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abovethesmokestacks · 3 years ago

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all the words in all the world

Title: of all the words in all the world

Pairing: Librarian!Bucky x reader

Word count: 4.6k

Rating: General audiences

Warnings: a smidgeon of angst because I am incorrigible.

Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This is my contribution to the Sweetheart’s Diner challenge hosted by @bemine-bucky. My prompt was “I just need to know that it’s possible that two people can stay happy together forever” with a side of friends to lovers and a delicious librarian AU. And truly, who could not love librarian!Bucky? Enjoy and please let me know what you thought!

Bucky swears he is not pining. He isn’t lovesick.

He isn’t. Really.

(No, really, he isn’t, shut up, Steve.)

They hang with the same group of friends, and she knows he works at the library, and he knows she likes reading, so of course it’s no surprise that she comes by. It’s nice, and sometimes if Bucky isn’t too busy shelving or helping out other visitors or wrangling the ancient software that his boss swears will be updated soon (soon has been “next time the budgetary committee convenes” for the past three years), he’ll walk the shelves with her.

Most of the time, she comes in determined, navigating the maze and tracing a fingertip over the spines while she fiddles with the pendant on her necklace until she finds her target with a triumphant huff and brilliant smile. She reads with gumption and little prejudice, embracing genres and time periods and styles with the same open curiosity. Sometimes she comes with a challenge.

“Surprise me.”

“Make me cry.”

“Take me on an adventure.”

Some of them are easy. Some of them take a few rounds, require him to run down to the archive for a title that is no longer on the shelf but still accessible. All of them start feeling like they are slowly exchanging little pieces of themselves, hidden gems and riddles that they extract from pages and pages of stories. It’s like a bond behind the scene, an open secret that never gets brought up with the rest, it just… is. It just is in the way she slowly opens up and starts to feel comfortable with all of them and not just with Wanda, who she went to college with. It just is in the way she’ll smile at him during late night pool games at the hole in the wall bar they sometimes have drinks at, the way she relaxes into letting him know what she thinks about the books he gives her in response to challenges.

Bucky wants to say he loves her, loves all of the little details of her being, but it feels strangely presumptuous. They are friends. She might not even like him like that, and that’s fine. He can be just a friend. He can be Bucky and provide her with books and he can just be another part of their group. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to tell her anything. It’s fine.

“So are you ever going to put on your big boy pants and ask her out?”

He doesn’t mean to look scandalised and so utterly surprised, but really. Steve. Steve and the goddamn earnestness that earned him both innumerable cans of whoop ass and the position of student body president back in the day. Bucky would have expected this from Natasha, maybe even Clint, but Steve?

“I’m not-” he starts, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Whatever you’re about to say, that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard and that includes Freddy Rourke’s valedictorian speech.”

Bucky puts his hand over his chest, “Right in the fuckin’ heart, Rogers.”

“C’mon, man, why aren’t you doing anything about this? You clearly like her, she has not run screaming for the hills, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Well. A number of things, but Bucky has a feeling Steve does not want to spend the rest of their lunch break listening to them. He shuffles his pasta around on the plate, wets his lips, tries to tie a net around all of his feelings, find the common denominator.

“I don’t wanna rock the boat,” he offers finally, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re friends and I don’t- It would be awkward. If she said- you know. She…”

How does he explain it? How does he put words on the little unspoken moments, the secrets between the lines, the looks and the smiles and the way she sometimes came back with a book and handed it to him like it had physically taken something from her? How does he tell Steve about the time she came stomping in, slammed down The Fountainhead and asked for the past two months of her life back between gnashed teeth only to barely restrain herself from walloping him with it when he confessed that he still hadn’t been able to finish it even though he started reading it during sophomore year of college.

“I just… Maybe.”

Bucky says it mostly to placate Steve. To kick the issue ahead for a while. Because honestly? He is terrified. A leap of faith can turn into an uncontrollable freefall. The cherished familiarity will drift. This is fine. What they have is already special. He is fine. It’s fine.

Steve scowls, eats his salad like it personally insulted him, but says nothing more.

She comes by later, beaming like a bright winter day and asks for something ridiculous. His heart soars and it’s an easy pick. Bucky smiles when he watches her tuck Things My Son Needs to Know about the World into her tote.

The days when she walks in introspective are the hardest. She never asks for anything, and Bucky is never quite sure what to give her. It’s a tightrope walk to decide between following her mood and wanting to give her comfort, give her hope. It sets him on edge, makes his fingertips ache to reach out and offer himself like he would make a difference.

And every time, she takes his offering, gives him a trembling smile and leaves. All he can do is hope that he hasn’t made it worse, that somewhere in the pages she’ll find a bit of peace.

“I want to read about love,” she tells him on Valentine’s Day.

It’s cliché, and they hip check each other through the classic section while they discuss horrors of Valentine's Day past. She rolls her eyes when he hands her Pride and Prejudice. He raises an eyebrow when hours later he spots her at the library coffee shop on his way out and home with the book propped open and an atrocity of a coffee drink in her hand that is offered especially for the holiday. She sticks her tongue out and takes a deliberate sip.

“Give me a love story,” she says, a distant look in her eyes before Bucky has even had time to ask.

Maybe it’s the hope of spring, the pale sun that is warm on your skin and makes all things brand new. She seems preoccupied, the conversation barely passing for one while they walk. Bucky purses his lips and weaves through the shelves until he arrives at S. A moment’s hesitation, index finger hovering between two titles. She gives a humourless chuckle when he hands her The Notebook. Her shoulders are hunched when she leaves and Bucky has a sinking feeling he maybe should have picked another book. Or even steered clear of Nicholas Sparks altogether.

If nothing else, the suspicion is cemented when she returns the book the following week, subdued and avoiding his eyes.

Yeah.

Okay.

No more Nicholas Sparks.

They wander, she looks longingly at the seemingly endless maze that materialises before her. Bucky feels uneasy. They walk and walk, she picks nothing. Maybe it’s a day where she has no plan, no theme, no set goal. Maybe she just needs to settle into it, let the shelves speak to her. She’ll ask if she-

“Find me a love story.”

It takes everything in him not to crack. The words are there on the tip of his tongue. Here I am, right in front of you.

Though really, Bucky feels more like a tragedy. He forces on a smile, offers her a "come along, then" and leads her to the YA section, his fingers crossed to high heavens. Maybe his sigh of relief is a bit more audible than he intends it to be, but he doesn’t care. He remembers the girl who came looking for this book right after it came out, the way she had the biggest smile when she came back, saying it was like a hug for her soul to read it.

Bucky tries to mimic that smile when he pulls down What If It’s Us from the top shelf.

“I think you’ll like this one,” he tells her.

It takes her a little longer this time. Bucky actually catches her reading it one day during his very late lunch break in the little coffee shop. There is something soft in her expression, and it makes his heart melt a little. If he can make her look like that more often, it’s all he’ll ever need.

But then, when she finally returns it, there’s the persistent shadow clinging to her. Her brows are just a little pinched, and it’s back to roving, back to searching for something he is not entirely sure what it is until she asks, meek and as if it pains her. She asks for another love story. He gives her one. She comes back, asks for another. Bucky gives her one. He feels like he does nothing but feeds her love stories. The great classics, the newcomers. The overwhelming declarations, the heartbreak of the century. Every time he hears her voice, there’s always the split second before his brain picks up on the tone of it, the mood. It’s not that he expects something overwhelming, a change that is drastic, but his heart still aches when she keeps coming back, subdued, her greeting more like an apology.

“Give me a love story that is real.”

And that’s-

He doesn’t know what to do. None of them are. All of them are. Love stories are fantastical and idealistic and true and painful. They are… Bucky looks at her, tries to find the connection he has felt with her, that tenuous, magical something that has made him feel like he can read her like he reads his books. She has been asking for love stories now for so long that it’s more than a coincidence; it’s a search among all the words in all the world, and he has no answers. All Bucky has are offerings that he never knows whether they bring her closer to an elusive home or not.

A love that is real. A love that is a whirlwind, a love that is warm, a love that is cruel, a love that is…

“Wait here.”

This time, he knows he is gonna hurt her. Hell, he was hurt. He gave into the hype around it and bought it at an airport bookstore, and it was only by the grace of travelling alone and thus having his eventual hotel room to himself that no one knows just how much Bucky Barnes ugly cried when reading the last twenty pages of The Fault In Our Stars. The looks she gives him when he hands it to her says a lot.

It says, “are you kidding me?”

It says, “why must you hurt me like this?”

It says, “fine.”

To be entirely fair, Bucky goes home and watches the movie. He cries with exactly zero shame.

Her glare when they next meet is a thing of beauty.

“I want a love that never ends.”

She says it like she is angry.

“O-”

“Bucky Barnes, if you say the o-word, I will find the biggest book in this entire library and I will clobber you with it.”

A love that never ends. The title comes to mind immediately, but after her threat, he wonders if maybe he’ll need a second deadbolt on his door. Bucky takes the scenic route, wracking his brain for another suitable choice, smiling as she mutters about how he owes her ice cream. A lot of it, by her surly mutterings. Nothing else springs to mind. Bucky presses his mouth into a thin line, takes her to the right shelf, finds the book.

“The Song of Achilles?”

Second deadbolt, and ice cream it is. He watches her check out the book and slowly walk down the stairs and out of sight.

It’ll be fine. Probably. No, it’ll be fine.

Bucky expects her to be back within a week, book in hand, eyebrows drawn together and murder in her eyes. He does actually buy a second deadbolt. Not because of her, but still. He smiles, thinking about how he’ll tell her.

“What’s this?” Steve asks two weeks later, falling down inbetween Nat and Wanda when they meet up for a pub quiz they all know they’ll absolutely fail at. “I thought the Triple Threat was going to bust The All Caps tonight?”

“Sorry, but you’re getting a Dynamic Duo tonight, and we’ll still beat you,” Wanda replies, shoving at Steve’s shoulder.

“Them’s fighting words!” Sam yells from the bar, paying for their beers with a grin.

Nat’s gaze lingers just a little too long on Bucky for him to think it’s anything but deliberate.

The software update finally, finally comes around, and it’s a clusterfuck and a half to get it implemented, and they all spend an obnoxious amount of time getting used to it. Bucky swears he’s never had headaches this bad since the SATs. Days are spent grinding his teeth and nights are spent in weird dreams about a very surreal card cabinet that seems to spew Matrix-like code while it chases him. It’s not pretty.

Time loses meaning for a bit. It’s only when someone comes in, asks if he can help getting The Song of Achilles from another library that Bucky realizes it’s been well over a month since he last saw her. He asks if the girl wants the book delivered to this library or if he should put it on hold for her to pick up where it’s available. He stares at his screen.

On Loan.

It’s been long enough that she’s already renewed it again.

“Sir?”

“What?”

The girl frowns, cocks her head. “Could you… just order it so I can pick it up here?”

“Sure. Absolutely, just… just give me a second, I’ll put the request through for you.”

On Loan.

His fingers hover over his phone screen, his lunch going cold. Their message thread, gone just as cold with weeks since the last sign of life. It’s just been so busy, Bucky thinks. Maybe she’s been busy, too.

>>Hey, you ok?

Biting his lips, he hesitates, sighs, backspaces the message away.

>>Just wanted to check in. Been a while since

Nope, that’s-

>>I miss you

Absolutely not.

>>I think the only way I’ll ever be able to tell you how I feel is like this

He looks at the message, at the little cursor blinking. There’s a heavy truth sitting there, and he lets it linger in his chest while he erases the confession out of existence.

>>Hey, you ok?

Send.

It’s not that he expects an immediate reply. Or that she will magically materialize in the hours before he clocks off. But when he checks Whatsapp at the end of his shift and sees his message has not even been read, it’s… not a disappointment. Not exactly worry, either. It’s a vague unease that follows him home through Brooklyn and doesn’t even have the common decency to part ways with him outside his little rat trap apartment. Oh, no, it follows him inside and makes itself at home, festers over the weekend until he has to physically put at least six feet between himself and his phone to avoid checking his messages every five seconds.

He repeats excuses and reasons like affirmations. She’s probably just busy. Maybe she left her phone at home. Or somewhere. Yeah, that’s probably it. Probably.

Wednesday. On Loan. Unread.

Thursday. On Loan. Unread.

Friday. On Loan. Unread

His affirmations have lost what little power they held, and Bucky feels hollow when he slumps into a seat on the train home. This fucking week. This fucking day. Late shift and five people who insisted they had ordered books to be picked up there, and it took everything in him not to explode at them that they weren’t. fucking. there. He just wants to get home, get out of his work attire and get into bed.

Bed. What a fucking dream that seems unattainable from three blocks away. Each step is a mile and each block is a continent. And there, at the ends of the earth…

Not even Atlas could have carried the burden that seems to rest on her hunched shoulders.

She is almost curled in on herself where she sits on the stoop of the apartment building where he lives, doesn’t even flinch when he gently says her name. Her eyes are pleading when she looks up, The Song of Achilles resting on her lap, hands tightly clutching it.

“Did we–”

It’s instinctive, but of course they didn’t. There has been radio silence for weeks. The apologetic look in her eyes makes Bucky crumble a little. Weeks. Weeks are things that rush by, disappear into some strange void. But here, now, weeks seem a preposterous stretch of time. Bucky tries to relax, exhale. It’s okay. Slowly, he closes the distance, sits down next to her, knees and elbows not quite touching. It’s okay.

Are you okay?

Is something wrong?

What has been going on?

Why here?

Why now?

“Why’d you give me this?”

Five million questions, and he is not the one asking the first one. Bucky looks at the book clasped in her hands, plucks it from her and drags his thumb along the pages, makes the story fly past him.

“You asked for a love story,” he says, opening the book, scans the page.

“I beg to differ.”

It’s been a while since he read it, his own copy tucked away in the lopsided bookcase up in his tiny room. Still, he couldn’t forget the passage that had left him feeling like he was freefalling, the final paragraph of the book. Bucky thumbs at the pages again, finds it.

“In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood, like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun,” he reads, quietly, reverently. “A love that never ends. A love across time and beyond it.”

She is still only for a second. One second, then her eyes squeeze shut and she nods with a trembling lower lip. It’s a shot in the dark, a reach to bridge a gap. He wraps one arm around her shoulders, gently eases her in closer, to where she melts into him, curls up and lets herself be held. Cars pass by them on the street and the cool evening bites at his fingertips and creeps down the neckline of his jacket, but he’ll stay here, he’ll be hers and whatever she needs for as long as she’ll let him.

But.

“Why love stories?” he asks, eyes tracking a biker who must have a negative amount of fear with the way they weave through traffic.

He can feel the breath she takes, the way she holds it one-two-three seconds.

“I thought it would help.”

Exhale.

“I saw… all of these people. Everything between them fell apart. Seemed everywhere I looked, love was-” She trails off, draws another breath that shudders over her lips. Bucky feels her shrug. “I wanted to believe, I guess.”

“In love?” Bucky asks, glaring at the old man who walks past them with a disapproving shake of his head directed at them.

“Yeah. The kind that’s sweet and considerate. The kind that lasts. The kind that helps you stay afloat instead of slowly hollowing you out. I just– I wanted to, I needed to have something to help me believe that two people could be happy together, forever.”

Bucky swallows. He thinks of all the great novels, all the classic love stories. This is where the big speeches would happen, would slip into place to make everything okay. Where Mr. Darcy would talk about having been bewitched, where Gus would write his letter, where Noah would talk of reasons and hopes and dreams. If ever there was a moment to profess his love, this would be it, and yet in the face of all the words from men and women greater than himself, Bucky has no idea where to begin.

“Books are…” he starts, then snaps his mouth shut. No. That doesn’t sound right.

He feels her stir slightly. Jesus. Okay, Barnes, he thinks to himself, you started it all wrong, so fucking fix it and speak.

“Happiness is hard. Even without love brought into it. Life always finds a way to trip you up. And forever is… Forever is a concept. Forever sounds grand and possible, but you and I, we are finite pieces. We have a small pocket of life, and it’s hard and it’s wonderful and it’s challenging and it’s… It gives us so much.

“I’m no expert.” Bucky huffs, shaking his head. “Jesus, I’m the farthest from it. I’ve loved people, and it’s not always ended amicably. We were happy for a while, and then we weren’t. But I’ve always loved them. For all of the time we were together, I loved them. I’ve loved them before, sometimes I’ve loved them after. At some point, I think, it always hurts. Before, during, after… You can’t get away from it. Happiness is good, but it doesn’t mean everything always has to be happy and good. Fights happen, misunderstandings happen.”

“So you’re saying happily ever after is an impossibility?” she counters, “Never would have pegged you for such a cynic.”

“Not as such. I could… profess my love to… to someone. Someone I care about dearly. And maybe, just maybe they feel the same. And I’d be happy. We’d be happy, I’d hope. And maybe that happiness lasts for a good while. But then maybe sh- they discover they don’t like, I don’t know, the way I put away the dishes or the way I brush my teeth or my parents or… any number of things.”

“Well, I don’t know about how you brush your teeth, but your mom is delightful.”

“At this point, I’m pretty sure my mom has decided you’re all her kids, so she’ll be happy to hear you said that,” Bucky tells her, squeezing her shoulder.

It was true, though. Winnifred Barnes had one way or another met them all, and loved them all the same with words and actions and even Natasha whose parents were so far away was powerless not to hug Winnie like she was her own mother.

“Anyway, that was not my point,” he continues. “My point was – my point is – being happy together is not a constant state. But if I really want to be with her, if I… if we love each other, we’ll work so that we’ll have that happiness again, because there would always be a reason we fell in love and that will always be worth the effort. We might not have a happily ever after, but we’d have happiness that tries and loves in the time we’re given, whether it’s a month or a year or until we both die.”

She nods against him, a pensive silence between them. It’s not a declaration that will make it into any novel. Bucky feels like his tongue lies heavy in his mouth, like the words weren’t completely right, like some remnant of what he wanted to say is still stuck inside him.

“She, huh?”

Shit.

“Yeah. She. She, uh… She’s…”

“Oh, wow, you must really like her, Barnes.”

Bucky can feel his heart hammering in his chest, which means the girl he has loved for so long, the girl currently in his arms can probably hear it, too.

Here’s your chance, Barnes.

“Yeah, I do. She– She’s pretty amazing. She comes into my work sometimes to say hi. Or ask me for book recommendations.”

A giggle. “Oh, she’s like me, then.”

“She’s seemed a little sad lately, though.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve not really been sure what to do. She’s asked me for love stories, and I’ve given her every love story I could think of.”

Next to him, she holds her breath, and Bucky can feel her eyes focused on him, can feel the heat creeping up his cheeks.

“Every single one. Except the one where I have the courage to tell her how I have loved and admired her for… so long. Where I tell her that the forever she dreams of, I’d do my best to give her because she makes me laugh, even when she flicks ice water at me when she and her team wins at trivia night, or when she threatens violence by way of Ayn Rand. Where I want to bend over backwards to give her the world, especially when she comes to me looking like the world has let her down and asks me for a love story to believe in.”

He doesn’t dare look at her, afraid to see rejection. Hell, Bucky half expects her to get up and leave, and part of him has already resigned to it as if it was already a fact. She’ll leave and he’ll sit there wondering what on earth possessed him to open his mouth, and he’ll sit there until it gets cold and he gets even more miserable.

