wise, he seems like.. a Thomas?" "He looks like if Honey Nut Crunch cereal was a human."

Charles:

"Why does he give off the vibe that he wouldn't hesitate to clothesline you?" "He looks like a Chad." (I DIED)

“How about.... strawberry flavoured Shreddies for him.”

I’m very sad they made no reference to how he looks tired in every photo.

Seb:

"He looks mildly like Mr. Dyer" (an ex teacher at our school) "He looks like he still eats Cheerios." "Name wise.... Russell." (LMFAO)

Pierre:

"Fucking hell... scary man." (meanie. he is not scary. never forgiving my friend for saying this)

"Full English breakfast..." Harper is obsessed with food. "When you said he was French, the name Pierre instantly came to mind." !!!! One later said that he looks like Jacksepticeye. I can't with these bitches.

Lewis:

"Alexander "Lewis" Hamilton." !!!!

"Oatcakes (a food from around where i live) with bacon and cheese." "There's a million things he could have done... But just you wait... what's your name, man? ALEXANDER HAMILTON." "Man is suave... and that's coming from a lesbian."

This was literally just them referencing Hamilton because they actually knew who he was

Carlos:

"Does he like protein drinks? Maybe he has coffee and toast."

"Norton." (I say he's Spanish) "NORTONÓ." "WAIT NO... IS ANTONIO A SPANISH NAME?" "UHHHH... JAVIER."

Esteban:

"He looks like a Joe." "NEVERMIND JOE ISN'T A FRENCH NAME" "His breakfast food is a croissant." "John." (referring to his name) "French guys aren't really that intimidating... he seems fairly nice. He looks like a Sebastian." (LOL wrong driver guys)

Lance: (had to ask them to be nice to him so I didn’t cry)

"He looks like the guy who plays Jacob from Twilight."

"He probably enjoys eating frumps... maybe not for breakfast though." (frumps are long marshmallows) "Canadian.... Benjamin." "2012 Minecraft youtuber is what I think." "BAJANCANADIAN."

“But also, his pose... I feel that.”

Checo:

"Vic." "His shirt says hype, he's immediately epic." "Pink." "Amazing vibes." "Also likes frumps. He shares them with Lance." (CUTE) "His vibes are immaculate." 

I think Checo is their fave..

George: "He looks like a William... OR A WILBUR" "Man's fancy with the cup, Jesus wept." "Wilbur Soot when his YouTube career goes bank." "The bracelets... THE BRACELETS" (there was nothing wrong with his bracelets my friend just has no taste) "Great vibes. Would hand him a Pepsi." "Why is the cup so big? Does he like soup?"

Lando:

"God, the stance, man." (referring to how he was standing in the picture I sent them) "My man looks smug as fuck and I'm here for it." "Phillip." "Is he okay?" "OH HELL YEAH" (after I told them he does livestreams) "PHILLIP IN THE TWITCH CHAT FOR TODAY"

Alex: (for context I sent them that one photo of him lying down on a bed)

"I can't give him a breakfast, he's not even out of bed." "He looks comfy in that. I envy him." "Mark." (this made me laugh bc it reminded me of Markiplier LMFAOOO) "He looks like he's wom a fair share of races, man. Man's go brrrr." "He eats peanut butter sandwiches as a late night snack." "Alex Almond milk..." (after I told them his name) (THIS MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD BC THE FANDOM CALLS HIM ALEX ALMOND)

Kimi:

"Why does he look scared?"

"Is he okay?" "That man has never had any seasoning on his chicken... ever." "Thinking of a suitable name is very hard.." "HUBERT." "He's not okay, he's being held at gunpoint so that strangers can make assumptions about him on Discord." "RICHARD" "OH I KNOW HIM" !!!!!!!!!

Romain: (made sure they respected him by telling them about his bad crash)

"Mr. Beast, low budget version."

"Kudos to him for not dying, man." "Swiss names..." "Teddison." (i cried laughing at this) "AYO ROMAIN" (after i told them his name)

Kevin:

"Fucking hell he looks intimidating." "He looks familiar..." !!!!!! "He does look pretty familiar.." "FRANK." "Does he like scrambled eggs?" "WAIT NO... BROCK" (both of those names are incorrect)

Jack:

"He looks like Guava Juice." (THE WAY I SEE IT OMFG) "The food jokes are mine but that was good..." (Me) "Think of a really basic name..." "JACK." !!!!!!!! "I think he would like pomegranates, or grapefruit."

In conclusion I think they’re both now Sergio Perez stans and I hate one of them because she said Pierre looks scary.

[expired-monster-craft-smp]

Vibes Dream SMP members give off (in my opinion)

Dream

Barked at people in high school ironically but it became unironic real quick

Can’t cook very well but is good with a knife, especially at a fast pace

One of those kids who either purposely spells the first word wrong in a spelling bee to just be done with it right away or tries the hardest and manages to win (there is no inbetween for this heathen)

Bites ice cream with his teeth

Has snorted pixie stix far too many times and sneezed blue after each time

Eats bananas with the peels

Wears mismatched socks

Has taken a bite out of a pool noodle because he liked the texture and impulsively bit it (ADHD things✨😌)

Walks around looking extremely high but he’s just spacin out and stuck in his head

Dreams (lmao) in Minecraft and video games in general

Will flirt with anything that moves but has no idea how to respond to compliments

Makes fun of himself first before anyone else can

Has eaten an orange peel and it wasn’t that bad in his humble opinion

Wears khaki shorts

Eats the wax part of the baby bell cheese

Doesn’t actually know what genre his music taste is cause he vibes to everything

Georgenotfound

Picks at the skin on his lip when it’s dry so it bleeds and he tries not to give in by licking his lips often enough to the point where it became a habit

Wears velcro shoes because he doesn’t feel like tying them (he knows how, he just doesn’t wanna do it)

Eats peanut butter straight from the jar

Makes that disgusting “ants on a log” thing (celery stick filled with peanut butter topped with a row of raisins)

Can’t drink milk plain, it’s gotta have some sort of flavour

Can draw a perfect straight line but his circles look Terrible

Eats cheez-its like cereal without milk

Loves making little noises so much like he walks around his house doin chores and he’s just goin “memememenownownwnkwkshskshkshskhs”

Hates wearing socks

Coloured his tongue with highlighters because they’re non-toxic

Constantly tapping his feet and hands to a song/beat playing in his head

I can’t imagine this man using a bike of any sort, so Imma say he doesn’t know how

Can’t be licked by dogs because he’s used to being licked by his cat so it makes him uncomfortable

Can actually sing pretty well but gets real nervous in front of people so he fucks it up

Sapnap

No idea how to cook anything other than Mac and cheese please help this man

Meows at cats because he wants to confuse them and laughs Way too hard when he does (his laugh is like sunshine so I’ll allow it)

Would be fantastic at braiding hair Idk why

Gives the BEST fuckin hugs EVER

When singing, he makes noises for the instrumental parts too

Wanted to play the drums at one point

Really likes pit bulls but he’s more of a cat person so he loves them from afar

Only vaguely knows how to shave his face properly without hurting himself

Opportunities for him come up out of pure luck but mans is skilled for them so it works out well almost Always

Used to or currently has a skateboard and isn’t too bad

ALWAYS has bruises appearing everywhere for no reason, he doesn’t even know where 90% of them are from

Calls his friends twinks to jokingly bully them and gets away with it because he himself is not a twink

Gets sudden bursts of energy in the middle of the night and just shimmies around a bit to try and deal with it

Favours spearmint over peppermint

Arsonist

Banned from three (3) Dave & Busters in Texas

Badboyhalo

Washes his hands after doing literally anything

Likes the bird exhibits at the zoo (specifically the penguins)

Very good at cooking, best at soups and stews

If he painted his nails they would definitely be a baby blue

Overthinks very simple things and it makes him look less smart than he actually is

Drinks tap water

Probably prefers whiskey over beer

Knows how to tap dance a bit

Surprisingly good at taking and handling shots

Steady hands

Adds extra chocolate to hot chocolate

Plays sudoku and is really really good at it (only uses pen when he plays)

Everytime he sees a Himalayan salt lamp he NEEDS to lick it despite knowing it’s very salty and he’ll pull a face afterwards

Not great at Rock Paper Scissors

Wears sunglasses inside for no reason at all, he just,,,Does

Still has a stuffed animal from childhood perched on his bed

Probably tried his hand at archery

Tommyinnit

He has no idea how to use a baby voice on children or animals, so he just talks to them normally

Wears socks to bed

His fingers are double jointed

Always starts twitching if he stays still for too long because he’s gotta move around

His shoes and have different laces and it bothers everyone but himself

Doodles on himself in class when he’s bored or not paying attention

Has really good hearing, both with pitch and volume

Can’t eat tomato’s by themselves, it’s either gotta be in sauce form or with something else

FUCKING LOVES STRING CHEESE

Terrible handwriting

Favourite part of a slice of bread is the crust

Wants to paint his nails black to be cool and edgy but his hands are far from steady and he has no clue how to paint nails

Pretty affectionate with close friends (like Tubbo and Wilbur) off stream/camera

He likes pears for some reason

Wilbur Soot

Is constantly having to decide between leaving his hair as is or shaving all of it off

He also thinks about adding some colour but never actually does

Most tea is gross to him

Everytime he puts a breath mint thats circular in his mouth, he pretends it’s a pill and he’s taking drugs because he thinks that’s funny

He does that vacant state as a joke but that really what he looks like when he’s spacing out

Likes to aggressively flirt with his male friends but if his female friends flirt with him, he gets a bit flustered

Has probably accidentally swallowed a guitar pick

Once drank two entire jars of pickle juice

Bonks his head on anything and everything

He has broken a pair of glasses by walking face first into a pole outside

Thinks kinetic sand is fun

Has passionate arguments with others about trivial and random topics like chicken feet

Can open a beer bottle with his teeth

Would accidentally pop and swallow a bracket if he had braces

Tubbo

Hates sharp cheddar cheese

Everytime he learns a new word it’s in every sentence he says for the next week or so

Ate candle wax for a dare once

Doesn’t know how to tie a tie and will probably never learn

Wanted to do ballet at one point but decided not to

He has eaten multiple flowers for absolutely no reason other than wanting to know how they taste

Starts vibrating if he’s too excited

Used to bite his nails

ABSOLUTELY DESPISES MUSTARD

Has eaten paper and says it doesn’t taste that bad

Enjoys telling his friends how much they mean to him (this has resulted in Tommy and Wilbur crying on a few seperate occasions)

Spaces out a lot and doesn’t often pay attention to his surroundings

Gets lost inside of Best Buy’s

Likes s’mores but doesn’t properly understand how to make them

Technoblade

Learned to cook purely out of spite and found it’s actually pretty fun

Constantly getting smacked in the face by trees when walking outside

Really likes apple pie

Everytime he looks at potatoes he thinks of all the hours he spent trying to win the potato war

Starts things as a joke and gets too into it

Doesn’t like the taste of most energy drinks

Has rubbed salt and lemon juice into an open wound to just,,see how it felt (he did it once and Hated it but did it again because he forgot what it felt like)

Sometimes hates how quiet he is because everyone he knows is loud and talks over him

Despite how he is portrayed in the Dream SMP, he is extremely loyal to his friends and would kill for them

Over seasons his food because he can’t taste it otherwise

Really good balance

Doesn’t like to wear bright colours, but still enjoys wearing colours

Good at knitting

Quackity

Actually fairly quiet when off camera

Will accidentally use Spanish grammar while speaking English sometimes

Country music confuses him

Doesn’t really like kids but they really like him

Can’t dance

Hardest drugs he’s ever done is second hand smoke from a cigarette and children’s Tylenol

His favourite jolly ranchers are the red and blue ones

He uses lighters as fidget toys basically

Will have a breakdown, take a bubble bath, and call himself the self care king

Dehydrated

Wants a pet rat but he already has a cat and doesn’t wanna risk anything

Constantly questions why his main source of income is playing Minecraft with two 16 year olds

Karl Jacobs

Probably ate a spider once

Would wear those socks that are like gloves for you feet where it separates all the toes

Eats ravioli straight from the can, cold

Can answer an incredibly complex math equation fairly easily but will stumble over 12x11

Loves kids so much and speaks to them in a soft voice

Tried making ramen in a coffee pot and broke it

Drinks 2 monster energy drinks a day on average

Likes to open walnuts with his teeth but doesn’t actually eat them

The embodiment of that one John Maulany joke where he says you could spill soup in his lap and HE’D apologize to YOU

Loves physical affection so so much!!!!

If he moves his wrists in a certain way, they pop Really Loudly

Fantastic at making cookies

Fundy

Lowkey actually a furry but more on like, a cat boy level than fursuit level

Drives a Honda Civic

Likes ABBA

Adds parsley to almost anything he makes food-wise

Loves garlic bread so much, he’d commit a federal crime for it

Middle child vibes

Decent at skiing

Good at singing but isn’t terribly confident

Seems responsible at first glance but in reality he’s pretty chaotic and childish

Bad at spelling

Always cuts his nails way too short so they always feel weird/hurt

Likes bracelets and rings

Thinks pastel colours slap

JSchlatt

Despite the character he plays, he’s actually really sweet

He’s genuinely that cryptic off camera as he is on camera

Can cook but chooses not to most of the time

Would probably say “what pussy size you wear” to anyone who asks him to buy pads

Not actually as intimidating as he appears to be

Lowkey would fight a child

Shuts down when someone compliments him, often using aggression as a front because holy shit they just called him handsome and kind what the Fuck-

Jokingly says his license is suspended but in all actuality he never got his license in the first place

He has two (2) extra teeth but they don’t need to be removed so he kept them

Has a stick n poke of a stickman on his ankle he got in high school

Likes physics

This is already very long, and I still plan on adding more.

[soulwillower]

living with bill, richie, and stan

i’m not saying i got inspired while watching new girl but that’s exactly what i’m saying in fact this is almost all directly from new girl

first off, this apartment is a serious fucking nightmare

obviously bc college/early 20′s stan, y/n, bill, and richie.... you guys are crazy 

it’s terrifying

you had to beg stan to live with you guys bc you were afraid you were going to die if left with just richie and bill 

he agreed bc you guys gave him the biggest room

OK so 

richie sings in the shower. 

loudly

stan hates it, especially bc you guys have one of those bathrooms that has a stall and urinals with a curtained off shower

so stan will be organizing his body care stuff 

naturally,,

and richie will be screeching rich girl by hall and oats or some shit

stan’ll get so annoyed he’ll start chucking things into the shower

you prob have to break up an argument between them like once a week, and its idiotic bc stan will be flustered and throwing stuff at richie, who’s all sudsy and can’t see at all w/o his glasses

lmao

bill thinks its so hilarious

so stan’s an early riser

you wake up to breakfast waiting for you almost every morning

richie drinks so much coffee but stan drinks even more than him, bill will only have it if you make it because he likes the way you do the ‘frothy milk’

you’d have family dinners all the time and bring the other losers over to eat with you

eddie, mike, bev, and ben basically live with you guys

 bc you have a loft

it’s a pretty big apartment

stan and bill start a garden on the roof of the building!!!!

i feel like bill gets intense about cooking

you’d think he’d be bad at it 

but that boy goes crazy in the kitchen, and tbh it scares the rest of you

speaking of bill 

bill does innocent and sweet things all the time

like he picks up rubber bands on the sidewalk for you

not the kind for hair, but like literal rubber bands 

omfg ahahaha

“f-for your ponytail”

it’s so sweet but you can’t use those obvs. 

so you’d just throw them out when he’s not looking

oh my god my boy 

you most certainly all have a douchebag jar 

most of the money is from richie, some from bill

richie complains that half of his rent should be taken off every month bc of how much of his income goes into that jar

but you guys always take the money from the jar every few months and have a ‘fancy’ dinner 

IMAGINE THE DRINKING GAMES agh

true american?? yeah

beer pong because bill and you are the perfect team

ride the bus? hell yeah dude!

so many parties, holy shit the four of you throw fuckin bangers

but on your more tame days 

bill is a writer so he’s home a lot

richie works as a bartender and you guys get free drinks

stan goes into the office and you have to teach him how to tie a tie on his first day

omg for the holidays, you guys have friendsgiving

 bill, eddie and mike spend all day in the kitchen 

most of u don’t want to go home for the holidays, so you all stay at the apartment and celebrate all your holidays together, bev ben eddie and mike staying in the living room or in your rooms with you

stan makes you guys matzo ball soup and holy shit that’s why it’s your favorite time of the year 

ugh !!!!! :D

you have some intense board game competitions 

you, ben and stan have wine nights

 you try to do it when bill and richie are gone because they always fuck around

teasing each other about your weird hookups

dude richie will seize any opportunity to pretend he’s your guys’ disgraced lover

like, if stan or bill or you have a person over that you’re trying to get to leave

richie will be all dramatic and hell, maybe he’ll throw in tears and yelling and it’s impressive

 it works every time 

oh my god richie fredo-kissing all of you (like from the godfather yk?)

like stan tells him about his new job or whatever and richie jumps across the table, kissing stan aggressively

and stan screams, he’s so annoyed

“YOU GOTTA STOP FREDO KISSING ME TRASHMOUTH”

you guys have stupid artwork, posters, and photos of the losers when you guys were younger all over the place

richie’s pretty big on pranks, naturally

but stan... oh man

stan either goes way too small or way too big. 

he almost killed bill once when he put peanuts in his salad

knowing that bill’s allergic

but another time he put a capped pen onto one of your pants

... that’s it, that was the prank

he lost his mind laughing and u guys were like... what

u have very little privacy but you love it that way

ok hear me out!!!

 u guys all actually bird watch together 

on your balcony

stan secretly loves it when you guys pile out there early in the morning, with sleepy smiles and coffee in your hands, smothered in blankets

bill sketches the birds you see

richie narrates stupid voices for them

but he does it quietly so only you hear it 

and you think it’s so funny

stan loves it so so much

movie nights where you all fall asleep on your couch piled together

just having a really fun and wild and wholesome living situation

[blackberries45]

It's time to gush about these amazing candles by @steeeeeeeviebb !!! ✨✨✨✨

I'm going to give more details below, but the short and sweet is that you need these!! Stevie doesn't post her etsy openly, which I'll respect, but please send her an ask or message and she will tell you the name. You can also look these up and find them on there. They are beautiful and smell AMAZING!!!!! They also arrive adorably wrapped and with biodegradable peanuts. The candles themselves are so professional, you'd swear they are from a high end store. I'm so in love 😍

Now my personal descriptions below...

Here are the descriptions and one of them is embarrassingly honest 😳😬🥴 Also, check her site for ACTUAL descriptions of scents. These are mine from how they make me feel!!!