His brain has run away all the way to where he would just have to pack up and move to Siberia where there are probably just bears to annoy, when there is warmth and movement and his name low and tender in his ear. Her nose is pressed right up against his neck, her arms wrapped around him and…

Wait, what?

“What?” he echoes, out loud and feeling dizzy with the turn of events.

“I said you’re an idiot and I really ought to have Ayn Randed you.”

That’s–

“O… kay?”

She straightens, looks him in the eye, and there’s a hint of a smile he hasn’t seen in months. It’s glorious, like the first rays of sun over the river, fresh coffee in the morning, the crashing of waves against rocks. It’s everything and you’re there and maybe the Siberian bears can wait. For a while, at least.

“I can try,” she tells him. “I want to try. You’re a good man, Bucky. Even when you stick your tongue out at me during trivia night. Or when you give me ridiculous novels about individualism and architecture.”

“You asked for a challenge!” Bucky says, drawing his hands up in defense.

“The Fountainhead is not a challenge, it’s a severe form of punishment and you still owe me two months of my life!”

Her hopeful smile has grown into a joyous grin. It’s a moment, and Bucky thinks, now or never. He thinks, start slow. He cups her face gently, touches his forehead to hers, the tips of their noses brushing against each other. A kiss seems presumptuous, but this… this feels okay. Intimate, sweet… right. It closes off the world, they’re close, her breath fans over his face. Bucky feels like he’s melting, like there is this swelling sensation inside him, bigger than his body, brighter than the city, the universe. He lets out a shaky breath, wets his lips.

“I can’t promise forever,” he says, voice husky. “I can’t promise we’ll always be happy. But I’ll do my best. I’ll always try. If you’ll have me.”

Her reply is a smile that he feels as she presses against his cheek, the tightening of her arms around him.

“You promise?” she whispers, low and ardent. “We’ll always try?”

It’s the easiest promise to make in his life, Bucky will swear on this promise, he’ll bank everything on it. He holds her tighter, speaks it into the universe, for safekeeping with any higher powers out there:

“We’ll always try.”

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #fic: all the words in all the worlds

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awhitehead17 · 3 years ago

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Batfam Alphabet: L - Language

Summary: Jason doesn’t hesitate to drag his brothers down with him when Bruce starts reprimanding him about the type of language he uses on a daily basis.

Enjoy! :D

“Well this is just a load of bullshit! Why do they have to intervene? We’re perfectly capable of handling this.” Jason huffs and crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair. He can’t believe what he's hearing.

On the opposite side of the table Bruce levels him with a hard look. “Watch your language Jason.”

Jason blinks before sitting up straight. “What, it’s not like the kid is currently around to overhear."

“Jason!”

Glaring at the man, Jason scowls. This seems to be a regular topic of conversation between them recently because according to Bruce Jason swears too much, especially when he’s around Damian. The man, for whatever reason, wants Jason to be a good role model for the kid and apparently that includes him not swearing.

So now anytime he swears, Bruce points it out with a matching scolding tone and expression.

It’s a ridiculous notion because Jason being who he is was brought up with swearing, living on the streets for so many years exposed him to all kinds of things, one of which being the language people use. Swearing is just part of his vocabulary, half of the time he isn’t even aware he is doing it. As long as he’s not swearing at someone, then surely there should be some leniency.

“Oh come on!” He exclaims with a wave of his hands. “He’s been raised as an assassin, he was already tainted before we even met. Me saying a few words isn’t doing any harm.”

Before Bruce could respond a new voice joins the conversation. “To be fair you do swear a lot. Maybe you should try and tone it down.”

Jason turns to his right to glare at his older brother who’s lounging comfortably next to him. “Oh fuck off, Dick, no one asked for your opinion.”

Dick stares back unimpressed, he raises both eyebrows as if to say, “really?”

Jason recalls what he said and grits his teeth.

He points menacingly at Dick. “That doesn’t prove anything. Quite frankly I grew up in Crime Alley, of course I’m gonna swear, you hear it every minute in that place and typically as a kid you’re gonna pick up the habit. You know what they say old habits die hard.”

“Just like you did?” A different voice retorts with a snort.

Jason switches his gaze to Tim, who is opposite him next to Bruce currently playing with his phone, and blinks at him in surprise. “Uh, excuse me? I don’t know whether to be insulted or proud by that.”

It’s usually only him who makes death jokes so it’s come as a surprise to find Tim making one, a well-timed one too. Jason shakes his head, he’ll deal with those emotions at another time.

“Anyway, if we’re talking about who swears too much then why aren’t you giving Tim a lecture? He swears like a bloody sailor. If anyone needs reprimanding on his language it’s him!”

Tim abruptly stops fiddling with his phone and looks up, he rolls his eyes and glowers at him. “Jesus Christ that’s so immature Jason. How old are you, 10? I’m no way near as bad as you.”

His response gets a gleeful chuckle out of Jason. He knows exactly how the next few minutes are about to play out and he can’t wait. While the focus of the conversation had been on him, he’s glad for the opportunity to move it onto someone else and Tim happens to be perfect for the new spotlight.

Without any hesitation Jason digs into his pocket and grabs his phone. Once he has the device in hand he starts searching for the video he has saved for this very purpose. Call him petty, but he knew it would be good blackmail material one day.

“Oh really?” He drawls out, finally finding the video he had been looking for, “then what do I have here…” Jason clicks play and puts it on speaker so everyone in the room would be able to hear the audio.

After a second the sound of Tim’s voice could be heard. The teenager was clearly angry about something and certainly wasn’t holding back from letting his anger be known through his choice of words.

“You bloody bastard, why won’t you work you piece of shit. By god this is pissing me off now, I’ve been at this all fucking day and you’re still not fucking working. I am going to kill…”

The recording lasts for about a minute and is filled with Tim swearing his head off, cursing at everything and everyone and making empty threats. Once it’s finished Jason turns his phone off, puts it back in his pocket and leans back in his chair feeling smug about the situation.

“I rest my case.”

His words are met with a stunned silence in the room. Tim is blushing hard with his head buried in his hands. Next to him Bruce looks concerned, probably for Tim’s mental health and wellbeing. Dick’s staring at Tim with shock spread across his features.

After a few beats Tim lifts his head from his hands but keeps his eyes down staring at the table so he could avoid everyone’s eyes. “Okay in my defence the technology was really piss–annoying me. It wouldn’t work and I couldn’t work out why so I got frustrated and that happened.”

His response makes Jason snort and causes Dick to shake his head in disbelief. He knew Tim could be feisty but until that moment he never realised how bad his temper could get. Jason’s honestly impressed. However that doesn’t mean he’s letting Tim get away with it, especially when he’s getting blamed for something Tim does just as much of as him.

If he's going down then he’s dragging Tim down with him. It’s just unfortunate that he doesn’t have anything on Dick.

Jason’s broken out of his thoughts on ways he could get blackmail material on Dick when Tim speaks up again. He’s finally looking up at everyone though his still flushed face shows his prior embarrassment.

“Let’s be honest, is swearing really all that bad? As long as we’re not swearing at people then I think it’s fine. We’re not harming anyone. Who cares if we swear a little too much. And anyway, doesn’t everyone swear at some point?”

“Clark doesn’t.” Dick pipes up next to him.

Jason snorts. “That’s because big blue is a boy scout, of course he isn’t going to swear. He doesn’t count. Plus we’re from Gotham after all, it’s not like this is the most impeccable place in the world.”

Dick becomes thoughtful, humming his response. “Yeah that’s true I guess.”

“Boys.”

The three brother’s all turn and look at Bruce who had called for their attention. Jason had forgotten the man was even there, he had surprisingly been quiet until now. Maybe it’s because Clark was brought into the conversation, it must have peaked his interest. Jason files that information away for later.

“It doesn’t matter how much any of you swear, you shouldn’t do it at all. Damian is still young, he doesn’t need to grow up listening to that sort of language despite his initial upbringing.” Bruce firmly says, looking at each of them in turn. “You all know better and have good manners, going forward I expect you to use them.”

As Bruce rattles on about proper manners and the importance of them, Jason finds himself resisting the urge to smile. With every second that passes, it threatens to break out on his face. What makes matters worse is that he knows he shouldn’t smile, this isn’t a smiling matter considering how serious Bruce is being but the man is making it difficult to concentrate and to take the topic seriously.

Jason glances to the right to find Dick staring at Bruce with a hand covering the lower part of his face and Jason can tell that his brother is in the exact same boat as he is.

Apparently all it takes for him to break is Dick to glance at him and for them to make eye contact.

After that Jason couldn’t help himself but to burst out laughing, next to him Dick also breaks out into a fit of giggles. They laugh for a good while until they’re able to start calming down, by that point Jason’s cheeks are hurting and he even had tears forming in his eyes. As he takes a deep breath to compose himself he makes the mistake of looking over at Dick again, Dick looks back at him too and just like that they fall into another uncontrollable laughing fit.

While laughing Jason gets a glimpse of a confused looking Tim and a disappointed Bruce, but it’s Bruce’s scowling expression that triggers off another wave of giggles.

It takes even longer for the two of them to calm down. As he sits there Jason repeatedly takes deep breaths in order to collect himself. Once he’s calmed down a little, now able to breathe somewhat normally, he could feel how his sides are aching, how his cheeks hurt from the wide smiling and the tears coming from his eyes. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard that it hurt, and over something so trivial nonetheless.

When it feels like he’s finally composed himself he risks a glance at Dick to find his brother also in the state of calming down though there’s still a wide grin on face. He then looks at Bruce who is still staring at the two of them with his disappointed look. That’s almost enough to set himself off again. Almost.

“If you’re both quite done, we have important business to discuss, may I remind you that being the reason we’re meeting to begin with.”

“Hey, you’re the one who started on the whole language topic that derailed us in the beginning.” Jason defends himself and his brother’s. All Bruce does is huff at that, knowing Jason is right and can’t defend himself against it otherwise. Jason smirks victoriously.

Opposite him, Tim sighs loudly and makes a show to sitting up straight and sorting out some of the paperwork between them all on table. “Enough already, can we just go over the details and the police reports again and get to the end of this. I have better things to do than hear everyone bicker about language and manners.”

Dick gives the youngest a side look. “What you got planned? Is that who you were messaging just now? Is it your boyfriend?”

“What? No. Just friends. I ain’t telling you.” Tim snaps glaring at Dick.

Jason whistles. “Timmy’s getting some tonight then eh? Make sure to stay safe and use protection.”

“Jason!”

“Well he’s not wrong Tim, but where are you going? We need to know so if something happens we know where to look first.” Dick’s looking more concerned by the minute and Jason could see the flip switch from carefree older brother to over-bearing mother hen.

Tim blinks at them before turning his gaze to Bruce. In a whining voice he pleads the man, “Bruce, get them to stop!”

To begin with all Bruce does is run a hand over his face like he’s regretting every life choice he’s made and how he would rather be anywhere else but here. After a moment he sends exasperated looks at his eldest sons.

“Not much more to go, then we should be all caught up and ready to proceed with the case further tomorrow. Is it too much to ask for your full attention for the remaining hour?”

Jason sighs and sits up straighter, knowing play time is over and it’s time to be serious. One more hour won’t hurt, then afterwards there’s nothing stopping him from having a little fun is there. He nods at Bruce and picks up the piece of paper closet to him to examine the page. Dick does the same and finally Bruce proceeds with their meeting.

#batfam alphabet #batfamily #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Tim Drake #humour #lots of swearing #probably more than necessary #Brotherly Love #sibling relationship #annoying siblings #Petty Jason #this got away from me #i don't know what happened #tired dad bruce #fanfiction

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kakiwrites · 4 years ago

Text

taking refuge with the pirates

Genre: fluff

A Hanta Sero x reader

Synopsis: A time where elves, fairies, dragons, and other wonderful creatures live in harmony, how would you choose to live? On a pirate ship? Making potions? Who do you stumble upon along the journey? A soldier, a poet, a king? Well, that’s for you to decide.

(masterlist is under navigation!)

a/n: writing this out of pure procrastination because our teacher gives us group works every single week to perform with no breaks. Thanks anon for the request! I really enjoyed all the sero requests because I didn't do him often. So finally, I can experiment and actually try to see if I could do his character or not! Hope you guys enjoy it! Requests are open so please don't be shy to leave anything in my inbox! Let's get started!

Finally, someone found you.

Well, you found them.

You were one of the maids sailing with the princesses and princes for a party when a hot-headed prince pushed you overboard because you didn't get your dish was. Ridiculous and cruel as It seemed, it still happened. You were luckily close to an old deserted island where you stayed for the next couple of days surviving off of rainwater and fruits bare from the trees.

You were trying to spot small ships that might find your way when you hear yelling from the eastern side of the island. What was that? You went all around already to find no one inhabiting it. So why are there voices now? Were you just hallucinating?

You hid behind the bushes as you saw a man with jet-black hair, tied behind in a messy ponytail and a girl with pink skin. Their outfits yelled out 'pirate' with bandanas and ruffed up tunics, pants and skirts, swords sheathed to their side.

They seemed to be collecting some fruit from the trees and placing them in empty barrels to take back to their main ship which was rocking back and forth steadily.

These weren't the kind of people that would take you in.

You were about to turn away and look for another way out when you accidentally trip and made yourself known to the two pirates.

They immediately paraded towards you, swords in hand. "state your name, spy." the raven-haired boy said with a scowl. Even though he seemed angry, he was feeling happy. Happy because he finally captured one of the coast guard spies and can finally repay his captain, Bakugo, with a little bit of fun, getting information out of the poor little girl.

Poor… little… girl. He felt a void in his stomach. he couldn't decipher what it meant, But even then, he didn't waver, pointing his sharpened sword to your neck. You can feel the sharpness and you knew that if you say the wrong thing or try to make a run for it, you'll get slashed down without much of a fight.

"I'm not a spy." you tried to convince them desperately, making the boy raised his eyebrow in question. The pink-skinned girl spoke up next, a smirk filled with anger and smugness on her face.

"then what are you? Who are you?" she said, pressing her sword on your collarbone. You gulped and raised your hands.

"I'm (y/n). I've been stuck on this island for a while." you laughed nervously. The boy, still skeptical, pulls his sword away and sheaths it back up. The pink girl doing the same.

"come on mina, we don't have time for this. Captain Bakubro's gonna kill us," he said with a dark chuckle before walking back to the boat to load the barrels into them. Mina giggled, she was about to leave when she looked back at you pitifully. She lends her hand out to help you stand. You take it gratefully.

"mina, what are you doing?" he asked, looking over the bush to see the girl chatting away with you and making you laugh.

"sero, can we take her with us?" she pleaded, pushing you forward, well, too forward as you stumbled and fell, just in time for the boy to catch you in his arms. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you looked away. Sero cleared his throat before standing you upright then looking back at mina who was giggling to herself. He didn't even realize until he gazed down that he was still holding you by the shoulders.

"y-you okay?" he asked you, trying to keep his voice from cracking and embarrassing himself. You smiled at him, your smile was really infectious, making sero smile at you too.

"perfectly okay," you said. Just then, mina rushed over and immediately helped you into the boat without any further questions. Sero tried to regain his composure before hopping in and rowing the boat away from the shore and next to the bowl of the ship.

The other crewmates lower the rope and start helping their two members by carrying the barrels onto the poop deck. "denki, Eiji! A little help here!" mina yelled out as she ushered you up the ladder right after sero. The boys, denki, and eijiro, stared at you as you stepped onto the deck. Everyone stopped and stared. Your gaze fell to the ground. They were gonna kick you out just as you thought you were finally going to get out of that place.

Sero stood in front of you, obscuring their view of you. He stuck out his pinky from behind his back for you to take for comfort and you do so. Sero was as pink as mina as everyone started laughing to themselves.

The laughing garnered the attention of someone in the captain's quarters. The man burst open the door, the murmurs and laughs fell silent as the blonde swept over the room only to spot you sandwiched between sero and mina, who just got on board.

"sero. Who is that?" the man, who you assumed was the captain, said. Sero gulped before looking at the blonde eye to eye.

"We found her stranded on the island, captain Bakugo. I wouldn't just leave a fair lady all alone." he said in the best confident tone he could muster.

the captain, bakugo as sero called him, rubbed the bridge of his nose. "and who is going to take care of her? Teach her the basics and pick up her slack huh?" he said. Mina was about to speak up when sero looked back at her and shook his head, clearing his throat to get the captain's attention once more.

"I'll take full responsibility for her captain." he simply said. Luckily, captain bakugo didn't seem to be a stubborn person when It came to new people. He just grumbled before looking back at all three of you.

"Okay then, you better not be bullshitting me hanta. You're going to watch her every move got it?" the captain said. All eyes were on sero once more. He adjusted pulls his pinky away which made you sad but not before his hand finds yours and he squeezes to keep your spirits up. He looked back at you. He had a smile that could make anyone swoon over. His eyes glistened and shone with some kind of passion you can't put your finger on. He was looking at you with so much… trust and hope. Even though you couldn't tell what he was thinking, mina could read him like a book.

Sero felt love at first sight.

"I would gladly take care of her sir."

ITS SO SHORT schoolwork popped up and I was suddenly brought out of the mood. Sorry if it looks rushed or bad because I think it is. I kinda also changed it up a little, so hopefully that's okay with you guys 😊Requests are open by the way so please don't be shy to leave anything In my inbox! Love you guys ♥️💖💕

General taglist (don’t be shy to comment your tumblr @ below): @tokyoghoose @macaronnv @kuro0luvr @reogou @lnarizakis @himichii @midnightangelfox

series taglist (don’t be shy to comment your tumblr @ below!): @astrxrism @kurookinnie @isentsworld

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #soldier poet king

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quidfree · 4 years ago

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“am i fucking hallucinating?”

the crowbar lowers further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"mind your own damn business!"

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

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

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

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

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

"shit!"

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

"is there another way out of this place?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"fine. go. i'll follow."

"bakugou-"

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

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

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

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

the door breaks in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"do one more. then take my hand."

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

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

"drop me and i'll turn you."

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

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

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

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

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

he shakes himself, exhales in a burst.

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

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

"we need to get going."

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

"where?"

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

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

"fine. let's go then."

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

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

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

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

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

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

todoroki follows his gaze, nods.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"the feeling is mutual."

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

"you go first. you reek."

todoroki says his thanks to his back as he retreats.

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

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

"the fuck-"

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

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

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

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

todoroki just nods, follows suit.

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

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

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

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

"don't waste your food on me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what's in the duffel?"

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

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

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

"you drink now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

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

"then what do you want?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"how long you been sick, icyhot?"

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

"wednesday. thirteenth."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"todoroki-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#qui ecrit #deandra #tdbk #qui repond #prompts #bnha #mha #lashawn beyond is living rn #todobaku #apocalypse au

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jjmaybanksbaby · 4 years ago

Text

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer III

Part 05: With Some Other Girl

series masterlist | previous part

summary: Rafe’s actions surprised you when there’s no awkwardness lingering from last summer.

a/n: New summer new drama!! We're more than halfway through this series and I might post the final two parts within a week so be on the lookout! That's all! Enjoy part five xx

word count: 2.2k words

Nowhere on the East or West coast did seafood quite like The Wreck. During your summers in the Outer Banks, you made sure that practically every other meal consisted of their to-die-for shrimp or amazing crab. For your birthday, back in October, your mom had even looked into getting food from The Wreck shipped to you before realizing that might have been a stretch.