Alittle Bit Alexis - this is so spunky and fun yet clean and fresh. I could totally imagine this as a spendy perfume Alexis found abroad. It has white grapefruit and smells calming and chill yet light and fun

Sally Owens - I have sadly only seen the movie Practical Magic once and need to see it again. I actually bought it because of the lilac in it. If you ever wondered what spring smells like minus the headache and watery eyes, this is it. It makes me want to cozy up on a porch with a fluffy blanket and a cup of coffee with a spring breeze lightly blowing

Amas Veritas - I think and again, I'm a dumb bunny, but this has another meaning to it. I personally bought it for the beauty of it. I saw her post and knew instantly I NEEDED it!! I've started a self improvement type altar of sorts, just stuff that reminds me of past, present and future and this is perfect! It smells like sexy magic(?) Like the cool witch bitch in town. You want to be her, but she reminds you to be you!

The Mando - now, we are going to get personal here. Fuck. This. Candle. If I could, I would. Sorry not sorry!!!!! I don't know if it's partly because it has the mandalorian on it and there for before you take a smell, you are thinking about him and then BAM! You can smell him?? The best description is the most yummy guy shower smell ever!! My husband loves it too, just not in the same way 😆

A tiny back story before I end this. When I was 15, my mom and I were side swiped in our tiny honda. My mom had been working as an art teacher that would go school to school when they wanted to do an art project. Because it was the summer when we got hit, she technically "wasn't working" it smashed 5 of her vertebrae, which she didn't find out for years. The moral of this story is the etsy was and is the only way for her to make a small income each month. This is why I fist bought from Stevie. I appreciate those who are trying to make it.

Please buy Stevie's candles!!! They are delicious smelling, they are magical, and they are amazing!!! @steeeeeeeviebb

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[tansypoisoning]

(Un)Conditional - Part 1

Truce

You didn’t remember how or why you found yourself in Ransom’s bed in the first place, but now, poor, pregnant and desperate, you had your reasons for putting up with him, and they weren’t noble. His reasons for staying with you weren’t noble either.

   Me  🤝  The Reader Insert     making stupid decisions

In which the reader is pregnant with Ransom’s baby and he sees that as an opportunity for personal enrichment. Big changes to the original plot, but Idk where this is going, so stay tuned for my brain farts, and I accept suggestions (Ransom redemption arc? Or should I make him even shittier? I haven’t decided yet!). I still want to have Benoit Blanc in the story somehow, because he’s my jam, my jelly, my peanut butter and my peanuts. This chapter is safe for anyone who hasn’t watched the movie but THERE WILL BE SPOILERS in the future.

 Chapter 2 - I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

Fandoms: Knives Out

Genre: *surprised Pikachu face*

Ships: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Smut, some light choking, some daddy kink, mentions of past sexual assault, talk of abortion, unhealthy relationships, Ransom is an asshole, a fuckboy and also verbally abusive tbh.

You were such an idiot.

Many were the times you had come home after terrible dates, or left parties in your friends’ arms after a guy tried to finger-bang you when you were passed out on the couch, and yet you still let your guard down around men you knew to be assholes. You could always tell; you weren’t sure whether it was thanks to familiarity ,or if you had a knack for reading people, but you still let terrible men in when you knew them to be terrible. Bad habits, hard to break, yadda yadda yadda. All that made for piss poor comfort when you looked at the five little plastics sticks in front of you.

Feet tapping against the ground and your phone held in between your cheek and shoulder, you typed on your laptop. Planned Parenthood. You should’ve done this sooner, way sooner, when you could get an IUD, or the pill, or the shot, or whatever the fuck else, instead of trusting your reliably unreliable partners and your nonexistent backbone. Birth control was expensive, but it was nowhere near as expensive as a baby, and you were going to get the same amount of help with either, which was to say, none.

No… That wasn’t quite true. Your brother and your friends would pitch in if you asked, you knew, but, as previously established, you were an idiot.

You knew there were people who loved you and would support you no matter what, but you didn’t want to burden them with your problems. This mess was on you, on you and…

Mailbox. Of course he didn’t pick up. He got what he wanted from you, and was now moving on to another woman who was equally as gullible and equally as “passable” as you. You couldn't believe his negging had worked on you, you were so fucked.

Deep breathes. It wasn’t over yet, you could fix this. The… the thing was still only two months, you could get rid of it, with a pill, even. But should you?

You tossed your phone to the side and opened another tab. Fetus two months. You clicked the first result that mentioned the development of the thing growing inside you and read the section entitled “Baby”. Internal organs already in place… wiggling and waving like mad? Distinct facial features?!

Your hands found their way to your mouth as a sob found its way past your lips. No way. This was some forced-birther propaganda, it had to be.

You left that shitty website and opened usually trustworthy Wikipedia, but it was of no help. It didn’t exactly contradict the information the other website had given you – the difference between “waving” and “twitches” was negligible to your addled brain.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than it was wise. You stood and began pacing, one hand over your face and another resting on your abdomen. It was just your luck to have your eggs dodge the sperm of every jerk you could get to pay child support, only for you to end up carrying the Antichrist – and the Devil could afford the best lawyers.

Damned be the day you let Hugh RaNsOm Drysdale in your bed without a condom, and damned be you for being so fucking stupid. You deserved whatever suffering that came from this, and you could accept them with some grace if it didn’t feel like you were dragging an innocent along with you.

You stopped and looked down at the row of pregnancy tests arranged over the bathroom counter, all of them positive. You couldn't do this. You regretted that one night of meaningless sex more than you regretted anything in your life, and maybe you’d regret your current decision even more but you couldn't do the thing you knew you should do.

You swiped all the tests into your arms and dumped them in your bag. You grabbed your keys and walked out of your pitiful apartment and into your pitiful car. You had barely enough money to take care of yourself, let alone a child. Abortion could be the best thing you could do as a mother, but…

You pushed the keys into the ignition and shook your head. You were emotional, that was all. If you just gave yourself a little more time you’d stop thinking of it as more than the parasite it actually was, but for now… For now you needed to get things straight with the sperm donor, no matter how much it could hurt, and you were under no illusions – it would hurt like a motherfucker.

You had been in Ransom’s unfairly cool house a grand total of three times. He didn’t like having you over, much preferring fucking at your house even if he turned up his nose at the building and everything inside it. Maybe he didn’t like having to disinfect his furniture every time it got into contact with your poor people germs.

Yeah, like he cleaned anything.

You parked in front of the contemporary building and made your way to the front door, ringing the bell four times because Ransom never answered when people rang only once or twice, and then another because you were filled with dread, and manic energy, and the powerful desire to punch him in his perfect face until it wasn’t quite so perfect anymore.

You waited several minutes but there was no answer. It wasn’t surprising; if he was inside you’d have seen him through one of the outrageously large windows that covered almost every wall of the house.

You sat down on the steps to the entrance and pulled out your phone. You were done with work for the day, and you weren’t sure when he would want to pick up your calls again. You could wait.

And wait you did.

It was two in the morning when Ransom’s BMW pulled up in front of the building, activating the motion sensor lights. He walked out of the car with the confidence of a man who knew he owned everything he surveyed.

Fucking dipshit.

“Wow,” he laughed, opening his arms then dropping them to his side again, lest he appear too inviting. “You want it bad.”

You started rummaging through your bag for the pregnancy test as not to waste your time with pointless conversation. That should tell him everything you wanted to say.

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood today,” he said pulling his keys from his stupid suede coat only he could make look hot “long day, you know how it is. You can suck my cock and stay over, if you want.”

He had unlocked the door and was nudging you with his foot when you found what you were looking for and got up with a jump.

You waved the stick in the air victoriously. Even though you were the one who was the worst off in this scenario, you could at least use the source of your misery to wipe the smirk off his dumb, gorgeous face.

Done and did. Once Ransom caught on, the corner of his mouth dropped, free falling. Your life had been thrown in disarray, and the medical bills, if you chose to keep the thing, would ensure you would end up homeless in a couple of months, but at least you could rejoice in the fact you had ruined his eternal party in a spectacular fashion.

“What do you want?” He snarled. “Can’t pay the abortion? How much is it?”

You recoiled as if he had just swung a knife in your direction. This was new. You’d seen him angry before, sure, but this… the curl of his lips, the look in his eyes– it had you second guessing your decision to come see him.

You struggled to find your voice for a few seconds “I don’t… I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.”

Regret pierced you through like a lance. You knew he didn’t care about you – he didn’t “do monogamy”, he never asked you about your day, it was a struggle to get him to even buy you a coffee, and he only bothered to make you come if he could use it to feed his pride somehow – but all his disinterest in your well-being was nothing compared to the loathing radiating from him, like you were a fat dying cockroach stuck to the bottom of his nice leather shoes.

There was no reason Ransom should be able to make you feel like that. He was an absolute shitheel, a trust-fund baby who had never had a job in his life, never worked to build anything, and didn’t even have the decency to be thankful to his family for all they had done for him, and you didn’t even like him (conceding that he was attractive and you were a masochist was not the same as liking), so his opinion shouldn’t matter to you, someone with a stable source of income and an ounce of moral fiber. That didn’t stop you from writhing under his gaze.

“Get in,” he said, voice devoid of anything that could be considered charming.

You entered, waiting at the side, in fear of walking past the foyer without invitation, while he locked the door behind him.

He walked by you and went right to the kitchen. You followed him with your eyes, watched him grab a glass, fill it with water and down it. He didn’t offer you anything – you figured he didn’t think you deserved it.

“You’re suggesting it’s mine.”

His words startled you from your stupor, and you shook in your spot by the entrance before answering. “I know it’s yours. I haven’t slept with anyone else in almost a year.”

“And you are saying that.”

You bristled at his insinuation. “We can get a paternity test, if you want.”

Ransom lifted his head and inhaled sharply. He paced the length of his high end, open concept, immaculate-because-it-was-never-used kitchen, then opened a drawer, pausing to look up at you, closed it, then moved to the next and repeating the process several more times, while you shifted from one foot to the other.

“Here’s the thing, honey,” he said, and the last word was said with anything but sweetness “I’ll pay for the abortion, and I’ll pay for you to have the abortion. If you’re not gonna do it, then I don’t want to see your dog face again.”

You knew Ransom didn’t like kids – he despised them, even – but you didn’t think he’d react quite this badly. You knew he would want nothing to do with it, but you still thought telling him was the right thing to do. He deserved to know at least, surely.

The feeling you got when he first turned on you that night was a sign; you shouldn’t have come.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered.

Ransom’s cheeks were red and wide, and it seemed as if he was about to argue when he slammed his hand against the counter then stomped towards you.

You shrunk in on yourself, but you needn’t have. He just unlocked the door and pulled it open, holding it for you to walk through. His breathing was heavy and his shoulders were tense, like he was holding himself back.

Once you had rallied your strength and crossed the threshold, you heard your name being called behind you. You turned to see Ransom, still glaring at you with the same awful expression. You couldn't imagine what he had to tell you that hadn’t already been said.

“If you try contacting me again, you’re fucked.”

And then he slammed the door in your face.

You made your way to your car, head hanging low. That had been a disaster, but at least he made it easier for you to choose one of the options.

Fucking dipshit.

You had been right; time had given you helped you think things over.

Three days later and you could refer to the fetus as a fetus without going down a depressive spiral, and the thought of abortion was more palatable to you. In a couple more days you were certain you’d be able to walk into Planned Parenthood with your head held high, get your pill, and walk out, facing the world and the potential crowds of angry protesters with confidence, then move on with your life, promising never to get involved with another shitty guy again. The scare would be enough to make you change your ways, you were sure.

You didn’t want a kid, at least not yet. You were young, living paycheck to paycheck, and any child you had right now would grow up without a father. You were still mulling it over but abortion seemed like the most responsible choice, and if you couldn't make the responsible choice now, you’d make for a terrible mother in the future.

A knock on the door made you look up at the clock. Fifteen past eleven. Maybe the old lady who lived across the hall from you needed help killing a bug or something. You stood, pulled the latch off and unlocked the door, not thinking much of it, and almost walked face first into a hard body you were far too familiar with.

Ransom was there, waiting for you, his face inscrutable. His chest was heaving, and some serious heat emanated from it. You had the urge to hug his waist and burrow into his warmth, but you resisted it bravely. You’d promised yourself you would stop chasing men like him, and you intended on keeping that promise.

“Ransom,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice even.

A flash of pain roamed his face, and then he was putting his hands on you, holding the side of your face in his large palms. You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound was muffled between your lips and his.

A kiss. Ransom was kissing you – and a second ago you were so sure he was paying you a visit just to beat you up.

He maneuvered you into your apartment, still cradling your cheeks with surprising gentleness. You knew you should’ve stopped him, but your feet followed his steps with such ease, and he was so fucking warm and you living room so cold.

As one of his hands slid from your face to the back of your neck, something inside you screamed. It told you to stop now or it would be too late, and you’d fall into the same old hole and not be able to crawl out of it. You surprised yourself by listening to it and pulling away, pushing on his chest to keep a good distance between you. You told yourself you were doing well, even though you were holding onto his white shirt like a lifeline and arching your body into his.

“Ransom, wha-” your words were cut off by another kiss, more heated than the previous.

He pushed you down onto your couch -  the creaky old thing he always complained about – and climbed on top of you you, forcing you both into a laying position.

When Ransom pulled away (only to immediately latch his lips to your earlobe) you made to question him before the weakest part of yourself could convince you to just let it happen. It was she who had gotten you into this mess in the first place. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He mumbled against your skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” you huffed, twisting your body beneath him in a half-assed attempt to buck him off “You told me to never contact you again. Why are you here?”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that had your very core thrumming. He removed his hands from you and pushed himself up by the forearms to look down at you. When you saw his smirk, you knew you were going to end up having sex with him no matter what he said next.

“I guess I couldn't keep away.”

And with that he went right back to his station, sucking and nibbling on the spot just behind your ear and running his hand across your waist and belly.

But what about the baby? What about whether you wanted to keep it or not? These questions were lodged in your throat, dying to burst out, but you didn’t want to to ruin this moment. You were so tired; you just wanted to be held, and Ransom was willing to do that for you, so what was the harm in giving in?

You lifted a leg and wrapped it around his thigh, and that Ransom took as acquiescence or defeat. He pulled away to lift your shirt above your breasts and wasted no time diving for them, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth and squeezing the other in between his fingers. You planted your feet on the couch and used them as leverage push your crotch upwards and rub it against his. He was a terrible person, you knew, but he could fuck you so good when he wanted to, and right now you only had the brain space to care about one of those things.

Your hips rocked in tandem with his, driving you closer to that edge you didn’t know you were yearning for until you saw him standing on your doorstep. Entangled in his arms, you remembered your older brother’s words from that night some ten years ago when you were lying on the backseat of his car, a plastic bag filled with your vomit clutched in your hands. You saw his eyes in the rear view mirror, crinkling in a smile that was equal parts amused and concerned.

A pretty boy is going to be the end of you, huh?

Ransom pushed himself into a kneeling position, removed his dark cardigan and tossed it to some forgotten corner of your living room, his shirt receiving the same treatment soon after. For someone who was so averse to working, he sure didn’t skimp on his work outs. He was built like a god, but his smile was that of the devil.

He crashed down on top of you, and his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him. You sunk both hands in his perfectly coiffed hair and dragged him up until you were staring into his baby blue eyes. He leaned down to kiss you, and you obliged him. His mouth devoured your own while his hands roamed your body, hungry, desperate almost. You didn’t want to be outdone, both because he was an asshole and you didn’t want to lose to him, and because you were as starved of him as he seemed to be of you, so you wrapped both legs around his waist to pull yourself even closer to him, as close as you could get.

Ransom’s hands abandoned your body in favor of his belt, unbuckling it to shove his pants just past his upper thighs. His eyes were pointed, telling you he expected you to follow his lead. You undid your buttons with heavy fingers, and allowed him to pull your bottoms all the way off. His grin grew in size and insolence when he saw your panties were soaked through.

“You do want it bad.”

Fucking dipshit.

Before you could think of something smarter to say, he was dragging your underwear to the side and spreading your folds. You certainly weren’t going to think of a comeback now, with his fingers up your cunt and your body begging for his attention. You wouldn’t be this aroused with any other man, but you already knew you suffered from a serious case of tastelessness and dumb. Most grievously, it appeared to be terminal.

Ransom stoked the fires inside you with one hand, pulling it out periodically to smear the wetness across your lower lips while he held himself aloft with the other, his usual lazy, confident smile plastered on his face. It made a sudden wave of lucidity wash over you.

What the fuck were you doing? You knew he wasn’t worth your time since the day you met him; Three days ago he had treated you like shit after you told him you were pregnant; Just a few minutes before you were determined not to get involved with him or men like him ever again. All the signs told you to stop now, push him away and tell him to get out under threat of you calling the police, and yet here you were, panting under him and dying to feel his cock stretching you. The mere promise of dick had you going back on your word like a rat, and all you did was make excuses for yourself. You were always too weak or too dumb to resist your urges, weren’t you? That’s why you never bothered trying.

“Wai-”

The air was forcibly expelled from your lungs when his cock entered you. He wasn’t gentle, and he didn’t have to be; your body was more than ready for him. The grunt that came fro you had an air of finality to it. You weren’t going to stop him now.

The screaming part of you let out one final screech, then withered and died.

Ransom panted, rolling his hips against yours. You held onto his arms and looked up at him. This was unusual. Normally he’d be pounding into you when you were this slick, and unusual with Ransom tended to mean ‘bad’.

He brought two wet fingers to your face and tapped your chin with them.

“Get me clean.”

You parted your lips and accepted the appendages into your mouth. Nothing unusual there; he’d made you taste yourself on his fingers a couple of times. He liked to watch you lick them clean, but this was different. His smile was strained and his eyes looked past you. You turned the full powerful of your best puppy impression on him, but he still seemed to be half-there half-somewhere else.

Once you had slurped all your juices and then some, Ransom moved both his hands to your arms, pressing you against the hard surface of the couch. He should’ve started fucking you already, but he only rocked his pelvis side to side, giving you just a hint of friction, nowhere near enough to satisfy you.

You whined and bucked your hips upwards. That got him out of his trance, his eyes regaining their shine and his smile splitting into a grin. There was that asshole you knew and didn’t love.

“What’s with that face?” He asked and moved one of his hands to your neck, applying pressure, not enough to compromise your breathing but enough to leave you light-headed for a different reason “You want something?”

“Ransom,” you clawed at his forearm like you could do anything if he chose to choke you.

“You gotta ask, baby. If you want daddy to fuck you, you gotta ask.”