You waited at the bar for the girl with the curly golden brown hair, and especially kind eyes, to return from the kitchen with your order. The smells of the food cooking made your mouth water.

A boy, who looked about your younger brother's age slide onto the bar stool next to you. His dirty blond hair fell into his eyes, clearly in need of a good haircut.

"Leave the customers alone, JJ." The girl set a paper bag with your food down in front of you, grease staining the bottom.

"I wasn't even doing anything, Kie," JJ protested.

"You're total's $40.53. Do you need a receipt?" She asked, taking your mom's card from your outstretched hand.

"I'm JJ, by the way." He held out his hand for you to shake but the girl - Kie, was it? - smacked it away.

"She's way out of your league, idiot. Sorry about him," she said turning to you.

You smiled at the both of them, their playfulness reminding you of your own friends from back home. "Nice to meet you, JJ." You picked up your bag of food, turning to leave.

"She was so into me." You heard JJ whisper to Kie as you walked to the front door.

"No way, is that y/n?" You froze, a few steps away from the exit, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to. "Hey," Rafe called again. "Get over here."

You'd been back in the Outer Banks a total of three days. You definitely hadn't been planning on seeing Rafe Cameron so soon. Well, after how last summer had ended, you hadn't really been counting on seeing him at all.

You spun on your heel, plastering on your best fake smile, and headed in the direction of Rafe's voice.

It's okay. Act casual. He's just an old friend. There doesn’t have to be any weirdness. You said to yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

Rafe was seated in a corner booth at the back of the restaurant, his arm slung over Phoebe’s shoulder who, herself, was sitting practically in his lap. Her expression looked especially irate at the fact that you were interrupting their - what was going on exactly? A date?

"Uh, hey guys," you said, approaching their table.

"Y/n!" Rafe repeated. "You're back for the summer?"

"Yeah, we got in a few days ago.”

"How are you? How's the boyfriend?"

Why the fuck was Rafe asking about Evan? You wondered, your eyes narrowing trying to gather some explanation from Rafe's face.

"We actually broke up. Last September. He hasn't been my boyfriend for a while." Correction, you'd gone back to Oregon and hadn't stopped thinking about Rafe, for the second year in a row. It didn't seem fair to Evan so you’d tried to let him down gently, the week before auditions for the fall musical no less. It became pretty clear how torn up about it he was when he started crying during the monologue portion of his audition and the tears weren't the kind you forced out solely for a performance.

"How sad," Phoebe said, turning her lip down in a fake pout making it clear she couldn't care less.

You just smiled back at her, not wanting to give any kind of validation. You could feel Rafe eyes on you.

"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you around." You turned to leave. Your mom was waiting outside in the car, probably wondering what was taking so long.

"I hope so," Rafe replied.

☼☼☼

You blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the bright sunlight filling the room. You rubbed the sleep from them, yawning.

Holy shit. This was definitely not your bedroom; this was Rafe's room. The events of last night came rushing back, the morning bless falling away.

You'd run into Cleo at the grocery store after your mom had sent you to get an onion she needed for dinner. Cleo had been buying chasers for Sawyer's my-parents-aren't home-and-they-left-the-liquor-cabinet-unlocked party and invited you. And you went. Which was probably the first mistake of the night.

Rafe had greeted you at the door with the kind of smile that screamed "I don't even remember our fight last summer." You'd opted to ignore the white powder under his nose, likely the reason for his bloodshot eyes.

The party had run dry after a few hours so Rafe offered to grab some more from his house since his whole family was in the Bahamas house for the weekend. You’d went with him because what the hell. The night hadn’t even been the least bit awkward. Mistake number two.

You sat on the Cameron's island counter as Rafe riffled through the cabinet, trying to decide which bottle Ward was least likely to notice was missing.

"Do you trust me?" He’d asked.

That was a loaded question but you’d nodded your head yes. He'd pushed your knees apart, stepping in between your legs like that's where he belonged.

"Tilt your head back," he'd instructed and you had.

Rafe uncapped the bottle of Malibu, pouring it straight into your mouth. He’d hummed with satisfaction as you swallowed the liquid. Your eyes locked as he ran a thumb up your neck and over your chin, whipping away the bit that had spilled before he brought your lips to meet his. It was by far the hottest thing anyone had ever done.

The kiss had tasted salty and coconutty, like the drink he had just poured into your mouth. He moved his other hand to your hip, pulling you in closer.

You'd only broken apart to fumble your way upstairs and into his room, shedding your clothing on the way, your lips finding each other's again and again, kissing like there was some ticking clock counting down the seconds.

You remembered the way Rafe's name had tumbled off your lips with his hand between your thighs. How his blue eyes held yours as he pushed into you. The sweet praises that he whispered into your ears as the both of you came underdone together. The way it all felt so fucking right, like the universe apologizing for the last two summers.

You hadn't meant to fall asleep, to spend the night in Rafe Cameron's bed but he'd wrapped his arm around you and your head fell to rest on his chest and sleep just came.

You kept your movements slow afraid of creaky floorboard as you slipped out of his bed. Sneaking out without Rafe waking up was sure to be the path of less resistance. Hadn't last night been a drunken mistake?

Your shorts had landed next to the bed and your bra was hanging from the door handle, the irony of that wasn't lost on you.

Rafe cleared his throat. "Good morning," he said. Oh, shit. So he was awake.

"I was just looking for my shirt," you replied.

The Cameron's front door opened with a bang. Cole and Milo's voices filled the house seconds later.

"Dude," Cole hollered. "Who'd you fuck last night? Some chick's panties are on your staircase."

Rafe's eyes meet yours and he leaped out of his bed. "Linen closet," he hissed, pulling open the door of the hallway closet and pushing you inside. "Stay here."

His footsteps echoed as he rushed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to pick up your underwear and shove them in his back pocket.

"I need a fucking boat day," Rafe said to the boys. "I'm hungover as fuck. Can you go see if the Yeti coolers' in the garage? I think Ward brought it up from the boat last time."

"Uhh, yeah, sure," Milo answered. "C'mon Cole."

The sounds of their chatter disappeared and Rafe ran back up the stairs, pulling open the closet. "Okay, the coast is clear."

"Rafe, should we...uh...you know...talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about?" He asked back.

"Right," you answered unsure if you really believed that casual sex with Rafe Cameron was a possibility. "Can I have my underwear back?"

He shrugged, a smirk growing on his lips. "Nah, I think I'm gonna hold onto them. For safekeeping." What kind of bullshit patriarchal move was that? He looked over his shoulder to the lower level. "Milo and Cole will be back any second, you should probably go."

☼☼☼

You silently thanked your yesterday-self for having left your window unlocked just in case. You closed it quietly behind you and dove into your bed. The door to your bedroom swung open seconds later.

"Why are you still in bed y/n? I told you yesterday that we were going dress shopping for Midsummers today at noon. It’s less than a week away. Get up, please," your mom said.

"Sorry, mom. I'll meet you downstairs in ten."

"Hurry up." She pulled the door closed behind her as she left your room.

You breathed a sigh of relief, throwing off the covers you had hicked up to your neck to hide last night's outfit. Shit, had you really slept with Rafe Cameron? And then he brushed it off like it wasn't going to change things? As if whatever was going between the two of you couldn't get more complicated.

☼☼☼

The light bounced off the three-way mirror you were standing in front of, making the bedding on the dress sparkle.

"Turn around," your mother instructed. Apparently, this year's Midsummers’ theme was Hollywood Glamour like it was the fucking Met Gala or something so she'd been forcing you and in out of red dresses for the past hour and a half. "I really like this one y/n. The bow is so cute."

You resisted rolling your eyes. The bow was hideous, plus the high-low skirt screamed middle school dance. The bedding was itchy and you’d hardly had the dress on for five minutes.

The front door chimed announcing a new customer and Phoebe's figure appeared in the reflection of the mirror.

"I'm gonna go try on a different one, mom," you said, trying to duck into the changing room before Phoebe had the chance to see you.

"Wait, wait wait." Your mom grabbed your hips pulling you back in front of the mirror. "I just think this looks perfect on you, sweetie. Look," she stepped behind you, using one hand to twist your hair up into a makeshift updo. "you can wear your hair pinned up like this and we can get you a sparkly headband. It'll be gorgeous.”

You definitely weren't wearing any kind of a headband based on the fact that you weren't twelve anymore but, more important, you needed to get out of Phoebe’s line of sight like now. "Yeah, okay, mom. That sounds fine. We can get it then."

"Aw, honey. Do you not like it?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. "Cause we can try a different score. Even though this is the only dress store for thirty miles," she mumbled under her breath.

Phoebe glanced over from the front counter, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror. Your mother's voice became muffled as panic rose in your chest. You hadn't even thought about it last night but now all you could remember was Phoebe with Rafe's arm wrapped around her at The Wreck.

Phoebe abandoned her position at the front of the store, walking over to you.

"Hi y/n!" She started, her voicer reaching an octave that screamed fake niceties. "You must be y/n's mom. You two couldn't look anything more alike." That was a lie. You and your mom couldn't look more different. It was your older sister who was practically your mother’s clone.

God, what game was Phoebe playing?

"Oh my gosh.” She took half a step closer forcing you to notice the couple inches she had on you. "Is this your dress for Midsummers? It's so cute," she said, somehow managing to pronounce cute with two syllables.

Another lie. The dress was terrible.

"I'm just picking up my dress too. Custom-made." Phoebe flashed a smile to your mom. "I'm trying to talk Rafe into getting a matching bow-tie but he refuses. Boys," she giggled.

Shhe must have registered the look of surprise on your face. "Oh, did he not tell you we were going together? I wouldn't take it personally. We've been going together since freshman year. It's tradition at this point."

The saleswoman returned from the back of the store, a garment bag in her hand. "Well, I've gotta run. See you around!" She pranced off, her vanilla perfume lingering in the air.

"She seems nice. I'm so glad you're making friends here, honey.”

"Oh, yeah. She’s the best." If your mom heard the sarcasm in your voice, she chose to ignore it. "I'm going to try on the black one," you huffed, heading back into the changing room.

It wasn't like going with Rafe to Midsummers was in the realm of possibilities anyway, so why was it bothering you so much that he was taking Phoebe? Either way, there was nothing stopping you from making Rafe wish it was you on his arm instead. Petty wasn’t usually your style but something about the memory of Rafe’s lip on your neck being fresh in your mind made all rational thoughts go out the window. Game on Phoebe.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13 [drop a ☀️ in my inbox or messages if you want to be added]

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jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

When The Lights Go Out

Chapter 8

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2343

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a douche bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: Insecure reader, talk of losing virginity, I’m sure there is some language in there, fluff, I think that’s it. I promise it picks up in the next chapter y’all!

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

To say you weren’t a morning person would be the understatement of the year. You hated getting up early, and only did it when you had to.

Dean, on the other hand, had no problem rolling out of bed, as long as he had a cup of coffee waiting for him.

So it was no surprise to you that when you rolled over and reached blindly for Dean, and his side of the bed was cold.

Rolling around until you forced your eyes to open up, you sat on the side of the bed, and rubbed at your face harshly, trying to get your eyes to open, and work properly.

Last night, you and Dean had spent most of the night locked at the lips, but he never took it any further than that, saying he wanted your first time to be something special, and memorable.

You were secretly grateful. Losing your virginity had been something you were always nervous about.

Not that you didn’t want to, that wasn’t it at all, and you trusted Dean enough to know he’d make it as painless, and less traumatizing as possible.

Still you had heard all the stories. Stories about pain, blood, crying, and the uncaring assholes who just wanted to get themselves off. Needless to say, it was enough to make your anxiety hit an all time high.

All that you could overcome, that wasn’t the problem, the problem was your own insecurities. The fact that your body wasn’t what you wanted it to be exactly. The fact that your thighs were bigger than you wanted them to be, your stomach not as flat as you wanted it to be.Your breasts still held the scars from stretch marks from when you were a teenager, and hit puberty suddenly, coupled with the fact that they weren’t as big as you’d like them to be.

You were never popular, or the “it girl” in school, and adulthood had proven to be much the same for you.

In fact, Dean was the first guy you had ever seen naked in person, and that was when he was injured, so you weren’t exactly focused on what he was packing, and you were more concerned with making sure you successfully got done with whatever it was you were trying to help him do without hurting him further.

You weren’t blind though, and you did notice enough to know that the man was well endowed, and had the body of a Greek God to boot. Needless to say, you felt like he was WAY out of your league.

Which only heightened your own insecurities more.

You knew Dean wasn’t shallow. Hell, if he was he would have never asked you to be his girl. Still that insecurity that you had carried with you since middle school rang louder than reason, and you nervously dreaded whatever it was Dean had in mind.

You had just dressed from your morning shower when the bedroom door opened, pulling you from you worrying.

“There you are! I was just about to come and wake you up,” he said, flopping down on the bed, already dressed, showered, and ready for the day. You did notice that the dark skinny jeans that hugged his bowed legs perfectly, coupled with the red and black flannel and black fitted undershirt did things to you that you never expected.

His piercing green eyes missed nothing. Strutting up to you when he noticed you staring at him, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in close, kissing you deeply before letting you go, a smirk set deep in his Godlike features at the dazed look on your face when he pulled away.

He knew what the hell he did to you, and he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“You’re up and dressed early this morning. What’s on the agenda today Mr. Winchester?” you asked him, letting his hands fall a little lower on your waist as he swayed the two of you back and forth slowly in the middle of your bedroom to whatever rhythm he was hearing in his head.

“Well, I had them gas up my Dad’s jet, we’re gonna take a little vacation. I need to get away for a little while. From this damn house, and all the bullshit that comes with it.”

Your eyes widened.You didn’t have any clothes to take on Vacation.. Since you had been here, you had barely even got out of the house.

“Dean..I don’t have anything….”

Putting his lips to yours in a chaste kiss to stop your worrying, Dean chucked against you.

“Pretty girl, stop! Everything has been taken care of. Clothes, food, everything is already there waiting for us. Remember baby, I’m a Winchester. Now, get yourself ready, we fly out as soon as you get done. I’m ready to get there.” Dean said, giving you another swift kiss before he grabbed an overnight bag, and started to pack it when essentials like phone chargers, and your laptop, mumbling something about updating that when he got home.

“Dean, where exactly are we going?”

“Mary’s Island.”

Confusion pressed deep into your features, and Dean chuckled as he threw his bag over his broad shoulder, waiting patiently for you to get your shoes on.

“It’s an island my dad bought for my mom when they got married.Since she passed, no one has really gone to it, but I called the caretakers, and they have everything ready for us, so you and I are going to go spend some time there for a while.” Dean said, lacing his fingers with yours as you made your way through the oddly quiet house.

“It’s warm there, so we will be able to enjoy ourselves. It’s only a short boat ride away from the mainland as it’s just off the coast of Hawaii, so there are a variety of restaurants and things that we can go to as well. Plenty to do to keep us busy.”

Opening the door to the house, you look back at Dean’s car that was safely parked in the garage, and loaded yourself into the black SUV that had Garth, the driver, behind the wheel and waiting.

“Dean, where is everyone this morning.” you asked, and Dean stiffened a little next to you as he climbed into his side of the SUV.

“Work. Life’s pretty much going back to normal, now that Samual is taken care of, and the Campbells are no longer a threat. The high table is content that you and I are together, and right now everything is going along as it should.”

Dean laced his fingers with yours as the car circled around the airport, entering the back gate, completely surpassing all the airport security, and details that normally came with flying. You vaguely wondered if this is what it felt like to fly when you were famous.

The plan was less impressive than you had dreamed up in your head all morning. The Winchesters tended to do everything extravagantly, and you thought that their private jet would be no different, but you were actually a little relieved that it wasn’t some huge private liner. You still weren’t quite used to living the extravagant lifestyle that the Winchesters seemed accustomed to.

Once you were boarded onto the plane, Dean grabbed one of the blankets that were stowed in the overhead compartment, and settled you both down in the seats as best as you could,wrapping his arm around you as the plan started to take off.

It was going to be around a ten hour flight to Hawaii from New York, so you had plenty of time to nap if you wanted to. The only problem was, you were way too nervous to sleep. Your mind was turning on the upcoming events that were sure to take place once you got to the Island.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, sweetheart? I can practically hear the gears turning..” Dean said, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. He’d already learned about you so quickly. It was getting harder and harder to hide things from him.

“Nothing, just my usual worrying.” you tell him in an attempt to brush him off, but he was having none of it.

“I lie for a living Princess, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that.” Dean said, an amused smirk plastered across his perfect lips.

Giving him a side eye, you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Trying to work it out in your mind how to tell him all of the little qualms you were worrying about.

“You know, nothing at all has to happen this weekend. We can just be here and enjoy being together. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you to sleep with me or something, I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I’m in my forties sweetheart, I’m not some little teenage boy who can’t control himself.”

Clamping your jaw shut you wonder briefly if he was secretly some sort of mind reader.

“It’s not that I don’t want to Dean, I do, I’m just nervous, and when I say that out loud I feel stupid, because I’m twentythree fucking years old, and I’m still a virigin, and terrified of something most people do in their teens!” you tell aspirated, hiding your face in the blanket.

Dean pulled the blanket down where he could see your face, shifting a little closer to you in his seat now that the plane was leveled out, and well en route to your destination.

“Baby girl, look at me. Age has nothing to do with being afraid of or nervous about something. Just cause you didn’t jump in bed with the first jackass with a dick when you were teenager, does make you weak or wimpy, and I definitely don’t think any less of you. Besides, I kinda like the idea that you're going to be only mine.”

He brushes his lips over yours before you settle into his shoulder and blush at the possessiveness that he shows. You had never seen this side of Dean before, and you couldn’t deny the way it made your heart flutter in your chest.

There was still so much that you were going to worry yourself over until it was over, and you knew that. There was only one cure for this, and that was to do it, and you did want this with him. You wanted to be only his, you wanted that connection with someone. Wanted to feel him in a way that only could happen between the two of you. To know him, on a deeper level than you had ever known anyone before.

The combination of Dean playing with your hair, the hum of the plane, and the warmth that came radiating off of his body constantly had miraculously lulled you to sleep, and you didn’t even know it until Dean was shaking you awake gently after you had already landed.

Stretching your stiff muscles as you stand up and deboard the plane, you follow along behind Dean into the blinding light, and warm temperatures that were so contradictory to the weather of New York City that you had left behind.

Looking up at the clock on the dash of the car you got into just outside the tarmac, you notice that it’s only noon. Seeing as you left New York at eight in the morning, it took you a while to understand what had happened. You had never experienced a time jump like that from traveling before, and New York was six hours ahead of Hawaii. So even though you had a full day of travel, it was only noon here. You finally think you understood the meaning of jet lag.

“Hungry baby girl? I figured we could grab a bite to eat while we’re on the mainland. That way we can just have a lazy day when we get to the house.”

You hadn’t realized you were hungry until he mentioned it. Your stomach growled, and Dean threw his head back and laughed at your face of discontent at the hand of your stomach’s betrayal.

“I guess sleeping for almost a solid six hours straight works up quite the appetite doesn’t it?” Dean teased you.

“Six hours?” you questioned. You had no idea you had slept that long. “Why do I feel so sluggish then?”

“It’s a drastic time change, once you get some food in you it will help with the jet lag.” Dean said, pulling onto the main road like he knew just where he was going. You didn’t question him at all. Just enjoyed the view of him relaxing into the seat of the car as he drove down the road like he’d done it a million times in his life.

You couldn’t contain the smile spreading over your face at the beautiful view, one of which included Dean. His fingers dancing along the steering wheel, humming along with a classic rock tune that played softly through the speakers. His freckles almost shine out on his skin in the bright sunlight filtering through the car window.

For just a moment you forgot about all your worrying, and just enjoyed the moment. That’s something you decided you would start doing more often. Your whole life you had been nothing but stress and worrying in some form or another. Whether it was worrying over school, your job, losing your job, then all this that happened with Dean, your life turning upside down, then almost losing Dean.

That probably taught you the most important lesson of all.

Life is short, and can be taken away from you in a moment, especially in the life that Dean lived. So right now you weren’t going to worry about having sex with him, or your new life you were determined to adjust to. It was just the two of you, and you were going to make the most of this.

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hopeshoodie · 4 years ago

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I can’t believe it took me until part 8 to do my favorite boy but

Here are the pros and cons of dating

Noah

Cons

Noah is really non confrontational, so he tends to let issues fester. It’s not that he’s trying to let things build up, it’s just that he doesn’t think they’re important enough to bring up. He won’t start a fight about them when they’ve built up, but if MC is angry about something he’ll mention that there’s a bunch of things he’s let go but not have specifics. It ends up coming out like ‘yeah well what about all the other things?!’ ‘what other things!?’ ‘I don’t remember!!’. He’s not actively keeping track of all her mistakes, he genuinely does forgive and forget, but then when tensions come to a boil he needs to point out that there has been conflict that he just ignored. He’s not trying to guilt or gaslight MC, but sometimes it feels like it. If she thinks especially little of his intentions, it feels like he’s just pulling things out of thin air to be mad instead of focusing on the issue. That’s not what he’s doing- he just doesn’t address little things until they feel like big things. But of course he hasn’t done the introspection to truly understand how doing this is hurtful or articulate that he doesn’t mean it to be.

When he and MC disagree, he lets things go wayyy too easily. This is fine if MC is a really mature, self-reflective person who can see that she’s crossed a line after the fact. But if MC is a little more selfish/immature, like Lottie, this is a huge con because he doesn’t give her accountability that would help her grow. We saw this with Hope- she wasn’t able to recognize how harmful her temper was when she was dating Noah because he never pointed it out, he just rolled over. If there’s a genuine problem- financial, emotional, logistically, he’ll ‘let it go’ until it’s a way bigger problem (and much harder to solve).

Sorry that most of these cons are about how he fights with people, but that’s what we saw in-game lol. I’d love to know more about how Lucas or Rahim fight with their partners. But when you’re arguing, Noah tends to focus on really little details of what you said instead of listening to the whole thing and getting a sense of the bigger picture. So let’s say the issue is ‘Noah, I need you to tell me when you’re borrowing my car because you took it to the gym and then it went from having enough gas to get me to work in the morning to being on empty. This morning I had to stop for gas and that made me late.” The issue there is actually ‘please tell me when you’re using my car”, but he fixates on the gas part and says “well fine I can fill up your tank”. So he focuses on little details that he can fix instead of acknowledging the actual problem.

He internalizes things so fucking hard. Yes he intellectually knows that when MC gives him feedback on things she’s talking about his BEHAVIOR and not him as a person, but he definitely feels like shit about himself if he makes a mistake and MC calls him on it. He’ll definitely beat himself up about things for weeks after it happens, and his internal dialogue in general is pretty toxic.

I can see him being a bit of a workaholic. Not in the same sense that Camilo is in Boat Party, but Noah definitely will go into the library on a day he’s scheduled to be off if he has projects to work on or will stay late because he got engrossed in research. Same thing now that the library’s closed because of COVID- it takes him two times as long to put everyone online and work from home, so he’s spending more time working than ever. He views it through the lens of the ‘greater good’- getting that display set up for the patrons is more important that seeing his wife two hours earlier because many members of the community outnumber one person. Plus he just cares so much about his work that he has a hard time seeing it as an inconvenience to other people.

He loves his family so much. Even when MC and he get married and have kids, he struggles to prioritize them over his siblings and parents. So if his little brother Arlo needs money, Noah won’t hesitate to give him a loan even if he and MC are struggling financially. If his aging mom or dad can’t live alone anymore, Noah will invite them to move in with his family, even if their house isn’t big enough to accommodate more people. I can see this being a huge point of contention, especially in that second scenario where MC would have to take on a caretaker role as well. Noah just wants to help people so bad and has a hard time saying no, so that can sometimes impede his partner.

He’s really used to living on low income, and so he has a lot of frugal habits and concessions that he thinks are normal that someone more middle or upper class might find irritating. These are all coming from my experience and things partners have complained about- but think things like only eating out once a month or refusing to turn the heat on until it’s dangerous or making his own laundry detergent. He grew up doing them out of necessity (and still does, student debt on a public librarian’s budget? I couldn’t do it), so he doesn’t realize how strange or frustrating his habits might be to someone who isn’t used to it. He also has a really hard time justifying spending excessive amounts of money, so if MC has lavish taste there’s going to be some conflict.

He doesn’t like initiating anything. Conversations, activities… you know *smirk emoji*. He will, but the ratio of when Noah suggests something to when MC does is like 1:8

My boy is beautiful, and his clothes look lovely, but he has 7 outfits that he rewears all the time. The closest thing to fashion is him putting a different button up shirt underneath his vest. It’s definitely a joke at work that he wears the same sweater, button up, and quarter length shirt just in different colors. You know that vine where the teacher walks into the room wearing the same shirt in different colors, saying the same ‘hello’ for like a million days. Noah’s coworkers remake that with him, because that’s exactly what he does.

He’s a bit of a homebody, and loves routine. For me, massive plus, I love that. But for someone who wants to party regularly or be spontaneous, I can see constantly changing plans and going out with people being really draining to Noah. He has a small group of close friends, so he’d struggle to remember MC’s friends' names if she has more than five. Don’t get me wrong, Noah will take MC to galleries and dates at least three times a month, but it has to be discussed and scheduled in advance.

Pros

Honestly, what isn’t a pro about him? Noah is a steadfast, thoughtful, and kind person. His politics are about taking care of people, providing them dignity and respect, and building community. He loves his family and is incredibly patient. He’s incredibly smart but not at all classist or condescending about it. I know this is supposed to be about how the islanders affect the person they’re dating, but oh my god he’s such a good person I love him. Let’s just say the pro for this is his positive aura.

He’s really good at group dynamics and listening, so he goes out of his way to make everyone feel heard and valued. If someone says something and no one acknowledges it, he’ll specifically engage with them so they’re not left hanging. If someone’s trying to get a word in but can’t, he’ll get everyone’s attention then say ‘so and so had an idea’. He’s not one to boisterously laugh in group settings, but he always makes eye contact and smiles if you make a joke that flops or say something he agrees with. If people are teasing about something, he picks up if it’s gone too far really easily and will gracefully change the subject/tell them to knock it off.

He’s super conscientious about respecting boundaries and ensuring the people around him are taking care of himself. If MC and him are long distance and texting after 10pm, he’ll be like “I love you, but we’ve both got to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow”. He’ll always check and make sure people have eaten when meeting up with them, and if they haven’t he’ll insist they get food from somewhere. 100% gives you his jacket, brings you water bottles, in general just wants you to take care of yourself.

Above all else, Noah just always ensures the people around him feel safe. The last thing he’d want to do is make people uncomfortable, so safe driving, safe spaces, safe sex are all musts. He’s really good in crisis situations because he can calm people down and encourage them to think critically.

Building off of that, he’s really aware of how much of the housework is being done by who and always tries to ensure he’s doing his part. I bet that was a big thing he ripped on Rahim for- Rahim expects his woman to clean up after him and do the bulk of the domestic work, and Noah knows that’s bullshit. I think Noah likes cleaning, anyways, and will usually take laundry/disinfecting bathrooms/cleaning dishes over cooking or running errands. But the mental load of keeping track of recipes/groceries that need replenishing and keeping up with kids needs, he’s aware of the imbalance and does his part. Obvious plus, because it sounds fucking exhausting to date a man. He fucking hates vaccuming though, and will splurge on a roomba.

He has a dry sense of humor that’s very based in puns and hyperbole. Sometimes it’s hard to know when he’s joking or not, but he never makes you feel bad for missing a joke or dwells on something for too long. He absolutely subscribes to the Mcelroys’ No Bummers rule, there are some things you don’t joke about and he’s happy to shut down inappropriate comments or ‘jokes’. He definitely prefers physical gaffs and dumb ways of saying things, so his favorite comedians are John Mulaney and Chris Fleming. While humor isn’t an important part of how he relates to other people, Noah enjoys being around funny people and won’t shut down their energy like Rahim, Marisol, or Hope.

This is just me projecting again but Noah is generoussss. Even though he doesn’t make a lot of money at the library, he still has a ‘mutual aid’ budget each month (and goes over it often). He’s the first one to give money to panhandlers, donate to gofundmes, and give friends/family personal loans. That definitely gets him into sticky situations sometimes, because he has a hard time saying no and can get taken advantage of, but ultimately I think it’s a pro because he’ll never forget where he came from and always prioritize helping other people.

He has a really pretty, deep singing voice and this is a pro to me because fuck I meltttttt.

The shit he says to his partner or spouse? THE most romantic thing in the world. You think Mr. “you’re made of stardust” doesn’t shower his lover with the most meaningful lines at random times? You think he’s not quoting sappho and jane austen when he’s at a loss for words? You think he’s NOT going to turn over in bed on a lazy Saturday and say ‘this is the most perfect my life will ever be’? It’s not even prompted either, yes he’ll compliment Bobby or MC when they get all dressed up for date night, but more often he’ll profess his adoration in the middle of dinner, then take another forkful of food.

Fantastic with kids, and this is a huge pro because people who can work with kids and be patient/positive with them make me so fuckim soft. But if/when (hopefully when because if MC didn’t want kids I don’t think it’d last) they had kids, Noah is happy to be on bottle duty, wake up early to the baby, and generally be a really involved parent. He’ll take a big chunk of paternity leave, and generally be there as much as humanly possible. Even when they have multiple little tyrants running around, he always makes time to be alone with MC and make sure she’s not taking on too much.

He’s basically a lesbian, which is definitely a reason I love him so much. Hear me out- loves milfs, loves 80s music, communicates affection through meaningful glances and playing with hair but will die before explicitly saying any of it, crushes on his best friend for the longest time but never makes the first move, puts way too much emotional meaning and personal metaphors into objects and then presents them as gifts, is into fandoms and actively collects pop figures, is attracted to assertive/powerful women, wears beige skinny jeans, wears VESTS….. That’s a lesbian. He’s a bisexual man, but he’s also an honorary lesbian.

A really good confidant. Noah’s an amazing listener and never judges people harshly- his life philosophy is as long as you’re not hurting anymore or yourself, everything else is details. So you can definitely tell him secrets and confess regrets to him and he’ll listen with those soft eyes and gentle nods. Talking to him about mistakes always feels like unburdening yourself. And he’d never tell your secret to anyone. Doesn’t matter if you cheat on him, lie to him, or die, he’s never going to tell anyone your secrets.

#litg #litg noah #pros and cons

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fbfh · 4 years ago

Text

hey, sailor - leo x daughter of poseidon

genre: a little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, a lot of mermaids lol

word count: 2.4k

au: none really, you have mermaid powers as a daughter of poseidon if that counts lmao

pairing: Leo x Daughter of Poseidon

requested: yeeyee !! hope u enjoy xoxo

warnings: uh brief mention of your step dad leaving when you were younger, an interaction with your best friend doesn’t go as planned, percy’s grappling with rlly complicated feelings towards his dad and new sister

summary: Percy, Annabeth, and Leo all get a little more than they bargained for when they bring Percy’s half sister back to camp Halfblood, and Leo remembers why he had such a huge crush on Ariel growing up.

reccomended songs: hurricane drunk - florence + the machine, sinkin’ in - cody simpson, deep sea ambiance

a/n: as soon as i got this request my dormant mermaid phase woke up from a sound sleep

requests r open uwu

"...And you know what he said to me? He says, 'kid, I think it's time you met your sister'. I have a freaking sister, and that two timing piece harpy sh-"

"Okay, Percy, why don't you cool off a little before we leave. Come on, we'll grab a drink or something while Leo finishes getting ready."

Annabeth takes her boyfriend's hand, and leads him to the nearest drink cooler. Leo turns back to the car they're going to take, and continues loading in the rest of the supplies. He, for one, is excited to meet Percy’s sister. His first thought was ‘hope she’s hot’, which he blurted out before he could stop himself, and was met with a killer glare from both of them. He’s not trying to be insensitive, finding out you have siblings you didn’t know about is kind of traumatic. I mean, hey, Leo’s family went from zero to sixty in one day - literally. Okay, not quite sixty, but only child to one of eight is still a pretty big jump.

A little while later, they’re ready to go. Leo offers to drive, so Percy and Annabeth can sit in back and try to sort out Percy’s feelings. After a couple hours of driving and emotional conversations, most of which Leo just listened to - Annabeth seemed to have a good hold on this, and Leo didn’t want to overstep his bounds again - they arrived in Cape Cod. At this point, the gist seems to be that Percy knows if he should be mad at anyone, it’s his dad. They park in the driveway of the address Chiron gave them. They get out of the car, and look up at the house. It’s gray with white trimming, two or three stories, with a balcony porch on the upper floor - a normal, small town New England house, as far as they could tell. They seemed to take a collective breath, and approached the door.

You’re breathing fast, trying to hold back the floodgates of emotion, when your bare feet hit the sand. You drop your bag, taking in the familiar, secluded stretch of the Cape. A big wall of jagged rocks to your left separates this part of the beach from the others. The old wooden stairs and their faded white paint that connected the low cliff to the sand below are hidden by plant life, so most people don’t even know this area existes. You’ve been coming here regularly since you were nine or ten. So many important parts of your life happened on these shores. You could just tell your mom ‘I’m going to my beach’, and she’d know right where you are. You finish pulling off your shorts and rush towards the water in your swimsuit. You’re met with immediate relief as soon as the water touches your skin. If it was possible to have an emotional support location, you did.

You feel it happen as soon as you’re waist deep. Bubbles and sea foam collect around you from the hips down and your legs get tingly and numb. A moment later, it dissipates, leaving behind a life sized mermaid tail. It changes slightly with most transformations, usually based on your mood and desired appearance, and you’ve noticed over the years you can change how it looks more easily. You don’t care today, you just need to be in the water. This time it’s a big tropical fish tail, its purple, blue, and shimmery gray tones reflecting both your mood and the impending storm clouds rolling in. You dip below the surface, and let the tide carry you a little ways. You don’t worry about getting lost, you somehow always know where you are at sea. You don’t have gills that you can find, but you can definitely breathe underwater.

You finally sink to the bottom, and stare up at the surface of the water. The patterns of light remind you of the night light you had as a child.

Your mom had ensured you were comfortable with water and ocean life for as long as you could remember. She must know other people like you, because sometimes she would have long phone conversations with someone called the Director. You were pretty sure he had a weird name that started with a K or C, but you could never remember. He’s apparently sending someone to bring you to a ‘safe place’ today. It sounds like bullshit to you, but you trust your mom, and your mom trusts the Director. Since you might not be back for a while, she said you could finally tell your best friend Wes the truth.

‘Oh god,’ you think, wishing the salt water would erase your memories of what happened today, but you can’t stop the onslaught of memories. Wes has been your best friend for years. You helped him when he realized he’s bi, he helped you when your step dad left, you could trust him with anything. Or so you thought. ‘It’s not his fault,’ you remind yourself, trying futilely to stop reliving what happened hours earlier.

You brought him to your part of the beach to go swimming so you could show him. You can still hear his voice, asking if you’re sure you want to go in the ocean, you’ve always been afraid of water. Once you’d worked up the nerves to get in the water and transform, you showed him your tail. Your heart broke again every time you remembered what he had said.

“That is... incredible,” your heart had soared, there was hope, “I can’t believe you got one of those silicone swimming tails just to prank me!” Ah, there it was. The other shoe. You tried to tell him it was real, but he said he could see the mold lines, and there the scales don’t quite line up, and there’s the edge of the zipper. You wanted to cry.

“I’m not gonna lie, you almost had me for a second. I can’t believe you learned to swim just to prank me, but whatever works, dude,” he laughed like you were having a good time together. It was too much.

You let out a huge underwater scream, and thunder rumbles in the distance. You sink further down, wishing once again that the salt and algae would erode your memories from today.

Annabeth knocks on the door for the third time. Thankfully, it opens to a middle aged woman in a shirt that said Brooklyn Nine Nine.

“Hello, what can I help you with?” she asks. She has a strong presence, and none of them want to be on her bad side. Percy is still too nervous, and Leo seems to be analyzing wires poking out of the doorbell, so Annabeth introduces themselves, and asks where you are.

“Who wants to know?” she asks.

“We’re her internet friends, we’re surprising her by visiting a day early.” Annabeth replies. The woman doesn’t seem convinced. She smiles, seeming to see right through them.

“Are you from camp?” The shock on their faces gives her all the answer she needs. She smiles, and continues, “She’s down at the Cape, the quiet part past the rocks.” They thank her, but before they can leave she says, “Hey.” She looks at each of them intensely.

“Make sure she gets there safely. Take care of her.” They agree solemnly, and head down the sidewalk.

“And tell Chiron I say hi.” she says with a smile. They smile back, agreeing again.

They get to the Cape, and it’s full of people.

“Shouldn’t be any harder than a Where’s Waldo,” Leo says. Percy’s head snaps to the right, and thunder rumbles.

“Did you hear that?” he asks.

“The thunder? Yeah,” Annabeth says.

“No, no.. someone screaming.”

“I don’t-”

“This way,” he takes off towards a pile of jagged rocks. They manage to get over with only a few scrapes and Percy surveys the empty beach.

“She’s here… She’s here somewhere,” he mutters to himself. The dark clouds part for a moment, and Annabeth points out to the water. Someone was there, pretty far out to sea. She could just make out their shoulders and head above the water.

“Gods, Percy, can you get her to shore?”

“Ah ah ah, uncle Leo’s got this one,” Leo pulls something out of his backpack. It’s bronze, and the size and shape of a deflated soccer ball. He throws it into the water. It starts to sink, then expands into a small bronze and wood speed boat. Percy and Annabeth’s jaws drop. He hops in, revving the engine to life. They sail out over the water, Percy directing them around currents and waves. They can see the figure clearly now, and they’re sure it’s you. You’re looking away from them, out towards the darkening sky. The boat starts to slow down, and makes a whining noise. Their eyes dart to Leo.

“It’s probably just a sticky piston,” white smoke leaks from the engine, “... and I should check the coolant, too.” He opens up a panel, and starts to tweak a couple things. He sits on the edge of the boat to get a better angle, and reaches into his tool belt. He pulls out a wrench, and almost in slow motion, feels it slip between his finger tips, and into the water with a light plip.