Your fingers stilled around his arm. The daddy thing was not new either, but you didn’t think he’d bring it up under the present circumstances. Was this intentional, or was he not even aware of what he was saying? Were you wrong to think it was weird for him to say that now?

The fingers around your throat tightened, closing your airway for a moment, then releasing.

“Ask.”

You squirmed, tapping on his arm, but all that got you was another squeeze.

“Please,” you whimpered “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

Ransom’s grin grew even wider, wide enough that light reflected off his canines. He adjusted his position on his knees, and took his other hand from your arm, reaching behind your head to pull you by the hair, further exposing your neck to him.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered against the top of your head.

He pulled his cock almost all the way out, then slammed back inside you. He pushed into you with shallow thrusts until he tapped a spot that made you gasp. Having found what he was looking for, Ransom diverted most of his attentions to hitting his target over and over again, periodically stopping to grind against it in a torturous slow pace.

You were too aroused to last much longer, and the bastard would be able to finish you off with little effort.

“You close, baby? You wanna cum?” He asked, and you nodded emphatically “Then you gotta do what daddy says. Can you do that?”

God, you’d do anything he asked of you at this point. Someone needed to tattoo ‘Sucker’ on your forehead already.

“Yes, daddy!” You cried, your words devolving into a high-pitched whine “I’ll do anything, please!”

The hand in your neck slid down across your body and delved in between your legs in search of your clit. You squealed when his fingers made contact, and whimpered when they began rubbing. You were aware of your trembling legs, but unable to do anything about them.

Ransom could always dismantle you with ease, but now more so than ever. You came in record time, with short little moans that culminated in an embarrassing howl. You were just coming down from your high when he picked up his pace, grunting and huffing above you. He gave you no warning before spilling into you, swaying back and forth and groaning as his own orgasm ebbed away. The fact that this was the least concerning thing he’d done all evening didn’t escape you.

He held you to him for a few seconds as both your breaths evened out, then rolled over, leaning against the backrest and lying you down by the outer edge of the couch. Ransom was always more tractable after sex, but he’d go back to being his dismissive self come the morning, and then you’d bitch and moan to yourself. This was a familiar dance you couldn't seem to stop repeating.

You were ready to recommence your self-pitying when Ransom spoke, interrupting the flow of your lamentations.

“I thought about what you said the other day,” he said. The pregnancy? Why would he bring that up now? “and if you want to keep it, I’ll help you.”

A tremor ran through your spine and you lost your precarious balance on the couch, falling to the carpet with a loud thud.

There was laughter – because of course there was – then Ransom was peering down at you. His lips were pressed together, as if he was still fighting to rein in his amusement.

“You… you want to help me?” You asked when you found your voice again.

He nodded. “I do.”

“You want to help me raise a kid?”

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes “I thought that was obvious the first two times I said it.”

“You don’t like kids.”

“I like to think I would like my kids,” Ransom said, stretching across your couch like a lazy cat.

“Why?” You said, then, realizing that question was more for yourself than it was for him, you rephrased your question “What made you change your mind? Cause you seemed pretty sure when I saw you last.”

“And I was,” he agreed “I never wanted kids, and… And I was pissed,” he chuckled and shook his head “I don’t know who I was pissed at. All I know is I couldn't think straight. When I saw the pregnancy test… I don’t know, I could see my entire life crumbling.”

You could’ve asked him ‘what life?’ but decided against it.

“So, cut to a few days later, and I had this… Clarity. I realized there was nothing I could do if you wanted to keep it, and maybe,” he paused to take a deep breath “maybe I should take responsibility.”

You sat up and made a point of frowning at him. “Seriously, what happened?”

“I told you already. Just… boom – clarity.”

You knew Ransom was sharper than a first impression would lead one to believe, but self-awareness was not his forte. Could he have had a change of heart in such a short period of time? Did you believe him? You wanted to believe him.

“Do you seriously want to raise a kid with me?”

He laughed and threw his hands up in the air “How many times do I gotta say it?”

“Do you even know what that entails?”

“Hey, I babysat my cousins a couple times,” he said, picking at the foam peeking through a hole in the upholstery of your couch “I bet I’d do better than you.”

Being a parent had to be harder than watching children for a few hours, but as far as experience with children went… well, maybe he was onto something.

A palm emerged in front of you, rousing you from your thoughts.

“Truce?” Ransom asked. There was something about the way he looked at you gave you hope.

Earnest, he looked earnest.

You took his hand in yours and shook once.

“Truce.”

Part 2: I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

[chaniters]

Candy House

Facing against Candymaster, Ash realizes he’s bit more than he can chew, and ends up joining forces with a ranger at the last minute.  Spoilers for Fallen hero. 

Trigger warning: Addictions. 

“So young and yummy.” He snorted. “Shouldn’t you be at school instead of taking candy from strangers?”

“I’m going to get more than candy” You mirror his smile, the power gloves crackling with energy  

“Oooh, I definitely think you’re my type now! Let’s dance, shall we?”

“But of course” you let out, lunging forward.

He responds by raising his arms. 

Which does nothing.

He seems very sure that he’ll be ok, but you’re not going to question stupidity right now, so you do what you came to do. Hit hard, hit fast, the moment you’re close enough. 

The gloves crackle with energy, causing an explosion of… 

Shards? 

You look down, and only his feet remain standing, cracked at the base, the rest of his body seems to have exploded in a thousand pieces. 

That’s when you notice the entire warehouse is covered in white dust… white… sugar?

And he’s still there. You can feel his mind laughing.

You can hear him laughing! 

“My turn!” 

The ground starts shaking, and you can sense incoming attacks from every direction. 

Sharp-colored crystals begin sprouting at an alarming speed, breaking in through the floor itself. Very sharp crystals. 

“Where are you?!” you let out.

“Everywhere” the answer is loud and maniacal, confirming your worse fears.

A large crystal stalagmite surges… trembles.. And breaks apart, revealing the Candymaster, unharmed and fully reformed, grinning with the whitest of smiles, his arms reshaping into pointy crystal blades.

Sucrose manipulation. You’ve seen it, but never to this extent.

And he’s made of the stuff himself?! You’ve seriously miscalculated here. “I’ll break you as many times as I need to!” you challenge, running forward, evading his swipes, before crushing him once more to pieces.

“Rude. But I’m going to be your sugar daddy either way by the end of this.” 

More crystals form out of thin air, from the ceiling this time, and soon you’re evading a complete storm of falling shards, aimed your way. 

“Nice sidesteps. I wonder how long can you keep this up”

“As long as I have to…” you curse as a shard explodes against your leg, giving you a hard bruise. You manage to keep your balance, but the cheap armor on your discount suit isn’t going to help much. 

He reforms before your eyes once more, walking slowly in your direction. Toying with you. “I’m not afraid of you, sidesteps. As I said, I was expecting you”

“How did you know…?”

“Oh, you’ve been just too cute standing there pretending to be clueless. Red Spectre, Clobberer Queen, Lord Ember, you visited them all in one night? It’s almost like you know all of my friends.”

“Losers you mean”

He snorts at that “You’re funny. Now tell me, while we’re talking about losers… did Owl send you? Is she really that desperate”

“Fuck Owl” You distract, not willing to follow his game. “I came to bring you in myself”

“Loyal huh? Heroes can be annoying. But you’re going to give me a straight answer!” 

He pushes forward, sending a wave of shards at your face. You block with the gloves, as best you can, but when it’s over you can see they are cracking with broken circuits, several shards stuck to them.   

“Aww did I break your toy?” he circles around you. 

“I don’t need it to break your face!” you challenge him, discarding the broken power gloves.

“Well let’s see about that” he charges, arms made into razors again. 

You let him down with a roundhouse kick, shattering his face as promised, but that doesn’t stop the rest of the body from swinging at you. You dodge left, then right, stepping back…. only to find another Candymaster.

Fuck. 

“As long as I have sugar, I can be anywhere, sidesteps” he laughs. “You’ll never get rid of me with silly dance moves”

You keep fighting, cracking one of the arms of the newcomer while evading the last one… but a third and a fourth are coming your way. 

It doesn’t take long for you to take the wrong step, and they take hold of your arms, holding you down. 

You curse and kick but it’s useless, and they drag you towards the far end of the warehouse. 

They hold you against a wall, crystal begins growing over your legs and arms, immobilizing them.

You’re stuck. 

“Now you’re you’re going to tell me everything you know about Owl”

“I’m not telling you shit!”

“Believe me you will talk,” one of them says bringing up a large box and placing it at your feet.

“Is that supposed to scare me, clown?” you say, staring down at it. 

“Nah. You’re going to love it… This makes even people like you into obedient good puppies, let  me show you” two of them open the lid, taking out a small bottle… placing a couple of pills in his hand…

You freeze, staring at them.

It can’t be…

“Open wide!” 

You struggle as hard as you can, but they pinch your nose, they punch you… until they can force you to open your mouth… and swallow them.

White supplement. 

“Alright now. I will start asking questions and you will answer each one” 

His voice keeps talking falling into the background, and you can hear yourself answering, but the words aren’t yours. It’s someone else.

The rest is a blank.

--------------------------------------------- “FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE!!” Ashley’s words are still ringing in your ears. Only that she’s not here.

She died. Why do you still hear her? Why do you still...(...) 

“Wow, good job, kid that was surreal!” 

You’re lying down, on a very wet floor, water raining down from the ceiling. A hand on your shoulder, trying to help you sit up.

“Are you ok?”

You focus on the face of the person speaking to you… wearing a mask!

You almost jump, stumbling back, falling down on your ass onto the water again. 

“I guess that’s a no.”

They give a few slow steps your way, palms extended. They mean no harm (or is that what they want you to think?)

“Hey hey. It’s ok. We won” 

“Who are you?” you ask before he gets any closer.

“Aww, you forgot me already? I’m Anathema. Tried to talk to you the other day, and you ran away?”

It takes a few seconds for it to click that you actually do remember this one. 

“The ranger”

“There you go. That’s me!” 

They are completely colorless, even as more details begin to come back. 

You pain gate. It’s active, at its highest setting. You stare at your hands… completely numb and bloodied. You can feel sore fingers and knuckles, even through the gate, and your legs are like two wooden logs. You’ve taken a hell of a beating.

“What… happened?” 

“You’re having a moment huh? We beat the crap out of Candymaster, that’s what happened.”

“Ah” you stand up, finally accepting his hand.

“There you go. Must say, turning on the fire sprinklers was a genius move, washed out all that sugar on the floor and ruined his day” “Right. What’s that?” you ask looking at a gooey puddle of blackish ooze.

“Well, Sugar and Acid don’t mix. The rest of him ran away after that… you seriously don’t remember?”

“Maybe I’m having a moment like you said” you reply following him.

“I think you might have been drugged,” they say looking down at the box, holding one of the bottles full of white supplement pills resting in packing peanuts before tossing it back in “That might explain it. That shit is strong...”

You say nothing, looking down. 

A box full of white supplement...

Your hands are hurt but steady now.

“You were amazing. Candymaster had you down, interrogating you, so I got the jump on him, released you, and you looked a bit lost at first. But when I told you to fight and you turned into a total beast, you were breaking off those sugar creeps with your bare hands. It’s almost as if… hey don’t touch that! It’s evidence!” they interrupt themselves.

“Touch what?” you ask, pathetically. 

“The box! Leave it back on the floor!” 

You order your hands to put it down as they say, but that’s not what seems to be happening at all. 

“I’m just…” You step back “... I need…”

“Leave it right there! Don’t make me… shit!!!”

You’re sprinting, and they are chasing you, and the box is really heavy but you don’t care. 

You need it. You need the white supplement so you won’t feel like shit all the time. You can’t go back, but with this, you won’t need to. 

You almost make it in range of a low building, drawing the grappling hook, only to have it fly off your hand, half-melted, covered in acid. Shit.

You turn and notice Anathema jumping at you just in time to sidestep, letting them hits a traffic light instead. You don’t stop running, they can’t catch you if you don’t stop. You’re too focused on evading him to notice the car coming at you tough. 

It wasn’t a very strong bump, and you barely felt it with your pain gate active, but you were running fast enough to be projected a few feet away as the driver hits the brakes, hitting the pavement hard. Another thing you don’t feel.

“Oh, shit are you ok? Get off the street!” Anathema runs, stopping traffic.

The box.

The box is right in front of you… you just need to stand up and...

And an enormous Geni-Tech truck runs it over, squishing all of its contents and sending pieces of wood, pills, and packing peanuts all over. 

“NO!” you lunge forward, trying to get as many pills as you can, but it’s too late. Anathema pulls you, holding you back. “NO NO NO, LET ME GO, YOU IDIOT! I NEED THOSE! I NEED THEM” 

You hit them hard with your hurt hands, but it’s no use, they don’t even budge. “I think you had enough of those,” they say extending a hand towards the white supplement stain…

“NO! DON’T DO THAT! YOU DON’T GET IT, I REALLY NEED THOSE, PLEASE DON’T…” 

But they don’t listen, sending a small blob of acid at the stain, turning it all into a muddy black substance, the pills dissolving forever. 

“Nonononononono…” you can’t stop yourself, hitting him as hard as you can, completely out of it while they pull you off the street. 

“Believe me, you’ll be better off in the long run.”

Your gaze is fixed on the muddy substance, cars running over it, washing it down the drain. 

You’re doomed. 

You’ll never be normal again __________  If you want to read more: My Fanfiction: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero    DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

[mikkomacko]

In The Shadows 4

The bacon on the stove cackles lowly, spitting out a spark of hot grease and y/n is grateful that she's not standing in front of the pan. She hums, flipping her hash browns as the creak of the front door opening and closing flows through downstairs. The sound of a duffel bag dropping, and light shoes on the floor makes her smile. She moves over to flip the bacon, lowering the flame under the pan.

"They upstairs?"

Y/n turns, rolling her lips into her mouth to keep from smiling too much. Harry's on the other side of the counter, tiny hair clip holding his rouge curls back, and he's dressed like he just came from practice. She nods, stomach fluttering when his dimples sink into his rosy cheeks.

"Sleeping or getting ready?"

It takes her a moment to peel her focus off of him enough to answer. "Jess is in the shower, Jo went for a run, and Tia should still be sleeping."

Harry's smile deepens, and he quickly maneuvers around the counter, crowding her back into the corner and cupping her face. His lips are like a cool shower after a hot day, or coffee early in the morning, or the sun rising after a night of rain.

The bacon pops again, and Harry jumps away from her. "Fuckin'-" he furiously rubs his arm where a red splotch has grown, pouting like a baby at the mark.

Y/n giggles, flipping the meat again. "You okay?" She asks, moving the finished hash browns to a serving plate and working on scrambling eggs.

"I guess so," Harry mutters, leaning his hip against the counter top. He crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the pan of bacon. "fucking cock blocking bacon."

She giggles again, leaning over to peck his cheek just because she can. After all this time she can finally kiss him. Well, as long as Jess isn't around. But it's worth it, it's so worth it, and judging by the smug grin on Harry's lips, he believes it too.

The sound of that bedroom door opening upstairs pops the bubble around them, sending Harry two steps further from the stove and y/n staring intently at her eggs. Not wanting to seem awkward or different in front of whoever's coming downstairs, y/n strikes up conversation. "How was practice?"

Harry groans, throwing his head back and pouting. Y/n has to try really hard to not smile like a puppy being handed a bone. "Exhausting. Don't have a game this week so we're conditioning."

"I'm assuming it's a lot of running?"

"You've no idea." He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, "Made me glad I didn't eat breakfast this morning or it would've been-"

"Why are you here so early and why are taking about gross things?"

Her shoulders deflate at the sound of Jess's voice, disappointed that she's not really gonna be able to speak to him much now. Jess always has to be the one talking.

"Didn't even say anything gross!" Harry defends, eyebrows scrunching.

"You would've if I hadn't stopped you!"

Y/n continues cooking, the siblings arguing fading into background noise as she sneaks gazes at Harry. It's odd to look at him now and know he's more than Jess' brother, more than a friend. He's her boyfriend. Her very hot, yet adorable, captain of the soccer team boyfriend. Her stomach flutters. Harry's turned her into a mushy fangirl fonding over her favorite heartthrob. She supposes he's always been her favorite heartthrob though, so she shouldn't be too surprised.

"Stop bitching at me and go suck Tina's dick or something."

The snip in Harry's voice snaps y/n out of her thoughts, eyes widening as Jess gasps. She turns to her best friend, wincing when she sees her angry squint. If this were a cartoon, her head would be red and smoke would pour out of her ears.

"Stop annoying my friend and go tap another keg!"

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. "Good comeback, m'such a stupid frat lad aren't I?"

Jess slams her hands on the counter, screaming in frustration before taking off out of the room, stomping all the way upstairs. The kitchen is now uncomfortably silent, a disembodied ring filling the air alongside Harry's obvious annoyance. He slumps back against the counter, head falling forward as he huffs to himself.

It's not the first fight she's ever seen between the two siblings, not even close, but it is the first fight in which Harry's hers and Jess only wants her when it's convenient. Like for arguments, or help studying, or someone to make her breakfast. With that thought up front in her mind, she tip toes to Harry, hands behind her back nervously. Usually when him and Jess fight, she's giving him a sympathetic smile and following after the younger of the two.

She gently butts her forehead into his shoulder, muttering, "Hi." She's not sure what else to say.

Harry peeks at her out of the corner of his eye, only pausing for a brief second before his teeth are releasing his bottom lip and he's grinning. "Hey,"

"Do you want toast?"

Chuckling lowly, so manly in his chest yet so cute on his mouth, Harry drops his arms and wiggles her into his chest and caging her in with hands steady on her back. "I'd love some toast."

"Yeah?"

He pecks her nose and her stomach swoops. "Yeah."

"Only if you shower right after breakfast."

Harry's mouth parts in offence, eyebrows pinching together. "Are you saying I'm stinky?"

"Not explicitly." Y/n giggles quietly, fingers tightening on his shirt where they rest on his abdomen.

"She's not gonna let me use her shower peanut." Harry shrugs, as if there's no other way for him to possibly clean himself in a house with four showers and a spout out front. Not that she'd spray him down with a hose, but still.

"You can use mine. S'probably cleaner than hers anyway." Both her and Harry giggle at that. Jess and Harry are known for being quite messy, and y/n is known for being the one following behind to clean up the mess.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she lets her lips ghost over his in a teasing kiss. "now let me finish breakfast before you start fermenting."

~

"What happened when we all got home? Did you stay at the house?"

The courtyard is empty, everyone most likely back in their rooms getting ready for the football game tonight. Which is convenient for Y/n and Zoe because they haven't seen each other since Saturday and they need a safe, low-key place to talk about what happened with Harry. Zoe told her that her and a couple of the girls saw them kiss, but most of the crowd was clearing out already and probably missed it so they were safe there. As for the team, Harry's already asked them to not say anything, wanting to keep their relationship quiet for now.

"He just walked me home. I didn't even think about staying with him if I'm being honest."

Zoe rolls her eyes at y/n, giggling, "you can stay with him without being hunted down by the church ya know?"

Blushing, y/n wraps her arms around her chest and elbows her friend. "I know that! It just didn't come up, like he didn't invite me and I'm not going to invite myself."

A whistle blows from the direction of the soccer field, hopefully coach calling the end of practice. Usually she's goes home right after class, but Zoe texted her and asked if they wanted to hang out before the game. Apparently part of "hanging out" is waiting for Niall and Harry to get out of practice, not that she minds. She loves hanging out with Zoe, and she loves the warmth that bubbles in her veins when she thinks of Harry now.

"I mean, that'll probably be the spot for you two now, right? It's not like you can be all relationship-y at your house with his sister around." Zoe makes a face at the mention of Jess, greatly disliking the girl after seeing how careless she is with her friends. She's probably heard some stories from Harry as well.

Y/n shrugs. She hasn't thought about it much, too excited by the fact that Harry actually likes her the way she likes him. They both decided to not tell anyone who could potentially let Jess know, wanting to see how they work as a couple before causing a disaster with Jess. It sucks to think that she can't share this part of her life with her best friend. This is her first boyfriend, her first college relationship, and she should be giggling and complaining about him to Jess like normal friends. But Jess has made it very clear how she'd feel about Harry dating any of her friends, let alone y/n. A part of her is flattered that Jess is so selfish over her, but deep down she knows it's not that way. If Jess loved her so much, why is she always dropped for Tina?

"No one at the house would do anything to fuck this up for you, ya know?" Zoe bumps their shoulders together, offering her a reassuring smile. "The boys all love Harry so much, and the fact that you're like the first girl he's ever been interested in is a huge deal. They wouldn't chase you away or spread rumors. You're safe there."

Y/n leans closer to her friend, conveying her gratefulness for Zoe through the simple action. "All the guys there are nice, it's just weird still. Like I've never actually dated someone so to have my first relationship around that many people is kinda scary."

A soft chatter comes from the soccer field, and then a couple players are passing them to head towards the dorms. Y/n notices them wincing as they walk and frowns, knowing Harry's going to be just as sore from conditioning too. "Maybe it's a good thing, ya know? Going out of your comfort zone a bit. Could make your relationship even stronger in the long run."

Silence takes over, Zoe turning towards the field at the sound of more footsteps undoubtedly hoping it's Niall and Harry, while y/n tries not to well up with tears. She's going to have thank Harry for introducing her to a real friend. A friend that doesn't only talk about their problems, or try to control her.

Zoe pulls y/n up from the bench, tugging her towards the incoming group of soccer boys, and she notices Harry and Niall trailing behind them. They pass the group, that's all walking with similar limps, and Zoe launches herself at Niall as if they'd been apart for decades. Niall winces, stumbling on his tired legs but squeezes his girlfriend back.

"Why hello peanut," Harry greets, flushed cheeks sinking into two dimples, "what are you doing out here? Surrounded by all these boys?"

She blushes -for reasons unknown to her-and gently steps into his chest. "Waiting for you to walk me home, of course."

Harry slinks his arms around her, pressing a quick and chaste kiss to her mouth. Her blush deepens. "Yeah? Need your knight in shining armor to keep you safe from the harassment of smelly soccer bastards?"

"You do know that you're the 'smelly soccer bastard' that has been harassing me, right?"

Niall and Zoe both snicker making her grin proudly. Harry's smirk never falters, if anything it widens, and he gently butts his forehead against hers.

"Don't you forget it."

~

Eleanor sputters out water as Asteria finishes her story of the time Zayn let her pierce his ear, and Zoe and y/n burst into stronger giggles. Eleanor frantically grabs for a paper towel, face going red as she dabs at the drink spilt down her chin.

"Did Harry bring his stupid fr-oh."

Jess pauses in the entryway of the kitchen, lips pursing as she takes in the four girls sat around the island sharing a bag of Doritos. After meeting up with the boys, y/n and Zoe decided to get ready for the football game together at her place, inviting Asteria and Eleanor along too. They've all been invited to the party after, courtesy of their boyfriends-the word still makes y/n squeal-and figured they'd might as well hang out for a bit while the boys get washed up from practice.

"Harry's not here." Y/n says awkwardly, nervous under Jess' observing glare. Luckily, the other three girls aren't intimidated, heads high as they glare back.

"Okay," Jess looks at y/n, hands on her hips. "are you going to the game?"

She nods, noticing that Jess is dressed more for a day of shopping rather than a football game. She's wearing pristine white jeans with heels, a lacy top tucked into her bottoms, and her hair perfectly straight. "A-are you?"

"Yes, but I'm sitting with the girls so you should probably sit with them." Jess waves her hands at the girls behind y/n.

"She was planning on it honey." Asteria scoffs, making Eleanor and Zoe both giggle. Y/n is able to hold in her laugh, but she still smiles. Real friends. They're nice.

"Then I guess I'll see you tonight." Jess huffs, turning on her heel and clacking all the way to the front door. They wait for the sound of it closing to bust into giggles again. Zoe hunches over, clutching her stomach as she laughs and she knocks her knee into the counter. Her high pitched yelp makes them all laugh more, and y/n realizes this is the first time she's ever had one of those laughs with friends where you're really laughing just because they are. They're so distracted by giggles that they don't hear the front door open, nor the sound of four boys moving into the kitchen. Until Eleanor shoves herself off the counter, tripping on Asteria's stool.

"Louis!" She laughs again, falling in a heap at his feet. The girls manage to calm their hysterical laughs, y/n's side aching from the exertion.

"What's got you lot so worked up?" Louis chuckles, helping his girlfriend to her feet. She giggles, no shame present as she shares a kiss with him.

"We're just really fucking funny." Asteria smirks, flipping her black hair off her shoulder. Zayn slinks an arm over her shoulder, their hands linking together by her chest. Y/n hasn't officially met Zayn, but he seems nice for always being the quiet one of the frat house.

"We want to laugh." Harry whines with a pout, draping himself over her back. She's forced to hunch over under his weight, holding them both up with her elbows on the countertop.

"Well you missed it." Zoe teases, poking her tongue out at Harry. Y/n giggles at the wounded noise that leaves him, and he lifts himself off of her.

"Maybe next time you'll be here in time to see us embarrass your bitchy sister again." Asteria giggles, leaning further back into Zayn's chest. He smirks proudly at her, pressing his lips to the side of her head. Y/n thinks it's sweet how a boy as frightening as him can treat his girl so softly.

Harry's hands slip around y/n's stomach, leaning over her shoulder with a furrow between his eyebrows. "Was she giving you a hard time?" His warm breath tickles her ear, making her shy away with a giggle.

"Nothing she hasn't done before."

Harry's frown deepens at that. He knows that Jess has always taken y/n for granted. She could have the prettiest, smartest, funniest, most amazing girl as her best friend. Instead she chooses to make sure y/n is kept in her shell, always around to cater to Jess. He had never wanted to step in between them, hoping y/n would see for herself but after that day she was crying over book group, he couldn't take it.

"Doesn't make it right." Zoe reminds her, reaching past Harry's face to pat her cheek lovingly.

"I know," y/n assures, trying not to smile to widely. "that's why I've made better friends." By the way the other three girls smile, they know she means them. Harry thinks he could melt right then and there, seeing her laugh and smile and be rambunctious. She's turning into the person he always knew she could be, and all it took was one soccer game.

Glad that they're in the safety of their friends, he grips her chin and tilts her head unit he captures her lips in a kiss. He can't believe he survived so long without knowing what it felt like to have his mouth on hers. He swears he'll never forget it.

~

Y/n is drunk. Really drunk. And so is Harry, judging by the way they're practically carrying each other around the backyard. Harry finally convinced her to play a game of beer pong, and it turns out she's got pretty good aim. They won and decided to celebrate with a shot of tequila each because Harry swears it's his favorite drink.

They somehow get pulled into another game, this time against Zoe and Niall. Music blares from the speakers in the living room, flowing out into the backyard where groups have gathered to dance and drink. The beer pong table is set up in the far corner, hidden in a place y/n thought would be safe from Jess, Tina, and the little minions. She doesn't want to see her friend, doesn't want to be reminded that it feels like her high school years were wasted with such a bland friend. But apparently she's a magnet for the Styles DNA because Jess somehow struts out in the backyard just in time to see y/n and Harry win their second game of beer pong.

The group that has gathered around them cheers and hollers, the loudest being Louis and Eleanor, and Harry immediately tackles y/n into a hug. He lifts her up, the both of them giggling stupidly as he jumps in a group with his friends. Y/n wiggles out of his arms, stumbling into his side just as someone passes Harry a congratulatory drink. The cup gets bumped, it's contents spilling down her and Harry's shirt.

"I'm sorry Harry!" She gasps, pulling the wet fabric off his chest and squeezing the liquid out of it. Harry shivers but giggles, swatting her hand away.

"S'okay Peanut, m'fine." He promises, backing her away from the group with two hands on her waist. The party continues to move around them, y/n feeling dopey at his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks. "You're more messy than me. Gotta get you-"

"Y/n what are you doing?"

Harry's head snaps up at the sound of Jess' voice, y/n whirling around in his hold. Jess and her new friends have all moved to the porch, gathered around the fire pit. She notices they're all dressed similar, and they're sharing a bottle of champagne. Where did they get champagne from at a frat party?

"Hiya Jess!" Y/n giggles, Harry's warm hands tickling her sides now that her brain has actually registered their presence. Jess looks her up and down, eyes narrowing at the spill on her maroon shirt.

"Are you seriously drunk again?"

Harry jumps in before y/n can. "Are you seriously drinking champagne out of flutes? Where the fuck did ya get those?"

Jess shoots Harry an annoyed glare, but ignores his slurred comment. She takes a small step away from Tina, nose scrunching in disgust when she smells the alcohol on y/n. "Beer pong? You're not some raging frat guy y/n."

Y/n huffs, heart still registering her friend's harsh words despite how foggy her brain feels. "Who are you to tell me what I am? You meet Tina and now you're a fucking Popsicle."

Harry snorts from behind her, swaying on his feet and pushing her a step closer to Jess. The younger sibling rolls her eyes, blowing off y/n's insult. "And you're an embarrassment! You're a mess and you're acting stupid! This is why I can never take you anywhere or let you meet anyone worth a damn!"

Y/n stumbles back, feeling as if she's just been slapped. An embarrassment? Is that what Jess thinks she is? Who's the one wearing white jeans to a party? Who's carrying around a flute of champagne when this is clearly a cheap booze kind of place? Who's the one acting like a wannabe rich housewife? If anyone's the embarrassment it's Jess! But y/n can't say that. Because that's still her best friend. The girl she's shared so many years and so many memories with. The girl that kept her company through school and let her borrow her earrings. The girl that's always been like a sister to her.

"Jess that's enough!" Harry snaps, suddenly sounding more sober than he's been since they got back from the game. Jess opens her mouth, ready to sass Harry back but he's pushing y/n up the porch steps and shoving his sister out of the way. "I don't care how entitled you think you are, I won't let you be a bitch to y/n any longer."

Harry's always been good at pissing Jess off, but he's never spoken to her so harshly that she's been stunned into silence. Y/n feels dizzy as Harry leads through the house and up the staircase. An embarrassment? She didn't even do anything? She was just having fun? Why would Jess ever say that?

The second level of the house is a lot quieter than downstairs, the main noise being the muffled party sounds from below. Harry guides her down the hall. Throughout her friendship with Jess, y/n has always been the other. It's always Jess and y/n, not y/n and Jess. And she was fine with that because she had Jess. Yeah she could be a little mean sometimes, always bossing y/n around but it was good. They balanced each other out. But now...now she's just mean. It's like she doesn't even care about y/n.

"Aww peanut," Harry huffs, kicking his bedroom door shut behind him and locking it. After stumbling into his room after his first party to find a couple going at it on his desk, he always locks the door. "please don't cry."

Y/n sniffles, not even realizing she was crying until Harry said it. His words are like a nail in a cracked dam, y/n breaking into sobs and burrowing into his shoulder in embarrassment. Harry tightens his hold on her, not carrying that they're both covered in beer.

"I didn't mean to be embarrassing." She whimpers, crying even more when Harry shushes her. He strokes his fingers through her hair.

"You're not embarrassing peanut." He says firmly. "You're cute and you're funny and I was having so much fun with ya."

"I was having fun too!"

"I know, I know," he assures, pressing a tender kiss against her hairline. He lets her cry herself out, holding her tightly until she's nothing but puffy eyes and hiccups. "Lets get you clean clothes, hm?"

Y/n nods, peeling away from Harry's chest. She moves to sit on the bed but he stops her with two hands on her cheeks, thumbs swiping under her eyes. Her heart thumps loudly with the way he's looking at her, eyes gleaming with something she can't identify. It's like he's staring into her soul, everything she is, and not minding one bit of what he sees. Tears well up in her eyes again, this time for an entirely different reason.

"Even crying you're so beautiful." Harry whispers, lips quirking up when he sees a blush rise on her cheekbones. With a peck between her eyebrows, he nudges her to sit down and starts digging through his dresser.

Headache budding behind her eyes and body suddenly exhausted, y/n peels off her shoes as Harry gathers a shirt and sweatpants for her. "Can go change in there peanut." He coos, nodding towards the attached bathroom. She takes the clothes from him, closing the door. By the time she's changed and washed her face, Harry's changed into a pair of athletic shorts and a new shirt as well.

Her shirt gets tossed in Harry's wicker hamper, her jeans folded and placed on top of the stack of books on his desk. "Wanna stay the night?" Harry mumbles shyly, setting up Disney+ on his laptop. Y/n nods, a smile taking over her face as she knees her way into his unmade bed. Harry doesn't comment as he watches her arrange the pillows and straighten the blankets, but he does smile like a fool.

The intro of Lady and the Tramp starts playing, Harry shutting off his light as he slips into bed next to her. Y/n gladly snuggles into his side, head resting on his ribs as he runs his fingers up and down her spine. Not even five minutes in does she feel her eyes starting to droop, lazily looking around the room. She freezes when she spots a familiar poster hung up on the wall, the glitter on his name glinting in the moonlight coming from the window.

"You hung my poster up." Y/n mumbles sleepily, chest flooding with warmth. Harry doesn't skip a beat.

"Of course I did. My favorite person made it for me."

Now it's her smiling like a fool, finally letting her eyes slip shut. Half way to unconsciousness, she decides that she never wants to speak to Jess again.

[pollackpatrol]

I can’t tell if that’s a ‘send in a number’ ask game or a ‘send in a bunch of characters’ ask game, oops— will you do it with your ocs? :)

its a send in a bunch of characters ask game. im doing this with my besties aaron and gretchen who are t4t legends

doesn’t listen to music. ever. oh aaron for sure gretchen has cassettes

has never had a pomegranate both of them but only aaron will try to claim its not a real fruit and youre just making shit up

is a tax evader BOTH OF THEM and also their entire friend group. also they dont know how to pay taxes. wait gretchens the one with a job so aaron isnt a tax evader because he doesnt have any income

is against legalizing marijuana neither of them because they’re both superhero OCs that you’re actually supposed to like but gretchens straightedge except for holidays

gets computer viruses the most gretchen doesnt have a phone or use technology unless she absolutely has to so its aaron

fell for an email scam and lost a lot of money again gretchen doesnt have a phone and aaron was very sheltered growing up so uh. yeah him. sorry dude </3

hooked up with someone in a gas station bathroom neither of them has been inside a gas station in years

has a peanut allergy gretchen.

has an account on reddit how many times is gretchen not having a phone going to come up. anyways aaron by process of elimination but he only goes on normal people subreddits

is sexist neither but people assume aaron is because hes dudebro adjacent

knows how cryptocurrency works neither of them. again theyre supposed to be likeable

seasons their food exclusively with salt and pepper aaron was taught to cook by a woman who did this so him originally but he had character growth

doesn’t remove the lint in the dryer before turning it on neither they both know how to do laundry. gretchen fucking hates how aaron does it though because he separates out all the colors and she keeps telling him that you only need to separate out the whites etc etc and also he doesnt really know what to do with speciality clothes like her knitting. so she generally kicks him (and their five roommates) out of the laundry room

is a cheater neither theyre disgustingly in love.

[the-blueish-trashcan]

Be Not Afraid, Mister Freeman

I absolutely love this image here by @freerfman / @fwogbot and I honestly felt compelled to write something based off of it!

Quick summary; More of a “Not a game au” type deal just so it makes a little more sense why Tommy is so worried, Gordon gets really hurt earlier on and Tommy- the resident literal, actual angel- is not having any of that. He decides to help the guy out, because he cares! Benry isn’t there simply because there was already a lot of people to keep track of.

Final word count; 1,620!

CW for blood and injuries, and inhuman transformations, just in case!

“Ohhh boy, Gordon hurtin’...” Gordon mumbles as he presses a hand against a gash in his side. Somehow, a zombie had found a weak point between pieces of the HEV suit and slashed him open. Not surprising really, considering the suit wasn’t exactly made for combat. It’s meant to protect him against radiation, not the literal, actual apocalypse. That wasn’t one of the hundred workplace incidents Black Mesa had accounted for.

“Don’t worry, Gordon! Your H-E-V suit is designed to care for you in the event of a medical emergency, until medical personnel arrives, that is!” Doctor Coomer offers entirely unhelpfully, beaming. 

“Yeah I don’t think anybody’s gonna send an ambulance here, Coomer.” Gordon says back somewhat breathlessly. He’s starting to struggle, and trying not to show it to the rest of the group. So far, the suit hadn’t exactly done anything to help him, either.

“Do you need a break, Mister Freeman? You’re bleeding a lot…” Tommy speaks up from the back, making Gordon glance down at his wound. Probably, but now isn’t the time to take one.

Bubby, just behind Coomer, scoffs. “We don’t need a break, we need to get the fuck out of here!”

Gordon nods. “Y’know, I hate to say it, but…” He pauses to suck in a breath. “Bubby’s right, we need to get to the surface, maybe then we can… call for help or somethin’...” The last part comes out as a mumble, followed by a sigh.

“Of course I’m right!” Bubby snaps.

They all know there’s no one left to help them here. Tommy and Coomer, at least, want to hold out hope. 