“Shit!” He covers his mouth, worried he scared you off. Three heads turn to where you were a moment ago. Gone. He feels that familiar shameful heat creep into his stomach and cheeks.

“Sorry guys, I-”

“You dropped this,” He looks into the water, and you’re right next to the boat, handing him the wrench.

“...Thanks,” he says, his heart speeding up. Your hair is wet and beads of water glisten on your skin. Your red bikini top sure isn’t doing anything to slow his racing pulse, either. Your hands brush as he takes the tool from you. You smile, and the clouds part - literally. A beam of golden sun shines behind you, making you glow. His heart is in his throat, and he knows he’s probably grinning and blushing like an idiot.

Percy stares at your head, poking up over the side of the boat. Your hair is dyed shades of blue and teal and seafoam that blend right in with the water, but your roots are dark. He takes in your freckles, your tan lines, and your eyes… they look like part of the sea - shells, or waves, or something. He watches as Leo takes the tool, and a smile appears at the side of your mouth - the same smile he’s seen in the mirror, the same smile he’s seen on his dad. He sees all these familiar traits and knows it’s true, you’re his sister. The realization hits him like a truck, and he’s suddenly choked up. Annabeth sees this, and places a hand on his shoulder. She looks between Percy and an infatuated Leo, and takes the reins for the whole ‘the gods are real’ speech.

“Hi,” she says, giving Percy’s hand a squeeze, “I’m Annabeth, this is Percy, and Leo. We were sent here to take you to a safe place for kids like us-”

“Ohmygod, finally,” the tension leaves your shoulders and you sigh in relief, “you have no idea how hard it’s been keeping all of this a secret, trying to be normal…” You push yourself up the side of the boat Ariel style, and pull yourself in, the edge of your tail draped slightly off the boat as you continue, “I seriously thought I was losing it for a while…” you trail off, watching them stare at your tail.

“You’re not… you’re not merfolk, are you?” The confusion on their faces says it all. Panic rises in your chest as you start to dive off the boat. Before you can, Leo grabs your hand.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. We all have weird powers, it’s part of being a demigod.” He shows you his free hand, and flames suddenly dance across his palm. Part of your fear is replaced with confusion.

“A what?” you ask.

“A demigod.” you look over at Percy, who’s speaking since the first time since you’ve met him, “Our dad is Poseidon, god of the sea.” You scrunch your eyebrows, processing what he said. Annabeth smiles at the gesture, having seen her boyfriend do it a thousand times.

“Wait… our?” He takes in a breath.

“I’m Percy, your brother.”

The ride back to shore is a little awkward, to say the least. They had finished explaining about camp and the gods and monsters a few minutes ago, and it’s been pretty much silent since. Annabeth sits next to you, and hands you a water bottle.

“He just needs some time,” she tells you quietly, “Poseidon’s not really supposed to have children, and Percy got a hard time for it when he was younger. He also… he thought his dad was really in love with his mom, so finding out he has a sister so close in age…” You nod in understanding. She pats you on the shoulder, and sits next to Percy at the back of the boat. You scooch up a little closer to Leo as gracefully as you can, which isn’t much, considering you have to drag along an almost 60 pound fish tail. Leo looks over at you from the controls.

“Weird day, huh?” he asks.

“Yeah…”

“So how long does it take to, uh,” he nods down and you flick your tail, “de-fishify?”

You laugh.

“Once I’m dry,” you look up at the summer sun reemerging, a little surprised that it hadn’t stormed. Then again, if children of Poseidon really could make sea storms, it made sense that it had died down now that you and Percy were feeling better.

“which shouldn’t take long.” you finish. You look over at Percy, who’s having a quiet intense conversation with Annabeth.

“He knows I didn’t ask for this, right?” Leo looks back at them.

“He does,” he replies.

“It’s so surreal finding out I have a sibling I knew nothing about,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“Try finding out you have seven,” he laughs, shaking his head at the memory.

“Seven?!” your head snaps up to him.

“Oh yeah,” he tells you the story of when he first came to camp, and you feel so much better already. Leo has such a comforting presence, the pain from all your problems softens a little just hearing him talk. You have a feeling you’re going to get a lot closer.

Little did you know, the feeling was mutual - and correct.

#leo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #Heroes of Olympus #Leo Valdez #percy jackson #leo valdez x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon

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maybebanks · 4 years ago

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You Know I’m a Minor Chapter 07

Prev. chapter 06 Start at the beginning ch.01

This chapter is real angsty and dramatic!!

—-

You had to tell him. Things were weird between you and JJ, and you honestly missed being his best friend.

After taking a few hours to surf, you headed to John B’s place, assuming JJ would be there.

You didn’t knock, you were a pogue now, no need to awkwardly be let in.

JJ was lying face down on John B’s pull out. He was shirtless and when he heard you he groaned.

It was 2 in the afternoon.

“JJ,” you nudged him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to where he was lying.

“Have you been outside yet?” You asked, his hair was ruffled and messy and it seemed like he hadn’t left this ‘bed’.

“I have polio, bro. I can’t walk,” he mumbles.

You rolled your eyes.

“You smell good,” JJ compliments, finally sitting up. It was weird being with him, shirtless in bed.

“Huh?” You ask, he shrugged.

“You smell like the ocean. Catch some waves lately?” JJ questions.

You run some fingers through your still damp hair, “yeah well...Midsummers is coming up. Just trying to savor my final moments of freedom,”

“Midsummers is bullshit,” JJ adds. Hoping you’d laugh.

“Yeah, my dad wants me to go with him along with all the other working parties. I even have a dress-“

JJ scoffs at you, “you? In a dress?” You weren’t a Tom boy, he’d just never seen you in anything other than a t-shirt and shorts.

“You better believe it. Kie helped me pick it out,” you shrug.

He almost laughed again, but you stopped him, “I could make fun of you just as easily for wearing a suit,”

“It’s more of a butlers uniform, but suit yourself,”

“Oh my god, you corny piece of shit,” you joked, then jokingly shoved his face, he shoved you back and you began a gentle bickering fight.

He started to tickle you.

He enjoyed the sound of your laugh.

“Okay...um..stop!” You demanded, JJ looked back at you with an evil glint, he knew he won.

“Stop!” You shouted, dragging out the o’s.

JJs fingers stopped moving, he was staring still, at where his hands had just been.

“What the hell is that?” He was referring to the purple, gray and red array painted on your waist. It reached from your rib to the edge of your hip. Your shirt had ridden up in the fun of it.

“Nothing,” you deadpanned, pulling JJ’s hands farther away from you. You were practically on top of him, your chest was touching his, one of your legs above his.

You pushed back to get away. But his arms held you back.

“Let me go, JJ,”

“I saw the first one and I let it go. You promised it was nothing and it happened again!”

You shoved him back again, harder.

“Let me go!” You screamed.

His grip didn’t faulter. You were now straddling him, not on purpose, it just ended up that way.

“JJ! If you don’t get your hands off me right now I will fight you!!” JJ had never seen you more defensive.

He pushed you up a little and then jumped over to the left. His hands quickly met your waist again and he pushed you under him.

He was on top of you now, here he could hold you in place. He knew what it was like to push people away when he really needed them.

“John B!” You called, hoping he might be inside and reason with Jj.

“He’s not home,” JJ said.

“Get off me! You’re insane,”

“Y/n, tell me who did this. Tell me what happened,” JJ reasoned.

You looked up at him, blinking rapidly to fight tears.

“Get. Off.”

He sighed, you pushed at him again, he took your punches. You wanted him to get mad, to leave you alone. But he didn’t.

“Why do you care?!” your voice was scratchy. You were holding back the urge to sob. A few tears had escaped. You prayed JJ didn’t notice.

“You can talk to me, Y/n. You’re my friend, that’s why I care about you,”

“I don’t want to talk,” your lip betrayed you as it began quivering. Looking up at JJ made you feel vulnerable. Not that you could really see him well anyway, your watery eyes made everything blurry.

JJ gave you a sympathetic look, then slowly moved his arms, and got off of you. You were free now, to do what you would have done moments ago, run.

You couldn’t talk, you just studied JJ, hoping his facial expressions would explain why he was treating you differently than anyone else you’ve ever known.

Your mind was fighting a war. You couldn’t have him know about your dad. Figuring now was a good time to tell him about Ward, you close your eyes

“I ran into Ward at the Kook party,” you say, you didn’t know where you were going with this. Should you lie and blame the bruises on Ward? Or maybe Rafe? But what good would that do? It would just make JJ angry. Was he already angry?

You watched JJ, his fists clenched in this lap. He wasn’t looking at you. He muttered something like, “son of a bitch,” but that was all he said.

“It was just once,” you add, hoping that will make it better.

JJ still didn’t respond. Causing your mind to wander, and tears start to run down your cheeks like a racetrack.

“Are you...are you mad at me JJ?” You asked. You reached your shaking hand over to JJ’s and placed it on top of his fist.

JJ stares at your hand, he wasn’t used to you being so emotional. And truly, he didn’t know how to handle this, Ward was a much more powerful man than anyone.

“Not you Y/n,” he paused, finally his eyes locked with yours, he saw the many tears, he saw that you cared what he thinks, “not you,”

You engulfed JJ into a hug, your arms wrapped around his torso as sobs left you. You didn’t want to cry, but at this point you couldn’t hold it in.

“I love you so much, JJ,” you admit, hugging him tight. He was careful not to hurt you in the embrace, but he was there for you.

After what felt like an hour, you had calmed down, JJ had been there for you tonight. And you felt guilty, for lying. But you knew it would be worse if you told him your own father hurt you.

JJ convinced you to sleep at John B’s with him tonight.

You sat next to JJ by the fire, Sarah was there, but at this point, you had moved on. You only hoped Sarah didn’t hear the full conversation you had with Ward. The most dangerous fact being that Ward knew about your father.

Sarah had the others distaracted by her midsummer dilemma. But you were zoned out. Thinking about JJ, how you told him you loved him.

“You okay?” John B asks you, tapping your forehead.

Sarah eyes you suspiciously, she was confused and a little bit jealous in how close you and John B are. You saw it as she was waiting for the right moment to expose you.

“I-“ in that moment you were a target, you gulped visibly. Luckily, you felt a hand weave through your hand and intertwine with your fingers. JJ’s rings felt cold, but his gesture was warm.

“I’m just stressed,” you answer.

“Have JJ roll you a blunt,” Pope offers.

“Nah Pope she doesn’t smoke,” JJ says.

You feel stupid.

“Really Y/n? Why not?” Sarah asks, maybe she was trying to make small talk.

But you were offended, “don’t try and tell me you smoke, princess,” you spit, you were threatened by her, so you put your defenses up.

JJ squeezed your hand.

Sarah scoffs, “I’m surprised, I’ve seen your dad smoke loads of times, hell he even offered me. All the pogues do it,”

You looked at Kie for help, she was just starting at you, but not your face, your hand, intertwined with JJ’s.

So Sarah knew, why else would she bring up your father. And she must have seen him meeting with Ward, they were business acquaintances.

You reluctantly pulled away from JJ and left the camp fire scene. You slapped a skeeter that arrived on your wrist.

“Is there something your not telling me?” Kie’s voice asks from behind you. You turn around to face her, her facial expression laced with concern.

“I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about,” you said, it wasn’t in an angry way, though you were angry, that your friends hadn’t stood up for you.

“You and jj,” Kie responds.

“Oh,” you mumble. Kie was your best girl friend. You wanted to talk to her.

You swallowed your pride and pulled Kie into a hug, she laughed and accepted, “what’s going on babe?”

“Promise not to repeat this,” you pause.

She nods.

“But I told JJ I love him today. And when I thought it in my head it seemed like a friend would, but now I-I don’t know...”

“Holy shit! I can’t believe I thought you were into John B,” she scolded herself.

“I’m not. I just totally hate Sarah,” that wasn’t entirely true, she just felt like a sword hanging over your head.

“Oh c’mon, you know, while you were with JJ, I kinda made up with her on the boat,” Kie defends.

“Are you serious?” you question, clearly offended by your tone.

“She just shat on us pogues and you all looked the other way! That smoking BS! And bring up my fucking dad? Like what the fuck?”

“Yeah but-“

“But WHAT? John B’s known her for what, two days? And she’s just in on this now? Oh but it’s fine I guess, she’s a kook but she can still talk down on us pogues?” You vent sarcastically.

“At least she’s not a liar,”

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?”

“We know what you’re keeping from us. You’ve been sneaking around with kooks and you say Sarah is two-faced?”

“That...that is so unfair,” you try, “I don’t know what you think you know-“

Sarah interrupted, “I heard you with my dad, Y/n. He’s giving you payments? For what?”

“I’m entitled to secrets,” you mutter, you were lost. Maybe your father was right, friends don’t have your back. No one does.

“Show them Y/n!” JJ approaches, you expected him to keep the earlier events private.

“No! JJ shut up-“

“Ward is not who you think he is, Sarah. I believe Y/n, he hurt her, physically,”

“My dad would never! Plus I saw everything that happened. Y/n is just being a shit talking bitch,” Sarah exclaimed, she felt accused.

JJ gave you an apologetic look, and then pulled your shirt up, to reveal the bruise for everyone to see. You quickly shoved him back, “what the hell is wrong with you!?”

Sarah stepped between you and JJ, she had tears in her eyes, “are you going to tell them? Because if you don’t I will,”

You knew exactly what she was referring to. Your heart snapped into pieces, your friends couldn’t know.

“What is she-“

“Sarah. Sarah, I’m sorry. Please. I’ll lose everything. I can’t lose them,” you sobbed. JJ put his hand on your shoulder.

“But you can’t blame it on someone else. Telling a lie doesn’t change the truth,” Sarah comforted.

You turned to face JJ, “I don’t deserve you JJ,”

“Y/n you won’t lose me-“

“It...it wasn’t Ward who did this to me,” you admit, “I’m just like you.”

Chapter 08

Taglist: @p0gue420 @kristinaxilliano @belledutchess @maebanks @omgpankow @kaylinfayezink @dolanfivsosxox @thesurfingsnail @obsessedweirdo @dudebroskiprn @milked-down-coffee @jjsthumbring @retr0babey @traumaflavouredjuulpod @write-from-the-heart @justcallmesams sorry if I missed u on the tags!

love you all so much🤍 thanks for reading:

my masterlist

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badbloodmagic · 7 years ago

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@demoniiiic didn’t really ask for this bullshit but gets it anyways xoxo

There were many things that Hazelle had done for the first time and had repeated them since then, some of the acts were horrible, dreadful things, often viewed by those that had morals as evil; Hazelle, however, viewed them as a way of living. When one was immortal and was not first instilled with any sense of proper behavior, or rather, they had been a creature of the dark since they were brought into this world, what was considered evil became a bit distorted. Hazelle was a different creature now, the monster all the priests and doctors, scientists and her family had told her she was from the age of a young child. She had become all which they had feared. Despite this evil, the corrupt and damaged flower was still eager for love, eager for something she never had—happiness. As she was reliving something she’d done several times over, Hazelle was sure she’d never find that feeling ever in any life time, the scent of sterilized rooms and obnoxiously white floors, all too familiar. Making her sick, but she knew it was more than that, she had been starved, trapped and cornered like a beast and brought to the place where individuals who acted on suggestions by voices in their heads were taken. They had to beat her down, even though they had cornered her, waited her out for quite a long time, she’d been starving herself prior to the endeavor or her capture, but they had to beat her to finally capture her and then sedated her heavier than she’d ever been in the past-- it was terrifying, even for a creature who could tear them all to fucking pieces.

The raven-haired beauty struggled to walk on her own, weak in her unfed and starved state, the modern age had brought new technologies to slow her down, tranquilizers were one of those. Although, it had taken quite a few to stop her from hurting the authorities and those other professionals that had been there to help capture her—admittedly, Hazelle had lost her mind, the voices were stronger in her starved state, her undernourished and feeble mentality. As they dragged her down the hall towards whatever place they deemed safe, Hazelle fought to keep her mind from giving in, it would only cause more trouble if she were to attack now, she was confident in her abilities but in the state she was currently in, even the crazed woman knew it was a pointless attack to make. She stumbled, staggered against the men carrying her before her knees hit the cold tile floor.

Slouched against broad shouldered orderlies, Hazelle muttered, whining as her head lulled back, pale cheeks stained with tears and smeared with blood, they hadn’t even been decent enough to offer her a rag, a blanket, anything to calm her down, just one too many shots and a body she could no longer control. They ended up wherever had been chosen as her destination, cool and wet tile slid beneath her bare feet as the two men removed her gown and sat her down, surprisingly gentle before a hard rush of water met her slender frame. A hose, she supposed this was their way of bathing her without getting too close. The vampire cried out at the sudden cold water, shielding her face as they soaked her, soul and all. Hazelle had been here before, in this mental and physical trap, it was not a pleasant place to be. Hazelle pulled her legs up against her chest, a whimper shuddering past her cold lips as the orderlies hosed her off until they were satisfied. This time they were not gentle hauling her to her feet again, a towel was dragged over her body by a female nurse, at least Hazelle thought the other was female, it didn’t really matter, they had already seen her in her full glory, starving and clawing her way through the police as if they were some diseased creatures. Her old clothes were replaced, something thinner, slacks and a long-sleeved shirt before they were back in the halls.

At some point she lost consciousness, perhaps it was from the shock of the shower or the drugs that were overpowering in her system, regardless of whichever it was, Hazelle woke with a start, pale eyes sharp and dangerous as she shot up from the curled-up position she had been in. The orderlies had placed her in a room, the cot on which she sat on was hard, not at all comfortable but what need did something dead have of softness, especially when they did not sleep, often, or at all, the only reason she had done so was due to the day's ordeal. Being starved and weak, hosed and beat, drugged and belittled, the day had certainly been trying for Hazelle. A quick glance about the room confirmed the passing events had not been in her mind, if they had, then, her mind was even more of a torturous place than she had lived to believe. Slowly, once she had become accustomed to her surroundings, the raven-haired vampire slipped from the cot, feet still bare but grazing a pair of shoes next to the bed. With a nauseating sting in her veins, Hazelle turned the knob of the door separating her from the rest of the facility, surprisingly, the door was unlocked.

Naturally, she thought this to be a trap, as if the moment she stepped outside the door she would be thrown into a world of pain and beaten again in her weak state. Memories flashed before her eyes as she gently pulled the door open, silently due to her supernatural stealth, the ultimate killer. Her feet were silent on the cold tile as she moved from the room, why they would trust her and not bind her to the cot was beyond her, it was their mistake, not hers. A glance up and down the hall proved that she was alone for the time being, it also confirmed the lack of natural light, no windows. She was in a place she had been several times before, this time she was frail and broken, starved, she needed to feed if she were to break out of this desolate and horrid place. Hazelle padded lightly down the hall towards the place where she could hear the buzzing of electricity and the mild commotion of other beings, humans, she could smell them, one hand on the white walls to steady herself. As she neared the end of the hall a voice called to her, silent to all others, but deafening in her ear, causing Hazelle to recoil, it was of course, the OTHER demons which resided within her.

Slaughter them all, you can do it, get the orderlies first. Kill them.