With another trembling sigh, Gordon reaches out his free hand to press the button for a door, which slides open easily. At first, he’s relieved. Then a barrage of bullets fly past his head, making the physicist yell, and drop to the floor. Tommy is already firing into the room at the oncoming military men, as is Bubby. Coomer lets out a battle cry and charges forward, fists at the ready and starts swingin’ away. Gordon is still fumbling to reload his own weapon, one of his hands slick with blood. At the same time, he darts to where an old desk still stands, if turned over on its side, for some cover while he does. At this point, he isn’t really paying attention to the others, though he knows Tommy is right by his side, popping up every now and then to fire off a few rounds. 

“Mister Freeman, there- there’s a lot of guys in here!” Tommy cries, throwing Gordon a look that’s meant to say “stay low, I’ve got this”. 

Instead, Gordon reads that look as, “please help already god damn it, it’s not that hard to load a gun”. 

Said gun, finally loaded with ammo, is finally leveled somewhere across what he now sees as a storage room. There’s Coomer going hand to hand, and Bubby gunning down two men, and three are already on the ground- probably Tommy’s work- and-

Gordon suddenly feels like he’s been punched straight in the chest. The air he managed to get is pulled from his lungs, and he stumbles back from some unseen impact he wasn’t expecting. He falls, landing hard on an elbow. His weapon goes clattering to the ground. 

“Mister Freeman!” Tommy calls, watching the man drop. He follows him to the ground, not fast enough to catch him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just-!” Gordon gets cut off by a strangled, pained noise. The sensation is starting to spread in his chest, as is warmth under the metal of the suit. It’s blood, he knows. This can’t happen, not to some boot boys before they even reach the outside! He struggles to his feet, sloppily aiming at the remaining two soldiers. For whatever reason, they’re farm more concerned about Gordon than anyone else there, until Coomer is right on top of them.

Tommy’s arm slides around him, pulling him back down toward the ground and all Gordon can do is let him. “Mister Freeman, you- you got shot!” Tommy exclaims. 

“Oh fuck, I did…? Fuuuuck…” Gordon groans, struggling to keep his eyes open at this point. “Fuckin… hurts…”

“Mis- uh, Mister Freeman, I need to move you.” The older man say, looking around them.

“Huh…? Oh okay…” Gordon didn’t hear any of that. He saw Tommy’s lips move, he heard him speaking, but it sounded more like something out of a Peanuts cartoon where the parents speak in gibberish. He finds himself imagining Tommy as an adult in the Peanuts, making a weird sound instead of talking normally. The idea makes him laugh, if weakly. 

As he listens to Gordon laugh, Tommy gets more and more worried. He shoves his weapon into the pocket of his more-or-less ruined labcoat. There’s an open janitor’s closet not far away, he can grab Gordon and hide in there, just so the rest of the team doesn’t see what he has to do. “We’re really in it now…” He mumbles to himself, gathering the physicist close to his chest. He lifts him effortlessly, HEV suit and all, rushing for the little room. The closes the door behind him, using his body to stop incoming fire right at the door. He doesn’t feel it, of course. Bullets can’t do anything against him. 

The closet is nearly empty, which Tommy is thankful for. It gives him more room to work. He gently sets Gordon down on the ground, laying on his back. He kneels next to him, shifting to get more comfortable. In that position, Gordon’s head is practically in his lap, and that’s fine.

“Y’know…” Gordon slurs, blood at the corner of his mouth. “Always thought I’d uh- be, you know, out of the closet… before I fuckin…” He trails off, laughing at his own joke. God, laughing hurts. He’s going to pass out, it won’t matter in a second, he knows. His eyes slide closed. “Fuuuuck…”

Tommy isn’t laughing with him. Even if he had understood what the man just said, chances are not much would be funny right now. “Don’t- don’t worry, I- I’m uh, gonna fix this.” 

He huffs, and with Gordon’s eyes closed, he changes. Not suddenly, it’s never sudden, but a conscious effort to actually make thing look his version of normal. His normally human form gets larger by some degree and fades around the edges. Colors meld together into white, not quite glowing, though compared to the din of the room, it sure seems like he is. Even his features fade, his figure becoming little more than a white silhouette. Without human eyes, what he’s had described to him as “wheels” of them form around his head, almost like what a halo should be. He can see all around them now, only focusing on what’s in front of him. Several sets of feathered wings start to form around his back, out of nowhere. They flutter as sensation returns to them for him, settling across Gordon’s body.

Gordon seems to have heard the sound of his feathers rustling, trying to push himself up and locate the sound. His eyes start to open. “Tommy…?” He asks softly.

Tommy’s hand flies out to gently cover his eyes before they open fully. Just based on experience, he knows Gordon isn’t ready to see him like this. He may never be, and they can cross that bridge when they get to it. “Don’t look yet, Mister Freeman.” Tommy instructs in a voice that’s barely his own anymore. He can see the way Gordon flinches when he does, his still bloody hand coming up to grab Tommy’s arm. 

“I- wh- Tommy?!” He says, more fearful this time.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t be scared.” The angel says softly, leaning in closer so their foreheads are nearly touching. His extra eyes shift accordingly, his free hand comes up to gently touch where the newest of the wounds is. A bright golden light emanates from it for a few long seconds as the flesh puts itself back together. If there was a bullet still in that wound, there won’t be after that. Gordon gasps, whether it’s in surprise or pain, Tommy can’t tell.

For Gordon, it’s a mix of both. He feels Tommy’s fingers brush the wound, feeling a wave of both heat and cold pass over him at the same time, and the pain in that spot disappears entirely when it’s over. 

Tommy repeats the action on Gordon’s side, where the gash is. This time his fingers brush bare skin ever so slightly, making Gordon jolt. 

Feeling Tommy’s somehow freezing and burning fingers against his skin, Gordon jumps, and that same wave of sensation passes over him. He sucks in a deep breath, abruptly not feeling any pain whatsoever. “Tommy…?” He dares to breathe.

“Just- Just wait, Mister Freeman.” Now he sounds more like himself, and Gordon visibly relaxes at that. His wings are the first to fade, folding in and disappearing against his back. Then the eyes, and suddenly he looks the same as before, if much, much cleaner. A side effect of having to use his power, he supposes. “There we go…” He removes his hand from Gordon’s face then, moving back to give him space.

As soon as he’s let go, Gordon sits up, patting himself down. There’s no injuries on him, no pain, no ache. The damage to his suit is still there, no injury under it. He looks up to Tommy with wide eyes. “What the hell did you just do to me?” He sounds exasperated. 

Tommy smiles back, happy to see that Gordon is okay. “Just- just a trick that uh- that my dad taught me!”

[honeydots]

200. “He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.” ~~ This has some Vibes and I kinda like them so? I'd like 2 humbly request your take on this w/ shukita or akeshu if it's ok to ask for!! -- dorky-arsene (a sideblog)

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it”

Hello no I didn’t forget about these I am just slower than a little baby turtle!!!!! Anyway

Summary: Goro’s new job leads him to discover that dealing with both a crush and an idiot while flipping burgers is, unarguably, the worst turn his life could’ve taken.

cw: sexual themes (+p5r spoilers)

-

(ao3 link)

-

“Hello! Would you like to try our Big Bang Special Combo Shot-Straight-Through Promotional Meal for ‘Thy Father of Corruption 2: The Daughter of Rejection’ for ¥850?”

Goro wanted to quit. 

You need this job. You need this job. He’d repeat to himself each time a customer decided they were feeling peckish. You will have no money if you quit and then you will have no home and then you will drop out of college and then you will die. 

He’d left the police department after graduating. With his past plans of an 18-year life expectancy having slipped down the drain, he hardly had a reason to stay. High school had been an uphill battle with cases of murder and robbery breathing down his neck, and he’d hesitated to even make an attempt at trying to juggle his priorities in university. Dropping the detective gig meant dropping the media attention, too, which gave him breathing room he certainly knew he needed, but never really had. 

The problem was, after three years of fading out of fame and living off his savings, he realized this wouldn’t stretch as far as he’d predicted. He hadn’t accounted nearly enough for the expenses that came with the unwelcome enforcement of trying to live as a proper human being. His bank account was growing meager. If he wanted to keep living (which was arguable) in the way that he was (which he did) he’d need an income. Almost anything would do, as long as it would bend and break to his schedule. 

And, all things considered, he technically had connections here. And ever since… that, the pay had actually increased to a respectable amount. The management had rehired, retrained, and improved. It was fast food, but it was livable. Nothing shameful about being livable. 

And god fucking dammit he had already done three interviews with no hires and he needed food other than half-cooked ramen noodles and bread slices. 

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” 

That didn’t mean he didn’t loathe every minute.

It was bad enough that he had a job at Big Bang Burger. And, bad enough that he’d been desperate to get it. It was bad enough that he had to bring in his homework like some anguished used-to-be honors student now getting barely passing marks. And christ, it was bad enough each time a customer would walk in, a hamburger-shaped icepick would slam itself into his frontal lobe, forever ingraining the memory of his premeditated brain murder of the former CEO of this very restaurant. 

All of that, and he couldn’t stress this more, was bad enough. It was entirely shitty all around. Completely awful, and damming, and humbling, though he hated to admit it. He’d like to say it couldn’t get any worse. That this was the end of the line, get off the train before it turns around, don’t get stuck in the never ending cycle of beef patties and sesame seed buns. 

But, god, of all the coworkers. 

“Ya know,” said Sakamoto, leaning down on the front counter after their customer had left,  “I dunno if clenching your teeth like you’ve got peanut butter stuck in there counts as ‘service with a smile.’” 

Sakamoto Ryuji. The boy who had the opposite of a filter, and more like a megaphone spewing recordings of every profanity in the Japanese language. He, who had walked in on Goro’s second day and loudly declared, ‘I thought I smelled something, what’s this a-hole doing here?’ Really, who else could he tolerate spending eight-hour shifts with; greasy stoves, piss poor customers, and the ruthless scent of lysol on tile included?

Ah, right. Anyone else. 

Goro pressed his lips together. “Hm. Well you know, I was almost certain that elbows on the counter was a fireable offense.” 

Sakamoto snatched himself up in a second, elbows up high. He hung there and looked around the empty restaurant. 

He pouted. “Not cool, dude. That’s only when there’s customers.”

Goro raised his eyebrows. He was really just going to stand there? He looked like an idiot, or a chicken. A hybrid that, if anyone could pull off, would be him. He was making a great show of it, too. 

Sakamoto narrowed his eyes. “Unless you’re a snitch.” 

Goro spoke in his most syrupy sweet voice. “Are you implying then, that your job is in my hands? An entertaining thought, Sakamoto.” If it were only that simple to really get him fired. Unfortunately, their manager seemed to love his enthusiasm. Every moment he spent enthusiastically mopping floors and singing into the handle was a moment Goro could’ve been writing soliloquies of his growing and newfound hatred for Carly Rae Jepsen. 

Sakamoto folded his arms in a huff. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, man! Look at that fake-ass smile.” He shook his head. “And I get customer service blows and stuff, but you use it for everything. Lighten up dude! Take a break.”

Sakamoto said things with such confidence, such surety. It made his teeth grind. 

“I’d prefer to keep my job,” Goro said, and gave him the sweet smile Sakamoto was arguing against. “Though, if you’d like to pay my rent for me, you’re more than welcome.” 

He acted like he hadn’t even heard him.“Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re so gloomy all the time, your face just doesn’t know how to work it. Look it, check me out.” Sakamoto pointed his thumb at himself and flashed a toothy smile. “Just like that! All natural, bro. It’s easy. Come on, you really try it this time.” 

Goro very clearly did not. He stared with his most obsolete and ‘stop-trying-to-have-a-conversation-with-me’ look he could muster. He’d communicate it telepathically, if given the chance. 

“That doesn’t look like trying to me,” Sakamoto said expectantly. 

Couldn’t they just sit in silence and wait for their fabrication of getting-along time when the next inevitable customer came in? “Perhaps, and please let me know if this is too complicated, I simply have no intention of trying, because I don’t believe there’s anything to fix.” 

“Nah, that’s not it,” replied Sakamoto, as if he was being thoughtful.

Another reason why he was completely obnoxious was because the longer they knew each other, the less that Goro’s flawless stone faced looks worked. Sakamoto kept spewing hot air. He’d gained some kind of tolerance, and it was tedious to work around. 

Sakamoto leaned back down, previous elbow warnings forgotten. “I bet you’re the kinda guy who’s super ticklish, so you act all boring so no one suspects it.”

“I’m not,” Goro snapped. 

“Quick reply there, buddy.” 

Goro didn’t answer to that. He didn’t owe it to him. This was pointless; why did Sakamoto find such pleasure in talking about pointless things? 

He slouched further down. “So it’s silent treatment now. You’re checking all the boxes over here.” He waved his finger through the air. “Check, n’ check, n’, check.” 

Goro was getting a headache. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Betcha you’re super ticklish. And like, one of those cry-laughers.” 

“Sakamoto, did you hear what I just said.” 

He stretched up from his position on the counter. “Like if I poke you in the side, I bet it would make ya jump.” 

“Do not.” He could just try it. Goro would bend his finger back so far it’d break. He wondered if that would be a viable option to get him to stop talking sometime. 

“Didn’t say I was gonna.” He rested his arms behind his neck. “You’re just proving my point more, though.” 

Sakamoto was annoyingly stubborn at times. Once he found a niche with Goro, he’d hack his way in and grab on like a tick. Bother him like it was his last chance he’d ever get, as if they didn’t work shifts together four times a week. He was bound to get lyme disease at this rate.  

Goro felt like a very frustrated pair of tweezers.“Can we talk about anything else, please?”

Sakamoto went quiet. He was just looking at him now. Goro tensed up. Was he really going to try and poke him? He meant it, he’d break his hand. 

“Ya know, there is something I wanna talk to you about,” he said.

Goro did not like the sound of that. “Oh really.” He tried to sound like he was just told he was about to be given a lecture on the intricacies and details of lentil soup. Which, perhaps could be more interesting than whatever topic Sakamoto was about to pull out of his ass. 

Sakamoto sniffed. “Yup. It’s about Akira.” 

Oh, he really didn’t like where this was going. “Sakamoto, I—” 

“When’re ya gonna like, confess.” 

Goro visibly winced. Dammit. He knew he’d bring this up one day. He was absolutely infuriated Sakamoto knew about that, and he hadn’t even told him. He’d been making guesses and Goro had been just tired enough during his shift to let a hint of a sigh out, and Sakamoto had taken that to new heights. Another example of conversations being had that Goro would’ve just about died to get out of. 

Sakamoto was still staring at him. Didn’t he have anything better to do? Goro knew they didn’t at this good for nothing job, but what was so hard about just acting like you’re busy. You’re pretending then, at least, and that’s something. 

“Well, dude?” asked Sakamoto. 

Any conversation is better than that one.

Mother of fuck. 

“I…” Goro started, adjusting a piece of his hair, “I suppose I am a little ticklish.”

Sakamoto’s face lit up. “Dude, for real? Called it,” he said triumphantly. Had Goro not known him as well as he did, he’d think the divergence in conversation was a trick to get him to admit he was a bit… touchy. But he did know him, and he wasn’t one for games like that.

“Most people are, it shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s skin sensitivity, nothing more.” 

Sakamoto shrugged. “Still funny you admitted to it.” 

Sure. Very hilarious. Yet another fact Sakamoto now knows about him that he’d really have rather not shared under any circumstance. 

“Satisfied, now?” Goro asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He didn’t plan on expanding, this was embarrassing enough as it was. 

“Nope,” he replied, “cause that’s great and all, but I really gotta know the game plan.” He leaned in close to Goro, and he in turn leaned farther away.

“There’s no ‘game plan,’ Sakamoto. Please don’t get so close to me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He moved back, obviously not finished. “Come on, though, you gotta have something.” And back down on the counter he slouched. 

‘Something,’ he’d said. Yes, and that something was to keep his mouth shut and go about his life keeping each and every one of those mortifying feelings to himself. It was humiliating enough that Sakamoto knew. Telling Akira? He didn’t even want to imagine it. He’d rather face Okumura-san herself and ask her to buy one of their Shot-Straight-Through combo meals. 

“There’s nothing. And I don’t plan there to be anything. And, it’s not really much of your business, is it?” Goro could feel himself growing irritated. 

Sakamoto melted further into the counter. “I just don’t get why you’re not gonna ask him out if you like him. You might as well, man, it’ll be fine.” 

What simple ways of thinking. Do this, get that in return. Black and white, and right and wrong. Spill your fleeting moment of vulnerability and try not to think about the extensive hole of commitment you’re burying yourself in. One turn of phrase, one word, one misplaced breath to Akira would forever rupture the sorry excuse of acquaintanceship they’d been flip flopping through for the past three years. Akira was a blank slate and simultaneously the person he knew best. He knew him, but didn’t really, and he could never tell what he was thinking. Suddenly he was gambling again, and this time it came entirely unwelcome. Risks you face before death and risks that you’ll keep living through no matter the outcome tasted different. One was tangy and sweet and thrilling, the other was bitter  shit. Not to mention that Akira was too kind to him for his own good. He couldn’t even tell what was a lie. 

But, Sakamoto didn’t need to know all that. “You say that like there’s nothing to consider. As if I’ve never even given this thought. You do not belong in my head, Sakamoto. And I do not need to give you, an obvious outsider on the entire dilemma, any sort of justification for why I’m going to continue to abstain on something as trivial as a confession.” 

Sakamoto huffed at him. “What if I said that I gua-ran-tee he’s not gonna say no to you.”

Goro was already sick of this. What, had Sakamoto expected his heart to skip? His pulse to rise? That just the very thought of mutual feelings would send him into some flustered mess? Please. He told the tingling feeling going up through his legs and down his arms and up the back of his neck to shut the fuck up. 

He couldn’t stay quiet for long. Sakamoto could and would get ideas. “Then why doesn’t he just tell me that himself? Why are you playing wingman for him?” 

“Cause he’s not gonna say anything cause he’s got to be worried that he’s gonna freak you and your crazy attachment issues out!” 

Of course, there it was. The blind bet. Sakamoto’s one-way thinking at it again, and Goro would not have it. “I’m not going to start playing some game with him about the complexities of whatever idea of consent he has in his head. I don’t need his sympathy, and I am certainly not looking for it. I don’t have time for something messy and half-assed. I don’t want that, and surely he doesn’t, either. If he feels any way about me, he’d ought to tell me, because then maybe we’d find some kind of leeway. But I will not let him sit there and wait for me to make the first move, like a key element in his plan. This is not some teenage romance, and I am not a caricature of his love life. He can wait patiently all he’d like, but I’m perfectly content as I am now.” 

Sakamoto seemed a little stunned. 

“Man, he’s just…” He trailed off. They sat in silence. 

So ways still existed to get Sakamoto to stop rambling on. He was sure he’d regret saying this later, for a multitude of reasons. He didn’t hate Sakamoto, even saying dislike felt strong, but he always talked about things that Goro had no interest nor inclination to discuss. Maybe silence was for the best between them, for now. 

“He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it. That’s all it is, dude,” said Sakamoto. 

Goro inhaled. So he wasn’t done, then. “Love… is an entirely different conversation.” 

“Okay, fine, you want me to say he ‘like-likes’ you like some fifth grader? Cause he does.” 

Goro didn’t reply. He’d made his point. 

“He isn’t playing one of your weirdo mind games,” Sakamoto continued. “I think you’re thinking too hard about this. He’s just a guy. He just wants to make sure you’re all comfortable and shit. Cause it’s not like we don’t all know the bullshit that was goin’ on for you.”

“I am not looking for his pity.” A fine thing to say while working at a Big Bang Burger in a bright yellow shirt and starred apron. It didn’t matter. He didn’t wear this with pride, per say, but he wouldn’t ask someone to feel sorry for him.

He didn’t exactly want to be seen, either. Especially not Akira, but of course he’d make habits of visiting. That was just like him, and it was just like his pity, too. 

Sakamoto looked frustrated. “He ain’t pitying you, man! He’s tryin’ to respect you! He knows you got things to go through on your own and he’s trying to give you space and everything.” 

Goro clicked his tongue. “If you know that’s his tactic, why are you trying to pressure me into this?” 

“Cause I don’t care, dude!” Sakamoto said, and then stopped himself, and promptly looked very guilty. “Well, okay. I do care. Like, I do. But sometimes…” He looked like he was trying to pick his words out carefully. He had an idea, just no way to form it.

He settled. “Sometimes, you just gotta get laid, man.” 

At this point, Goro found himself shocked that he wasn’t banging his own head against the counter. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re twenty one years old! Dude, I know you haven’t gotten any,” Sakamoto argued. “Your gay ass with emotional problems? Get outta here.” 

“This is not—”  

Sakamoto put his hands up nonshalontly. “And like, yeah, no judgey stuff, take your time if you gotta. But have you considered it? Tell me. I betcha you haven’t.”

Goro opened his mouth, expecting to reply with an incredibly well thought out ‘fuck off,’ but the automatic doors slid open, and suddenly Goro was all smiles and greetings, so what came out instead was, “Hello! Welcome to Big Bang Burger! Would you—ah.” 

Sakamoto snorted loudly, and Goro wanted to kick him so bad. 

And actually, what was stopping him? Sakamoto had earned this, and it’s not like this customer would care. 

Because, who else could’ve been just about summoned by the trouble than Kurusu Akira himself; strolling in so casually through the doors, like he hadn’t just become the most unpleasant topic of conversation Goro had ever had with Sakamoto. Speak of the devil was an understatement, or perhaps he was the devil himself. 

“What the eff, man!” 

“Hey you two,” said Akira, hands in his pockets and clearly bagless. He didn’t even register Goro’s kick, like that was just some normal occurrence. Somehow, that made him angrier. 

“Yo,” said Sakamoto, recovering annoyingly quickly. Goro wondered if he should’ve considered breaking his finger. 

Sakamoto reached out to Akira for a fist bump. “You don’t have the cat with ya?” 

Akira bumped him back. “Nope. Just me today.” 

“Sweet,”  Sakamoto replied, a smile growing wide. Goro hated the look. It was the hungriest and most dastardly shit-eating grin he’d ever seen him dare to make. So, knowing Sakamoto and his terrible poker face, he had thought up some idiotic ploy. 

“What’s up with you?” Akira asked, and thank god it wasn’t directed at Goro. Sakamoto’s obviousness did not go unnoticed. 

“Oh nothin’, nothin’,” said Sakamoto, entirely conspicuously, “I gotta go, though, grind never stops. Super secret stuff in the back.” 

Goro glared at him. So now he would pretend to be busy? 

“Burger secrets,” Akira said, and Ryuji gave him a finger gun in reply. He walked off without a word, but apparently felt the inclination to jerk his head back at Goro, as if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

He sighed. No amount of alone time would ever compel Goro to confess at a Big Bang Burger, of all places. At least Akira tended to be a little more bearable in conversation. He hoped he’d be an in and out customer. “Can I get you anything?” 

Akira looked at him for a moment. “You look flustered.” 

Goro felt himself twitch. He wasn’t flustered, like some preteen who can’t hear the word genital without bursting into laughter. If anything, Sakamoto had caught him off guard with his stupidity. He obviously was not one to be so affected by such a topic. He was an adult, and a professional. He would again not think about the fact he was wearing an orange visor right now. 

“I’m positive that isn’t a menu item,” he replied, keeping his pleasant smile plastered on, keeping any stray annoyance from showing. 

Akira examined him closer. “Do you have a fever or something? You look red.”

Goro drummed his fingers against the counter impatiently. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, Akira, Sakamoto just decided to kindly push the image of you railing me as a form of twisted therapy into the forefront of my consciousness. Would you like any drinks?

“I’m fine. I’m not the type to go to work sick,” he decided on instead. 

“Really?” He didn’t seem convinced. 

Goro folded his arms. “While living in a society where health is determined by the trust of the majority, I have no plans to spread my germs to an unsuspecting businessman, in that I expect the same from him.”

Akira considered that for a moment. “So you’re embarrassed, then.” 

Goro’s expression turned sour. He was not in the mood for a debate. “Everyone seems to be presuming things today, have I missed a memo?” 

Akira didn’t miss a beat. “Ryuji said something?” 

Goro dragged his fingernails into his palm. He was hardly being that obvious, he wasn’t a bumbling idiot who couldn’t keep a straight face. Akira was just acutely good at reading people, (namely, reading him) and it drove Goro up the wall. It was unfair, for one thing, since Akira continued to maintain blank expressions in the face of clowns and hookers, keeping his inner thoughts kept behind lock and key. And, as of more recently, he was the one person Goro really desperately wanted to hide every wandering emotion from possible. Just his luck, fall for the bastard who analyzes people as a side job for his savior-complex living. 

This was making him more frustrated. “Would you just order?” 

Akira looked at the menu, but Goro knew it was bullshit. He ordered the same thing every time— a shake and a burger, no tomatoes. He certainly already knew what he wanted, but was just causing trouble in the meantime. What an annoyance. Goro punched it in, and made no moves to go and cook. If Sakamoto was going to have his “business” in the back, then he could stay there and do his job. 

“Sit over there, we’ll bring it to you when it’s done,” he said, and Akira silently obliged. He gave a small smile before he turned, leaving Goro completely alone with his thoughts as he sat at his table and scrolled through his phone. 

He couldn’t believe the timing of Sakamoto’s distasteful comment to Akira’s unseasonable entrance. Things always seemed to fall into place with Goro, just not the right places. The right place, but a little down, and to the left, the left, he said. He wished Sakamoto would mind his own business, let him quietly pine until his untimely death; which kept getting put off, might he add. 

Sakamoto emerged from the back end of the restaurant. He was holding the bag of presumably Akira’s food, and his shake. He waved them enthusiastically. 

“Go on, dude,” he smirked. 

Goro was blunt. “No.” He’d pissed him off enough today. He wasn’t going to walk over there and serve the food. Sakamoto’s little idea of love, romance and marriage in a burger joint would have to wait. Ideally, it would get itself stuck in wet concrete, and drown way down under where no one could see it and where the light of day would never reach. 

Sakamoto seemed to catch his drift. “Jeez, fine. Huffy, huffy.” 

He walked over to Akira with a spring in his step, and they started chatting idly. Goro couldn’t hear. In all honesty, he was trying to tune them out. His headache was growing worse. Pounding in his head, every light too bright and repetitive music blurring together his thoughts. And of course there was the elephant in the room, who was whispering to him Sakamoto’s crude suggestions, and the irritating notion that maybe he was right, just a little bit.

He needed to get himself together. He was acting like some horny teenager. Get fucked, you raunchy elephant. 

Sakamoto left to let him eat, and made a show of going back to the other end of the restaurant, all while wiggling his eyebrows at Goro. In turn, Goro made a show of rolling his eyes and planting himself facing away from Akira. It made Sakamoto laugh, for whatever reason, and Goro just ignored him. 

He watched the door idly and tried to relax. He’d been clenching his teeth, and his jaw ached. He tried to focus to get his headache to fade into obscurity. He couldn’t find much to concentrate on, was his issue. Other than the obvious, which he would ignore without remorse. He wanted to go home. No lights too bright there, no sloppily cleaned windows, and especially no crush (the word left a bad taste in his mouth. Boy who has left him emotionally compromised after giving him no reason to deny he had worth in the world and keeps him up at night thinking about the way he really tried to will him back into existence when he could, god, have anything else in the world, and he wanted him. Was that a better option?) sitting out of view, chewing quietly and doing absolutely nothing to draw so much attention to himself.  At home he could drown it all out in a cold bath, and let himself think of nothing but his numbing toes and pruning fingers. 

“Hey, catch,” Akira said, suddenly there and startling Goro out of his bathlike daydream. He tossed something onto the counter. Goro did not catch it. 

It was a napkin, all folded up in a careful way. It didn’t hold the shape well, but the intention was pretty clear. “Um. A crane?” 

“Yup. Present for you.” he started, rubbing his neck, and he had the nerve to look bashful. “I got bored.”

Goro hadn’t noticed him making it. Which, alright, did make sense, he was purposefully keeping his neck away from that entire half of the restaurant. “Sorry we aren’t quite the height of entertainment here.” Goro lightly touched its head. He didn’t know Akira knew how to make these. “Well, thank you, I guess.”

Akira pushed his glasses further up his nose. “You’re welcome to name him.”

“I think that I won’t.”

“That can be pretty trendy, too,” he replied. “I’ve gotta go. Class. Tell Ryuji I say bye.” 

“Bye, dude!” Sakamoto shouted from the back. There was that tiresome enthusiasm again. 

It made Akira smile.“Nevermind, then. See you.” 

Goro just barely lifted his hand by the wrist to wave. “Bye.” 

Akira turned, gave him a small trill of his fingers, and left. Sakamoto did not return to his exit, and Goro savored the moment. It was just him and the crane, now. 

It was pretty shoddy. Unfolding, and barely standing up on its own. Cheap paper napkins were not the ideal material for origami, it seemed. He watched it slowly fall apart, wings losing shape and the head relaxing into its neck. Akira had hardly stayed long, so that meant he was probably pretty good at this sort of thing. He wouldn’t have guessed. 

…He thought about how it might look on proper paper. The creases sharp and crisp, the ends pointed and still. What would Akira’s hands look like while they worked? He could hear the sounds of the folding, and the wedging, clean paper being bent and rippled. Delicate fingers, working through, meticulously checking every last inch. Sometimes a pinch, just where it’s needed. And then finished, folded tight, wrapped together in itself. Very quick work, with the touch of a hand. 

“The heck is that?” Sakamoto said, getting an actual jump out of Goro. 

“What?” he gasped, and took a second to collect his thoughts. At work. Sakamoto came back. In a Big Bang Burger. Headache present. Good fucking god. “It’s just…” He pressed his fingers into the side of his temple “It’s a paper crane. Akira made it.” 

Sakamoto let that sink in.“You tellin me you were just sitting here staring at the thing Akira made you?” 

“I wasn’t,” Goro replied, trying desperately to catch his breath as casually as possible. 

“Uh, you literally were.” Sakamoto got uncomfortably close to him again. Goro physically moved away, because now was not the time. 

It didn’t deter Sakamoto whatsoever. He put his hands on his hips and gave an annoying grin. “Bro, you gotta tell him… You’ve obviously got it preeetty bad.” 

Goro was fed up with this. This conversation needed to end, or he thought he might explode. “I don’t ‘have it bad,’ Sakamoto, stop bringing this up.” 

Sakamoto smirked at him. “You so do though, is the thing.” 

“I don’t. Leave me alone.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and kept his mouth shut. He was acting so haughty, like he’d won the argument. Which, he hadn’t, for the record. 

That stupid crane. All it’d done was make things worse. And what was it even doing? Sitting here crumbling away into uselessly folded paper. A cheap napkin made of other recycled cheap napkins. Clean and crisp paper was a long sought after dream, a fantasy and nothing more. 

You know, this was just it, really. This is what he meant. Akira would try and fold him up and he’d inevitably fall back down. He didn’t know just what fantastic method he’d try, but it wouldn’t matter— he was made of what he was made of, and nothing would hold him up. Trying was pointless, risking for naught, it would be better for everyone if he stayed just how he was and didn’t overstay his use. 

He would not fit into Akira’s plans or his pities. He couldn’t. 

“…Bruh. What does that even mean.” 

Ah? “What?“ No. He had not said that out loud. Sakamoto did not just hear all that nonsense. 

Sakamoto was giving him a funny look. “You’re not a napkin, man.” 

God, shit. Shit shit shit. “I— I know that, this is just—“ The unpleasant feeling of blood rushing to his face was just as intolerable as it was unpreventable. 

“For real? Cause you sure sounded like you were calling yourself a napkin.” 

Absolutely unbelievable. How unruly was he that he’d just spouted all that like it was nothing? He couldn’t believe he had to explain himself now, but letting him get ideas was undeniably worse. “It’s supposed to be… symbolic, Sakamoto.” 

He could practically see the gears turning in his head. That wasn’t something difficult to understand, you dunce. Every second of this humiliating scene felt like a knife turning in his back. 

“Why does your brain work in such effed up ways. You gotta work on that,” Sakamoto said, not letting up his judgemental look.

He crossed his arms, trying to make his mortification appear like annoyance. “Don’t you start with me. As if you ever have something useful to say. At least I’m— I’m thinking, here.” 

That riled him up a bit. “I’m thinkin’! I almost flunked literature so maybe I’m not so good at this analysis stuff, but you know what? Hear me out.” Goro did not want to hear him out. He continued despite that. “I get it, you got your problems. But I really don’t think you callin’ yourself some shitty crane is fair, you know? Like, you’re a whole guy.”

He did not appreciate how genuine Sakamoto was acting. It was odd, and it felt awkward coming from him. He didn’t want to feel guilty for being rude to him earlier, either. Just another topic to bother him to sleep. 

Sakamoto went on. “Gahhh, it feels weird sayin’ this but like, you’re not a napkin, okay! And Akira doesn’t think so either. You’re more… complicated. Napkins don’t pay taxes or anything.” 

Ah, alright. So it was mostly bullshit. He could ease the guilt away in one fell swoop. 

Goro’s disinterest seemed to show itself well to Sakamoto. “Just, okay. Lemme get my thoughts here. You gotta like… be your own first step. I didn’t get my own shit sorted out until I actually tried to. And I’m not sayin it’s easy to do. But Imma tell you right now your first step is gonna be to stop thinking you’re a napkin or a bucket or a plate of green beans or whatever else you come up with. And I mean it, man.”

Goro knew he had things to say to that. He had thought out replies and phrases that Sakamoto would need more headspace to begin to understand. But none of them came to him. So he decided to stay threateningly quiet. 

It was well received. “Okay okay, you’re gettin’ mad, I can tell. I��m gonna take my break,” Sakamoto relented, and turned on his heel. “I ain’t really trying to tell ya what to do but give it a thinking about, alright? ‘Least for Akira’s sake,” he said over his shoulder, and left Goro almost more alone than before. 

It wasn’t even Akira’s sake Goro was worried about. Not in the way Sakamoto seemed to think. And he didn’t need to be told he wasn’t some inanimate object, he wasn’t that out of mind. 

Any sort of sensible argument would have to come to him after the fact, apparently. To tell him this wouldn’t be a “first step,” more like a hundredth. How many paces did crawling out of the hole he’d buried himself in count for? How many miles had he gone by now, barefoot and bleeding all the way. 

Such a stupid conversation. Needless, too, since for whatever reason his filter decided to leave him to fend for himself. Just another addition to this embarrassing excuse of a shift today. 

The paper crane sat still on the counter, though it hardly resembled one anymore. He almost felt bad. He had his typical pit in his stomach, but nothing exactly to pinpoint it on. Was he wallowing in that much self-loathing? 

Perhaps. 

Goro adamantly refused to have any more dramatic revelations at his part time job, so any introspections would have to come later. 

He put the crumpled crane in his pocket. It was certainly not going to be a crane once he took it out again, but he didn’t really know what else to do with it. Throwing it away felt wrong, to him. Though he wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to do with it when he got home. 

Akira hadn’t given this to him in hopes of causing some mental anguish. Or at least, he assumed so. Sakamoto had said he didn’t play mind games, but if not those, what was he doing? It felt better to know it was a game, in that way there was something about Akira’s mystery of a consciousness he could pry through. 

Was he reading into things? For sure. Reading too deeply into anything had been a talent of his for as long as he could remember. It had saved his life before, many times and in the most difficult of times. 

This crane wasn’t life threatening, but it felt like it was. Not in the thrilling way, but in the shitty way. 

His shift was over soon. Which reminded him, Sakamoto had surely already taken his break. He was a dip, but Goro preferred his own thoughts to any conversation they’d had today. And that was saying something, since getting out of his own head was a much needed relief that he’d take almost any chance he got. 

He was overthinking, and there was nothing he could do about it. He would continue to overthink until someone stole his brain and dunked it in acid. Where was the enjoyment otherwise? It was all he knew how to do. 

And even he didn’t overthink this— if Akira had given this to him in earnest and in playfulness, and if Sakamoto hadn’t been overtly pulling his leg through their shifts today. There wasn’t even anything remarkable about it. If there was a chance that maybe things were just okay, and getting better, and he wasn’t a living metaphor for a tissue. Oh just, say he invited him out for coffee, and Akira surprised him with a new little creation, less spur of the moment and made something almost sweet. He’d never drop his pride so low as to ask for a lesson, but if he did, maybe he could learn to make something, too. And maybe he wouldn’t hate every moment of it, and maybe he’d like getting so close, and maybe he’d appreciate the mistakes as much as the praises. 

…Hm.

That was just a fantasy, of course. And surely, nothing was all that great about it. Anything could go wrong in any number of ways, his own interventions just one category. 

Maybe it was the headache, or the dragging on shift, or the terrible lights, or the distant humming of his coworker, but Goro must’ve been caught off guard today. Because otherwise, why else would he have thought, not long and not convincingly, but still a thought as present as can be, that maybe, despite everything. 

It could be nice. Just for a little bit. Maybe that didn’t sound quite so bad. 

Not so bad at all. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter t w e l v e

If there was anything in this moment that you hated more than Harry, it was the fact that you’d navigated all the way out to JFK in the rain to accompany your friends back into the city. 