There was a flash in her pale eyes, something far more sinister, at the suggestion of murder, the lust for the coppery taste of blood dripping from her mouth was making her sick, pushing open double doors to expose what was obviously the common room Hazelle took a breath, remembering it was normal to do as much. The other crazies lingered within the room, having quirks and disturbances of their own, all in their own little worlds. Few things made Hazelle feel dizzy, being in an asylum surely made no warm feeling within her, seeing others act on their own demons almost disgusted her, part of her, a part of her that was nothing more than a fictitious voice in her head.

Look at them, disgusting creatures, slaughter them, tear them limb from limb, murder them.

Hazelle instinctively batted at her ear, as if waving off a fly that was bothering her by buzzing about her head. A troubled and earnest look sculpted her features as she stepped further into the room, ignoring the looks and soft worded comments about the newest arrival. Being around people often helped, when she was in control, that was, of her hunger, of her impulses, of the voices. Finding a corner was easy, the other ‘patients’ scrambled away or laughed as they gave her space, most of them, anyways. Her hands were cupped over her ears, black, messy hair covering her face a bit before she slumped down on an old brown and rough couch, the television before the couch black, Hazelle focused on her reflection for a while before a body clad in white paused before her. An orderly.

“If you’re goin’a trip out on us, we will have to subdue you.” The orderly warned, squatting to get on the same level as her gaze. “Do you understand?”

She did understand but she couldn’t control them now, she was far too weak, they were all the same, the orderlies, it still surprised her that they had not restrained her, considering how violent she had been upon capture. The man moved, causing her to flinch some, recoiling as he tried to touch her, he did the same, standing and putting a hand on his baton as if she would leap out and attack him. Which wasn’t far from what went through her mind before he called out to another orderly. “I think she needs her meds—Fitz.” A moment later another orderly appeared and the two of them hesitantly moved to give Hazelle an injection, she struggled, whining and pulling her legs up to fend them off with a kick or two, it didn’t last long, they pinned her down and gave her the shot, soon the medicine was corrupting her veins, making her lethargic once again. It didn’t, however, stop the voice, it was louder than ever now as it had control of her mind.

Hazelle made a noise that resembled a sob, “Please--- I don’t--- I don’t want it, I don’t want the medicine.” She didn’t want to be weak, be famished and paler than she was even when she had fed. She looked as if she were on the precipice of death, waiting to take his hand and walk to Hades. This was how she would die, starving and drugged out until her vampiric body withered away. Hazelle sluggishly pulled her legs up to her chest, curling against the couch on which they had left her, mind swimming and finally the voice was silenced for a moment, the rest of them, though, given the opportunity the dominant one was silent, they took their chance to torment the raven-haired beauty. “No—No—Stop talking—“ Her voice was soft, barely a breath, her body taken over completely by the drugs as she tried to blink away the pain, tears burning her cold cheeks, slender arms hugging her knees to her chest. Pale eyes were caught somewhere in the distance, Hazelle didn’t see anyone before her, all she saw was what was crashing through her mind.

#demoniiiic #;Hazelle #tw: mental illness #mental illness tw #tw: schizophrenia #schizophrenia tw #{*gives you a boat load of bullshit* enjoy! :')))))) }#long post

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amarscollyon · 3 years ago

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Life is an absolute joy - I may get down and feel hopeless but then that’s simply down to my VILE CONNECTIONS

Because when it comes to tasks - every single thing a true will does for love and his tribe or community is an immense pleasure beyond your grasp and there you have it

You’re a fake fraud failure of a human - whilst I am a true will who is never anything but who he truly is, and a demigod as a result - you delude yourself that your pathetic fake brainwashed scum spirit you waste your vile worthless life with only to be cursed karmically for, and as a result become a SUBHUMAN SHITFISH MORON, so of COURSE you find tasks vile

They’re a worthless waste of time and a total lie and you loathe it’s because you loathe your FAKE FRAUD SELF for being a cowardly prick liar waste of time and energy and you know it’s true in your true self you ruin and murder and rape....

What more can I say? I love life and who I am - I hate what you are as you ruin what we could have been as one - my true joy multiplied as a tribe of like minded heroes forms a real group mind and experiences joy you haven’t even come close to dreaming of!

Lol!!!

I’ve been speaking truth for years and you still lie to yourselves and OMG you never deserved the love I gave you - like the master said, it was ALWAYS more than you and your fake delusion of care!!!

Cool, well I’m glad. May you carry on loathing who you are and what you do and wonder why bullshit fake “self” love and bollochs personal truth consistently fail you!!!

Utter morons!

Once again!

There IS NO SELF

A true will is ONE WITH ALL LOVE AND THOSE THEY KNOW AND SHARE EXISTENCE WITH!!!

The truth is absolute and universal and NEVER personal or based on your own perspective and experience

And LOVE?

Love!!! You total fucking dipshit asshole loser puppet to evil you thought you could use to destroy EVIL, and puppets you, whilst you and your spirit are cursed more daily for your idiocy!!

Love DISREGARDS ALL FEARS AND A TRUE WILL THAT ACTS ONLY ON LOVE WHICH IS NEVER FOR SELF OR EGO - and ALWAYS for the best communal good and those you love unconditionally, agapically and eternally - THEN BENDS REALITY AROUND YOU LIKE THE ROW ROW ROW YOUR BOAT DREAM IT IS - always has been and always will be - to what seems impossible at times yet ISN’T and is for the true best for all spirit that eventually across all time DOES choose to become love like this

You won’t get it because you’re a loser fucktard who has been seen for the revolutionary heart that it had and targeted with the false revolution that was put in place and set up like AN ELABORATE TRAP FOR THAT EXACT REASON YOU POO FOR BRAINS RETARD WANKER COWARD- and had your mind, time and life FILLED with totally perfectly crafted bollochs and other total cunts who are in the same boat - all too stupid, deluded and afraid to learn the lesson as the pride filled bag of shit demons carefully selected from the vast crop

So do what you want you failure- I AM THE SUN - APOLLO - truth made flesh and selected for this reason with proof you CANNOT DENY

I win through in the end and you can waste your time on vile tasks becoming ever more vile inside instead and achieve FUCK ALL and regret it all so so much as you scream in agony to the end of time

Because facts are facts

You’ve been given ALL you need to get it and angels and gods NEVER make you do vile things that are NOT who you ARE, and they along with I supply truth but you are required to look at it with courage and with humility accept your fault and swallow your pride - but no being of love is required to help you against your moronic selfish deluded egoism nor your free will

Wow

Ive never seen such a perfect little series of evidence you’re just a sad little coward fart in amongst this grotesque manure pile group of sad little cowards with no hope and nothing to blame but ego

Here’s another hint - even if you manage to succeed with ANYTHING it won’t help you or the world and I’ll enjoy sticking my fingers up in your moronic face and walking away

Low road loser

You can’t ever have me

Now go make yourself sicker with fantasies or something of choking - you know that’s proof your inner being is unwell and damaged and KNOWS all of this is truth and you’re to blame

You hate yourself and your life

Your soul is aware

Omg wow this was truly wonderful

Now - wake the FUCK UP DIPSHITS

You’ve until August 25th to resolve this disgrace between us OR you ALL have your karmic debt/punishment- multiplied 7 TIMES

and yes

It is ALREADY MILLENNIA of suffering and forced servitude you’ll be hard pushed even with MY devoted love and care and help to fix in the time you have left

Let alone after!!!!

Blessings one and all

I’ll do you a reading tomorrow to explore and confirm all this too!

Love and best wishes! Look forward to the vile tasks, my curses and your loser fake friends who are all doomed and unable to give comfort more daily leaving you worth less and less

Constantly!!!!

Muah

I really DO love you

But this is pleasure as much as adoration when you touch my heart - the only reason for any of this is love, and yep, it never breaks your will whilst you’re STILL RAPING MINE UYOU ARROGANT FUCKS

may the gods be with you more visibly as you comprehend all you had before was a load of demonic pretend poop

Fools

I’ll be here to save your life and soul and love you forever- when you do me or give me a call or knock

Anything else? Go shove a giant cactus up your ass!!!

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entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys · 3 years ago

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Evil is Stupid

i Know the Title, Isn't Very Catchy, But it’s to the Point !

Evil is, fucking Stupid.

Every time you do a Bad deed it dose you.

Every time you Hurt Some one you that shit will in one way or another Come back to Bite you in the Wave effect. as you Hurt Other's thay Hurt other’s and or you make some one a bit less nicer, and or Erode there trust for Stranger's

Witch is a Domino Effect !

Every time you are Greedy, you aka away from other’s so thay can’t give to you more. Greed is a Self Suicide !

And Hate is a Poison, Anger is One thing but hate is Poison, you can hate a Thing but to be Hatful is ..... Insanity. you hate a thing becuz it is Bad.

Or there is a Great error of that or Many error’s’ of that, AND HAT’S THE HATE !

Your Mad at the Shittyness of it. but to truly Hate is a Poison, for that Hatful, Are Already Sick to begin With !

. . .

The Will to Want to Hurt other’s is a Power Thing, and the Love is Power is Come’s out of Fear !

A Type of fear but fear !

A Primeval Urge to beat the other’s, to Take over to Conquer to Slaughter the Enemy and to Gain Make Resource.

Once you Get too Much power ... You’ll Not know what ever to do, You’re Head will Spin and you’ll Get Lose in your Own Confusion and Boredom.

And you’ll Want to Give up the Power, N YET BE AFFRIAD OF IT !

becuz if you lose it you “Die” . . .

. . .

A Shotgun is Raw Power and So is a Nuke.

Shoot a Piece of Wood and Watch it Explode or Let the Tree just Grow and you’ll See a Wonder Tree ... With a Spirit !

Also, i’m Going to Just Slip thsi One in ⤵

i Just Want you to see thsi One as Well ⤴

My Point is this .... Evil Destroy’s and in the Cycle’s i Have Seen evil destroy it self and evil Being destroy each other !

then What is the Love of evil ?

Wtf, Dose Being Evil Achieve ?

. . .

As far as i Can see it God dam Betrays it self.

Darkness in Degree Amount is no So Bad but Pure Darkness, is Death and the Love of Doing Evil is Animal Urge.

. . . fuck that, you May Bot Need to Love Each other but the Least u Can do is Be Peaceful, and Not be a dick i see so many evil people online and Troll’s and Cyber Bullies i Wonder where there all Coming from and why the fuck is there Such a Huge Population, of them !?

thay do not Cooperate but Attack !

i see people Post Snuff Film’s By the Boat Load, Many many many many many Film’s of Real Horror and real Gore, i See thsi Bullshit almost on a Daily Basis.

i Can’t Understand WHY ! ... thay God dam fucking Enjoy’d this shit .... Still i Say what thay where saying ... the Level of Enjoyment of it Was = to that of Wolf’s Enjoying a God dam Hunt

...

by the Way, i see demon’s as Sick Soul’s, not Bad Soul’s but defiantly Dangerous Soul’s.

i Think, Maybe the demon’s are Ill and Need Help Going to the Light but have fallen so far from it it Hurt’s to Go Any where Near it !

As If Maybe Dark Energy Can be a Kinda, Soul Disease. and Thay Need to Be Slowly Risen to the Light ... little by Little.

Idk, But i Can say, Nice Demon’s Exist, there Rare ... Super rare but thay Exist.

Listen, i Just trying to Point out that Evil, Has alot of flaw’s.

And Many thing’s that are “Evil” Are Based off of Life form’s Being fucking Stupid. and Not Understanding the full Ripple effect of there Action’s and there not caring part is Based off not Having To feel and Suffer the Stupid of there Own Action’s of enough or Painful Enough to really Care, Most of the time thay Use Anger to Be as a Buff to there own fail, not Knowing anger is Just Gasoline on the fire, Anger is Not a Cure All, it is Most of the fucking time a Suicide !

Getting Mad at thing’s that don’t Go your Way is .... Not Going to Help thing’s.

Thou Need’s to Think n Not Rage !

Rage Can Be Useful but not all of the Fucking Time.

. . .

Another Large fuck up is, . . . Being Heartless or Not Giving a fuck about some one else Pain.

youtube

And or the Man time people Cyber Bully a Person Expressing there Pain, only to get a fuck ton more becuz of Evil Asshole’s on the internet, What to enjoy tormenting some one just becuz there fucking Insane !

. . .

And it’s all over the Internet, 1 out of 3 People Get’s Got dam Cyber Bulled on any given day and i Could Say it’s 1 out of 2 ...

There is a fuck Ton of Harsh Word’s Going around, Evil retard’s Going no Where Wasting time and Slow Each other down with Pointless Pain !

https://www.cnn.com/2016/12/14/health/teen-suicide-cyberbullying-continues-trnd/index.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicides_that_have_been_attributed_to_bullying

https://www.azcentral.com/story/news/local/mesa/2020/08/06/mesa-family-seeks-answers-after-10-year-old-girl-dies-suicide/5564628002/

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/cyberbullying-pushed-texas-teen-commit-suicide-family/

https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=235570927

WTF ! DID THSI SOLVE !

NOTHING !

WHERE DID IT TAKE ANY WHERE !

NOTHING ! .... BACK TO THE GOD DAM STARTING POINT ! AKA DEATH !

YOU WHERE A GHOST N THEN YOU WHERE A BABY N NOW YOUR A GHOST !

WTF !

WHAT HE FUCKING FUCK !

. . .

i Mean it the world is full of Insane, Deranged, Sick and Confused Soul’s that thing there fucking Supreme becuz there evil, thay think evil is a fucking power when it’s God dam Regression !

Cooperation, Kindness, Love, Generosity, Hope, ... Helping other’s !

God dam it THAT’S PROGRESS !

And Self Sacrifice !

OH ! And Not Being Selfish ! . . . This is Progress, This is how to Get Shit done, Also ... Have a Open Mind, . . . Accept Other’s for who thay are and Don’t Mind The Little thing’s about Each other so Much !

Worry About the real Problem’s in Life and TRY TO SOLVE Them !

. . .

Stop Attacking people for being GOD ! DAM SMART ! Ad or for Thinking out of The Box, ... Quit attacking the Anti Retarded aka the Progressive, This is Insanity.

#Evil #Sickness #Insanity #Red Pill #Wtf

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lackofhonor · 5 years ago

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Narcos Episode 01.09 – “No, I have not been duck hunting, you... fucking hillbilly.” – Javier Peña

So this is supposed to be fun?” Javi asked sarcastically.

Murphy lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder at his partner. Javier Peña was hunched over on the bench seat in the boat with a cigarette clenched between his grit teeth. The orange coal of the lit cigarette casting a tiny glow in the grey gloom of the morning. They had been on the water for maybe two hours and while Steve found the air refreshing, it was clear that his friend was finding this morning’s hunt less than invigorating.

Two weeks ago Steve had convinced Javier to come up from Texas for a visit. He had spoken with Javi via phone many times after what had happened with Escobar. Truly, Javi deserved to be there for when the fucker fell, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, Javier had been sitting in Texas waiting on a disciplinary review for his actions. Still was waiting on that review, in fact. Steve had tried to stay in touch, even as he and Connie tried to gather together their lives in Colombia and move them back to the States. It had been a monumental challenge for him personally and professionally but the strain was worth it to be standing over Escobar in the end. And it had ended for him with taking that last photo of the bastard dead on the roof. It had ended for him when he and Connie stepped on that plane flying out of Colombia. Hadn’t it?

Yeah.

But had it for Javi? Well that was the question, wasn’t it?

Steve couldn’t help but feel his friend still had loose ends from Colombia in his head that needed tying. Y’know, beyond the fact Peña’s career was on the line with this review board shit. No, Javi still wanted some blood. Via their phone calls, Steve had gathered that all Javi had done since hitting stateside was drink liquor and fuck women. And while that was pretty much Javi’s M.O. throughout the entire time Steve had known him, normally Javi didn’t seem so depressed while going about his chosen extra-curriculars. Sometimes he fucked or drank away the stress or was sullen and frustrated. Sure, that was fine. But this was something darker and sadder than a typical bender.

So during their most recent weekly phone call, Steve did what anybody would do for a friend: told him the truth (“You need a hobby that isn’t fucking women or drinking yourself to death, Javi.”) and invited him on a trip (“Come on out and see Connie and I. Relax for a bit. Take your mind off this review board shit for a while so you can get your head on straight.) Javier Peña, being a reasonable man who recognizes that perhaps he may not exactly be dealing with things well, gave in with some reluctance (“…yeah. Yeah I guess I could come out and see you guys for a weekend. Not like I have much to do here until the hearing anyway… “) So of course Steve Murphy felt the need to try broadening his friend and former partner’s horizons by introducing a potential new hobby (“Great! We can celebrate for real with you here. There’s this band Connie’s been dying to see so we can hit that up. Plus the season just opened Sunday and I’ve not been since before I was posted in Miami. We’ll be able to go duck hunting while you’re down here.”).

This chain of events lead to the current moment with both men sitting in a olive drab john boat that had seen better days and Steve’s cousin’s dog sitting in the floor next to their feet. They were floating on the choppy waves of a muddy river looking out over nearly one hundred duck decoys bobbing in the freezing water. It was a cold day. The sky couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to spit light rain or tiny frozen drops at them and the wind cut at their faces. The boat was tied to posts sunk into the riverbed that were part of a blind covered in camouflaged netting and live willow branches. Sort of a little faux tunnel the boat could hide in. Murphy had stealthily steered their vessel inside that morning after a truly harrowing ride across the water just before dawn. Murphy was calm. Soaking in the sounds, smells and sights around him. He maneuvered the boat with ease and stroked the Benelli shotgun with a fondness that spoke of years of similar experiences when he had loaded it earlier. Javier on the other hand was not as charmed. His shoulders were bunched up to his ears trying to maintain valuable heat in his neck and head and he hunched over the borrowed Remington 870 in his lap as he stared blankly at the horizon.

“Stop your whining. Isn’t this nice? You get out in nature. Enjoy some fresh air.” Steve shared in his low friendly baritone. He took a moment to drink some hot coffee from the dented green metal thermos by his feet and observed the sky contentedly.

Javi grunted and continued to puff at his cigarette as he curled further inward. He felt miserable. He was still a bit hungover from the night before to tell the truth. The wind had changed direction again and the bitch was cold as hell right in his face. He didn’t come here to be tortured by Murphy’s idea of what a healthy past time should be.

“I’m freezing my ass off in a rinky dink boat decorated in switchgrass at the ass crack of dawn so you can get this bullshit out of your system. I did not need to come along for this hillbilly holiday,” Javier complained loudly. Murphy merely hushed him with a look and continued to sip his coffee and pet the black Labrador laying in the floor of the boat.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You got to eat a nice hot breakfast at least. Homemade biscuits and eggs fresh from the chicken’s butt. And Ace here likes you,” Steve said. Javi grumbled under his breath but did give the dog a fond scratch behind the ears.

From the slate colored sky above came a chorus of quacking, signaling the incoming flock of about thirty mallards from the south. Outlined against the ominous grey clouds above the river Javier could make out the green heads and lighter colored feathers of the birds. Steve fumbled for his duck call and gave some rapid fire noise that he had tried to explain to Javier the day before was a “hail call”. It was meant to draw the ducks in closer.

“Take your time. Let them get in close enough. Remember what I told you: swing through. Butt, belly, beak then bang!” Steve tells Javi sotte voce. They both ready their weapons as the birds approach.

“Alright, take ‘em!” Murphy hisses when the birds are in range. Javi leans into the gun and squeezes the trigger through the arc as he follows their quarry. The sky explodes with sound and two birds drop from the sky into the watter below. “Good job man!” Murphy cheers and high-fives Javi.

Maybe this hillbilly crap isn’t so bad, Javi thinks to himself as Murphy gives the dog a gruff command that has it launching itself form the boat into the water. It is kind of nice to hear the lapping of the water on the boat’s hull, the gentle flutter and soothing noises of the birds. The river in late fall is beautiful in its own way. It is stark and wild with all the green faded away now for the season, but still beautiful. Javi observes how his friend is so relaxed in this environment and cannot help but crack a smile.

“Good boy Ace! Come on, come on!” Murphy calls as the black dog paddles back to the boat. The dog is determinedly swimming back to them with head above water with the downed bird. Murphy is moving around inside the blind now. He seems to be poking around searching for something when he starts to curse.

“What’s the matter?” Javi asks as he removes the hood on his sweatshirt from over the camo baseball cap Steve had loaned him. It’s still cold, but maybe the adrenaline of the moment earlier has warmed him some.

“Fuck, I forgot the ramp this morning. It’s this thing I stick on the back of the boat so Ace can get back in the boat on his own. I coulda sworn I stuck it in here this morning.” Steve is rummaging behind the extra life jackets and decoys.

Javi shrugged and looked out to see the dog treading water over the side. Javi could barely keep his eyes open when Steve woke him up at 4 a.m., shoved his feet into a pair of chest waders and tossed him a dark green hoodie with the words ‘Ducks Unlimited’ on the chest and an old camo coat. Although he did wake up pretty quickly once they got the boat on the rive and he had the icy spray from the speeding boat and wind in his face.

“What’s the big deal?”

“He can’t get in the boat dumbass. He can’t swim like that forever. He’ll get tired,” Murphy stated, “I’ll just take the boat off the pylons and we’ll beach on the shore real quick. He’ll follow and he can climb up the rocks onto the boat.” Murphy began the process of untying the boat from the mooring posts and unlashing parts of the boat hide that made up the floating duck blind. Javi looked over the side again at the plucky little retriever. Big, bright, rusty brown eyes in a handsome black face stared back while the animal continued to paddle away, duck still firmly clamped between its jaws. He could see the nostrils of the animal widen as it huffed air in, still treading water. It wasn’t that big of a dog. 80lbs maybe? He could just scoop it out of the water. Easy.

Javi stood up. “You don’t have to do that.”

Murphy wasn’t paying attention at first. Too focused on untying his complicated knot from when he tied up earlier. He felt the boat sway as his friend moved. But out of the corner of his eye did he see Javi lean over the side of the boat for the dog. His eyes widened. “Javi, no-.”

“Come on big boy, I gotcha.” Javi called to the dog as he leaned for over into the water to scoop up the animal. He had it about balanced right. The dog was barely out of reach. If he could lean just a little further now.

“Come on Ace. Oh shi-!” Murphy watched as his partner tipped headfirst over the side.

Two seconds later the spluttering dark headed man surfaced right next to the boat cursing a storm. Ace, the mallard still clutched in his mouth, whined continuously and paddled around Javi in the truly frigid water. Steve reached out a hand to his friend in the water, bracing himself off the motor in the back of the boat. “Swim over here. I can get you back on without capsizing off the stern,” he instructed.

Javi carefully kicked and stroked his powerful arms to the back of the boat and grabbed Steve’s hand.

“Alright, on three I am gonna haul you up but you gotta push yourself onto the boat at the same time.”

Javi nodded.

“Alright, ready…three!” Steve groaned and heaved the sopping man out of the water so that his top half was wedged onto the boat. Javier used his elbows and shoulders to drag himself fully inside and flopped into the hull with a grunt.

Steve laughed and shook his head as he watched his friend cough and shiver. He was ok. He’d be a little cold but Steve would set him right in a minute. At least now he didn't look so moody, like he had been sucking on a lemon, like he had looked all morning. No, now Javi looked like a drowned rat. Although Steve wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.

Javi straightened himself up, sitting on his knees and glaring at his friend. But before he could open his mouth the persistent whining of the dog interrupted. Steve peered over the edge of the stern of the boat. Ace doggedly paddled with the bird still in his maw.

“Alright buddy, hang on. You think we can pull him over together or you need a bit?” Steve asked Javi as the man tried to wring out part of the ancient camouflage coat that he had loaned him that morning. Javi rolled his eyes and positioned himself in the stern, carefully bracing himself on the side as Murphy was also doing. Together they carefully reached down into the water and hauled out the black lab and rolled him into the boat, dropping a good amount of water back into the boat.

The dog leapt to its feet and presented his prize to his master. A job well done surely. Murphy ruffled Ace’s ears after plucking the bird from the dog’s mouth and handed it to Javier.

“Your first duck hunt and your first duck. What do you think Javi?” The blonde man grinned at him so widely Javi couldn’t help but return the smile as he took the duck from his friend.

“Y’know, all things considered-“

Javi was interrupted by a truly massive full body shake from Ace, spraying he and Murphy with even more freezing water. Soaked to the bone, water dripping off the bill of his cap and desperately in need of a smoke he looked down at the black dog, its tail thumping furiously on the floor of the boat. He thought about the way that early morning fog had looked on the water and the duck he would eat later with Murphy’s hick relatives. He though about the money he spent for a license and duck stamp that would go back to preserving more habitat. He thought about the quiet and the trees and the way the biting wind felt. Javi wiped the water from his face and kneeled down to give the dog a good scratch behind his ears with one hand while he still held the duck.

It was fun.

Kinda.

The dog shook itself again. More water went flying. Javi scowled.

“Have we fed your inner redneck enough for today? Cause I have enough for a lifetime I think,” he huffed, searching the pocket of the duck coat to see if his precious cigarettes were dry enough to be lit.

Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder as Javi cupped the flame toa damp, mangled white paper cylinder. “Tell you what, next year I’ll come to Texas and play cowboy with you and your Dad on the ranch instead, ok?”

Javier’s eyes lit up. “Don’t get too cocky there, hillbilly. We’ll have to see how you measure up at ropin’ and drinking whiskey.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started the boat motor for home.

#pedro pascal #steve murphy #javier pena #narcos #i made a thing #I think Steve and Javi stay in touch and remain friends after everything they went through #Before the hunt for cali and after Escobar has been caught #steve murphy and I are hillbillies #inspired by me falling out of the boat the first time I went duck hunting #inspired by that photo of pedro pascal #lannister-slings-and-arrows #drabble #writing

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ahelpfulpeach · 4 years ago

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Good night! Ok, this is about the prompts thing, I'm sending 32. ''You could have died'' with Catradora.

So, when I got this, my first thought was something serious. Then I realized I’d basically already done that for like, 12k words, with No Retreat, Baby, No Surrender, and didn’t really feel like just doing a rehash of that. So if that’s what y’all want, go that way.

So then. How else can we interpret this prompt? And then I was like. Okay. What about something just. Stupid. Go full dumb jock. Flipping off a roof into a pool kinda bullshit.

But when you give a mouse a cookie, the mouse then wants to add in more chaos. Which isn’t hard because like. This cast is full of chaos.

Modern AU, everyone’s human. This is a mess, please enjoy.

If you wanna send me a prompt, feel free! Specify what relationship you want and let me know if you want it specifically platonic or romantic or I will just do what I want. Length could be anywhere from a paragraph to ????

In retrospect, maybe getting up in the middle of the night because Sea Hawk had a “brilliant plan” was… not, actually a brilliant plan. In fact, getting up at any time for almost any of Sea Hawk’s ideas rarely panned out well. Made for great stories and generally was fun, but not what one might call a good idea.

“You… the lot of you, are idiots.” Netossa sounded… tired. Adora could relate, that night—well, morning, technically, had been kinda exhausting.

“You could have died,” Spinnerella added, hands on her hips, “You know that, right?”

Nine quiet murmurs of assent from nine soaked and sheepish partners in crime. Well. In all fairness, six partners in crime and three witnesses. Adora was rather solidly in the former group.

In her defense though, it had been Glimmer that roped her in.

“There you are!” Glimmer hissed, grabbing Adora’s arm.

Adora winced, glancing down the hall. She’d been on her way back to her room, doing her very best to stay quiet—Mermista’s beach house was enormous but also, apparently, very prone to squeaking. As such, she had been quite proud that she managed to make it out the bedroom door without waking Catra, a fitful sleeper at the best of times.

Having a conversation just the other side of the thin wall would definitely cause problems.

So Adora just nodded, a finger to her lips, and let Glimmer drag her down three flights of stairs without comment. That was probably her first mistake, because by the time they were down in the garage and Scorpia let out the quietest cheer, Adora was more or less complicit. After all, she couldn’t just pretend she didn’t see the truly massive stash of fireworks packed in the back of… her truck.

Sea Hawk shrugged sheepishly, but to his credit, didn’t look away when she tried to stare him down, “Mine’s at the marina, and no one else has enough trunk space.”

“Besides, this’ll be so fun!” Glimmer had shifted her grip, both hands around one of Adora’s own, looking up at her with the biggest eyes and most hopeful smile. Which really wasn’t fair. It absolutely wasn’t fair when Scorpia copied her.

Entrapta was already working on securing their cargo when Adora sighed. She knew when she was defeated. And when she kinda wanted to know what was going to happen.

Fighting back a grin, Adora gave Sea Hawk a nod, “Alright, where am I taking the payload, boss?”

Glimmer laughed and high-fived Scorpia, and suddenly Entrapta was tossing Adora her keys, some street clothes, and shoes. Which was helpful since she was in her pjs, but also brought up questions she didn’t quite know if she wanted answered.

“This is part one of my incredible three phase plan,” Sea Hawk announced, beckoning Adora to his side to show her a list.

“Step one, take the fireworks to the marina and load up my boat. Entrapta, Glimmer, and I will drive the boat back around here. You and Scorpia will return, unmoor that little floating deck thing,” he gestured behind him, which didn’t help a lot, seeing as the house was between them and the beach, “And pull it out to the boat.”

“And how, exactly, are we doing that?” Adora asked, glancing at her soon to be partner in crime.

“Oh don’t worry! Sea Hawk showed me how it’s anchored,” Scorpia assured her, “There’s a little buoy we’ll attach so it all doesn’t just sink and we can put the deck back when we’re done.”

Which was good, and honestly a little further along than Adora had been thinking.

“I meant moving the deck, that thing is kinda big.”

Sea Hawk waved her off, “That’s why I wanted you two for this part! Aside from Mermista and myself, you’re the strongest swimmers, and aside from myself, probably the strongest people here!”

Glimmer snorted, Scorpia looked skeptical, and Entrapta-

“While this is really more a longitudinal case study than a true experiment given the number of participants, all data we have shows you tend to perform well below Adora and Scorpia in feats of strength,” she paused, then offered a conciliatory grin, “So does everyone else though.”

“Mm, yes. Well,” Sea Hawk coughed, blushing a little, “In any case, you two should be able to get it out far enough to attach it to my boat.”

Hopping up into the bed of the truck, apparently for dramatic effect, Sea Hawk continued, “That is where step two begins! We will drag the deck out to sea, somewhere calm enough to shift the fireworks onto it and get them set up.”

“Entrapta and I got some special ones, and we’ll get the show wired up and ready to go,” Glimmer interjected, absolutely beaming.

“Then all of us will return here, and step three is just to gather the rest of our friends, drive back out and let them enjoy the show!”

“Why not just pick ‘em up while we’re getting the deck?” Adora asked, frowning, “That’d be quicker.”

“Yes, but if we gather them after, it will be a wonderful surprise!”

A fair point.

Things were going smoothly at first. Which was to say, they got to the marina and loaded Sea Hawk’s little pontoon up without issue, and Adora had gotten herself and Scorpia back to the beach house without crashing. There they hit a snag.

“Let’s get going then!”

“My suit’s upstairs,” Adora groaned, staring out at the water.

“Oh. Hm, yeah. That’s kinda a problem,” Scorpia said, frowning.

“Don’t suppose Entrapta grabbed one for me?”

Scorpia shook her head, “Sorry, I guess she forgot. Do you care if your clothes get wet?”

“Not really, but I don’t want more weight while we’re dragging that thing.”

There really were only two solutions, and there was absolutely no way in hell Adora was going to go skinny dipping for this.

“I’ll be right back.”

It was a moot point and Adora knew it. Even if she could get back into the room without waking Catra, there was no way she’d be able to go rummaging around for her swim suit silently. Plus, they were going to be waking everyone up later anyway… A different approach was in order.

“Catra, babe,” Adora whispered as she crawled onto the bed. Catra groaned, reaching back blindly for her. Adora felt her heart jump a little, knew the dopey ‘Catra smile,’ as Bow called it, was firmly in place as she let her girlfriend take her hand, pull her arm around her. If Scorpia wasn’t standing out there in the dark waiting for her, Adora probably would have abandoned the whole plan to cuddle.

“Catraaa.” It was the sing-song tone Adora knew Catra hated, mostly because it generally meant she wasn’t going to leave something alone.

“If you don’t have a good reason for waking me up at…” she shifted, her silhouette a halo of dark, curly hair, “one twenty in the morning, I will divorce you.”

“...We’re not married.”

“I will make you pay for an extravagant wedding and an extended honeymoon, and then I will divorce you.”

The threat didn’t really connect, not with the idea of a wedding and honeymoon with Catra implanted in her mind. But. That was not the goal here. She needed to focus.

“Wanna go blow stuff up?”

Even in the dim light from the window, Catra’s grin was brilliant.

“I fucking love you.”

“There you ar- oh! Hi Catra!” Scorpia smiled, apparently willing to take changes to the plan in stride.

“Hey, Scorpia. So, you two are gonna drag that,” she gestured at the deck, “all the way out there.” In the distance, maybe a hundred yards out, Adora could make out the lights on Sea Hawk’s boat. This was going to suck.

“That’s the plan!” Scorpia replied, still all good cheer.

The look on Catra’s face pretty clearly read, ‘That’s a shitty plan,’ but she didn’t give voice to it, instead considering the dock for a moment.

“I can give you two and extra pair of hands if I can get a ride.”

Scorpia winced, “Oh, gee, Wildcat, thanks, but it’s just... It’s pretty hea-”

“Sure!”

Adora did her best to ignore the look Scorpia gave her. She didn’t have room to talk, Adora watched her carry a whole baby tree back from the farmer’s market for Perfuma a couple days ago. Not a little one either, like, ficus sized.

For her part, Catra looked a little surprised, but the wide-eyed shock was quickly replaced with a genuine smile. She walked past both of them, grabbing the float Scorpia had mentioned—not so much a buoy as one of those plastic things on lane lines at the pool—on her way to the shoreline.

Yeah. It sucked. Immensely. The extra pair of hands actually did wind up being useful while they secured the float, but moving the deck was, in short, awful. The waves had to be the worst part, as they were still close enough to shore that the water was just kinda choppy by nature. More than once, both Adora and Scorpia got pushed back against the deck, and Adora knew pretty much her whole body was going to be sporting scrapes from the rough underside of it. Scorpia probably wasn’t fairing much better, if the grimace that had permanently etched itself on her face was anything to go by.

“Come on, I wanna see things explode.”

Catra had been pretty quiet apart from the occasional hisses and grunts of sympathy. A bit of a departure from her usual teasing and friendly insults, but a welcome one.

Finally, though, they made it. Adora wasn’t quite sure what happened in the blur between touching the back of the boat and being handed a water bottle. What she did know was somewhere in there she’d been bundled in a towel, pushed onto a seat, and surrounded, Catra on one side with Scorpia just beyond her, looking similarly out of it, and Glimmer on the other.

“Okay, so, we’re not doing that on the way back,” Glimmer announced, daring someone to challenge her.

“I… am inclined to agree,” Sea Hawk said, his head bowed, “I’m terribly sorry ladies, I underestimated the effort that would go into this part of the plan.”

Still catching her breath, and wondering if her body would ever stop throbbing, Adora just gave him a shaky thumbs up.

“We should probably get out to the launch site,” Entrapta’s voice was coming from somewhere, but Adora’s head had found its way to Catra’s shoulder and she was far too comfy to turn and look, “so you guys didn’t drag this over her for nothing.”

Between the rest, water, and cool night air, Adora started feeling a little more coherent pretty quickly, though she didn’t give up her spot against Catra, just shifted to make herself more comfortable.

Sea Hawk nodded sharply, the grin returning to his face, “You’re quite right! Let’s get going!”

“Feeling better?” Glimmer laughed as Adora propped her feet in her lap.

“Yeah. How long did it take us?”

“Probably not as long as it felt, about fifteen minutes?” Glimmer glanced over her shoulder, and Adora felt Catra nod.

Definitely not as long as it felt.

“Good news is, your part in the plan is over,” Sea Hawk called from the driver’s seat, “You two can just relax and enjoy the show!”

Going by the number of launchers and rockets, it was gonna be a sight to see. Probably worth it. Probably. Hopefully. Definitely worth the swim, hopefully worth the days of sore muscles and tender scrapes.

Speaking of—Adora hissed as one of Catra’s hands slipped under the towel, accidentally brushing over raw skin as she searched for her hand.

“Shit, sorry,” Catra murmured, lacing their fingers and giving her hand a squeeze, “I bet there’s some sorta antibiotic pain reliever stuff in the first aid kit, you want me to grab it?”

Adora shook her head, “Nah, you’re comfy. Plus we’re gonna have to swim back once we’re done.”

“Uh, no,” Glimmer’s voice allowed no room for argument, “You and Scorpia have done all the swimming you’re going to for tonight. You’ll ride back to the marina with Sea Hawk, and I’ll pick you guys up.”

“And the deck?”

Once they got out to calmer waters, the set up took a lot less time than the bulk suggested. Between Entrapta, Glimmer, and Sea Hawk, everything was attached to the deck, loaded, and programmed to Entrapta’s controls in under half an hour.

“We… will figure that out.”

“I did some of the work on the way out here,” Entrapta explained, presumably to Catra, who’d moved to watch, a gleam in her eyes.

“Dude, this is going to be awesome,” she breathed, leaning forward a little toward the platform.

Catra and Entrapta kept talking, and Adora would have been happy to continue just watching when Scorpia tapped her shoulder.

“Hey uh. I don’t know a lot about fireworks, but do you think the deck looks kinda… Crowded?”

It did. Granted, Adora had no idea how much space should be between the various launchpads, but her instincts said ‘more than that.’

“Yeah… but they’d know, right? At least Glimmer and Entrapta?”

Scorpia shrugged, “Probably.”

“Could one of you lovely ladies hand me the extra anchor? I’d like to make sure our work doesn’t float away!”

Both Adora and Scorpia stood to help, only for Catra to come and scoop it up, shaking her head at them.

“Sit.”

They sat.

Catra handed the anchor over, then returned, plopping beside Adora and flicking her forehead.

“Like Sparkles said, you’ve done your share. Relax.”