Getting there was no easy feat in sunshine--but when the weather picked up and you made the trek on public transit, it seemed a bit too friendly for your current state of mind. Sure--they’d never been here before and maybe the subway system was a bit different from the tube or anything else they’d ridden overseas (rats eating pizza wasn’t unheard of, after all), but it still felt like a lot of effort to bring them all the way back over the bridge and part ways to avoid Harry altogether. 

You knew you’d have to see him at some point, but a Friday night after a full week of work left you too tired to deal--especially when you spent the day before (the 14h day of February) using all of your power to not sucker punch any single person who even mentioned love or relationships or any type of positivity whatsoever. 

Alyssa and Owen were the only exception--partially. She’d claimed it was too soon to do anything with him, but her tune changed when he happened to have tickets to a comedy show. She flew out the door with a scarf around her neck, promising to bring you any leftovers from dinner before she kissed you on the head. 

Everyone else was excited for the wonderful week ahead. Jessie had texted a selfie of the four of them--cheeks pressed together in first class before take off--you responded before you realized Harry was in the chat. Alyssa was begging to see them tonight instead of tomorrow morning, seeing as she’d had many FaceTime encounters but never the real thing! But when Jake informed you only thirty minutes ago that they’d landed, you knew it’d be a while before they got through customs and made their way to you. 

So you sighed, shoved your hands in your pockets and tried to ignore the echoing overhead voice of an airport worker. American Airlines Flight 1290 from Madrid: now at baggage claim 7. 

But then there was a voice, a tap on your shoulder and you swiveled quickly, a pair of blue eyes and a five o’clock shadow smiled down at you. “Hi--sorry to bother you--are you Y/N L/N?”

A nod--you tried to find words, but confusion took over your tongue. You were used to being stopped by girls your own age--people who read your work or followed you on twitter. Every once in a while it happened to be a guy, but it had yet to be one as attractive as the blond head  of hair in front of you. Adidas sweatpants, a backwards baseball hat on his head. 

“Yeah, hi--” you pulled a hand from your pocket and offered it towards him. “Nice to meet you!”

“I’m Patrick Martin, I work for Digitize--we’re a social media firm over in Long Island City--I thought I recognized you from your picture on The Scoop.”

“Oh god,” you scrunched your nose, an immediate flood of embarrassment through your bones. “I did not know it was staff picture day and I never wear my hair like that--”

“It’s a beautiful picture,” he laughed, “really.” An awkward beat. “But I just wanted to say hi. We’ve done some stuff with Whitney Hall--d’you know her?”

“Oh yeah, she’s my editor! She’s fantastic.”

“Yeah!” He adjusted the shoulder strap of a duffle bag he carried. “She’s great--I didn’t mean to bother you but I’ll give you this,” he fiddled with his wallet, produced a small black card that had his name, email, and phone number. “If you’re ever interested in growing your online presence independently of a media outlet, we’re here for that.”

You took it in your hands and flipped it over. “Thank you--yeah, I’ll uh, I’ll be in touch.”

“I’d love to take you for coffee or something sometime.”

“Incoming!” A crash to your side, arms wrapped around you before a gap tooth smile was in front of your face, freckled cheeks red from the running she’d done to leave the others behind.

“We’ll get in touch online,” Patrick smiled, his eyes scanning over Jessie as she adjusted the jacket she wore.  

“Sorry,” she laughed. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“All good,” he said, his accent American and stark in contrast to Jessie’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you offered a hand again, another smile when he turned and waved goodbye, a nod to your friends who’d undoubtedly cut him short. 

When you turned to see them, a grin stretching towards your ears, Jake opened his arms. “Smalls in the flesh--in America--how cool is this?”

“Pretty fucking cool,” Adam answered, shoving past Jessie to wrap his arms around you. “Happy almost birthday!”

“Another two days of being twenty-three!” Bryn took her turn enveloping, she reached a hand up to smooth your hair from Jessie’s crash landing. “Gettin’ old, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes. “Feels that way! You all got through customs that easily?”

“For fuck’s sake, Smalls, don’t say it like they should search us again,” Jake looked over his shoulder, hoping no one would decide to give them a harder time than they’d apparently gotten. 

“M’not! M’not, I was just prepared to wait a lot longer.”

“Well we’ve got to get our bags and then we’re all yours!” Jessie offered another grin, taking a few steps towards the carousel that would soon spit out their belongings. 

“All Harry’s tonight, actually.”

“Oh god,” she let out a groan, her arms crossed over her chest quickly. “Is this some type of split custody thing? Mom and dad fighting again?”

“Very funny,” you made a face at her, “you’re staying at his cause I don’t have the room--and I’m tired. Worked a whole week, you know. Big story on my hands.”

They didn’t ask, luckily. A shrill noise came from the carousel, it started moving and soon delivered all seven items they’d been waiting for. Four suitcases, two duffle bags. Jake and Adam lugged them off one by one, dropping them by their feet until Bryn pointed to each one. “That’s all of them!”

“Alright,” you said, pulling out your phone. You figured that it’d be easiest to just take the AirTrain over towards the A Train--right up through Brooklyn and home by 9pm. “We’ll take the shuttle thing over here,” you pointed in the direction of the doors, leading them out to a concourse where cars had already lined up for their arriving passengers. 

When you crossed the threshold, Adam pointed towards a man with a sign. “Think that’s for us?”

Jessie, Jake, Bryn, Adam, Y/N--a big white board in Roger’s hands. 

“Oh thank god!” Jessie immediately moved towards the big SUV--windows so dark you couldn’t see inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You tried to hide the disappointment--and anger--in your voice.

Roger offered a smile, clearly unaware of the recent developments. “He said it might be a tough trip back with all of these,” a gesture to the bags by your feet as he started to push them into the open trunk.

“No--we’re taking the subway!” Your feet were planted on the gum-stained cement, hands back in your pockets to protect from the unforgiving wind. 

“Not if we have this option we’re not,” Bryn smiled over her shoulder, a look in her eyes pleaded with you to just roll with it. You stood, still, watching as they climbed one by one into the waiting vehicle. 

“S’fine--he’s just being nice,” Jake came and tugged at your arm, his voice low enough so the  others wouldn’t hear. 

“Headed to yours or to Harry’s?” Roger asked, the last of the bag fitting perfectly against the others--Roger had apparently played airport Tetris before. 

“Harry’s please!” Jake answered quickly, giving you a gentle shove towards the back row of seats. You did it begrudgingly. You settled in between he and Bryn--too stubborn to admit that the subway would have sucked. 

So you listened to them laugh about the fancy toilets in first class--Bryn had tried to eat her weight in peanuts and Adam was asleep before they even taxied the runway. Jessie listed off the things she wanted to do and Jake begged for dinner as soon as you crossed over the Manhattan bridge. 

When Roger pulled up to the big glass doors on Greenwich St, you climbed out alongside them, arms crossed as you watched them all try to pull their suitcases from the mountain Roger had built. 

“Good?” Jake reached up to shut the trunk after taking one last look. Jessie moved towards the entrance, the doors parting to reveal a hooded Harry, he didn’t even look at you. 

“Hi lovie!” Jessie wrapped her arms around his neck, Roger offered a wave before climbing back into the car, promising to see you soon while Harry offered hugs. 

“Coming inside?” Adam turned to watch you over his shoulder, a gust of wind blew hair in front of your face. 

“M’exhausted--breakfast in the morning?”

“Y/N are you serious? We just flew ourselves all the way over the ocean to see you and you’re going to sleep?”

“What? I just--I worked, I dunno.”

“Come up for tea, at least,” his voice was smaller than the others, a shrug of his shoulders, his hands hidden in the middle pocket of his jumper. Fleeting eye contact, another gust of wind that seemed to kickstart Adam into motion.

“Yeah, tea, Smallsy, come on,” he was the first to make a move, he picked up his luggage and headed for the door, Harry’s eyes still on you.

If Roger hadn’t already driven away--his assumption that you’d also be staying the night only spoke to how out of the loop he was--you wouldn’t have followed them in past Mark, offering a wave before Harry swiped into the elevator. 

“This is so fucking fancy,” Jessie giggled, her face only a few inches from yours. 

You reached for your phone in your pocket, composing a desperate plea to Alyssa as the lift rose up to Harry’s floor. 

Come to Harry’s--stuck here for a while. Pls!!!!

They did the same oohing and aahing that you had done--wide eyes tracing circles around the room. The high ceilings, the hardwood floor, the art on the walls and the rug on the floor. 

Harry headed for the stove to put on a kettle, he told you to show them the two extra bedrooms. 

“This one has a king so--if Jake and Adam are going to be weird about being in one bed and wanting to build a pillow wall between them, this should be theirs.”

“We already decided to alternate each night between the bed and the couch,” Jake laughed, earning an eye roll from Bryn. 

“You’re both fucking wankers--you’re not going to accidentally touch willies in the middle of the night.”

“Girls down here,” you ignored their bickering, flipping on the lights in the farthest bedroom, navy walls and a white duvet. 

“M’gonna change really quick!” Jessie dropped a duffle onto the bed, unzipping it when Jake spoke from the doorway behind you. 

“Yeah I’ve gotta wee!”

They all seemed to disappear into their rooms, changing, using the loo, inconveniently leaving you to walk back to the living room alone, a message on your phone informed that Alyssa was on her way. 

“Milk?”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, swallowed down the anxiety when you realized it was just the two of you.

“In your tea--milk?”

“Yeah.”

He already had six cups out--each with a tea bag resting inside. He rested his hands on the counter, lips parted as if he was about to speak, when the kettle whistled. 

“Much better!” Jessie appeared in sweatpants, her hair up on top of her head. “I smell like airplane, but I'll live.”

Harry pushed a teacup towards you on the counter, lips in a thin line when you picked it up and locked eyes with him. 

“You alright?” Jessie watched him closely, he cleared his throat when he realized she was referring to the way he was looking at you. 

“Yeah--just, uh, tired. Had a bunch of meetings today.”

You had no clue if that was true or not--it’d been a week since you’d last seen him, a week since  you knew what he was doing or where he was. A week since you’d stood in his living room with tears on your cheeks and anger in your veins. 

“Both of you, Jesus. Want us to fly home?”

“No,” you said. “We’re fine. So tell me about the meeting you had with the programme director. You like him?”

“I mean,” Jessie let out a laugh, reaching for her own cup before walking to join you on the couch. “He’s a total babe. Terribly smart, I think, too.”

“Most important part is that he’s single and his last wife died--” Bryn emerged from the loo, her face a mix of amusement and mockery. 

“Well if he was divorced that would be a red flag,” Jessie tried to reason. 

“But you’re excited to start?” Harry came around to the living room, he sat in a chair opposite you, his eyes on Jessie has if nothing happened. It almost felt like you were back at square one--back to a time where your feelings were a secret and like you’d never even dream of being honest with him. 

**

July 2014

“I can’t believe he made us come all the way down to London when they played in Manchester the other night,” Jessie looked at herself in her front camera, using the pad of her forefinger to wipe lipstick from her teeth. When she looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Can’t believe you’re not mad at him, honestly.”

“Oh relax,” you said, a strange energy seemed to spread through you, starting in your core and out towards your fingers when you reached down to pat her on the shoulder. 

She was seated on a couch--one in a green room somewhere inside the winding corridors of London’s O2 Area--Bryn was too busy trying to flirt with someone’s sister. Cool air blew through the overhead vents--a steady hum that did a good job of masking the buzzing in your veins.

You’d all done the math in the car on the trip down, a whole six months since you’d seen him in passing over Christmas. A quick hello at Annie’s--his last day in town before he was heading on vacation with his mum. 

Sure--maybe your friends expected you to be less than thrilled to see the boy you once dreamed about, but things felt different. Mature and grown up and far removed from the sad 15-year-old he’d left behind. 

And besides, there was Charlie. 

“We just found a signed picture of Jennifer Lopez in the hallway,” Jake’s voice was low and measured, as if he expected you to be just as excited as they were. Charlie and Adam nodded beside him, their eyes wide with excitement.

“She’s so hot,” the words fell out of Charlie’s mouth without much thought, clearly. 

“Right,” you said, a quick nod as if it didn’t sting--as if you didn’t practice calling Harry three times in Bryn’s bedroom to ask for another ticket for your boyfriend. 

Is it serious--like, you really like him? Harry’d asked on the phone like it was any of his business. 

Super serious, you’d said, as if alliteration had your back. He might be the one. 

So he tagged along, given a fair warning at your parents’ house that morning that he wasn’t allowed to take the piss or give Harry an ounce of shit--after all, Charlie wasn’t the biggest fan of boy bands. He’d made that clear the minute he found out that your heart held a special place for the five-piece group. 

There was commotion from the other side of the room--people stirring when a door opened, Jessie stood from the couch. 

His hair was long--longer than the last time you’d seen him, part of it pulled up on top in an elastic as he locked eyes with Jake. A black silk shirt, unbuttoned low enough to see a bit too much of his chest--especially if you were running with the whole no feelings whatsoever idea. 

“Hey man,” he pulled Adam in for a hug, both their hands patting the other on the back before releasing Harry to greet the rest of you. He made his rounds, finding you and Charlie last. One hand in his pocket before sticking out the right one for him to shake. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “M’Harry.”

“Charlie,” he nodded. “Thanks for having us.”

He brought his eyes to you, lips curled into a small smirk, dimpled cheeks. “Smalls,” he opened his arms, letting you get a good whiff of whatever cologne he now wore. 

“How was the drive down?”

“Terribly long,” Jessie complained, her shoulders slumping. “Why couldn’t we come to Manchester?”

“Because--I told you--this is the better show to come to. Everyone brings friends in London. Better after parties, too,” he let an arm snake around Jessie’s shoulders, smiling down at her with raised brows. 

“Like--with famous people?”

“If you’re lucky--heard Ed Sheeran might come say hello at some point. David Beckham, too.”

“Fine,” Jessie said quickly, not missing a beat. “That would be cool.”

“Always so composed, Jess,” Jake teased. 

Harry’s assistant--he had his own now, not just one he shared with the other boys--offered cocktails, something to hold in hand while you made smalltalk with the friends of the other boys. The kids who grew up next door to Niall, Louis’ siblings and Liam’s best friend from college. 

It was nice to be in a room with other people who knew what it felt like to be left behind. Maybe they didn’t all label it like that, but you knew that they understood what it was like to wonder about the next time you’d see your friend. 

You reached for another drink the second Harry got you alone, a question about how you met Charlie. 

“Lived on my floor during my first year. We were friends for a while--or, in the same friend group, I guess.”

He nodded, he elbow resting on top of a water cooler he made a face before letting words slip from between his lips slowly. “He seems...nice.”

“What?” You laughed, “what is it? How could you not like him when you’ve spoken like ten words to him all night?” 

“I never said that!” He smiled, raising a hand in the air in defense. “Just--dunno--hope he’s not a tosser.”

You let out a small laugh, a space filler while you tried to gather your thoughts, or rather, your emotions. The idea that Harry cared about who you dated sent a spark through your system, but the rationalizing that soon kicked in--it’s because you’re friends, he’s just being nice--seemed to put out whatever fire had been momentarily ignited. 

After a while he was pulled away by someone whose job it was to manage his time--warm ups in another room and maybe one last puff of hairspray. You were left with the others to consume more alcohol, eventually led to your seats by men in bright yellow shirts with flashlights.

Charlie was entertained enough--he laughed with Jake and Adam and clapped for the opening act. He made a face at the screams when the lights went down again, but even Jessie typically pulled something similar. 

Ten songs, three more drinks, and a small bladder eventually had you wandering the corridors alone, tracing your way back to the room with the oriental rug and comfy couches. When you found the peaceful quiet of bottled waters and granola bars on the counter, you found yourself taking your time--staring at yourself in the mirror when you washed your hands. 

“Hi,” Bryn’s voice sounded from behind you. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” you said, a solemn nod. “Just--kind of weird, you know, to have them in the same place.”

She hummed, coming to rest a head on your shoulders. “I figured.”

“I really like him, you know?”

“Harry?”

“Charlie!” You rolled your eyes, but a piece of you knew that Bryn’s words weren’t false. You turned around to lean against the counter. “He’s great--he’s funny. I just--I dunno. I hope at some point I stop wondering about the what ifs.”

There were tears in your eyes--a small enough amount that you could claim it was an eyelash or a yawn, but with Bryn, you didn’t feel the need to. “You will,” she reassured. 

“And besides--s’a pretty good way to make them both jealous. Bring your new boyfriend to the concert of your friend who’s a rockstar? If Harry has half a mind, it’ll make both of them pretty antsy.”

You laughed, unsure of if inspiring jealousy was what you were going for. If anything, at this point, you wanted peace. Maybe things with Harry would never happen--after four years, it was safe to say that he’d moved on from your small town. Maybe another four years and you’d never see him again, save for tabloid covers in Sainsbury’s. 

“What’s up?” Jessie asked, leaning against the door from the greenroom. The bass line thumped through the cement wall--you were sure your eyeliner was smudged. 

“Just realizing she’s still not over Harry,” Bryn said quickly, no emotion in her words--as if it was as simple as discussing the weather. 

“Bryn!”

“Y/N,” Jessie seemed to laugh a little, coming over to brush your hair with her fingers. “Charlie’s great--he’s funny and he’s handsome and he’s--”

“Not Harry,” Bryn said, a shrug of her shoulders when you looked up at her with narrowed eyes.

“He’s great though, she’s right,” you said, enough conviction to convince yourself that you actually believed it. “Who cares if he’s not the one--he can be fun for now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” they said.

Locked arms when you went back to your seats, wristbands granting you access to the floor with ease. When you found Charlie you let him wrap his arms around you, hoping that one day, he’d be enough to erase the memories of the boy on stage. 

**

“Thank god you’re here,” you greeted Alyssa right in front of the lift, voice low enough so the others couldn’t hear you. 

She shrugged off her jacket and made a face. “That bad?”

“Hi Lyss,” Harry’s voice echoed over Bryn’s laughter--they all turned their attention towards your roommate as she smoothed out her blouse. 

“Hi,” she said. “Nice to finally meet you all!”

“Welcome, welcome,” Jessie laughed. “Many a FaceTime call!”

Harry seemed to watch in silence as you took your place back on the couch--Alyssa settling onto the carpet before looking up at him, a closed lip smile was the only interaction between the two. 

It didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would--or maybe it was the glass of wine that Bryn poured you an hour later. That paired with the laughter that laced itself through conversation left your heartbeat steady, easily ignoring the fact that Harry’s eyes would linger a second too long every time you spoke. 

Jake went off to bed first--claiming dramatically that his body really thought the sun should be rising. Adam made him promise to construct a sturdy enough pillow wall--Bryn once again pointed out their subtle homophobia with a raise of her wine glass. Twats, she said, once Adam left the room. 

But she was next to fall, slumping down the hallway while Jessie sang along to whatever song Alyssa played from her phone. So once you’d decided it was time to head out, Jessie disappeared into a dark bedroom and Alyssa used the toilet--leaving you to trail behind Harry as you brought tea cups and wine glasses back to the sink. 

“I hope it’s okay that they’re here.”

“Them?” You threw a thumb over your shoulder--reality setting in when you realized you’d yet to actually communicate with him about the birthday surprise. Anger fought its way up your throat. “S’fine--they’re my best friends.”

“Yeah,” he said, the next words came lazily out of his mouth like an afterthought. “Mine too.”

Back to the living room to get your coat, pulling it over your shoulders as if he hadn’t followed behind you, watching quietly when you scooped your hair out from the jacket. 

“Maybe we can talk in a few days. I know they’re here, but, you didn’t even hear me out.”

“Hear you out? You were seeing two girls at once and you want me to hear you out?”

The door to the loo shut--Alyssa appeared in the hallway but faltered when both you and Harry took a step back from each other.

“Relax,” she said, her eyes wide for a second as she came to meet you near the door. “S’just me. I know you broke up.”

You rolled your eyes at that--Harry’s expression was calm. “I’ll see you in the morning?” His voice was hopeful--his eyes watched yours for any sign of emotion. 

“Maybe--Jessie wants to do Times Square so I doubt you can come. And besides, we still need to minimize the amount we’re seen together. If people see you with them and then me with them they’ll start to put things together before--you know.”

“Before what?”

“Before I can figure out the story and telling Whitney, alright? If we have to be sneaky about this so people don’t know that I’ve known you forever--I vote that you’re the one to hide.”

His head tilted to the side, as if you’d started speaking a foreign language. “Hide?” 

Alyssa slung her purse over her shoulder. 

“Yes, hide. You can hang out with us but you’re on your own for making sure you don’t draw attention to us. This is my birthday gift, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, a sigh from between his lips when he looked to Alyssa. “Thanks for coming.”

She offered an awkward smile--you wondered what she’d say to him if you weren’t there, how they’d interact just the two of them.

“See ya,” you tugged Alyssa by the coat sleeve into the lift. You pressed a button and shut the door between you, welcoming the bitter air on the sidewalk. Quiet on the walk home--you would have taken the subway or called a car, but Alyssa probably knew you needed the silence.

A direct message on twitter that night when you climbed into bed. You didn’t even know Pat--his name sounded familiar and you trusted that he had to be decent at his job if Whitney had worked with him, but when you agreed to meet him for coffee next week, you wondered what it would feel like to love someone that wasn’t Harry. 

You hoped one day you’d know. 

**

The neon glow of Times Square was much more impressive at night, so the five of you stood in the center of a cement island, taxis and buses honking beside you as Jessie and Adam stared up with open mouths. 

“S’brighter than I imagined,” Jake said, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears. “So much electricity.”

“S’beautiful,” Jessie cooed, the reflection of the lights bounced off her irises. When she turned to look at you, she wrapped an arm around yours. “Thanks for taking us.”

“My pleasure,” you laughed. “You come less and less to touristy things when you live here. S’like how we stopped doing the Eye or riding the double deckers.”

“Right,” Bryn laughed, a shopping bag in her right hand. “Or how we wouldn’t let Jake take any more pictures with the guards at Buckingham Palace.”

“They’re funny,” he defended, shooting Bryn a look of anger before resting an arm on her shoulders. 

Adam looked around the group of you, a smile on his face when his eyes landed on yours. “Glad we’re here, Smalls.”

“Yeah,” Jessie said. “I can see why you like it so much.”

“Can see why you don’t want to come home,” Bryn added, another sweeping gaze of the billboards above. She counted the colors, pinks, blues, greens, yellows, reds. A cup of coffee sitting on the red chairs scattered about, laughing at costumes and watching the people who’d pass by. 

After a good hour and a half you navigated over to Hell’s Kitchen, walking through side streets to find the restaurant that Harry had chosen. 

Don’t see why he gets to choose, s’my birthday dinner, you complained as your boots shuffled along the sidewalk. 

He’s paying, Bryn reminded. That’s why. 

You were sat in a back room, wine was poured before Harry appeared in the doorway, shrugging out of his jacket before placing it on the seat across from you. 

“Sorry,” he said, “had a meeting. Happy birthday.”

“S’not my birthday yet,” you sipped at the Cabernet that’d been offered, setting it on the table before giving him a challenging glare. 

“S’your birthday dinner, though. A day and a half early, if you can forgive me,” a hand to his heart before Bryn raised a glass. 

“Here’s to Y/N--kicking ass in New York City and carving out an amazing career for herself.”

“You’re probably the coolest person who lives in New York, Smalls,” Jake lifted his glass and let it hit yours, a scowl came across Harry’s face as he held his wine in the air. 

“Was I even up for consideration?” He asked, a playful frown on his face. 

Jake tilted his head. “Of coolest people who live in New York?” 

You rolled your eyes--now wasn’t the time for his sensitivity. “M’the one who actually lives here,  Harry.”

“Is the rent I pay not enough to convince you that I live here too?”

“Not when you jet set off to LA or London for a week just because you feel like it.”

“So business travel? That automatically disqualifies someone from considering themselves a resident just because they travel for business? Probably disqualifies half the population then.”

Adam tensed beside you, an awkward sip of his cocktail when he looked at Jessie to say something.

“What type of visa do you have?” You asked, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table. 

“What? I don’t know--my manager handles that for me.”

“I have an H1B, extendable to six years,” you said matter-of-factly. Jessie’s eyes were wide as she sucked some sangria through a straw. 

“Alright,” Bryn tried to hold up a hand, unable to steer you down the right path. 

“Well I don’t think the American government is going to kick me out any time soon.”

“They will if you lie to them,” you narrowed your eyes, a bit too much emotion in your voice. 

“Do you need us to leave?” Bryn’s voice was quiet but snarky, Harry’s head snapped over to her and he picked up his wine, leaning back in his chair. 

“No,” you both said at the same time--but you pushed back from the table and cleared your throat. “I’m using the loo.”

You heard Jessie say something about going after you, Harry’s voice stopped her, I’ll go. 

You walked straight into the single bathroom in the back, shoes clicking on the shiny floor. A waterfall sink and polished copper faucet reminded you of the caliber of restaurant this was. Too fancy of a bathroom to cry in. 

There was a knock on the door. “Let me in, Y/N, let me talk to you.”

You opened the door quickly, pushing your head through the crack to see him waiting in the dimly lit hallway. “No--I’m not doing this here.”

“You don’t want to do it anywhere, apparently.”

“Exactly,” you went to shut the door, his hand reached up to stop you from shutting it, fingers gripped around the oak. 

“Two minutes,” he said. “Just give me two minutes to explain something to you.”

You let out a sigh, hoping to calm your pulse before you pulled open the door and let him take two steps inside. He shut it behind him. 

“Go.”

“I just--I was seeing her, casually, yes. But the only reason I saw her after we got back here was to say I couldn’t see her again. I told her it was done.” 

You pushed out your lips in thought, a head tilt to show him you meant business. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No.”

“Did you talk to her all the time?”

“No, Y/N. We had dinner and hung out with some friends and sure we kind of hooked up but we didn’t have sex.”

“Did she keep a deodorant in your bathroom?”

“What? No,” he laughed, a step towards you, hand on your arm. “I saw her maybe five times--I don’t know, it wasn’t--it wasn’t anything serious.” A pause, shifted weight on his feet. 

“We’re not--we can’t do this Harry,” you said, kicking a boot against the black marble floor. “This never should have happened.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because it would have worked by now if it was supposed to! It would have happened a long time ago! I was in love with you. I waited for you to come home and I hoped that one day you’d love me back. But it’s too late. I was here living my life on my own and you don’t get to just pop in and out whenever you please.”

He watched you, almost as if you’d laugh and say you were only kidding. Like a simple smile or a joke could take all of it back, wash it clean, and restart. 

“So what, then?”

“So what? So nothing. I shouldn’t have slept with you--it was...unprofessional.”

His chest deflated, a huff of air through his lips when he scratched at the back of his neck, tired and confused. The door swung open and Jake stood, blond quiff of hair reflecting the overhead light, eyes glancing between the two of you. 

“You’re lucky I fought Jessie off to come back here because they’re all bloody suspicious. So if you’re still keen on keeping this a secret,” a finger waved in the air between you, “you should get back to the table.”

“You know?” Harry’s head swiveled around, eyes locking on Jake’s. 

“Of course I know--I’m surprised they’re all daft enough to not know, really.”

You rolled your eyes, giving Harry a shove out of your way before passing between them, wiping beneath your eyes to hide any evidence of emotion. Bryn’s posture straightened when you got back to the table, her voice a quiet whisper so Harry wouldn’t hear.

“Are you alright? What on earth is going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” you said, pulling your napkin back onto your lap. “He’s just a twat--you know how it is.”

Her eyes narrowed, Jessie listened--uncharacteristically quiet. Adam typed away on his phone, as if the entire scene hadn’t just come to close with Harry and Jake back at the table, slumping in their chairs when the server asked if another round was needed. 

“Yes,” all six of you said in unison.

come talk to me about tytl

read the other parts here

AN: again this is kind of short but I wanted to update for y’all!!!! 

tag list:  @clorenafila @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry  @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole  @shawnsblue  @gendryia @g0bl1nqueen  @laula843  @flooome  @a-woman-without-a-plan@awomanindeniall  @shaw-nm @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind-deactivated2 @anssu-amry @my-fandomful-life2 @stylesfantasy @bookingbee  @mleestiles  @haute-romance-quotidienne  @craic-head-horan @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @at-least-im-1 @paigemck00 @rawmeharry @pinkpolaroidgirl @blackxxmagicc @sksspotkitty @nearbyou @kalesouffle @sunnflowerchild @lmk12310​ @sing-me-a-song-harry @afterstylesmadeit @myhat @caritocp @liquor-and-intellect

[haqita-kimoji]

Darts of Pleasure - Chapter 2 - Reel Her In

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Original Character (Sophie Poulain)

Genre: Romance, light fluff

Warnings: Manga spoilers, s4 spoilers, don’t read when you’re not updated with the latest anime episode

Word count: 1.8k words

a/n: I feel my writing is amateur-ish at best hence any feedback is very much welcomed. Posted on wattpad and AO3 as well.

Chapter 2: Reel Her In

Dinner in the mess hall was meatloaf, a gravy-soaked concoction that did not taste like meat or resemble a loaf, a bowl of mushroom soup, and garlic bread. Levi had speared a slice of meat with his fork and raised them to just below his chin, but then seemed to forget about them as his gaze fell to Sophie. He'd forgotten he was eating, he had yet taken a single bite of his dinner until the meatloaf nearly slides off the fork. Listening to Hange talk on and on while stealing glances to Sophie, he'd watched full of curiously at her interacting with the other Marleyan soldiers.

When Hange would pause in her monologue, she would raise her eyebrows at his fork and lifted her chin suggesting him to take a bite. Levi would merely sigh, rolled his eyes, shoveled them in his mouth and chewed with an expression asking: Why do humans go through the dreary process of digesting food? Hange knew her friend well, she noticed his poor attempt of concealing his glances at the Marleyan table. She crossed her arms beneath her chest and kicked at his shin playfully to get his attention.

"What?" Levi asked.

"You got to reel her in you know, be subtle about it." Hange suddenly said to encourage him, her lips curved into a smile. "It's that bit of nuance you know." Hange began to share her input on the matters of love with a monotonous Levi who stayed silent throughout. Hange insisted that he should strike a conversation with her but talk only about the most mundane things, the weather, the local Marleyan cuisine and culture, anything that would give him an opportunity to communicate while utilizing the silent but deadly language of eye contact.

Levi's face stayed stoic. The truth was, other boys were not as powerful as Levi when it comes down to fighting titans with the ODM gears and hand-on-hand combat, but they were more skillful at asking girls out because what they lacked had taught them persistence. Whereas Levi had never even entertained the infatuation from any pursuer. Levi's skills with the ODM gears had left him dry on tricks, and in misery, he merely sighed at Hange and her advice.

"Levi!" Hange shrieked, awakening him to his senses.

"Yes," Levi replied, swirling the mushroom soup with the garlic bread.

"Wow, you must really like her huh? She got you all tongue-tied," Hange moved her eyebrows playfully, then made a quick glance to Sophie. Oh fuck, Levi thought to himself, even Hange has started to notice how wary he is around the mess halls.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Levi announced, hissing almost.

"Levi, if you want to befriend her, you've got to start by actually talking to her. I think you know what you've got to do," Hange ventured, teasingly taking a slice of his garlic bread she'd hope he won't notice.

"Yeah," Levi looked down to his bowl of mushroom soup, his lips pursed. Hange merely looked to his friend, speechless, indeed Levi was a man of few words. Most people would not know but Levi was a shy person. To even talk to someone he was mildly attracted to would require a lot of courage and planning on his part.

Somehow the stars aligned for Levi that night and the opportunity arose, both Eren and Jean started to shout and wrestle each other in the middle of the mess hall. Jean aimed for a body slam in the midsection whereas Eren went for the crazed punch to the head. At the last moment, Jean reached one hand out and hit Eren by the jaw. Eren spit out the blood and with his leg, swept Jean's feet out from under him. As expected of the other soldiers, both Paradis and Marleyan started to form a circle between the two and cheered them on.

Any other day, Levi would intervene and stop the fight. But that night, he noticed Sophie was away from her squad trying to catch a glimpse of the fight and he figured it was the best opportunity to approach her. Levi stood up and lingered nearby, planning meticulously in his head how to execute his plan. Taking a deep breath, he left his seat and walked to the cheering crowd. Three times his heart jumped at the decoys of other petite girls he walked past.

A few more stride and he saw Sophie on her tip-toes, her eyebrows furrowed curiously to view the fight. Levi found himself staring at her with a concentration so focused everyone else ceased to exist. A fuzzy aura surrounded her, probably due to so much blood draining out of Levi's head. He looked back to his table at Hange knowing she was observing his move, indeed Hange grinned at him while raising her cup of beer to wish him luck.

Levi took a deep breath and walked towards her, his pace slowing as he halted to a stop beside her. Sophie was unaware of Levi and was more enamored of the ongoing action, to her it was Eren, the founding and attack titan performing hand-on-hand combat hence it was a big deal even if everything was in good fun. Even though Levi avoided looking at her, it was no use, he felt Sophie beside him, registered her body temperature, heartbeat and respiration rate. He also noticed hay sticking by the bottom hem of her grey slack, she must have been to the stable that day.

Right then it happened, Jean tried to finish off with a body punch that entered cartoonishly far into Eren's gut. The room rippled louder with laughter and cheering. It was then that Sophie noticed the figure beside him, Levi Ackerman, with a stoic monotonous face, he looked clearly unamused with the ongoing commotion. She swallowed a lump on her throat, nervous at how she ended up bumping shoulders with the infamous Captain Levi.

He suddenly leaned into her and said, "They're both morons."

In response, she merely nodded her mouth agape. He is an Ackerman, the clan Zeke had warned about, and she was in awe. But Levi, who was very much curious leaned in and pointed to her slack, "You got hay on you."

"Hay? Oh, this?" Sophie nervously replied, looking down to her gray slack. "Oh yeah, I visited the stable earlier." The light from the lamps of the mess hall gathered in the dark waves of her loose hair, her cheeks were bright pink and Levi was transfixed.

Levi waited for the cheering to peak before he spoke again, "You like to visit the stables?" Realizing how stupid his attempt was at forming a basic sentence he quickly added, "I mean horses--- You like horses?"

"Yes," Sophie replied, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. "The horses here in Paradis are super friendly, bitey though."

"Yeah our horses tend to bite," Levi smacked his lips nervously. "In the Marleyan military do you horse ride?" He noticed Sophie's cheeks were reddening, he could smell her next to him, her hair like lavender and the smell of her skin like grapefruit.

The crowd was getting louder and it was harder for them to listen to one another. Leaning in, closer than Levi would ever imagine, Sophie whispered to him her breath hitting his earlobes, "Unfortunately there's no horse riding in the Marleyan navy, but I use to back in my hometown. I live in the countryside back home."

"Oh wow, ok!" Levi blurted out, a little too eagerly. They both smiled nervously in that small amount of time, but nerves got the best of him and suddenly Levi turned around from Sophie and simply muttered, "Yeah well, see you around."

Confused at his sudden reaction, Sophie merely waved him goodbye and stood where she was, overthinking if she had caused Levi to leave. She had heard of Levi's infamous cleaning habits and hygiene standards, she figured maybe the hay on her slack was a turn-off to him.

As Levi walked away, Hange jumped from the side and grabbed him by his arm pulling him to the wall. "Levi, what are you doing?" Hange glided over and inquired to him in a hushed deep voice.

"I--- I got nervous...?" Levi answered, his heart was pounding. His eyes showed signs of regret and anxiety, then he continued, "She loves horses AND she smells great. She's the perfect woman!" Hange pinched the bridge of her nose, suppressing the incoming laughter from seeing a side of Levi she never witnessed before.

"My dear Levi. You must really like this girl for you to act like this," Hange replied calmly. "Listen, approach her again and invite her for tea, somewhere less noisy. In your office perhaps?"

Both of them looked back to Sophie who was pouting and muttering to herself, looking confused. Hange assumed she was probably in distress figuring out what had happened, maybe they'd be perfect for each other in their own way, she thought. Placing her hand on Levi's shoulder Hange leaned down and whispered to his ear, "This is for you Levi."

Impulsively, Hange took a bowl of peanuts from the nearby table and started to throw it to a clueless Sophie, aiming for her back. A naïve Sophie slowly turned around to find Hange, the commander of Survey Corps, throwing peanuts to her back.

"Sorry! I was aiming for the---" Hange paused looking for an excuse but gave up halfway. "The--- Floor! Yes, I was aiming for the floor. But yeah, now that I have your full attention--- Levi." Hange nudged forward a nervous Levi to approach her, Sophie merely stared back at him concerned, her eyes widen. Sophie wondered if she was in trouble.

"Yeah Hange was--- She was trying to aim for the---" Levi tried to explain, English suddenly a second language for him. With one big breath he blurted out the words, "Would you like to go somewhere quiet and have tea?" Sophie looked to him, her face bright red, her wide round eyes flitted back and forth.

"Yes, I'd like that." she glanced to the floor then back to his gaze. Levi could smell the light-fruity sweetness of her breath. "But only if you let me make you Marleyan tea."

Levi nodded and stepped a few steps back, but before doing so leaned back to Sophie. "Sure, meet me at my office quarters. Second floor, turn left, first door to the right," he said and took off.