The last of the set up and the ride back were uneventful, but pleasant. Adora mostly dozed, sprawled across the bench seat, Catra keeping her pinned and unable to be helpful. When she opened her eyes and sat up again, they were back at the beach house, and she could see the others walking down to the water with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Well, Adora certainly wasn’t getting up again, not with Catra practically in her lap. That would be rude.

Adora couldn’t quite make out who was who in the dark at that distance, but there definitely weren’t enough people.

“We’re missing a couple people,” she mumbled, trying to wake up again. They’d get to sleep for real soon, but first explosions and pretty colors.

“It’s nearly three AM, they probably wanted to sleep.”

As it turned out, it was Spinnerella and Netossa, and they simply were nowhere to be found.

“Secret late night date?” Bow suggested with a shrug.

“Ugh, it literally doesn’t matter,” Mermista groaned, falling on one of the seats, “Let’s go see this thing so we can go back to sleep.”

“It will be worth it, dearest, I promise!”

Perfuma had settled beside Scorpia, and they were whispering with huge grins. So much for the surprise there, but Adora couldn’t really fault her, not with Catra still snuggled against her, though slightly more upright now to make room for the rest of the passengers.

“Alright, everyone take your seats, and we will begin our adventure!”

“Uh, Sea Hawk, where’d the deck go?”

As plans pretty much always seemed to, particularly with their friend group, this one fell apart.

“...All will be explained!”

Not immediately. They got out to the predetermined viewing coordinates, picked by Entrapta to give them ‘the optimal viewing angle,’ and set off the first few rockets. The conversations that had picked up on the way over stopped as they exploded overhead. A pause, then Mermista started laughing.

“Of course you would fucking wake us up to set things on fire.” Despite the words, Mermista was beaming, and Sea Hawk’s utterly smitten look almost made Adora forgive him for making her deal with that stupid deck. Almost.

“There’s more!” Entrapta called, gleefully setting off the next round. Everything was going great, the three—more like two—of them who actually were surprised seemed thrilled, and even though she knew the gist of what was coming, the actual show was pretty impressive.

“Worth it?” Adora asked, pressing a quick kiss to Catra’s cheek.

“Guess I’m not divorcing you after all,” she laughed, stealing a slightly longer kiss before settling back to watch.

Adora glanced around at the others. Mermista had perched on the arm of the driver’s seat, chin on Sea Hawk’s head, his arm around her waist. With most of the attention off her, her expression was soft, still a bit tired, but clearly happy. Sea Hawk looked about ready to cry with joy.

Scorpia and Perfuma were cuddled close to one another, still whispering every once in a while. Whatever they were talking about, they seemed pleased.

Glimmer had, at some point, stood up on her seat, watching the show with a huge, satisfied grin. Or at least, usually watching the show. Her attention wandered every once in a while, down to Bow, who’d stood beside her where she held his hand for balance. That grin didn’t change no matter what she was looking at, and it was mirrored in the moments Bow looked back up at her.

Then Entrapta… looked concerned. She was rapidly fiddling with the control panel, muttering something. That was a worrying thing at the best of times, but they were on a boat, in the ocean, and that thing was controlling explosives.

Sudden, rapidfire crackling and light at sea level brought everyone’s attention from the sky. The thundering boom that came after left everyone but Entrapta frozen.

“We need to be not here right now.”

A lot of things happened very quickly after that.

First was Sea Hawk, gunning the engine, only to realize a bit too late he’d anchored the boat.

Then Glimmer fell off the boat, and Bow went after her pretty much immediately. Which. Wasn’t ideal, as he was far from the strongest swimmer of the group.

At almost that same time, it became very clear why Entrapta declared they should not be where they were, as rockets started flying in not very upwards directions. Also they could see the deck. Why could they see the deck? The deck should have been further.

“The anchor.”

“What?”

“On it!”

“No! I mean, yes that, but also I…”

Adora didn’t know when she got up, but she was pulling Bow and Glimmer back onto the boat when Catra snapped.

“You forgot?!”

“Or maybe it wasn’t heavy enough! I don’t know!”

“The anchor’s up!” Perfuma called at about the same time the canvas cover over the back half of the pontoon lit up.

“Life jackets! Now, please!”

As it turned out, Netossa had a boat of her own. She and Spinnerella had been taking a cruise along the coast, enjoying a little time alone, stargazing, when the fireworks caught their attention. They found their housemates bobbing a few dozen yards from Sea Hawk’s burning boat, backlit by the also very on fire floating deck.

“This is the third fucking boat…”

One rescue mission later, they were back in the beach house living room, facing what Adora could only assume would be execution.

“In our defense,” Sea Hawk winced as the entire line whipped around to make gestures of varying levels of violence, all indicating ‘Stop talking.’

“In our defense,” he continued regardless, “no one did die. Or even got hurt!”

“What happened to them?!” Spinnerella snapped, pointing to. Oh. Pointing to Adora, and Scorpia.

“That wasn’t… entirely his fault,” Adora stepped in.

“What happened then?”

A glance. Scorpia shrugged, eyes wide.

“We, uh. Got scraped up on the bottom of the deck.”

“Why?”

Adora looked down.

“’Cause we were pulling it.”

She was positive one of the two older women were going to… She didn’t know. Bury them at sea?

Instead, there was a heavy sigh.

“Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. Assuming no patrols have already found the boat, we’re going to go get that back to shore-”

“We lifted the anchor though,” Perfuma interjected, “Just before it caught on fire.”

Netossa looked like she was trying really hard to keep from shouting. Spinnerella’s eyes were closed, jaw clenched.

“We’ll try to find it, because it’s Sea Hawk’s, and it’s registered to him. Spinny has a friend who fixes boats, so if it’s salvageable, we’ll see what we can do.”

“As for the deck,” Spinnerella took over, “Mermista, you never had a deck. None of you know anything about fireworks.”

“I got them from my aunt’s friend, so we should be okay there,” Glimmer added.

Netossa nodded, “Good. Adora, Scorpia? Let’s get the two of you cleaned up and bandaged… actually, you guys can handle that, right?”

Nods all around.

“Okay. Okay, good. Sea Hawk, you come with us and we’ll try to find your boat.”

He nodded, looking absolutely miserable as he trudged after.

Mermista sighed, then walked after him, “I’ll come with.” Sea Hawk brightened up pretty much immediately, sharing a little smile with her.

“It was pretty cool while it lasted!” Bow offered with a little thumbs up as the four of them exited.

“It really was,” Perfuma said gently, “I think it was a lovely idea that unfortunately had technical difficulties.”

“And maybe too many fireworks,” Scorpia added.

Entrapta sighed, “That… could possibly be the issue. I probably should have looked into that a bit more. But!” she grinned, “Now we know for next time!”

Adora wasn’t sure what it said about her that she wasn’t dreading that ‘next time.’ Minus the whole potentially getting set on fire bit, it had been pretty fun. Well. And the dragging the deck bit. That was pretty awful.

Getting the scrapes cleaned up wasn’t great fun either. The shower burned and the ointment was greasy and the tape around the bandages itched, but at least it was Catra helping her with it. Counting her freckles, now even more numerous thanks to several days in the sun, was a great distraction.

“Adora?”

Oh.

“Sorry, I’m awake enough for about one train of thought, what’d you say?”

Catra stood, gently pulling her to her feet from the rim of the tub.

“I said, ‘Let’s go to bed.’”

That sounded lovely, as that was what she’d been trying to do since she left the bathroom earlier that night. Rather than respond, Adora once again let herself be led, back to their bedroom this time instead of down the stairs. The door creaked as they opened it, and scraped on the doorframe when Catra kicked it closed, but this time they didn’t have to worry about waking someone up. And this time when Catra pulled Adora’s arm around her, Adora pulled her a little closer, ready to dream about that extravagant wedding and extended honeymoon.

#ask #originalavenuefox #spop #she-ra #catradora #catra #adora #glimbow and seamista and scorfuma are in there too #this was just an excuse to write the entire cast being chaotic together #*movie announcer voice* in a world... where these assholes weren't subjected to the traumas of war #they do shenanigans and are happy #the end #might actually clean this up later and cross post to my ao3 cuz I think it turned out okay #might do that with the other one too idk #i say entire cast but like okay frosta and the more adult adults aren't there

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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It’s What You Make Of It

Summary: Brody and Violet go into a port town to gather information.

Read on A03:

Brody felt the cool morning air brush against her skin as she strolled up the stairs to the deck, her hand quickly covering her eyes to help them adjust to the sudden change in light.

“Hey, Brody,” Violet walked over with some rope around her shoulder. “Gonna just drop this off then we can head into town.”

“Alright,” Brody gave a warm smile to her friend who gave a small smile in kind before disappearing below decks. It was their last day in Saltend Landing. Usually the different members of the crew would go into the town to enjoy a day away from sea and to finally feel solid land under their feet. But they were becoming tight on money and they needed to check out the town for any information where good trading spots were or any other useful information. Brody had volunteered to go along with Violet after the crew decided this. She figured it would be a good chance to see Saltend Landing and spend some time with her friend. Brody walked forward and was greeted with friendly waves by the two youngest members of the Ericson Pirates. Willy and Tenn were busy playing with Rosie who enjoyed the love and attention, barking energetically and hopping around when Willy tossed an old bone for her to fetch.

“Heading into town?” Ruby’s cheerful voice drew Brody’s attention over to the helm of the ship where the ship’s medic stood by Aasim who held a map in his hands.

“That’s right, just waiting for Vi.” As soon as Brody had finished her sentence, Violet emerged from below decks, tucking away a small pouch of coins in her pocket.

“Let’s go,” Violet mumbled, giving a final wave to the other street rats before jumping down onto the dock with a hearty thunk.

“We’ll be back in a few hours,” Brody flashed a final smile then ran down the walkway to catch up with Violet. The two walked in silence for a few minutes until Violet spoke up.

“So, tavern first?”

“Sounds good to me,” Brody smiled over to her friend then turned her eyes back to the town in front of her. It was a busy port. Children ran throughout the street giggling and playing with toy swords while some stalls were getting set up, ready for what they hoped would be a good day’s work. Some seagulls cawed and flew around in the crystal blue sky, hovering over the different nets that lay on the edges of small fishing boats. “This sure is a pretty town.”

“I don’t know,” Violet’s body language became more closed off. “It’s too similar.”

“Too similar?’ Brody glanced over at her friend with confusion.

“To the streets where I grew up. I have some good memories there,” Violet absentmindedly brushed her hand over the bracelet on her wrist, “But most aren’t.”

Brody studied her friend and noticed the sadness in her eyes. She figured it would be best not to push the subject. Instead Brody tried to move the conversation elsewhere. “Well, how many ducats do we have for getting information?”

“Not much,” Violet shook her head. “Louis just loves buying sea shanties way too fucking much. Spouts some bullshit about how it makes us feel more like pirates now that we’ve got a name and all.” It had only been about two months since they had taken on the name of the Ericson Pirates. Since then Louis along with other members of the crew - mainly Mitch and Willy - had become determined to be the best pirates ever. ‘Be the pirates we want to see in the world’ is how Louis put it. But so far it just seemed to lead them into more trouble and more Wanted posters. Luckily, the Ericson Pirates weren’t known at Saltend Landing and they would like to keep it that way.

“Well, the shanties do help with the long voyages,” Brody stated optimistically.

“I guess,” Violet moved towards the door of the tavern and held it open for her friend who gave thanks when she stepped in first. Once they entered the tavern became quiet for a moment, every eye on the pair of pirates before the patrons of the joint lost interest and resumed their conversation and drinking.

Violet led the way forward towards the barkeeper who was busy cleaning a wooden tankard mug. He glanced up from his task. “What can I getcha?”

“Information,” Violet took a seat on a stool and Brody soon followed suit.

“Of?”

“Good port towns for trading,” Brody’s voice drew over the man’s attention.

“And any other information that may help in making quick coin,” Violet added.

The barkeep placed down the tankard and cloth on the counter. “I may know of such information….” A smug expression covered his face, “For a price.”

Violet grumbled and took out some ducats, tossing the coins across the counter. The barkeep gave a small chuckle and picked them up, tucking them away in his shirt pocket.

“Heard the Harbor of Rary and Drumder Port are known for their trading and fair prices. Whether that be for selling or buying.” He resumed cleaning the tankard. “They’re out west of here, should be clear on any map. But,” His eyes suddenly glanced up and locked with Violet’s. “If you seek adventure, tales tell of a treasure far greater than any man can make in a lifetime. The location of which is on this scrap of paper.” The barkeep held a piece of paper in between his index and middle finger. Violet reached forward to take it, only for the man to pull back his hand. “For the right price.”

“Of fucking course,” Violet grumbled under her breath.

“Excuse us for a minute,” Brody placed a hand on Violet’s shoulder and motioned over to the far corner of the tavern. The girls made their way over before bringing their voices down to whisper.“So, should we go for it?” Brody asked, the indecision clear on her face.

“I don’t know,” Violet crossed her arms. “It could be a load of shit.”

“True. We have followed some pretty bizarre coordinates in the past and have found ourselves thrown into one disaster after another.”

“On the other hand, we always get ourselves into trouble so it doesn’t matter whether it comes from, shitty information here or elsewhere. Besides,” Violet let out a tired sigh, “We don’t have many ducats left. So throwing away one or two coins won't make a huge difference if we get to a good trading port.” Violet glanced over at the barkeep who seemed amused by their predicament. “It just depends if we want to go on a potential wild goose chase.”

“Mitch and Willy would love that and the thought of finding long lost treasure would make Louis happy,”

Violet shook her head. It seemed a poor motivation to do it to make the dumbasses of the crew happy, yet that’s where they were headed. “Let’s go for it.”

“Okay,” Brody nodded in agreement. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

The two walked over. Violet slammed down two ducats with an unreadable expression. “Two ducats. Take it or leave it.”

“Five,” The barkeeper crossed his arms with a frown.

“Three and I won’t kick your ass.” Violet snapped back.

The barkeeper snorted at her threat but one look into her eyes made it clear that she would do it. “Fine,” He flung the piece of paper towards Violet who snatched it up. Brody and Violet shared a small smile, proud of the negotiation.

“Well, where to next?” Brody strolled forward and pushed open the door.

“I don’t know,” Violet shrugged. “I want to go back to the ship, but is there somewhere else you want to go?”

“Hmm,” Brody placed a hand on her chin, her eyes scanning the area before seeing a stand with different trinkets, bright and colorful. “Could we check out that stand?”

“Sure,” A ghost of a smile appeared on Violet’s lips when she saw the pure joy and excitement dancing in her friend’s eyes. When they started to make their way over there, however, both girls froze in their tracks for a moment before resuming their stroll again.

“We’re being followed,” Brody whispered over to Violet.

“I know. Looks like some of the guys that were in the tavern,” Violet nudged Brody’s side and motioned towards an alleyway. “Follow me.”

Brody immediately followed her friend who guided them while still maintaining a level of normalcy so the men following them wouldn’t catch onto the fact that Violet and Brody knew they were being tracked. When they had entered the shadows of the alleyway, they stopped. The men slowly walked towards them with blades drawn. “Turn around slowly and give us all your coin.” One of the men demanded.

“And that treasure map,” The other snapped.

Violet and Brody shared a quick glance. A plan formulated in their minds immediately. Brody turned to face the thieves and carefully took the coin pouch from Violet. With a quick flick of her wrist, she threw the pouch in the air. Spinning sharply, Violet decked the man on the right, sending him flying back and landing hard on his ass. Brody’s hand gripped the hilt of her rapier, sliding it out of its sheath. She knocked out the man’s knife from his hand and held the blade towards his throat.

“You’re… you’re pirates,” The man’s eyes darted between the two girls.

Violet crouched down and sent a hard hit against the thief’s face as he lay on the ground, knocking him out.

“That’s right,” Brody spoke with a steady, commanding tone. “So if you don’t want to die, I suggest leaving.”

The man took a shaky step back before sprinting off into the streets, leaving his companion behind as he struggled to create as much distance from Brody and Violet.

Brody let out a shaky breath and sheathed her blade while Violet pickpocketed the unconscious man for all he was worth. When Violet was finished with her task, she turned around to talk to Brody. That was when she noticed that her friend’s hands were shaking violently. Brody’s breathing was uneven even though she was trying to steady it.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Violet made her way over. “Just take some deep breaths.”

Brody nodded and clenched her fists while she inhaled, releasing the pressure on her hands when she exhaled. Violet stood by her friend’s side patiently as she continued the technique that Ruby had taught all the crew members after Brody had her first panic attack in front of them. After a few minutes, Brody felt her anxiety decrease and her breathing return to normal.

“You okay?” Violet looked over with concern.

“Yeah,” Brody took another deep breath before giving a warm smile. “I’ve been getting a lot better ever since I joined you guys.” She leaned against the alley wall. “Well, for the most part. But definitely better than when I was back home,” Brody’s eyes became hidden as she turned her face downward. “Back then my anxiety and panic attacks were pretty regular. My father’s expectations really stressed me out. Made me feel pretty worthless if I didn’t fulfill his ambitions for me.” Brody’s eyes widened when she looked up at Violet. “Shit, sorry. Probably don’t wanna hear about that.”

“It’s fine. Parents can be…” Violet’s voice trailed off. Her eyes made it clear that her mind was elsewhere. After a few seconds, Violet shook herself out of her thoughts. “Anyway, it’s good to hear. Seems you don’t regret your choice to join us.” She looked over with a small smile, her back leaned against the wall opposite to Brody.

“I don’t regret it for a second. I’ve felt more free and happy than I ever did at home with my parents.” Brody’s warm smile faltered “Sounds bad to say that about my family.”

“Family is what you make of it. Doesn’t matter if you’re related by blood or not.” Violet paused, struggling between the option to share more or not. “My father stopped being my family when my mom died. Since then Willy, Mitch, Tenn...” Her eyes wandered down to her bracelet, a somber expression on her face. “And those that are no longer here became my family.” Violet took a deep breath. “Louis talks about how this crew is a family.” She rested her head against the wall, her eyes searching the skies above before glancing over at Brody. “Though it was bullshit at first, who knows. Maybe he’ll end up being right.”

“Heh, if it does, it will be the oddest family ever,” A lighthearted chuckle escaped Brody’s lips. “Four street rats, a warden’s daughter, a guard, a con man, a rich boy,his ex-servant and a dog.”

“Yeah, it is pretty weird,” Violet’s gaze turned away from her friend.

“But I hope it does become true,” Brody’s statement made Violet look over and lock eyes with her. “Becoming a family.”

“Mhm,” Violet mumbled, a faint smile on her face. “It would be.” With one final breath, she kicked herself off the wall and strolled forward, grabbing the coin pouch that she had taken from the thief and tossing it in the air. “Wanna head to the stand? You can buy whatever you want.” Violet snatched the pouch in midair with a smirk. “After all, he’s paying.” She gestured to the man on the ground.

“Sounds good to me,” Brody saw the smile grow on Violet’s face before she led them out of the alleyway. Walking alongside her friend, Brody’s eyes caught sight of the ship docked in the harbor. A family, one made of her own choosing. The thought made her heart swell with a warm and fuzzy feeling. It was a pleasant thought, one she truly hoped would come true.

#twdg #fanfic #a pirate's life for me au #twdg brody #twdg violet #brody violet brotp

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