#I haven’t done any comics on it just yet because I didn’t know exactly what to do

[chloesimaginationthings]

The true meaning behind FNAF princess quest

[cozymochi]

🌻 >:)

IM FOUND ONE OF THESE MEMES IN MY DRAFts! Im gonna rank my experiences in the major fandoms i’ve engaged with.

🩵 YUGIOH! - Second longest running fascination. Upside!! Made life long friends. DOWNSIDE!! Was my first go at online engagement and in those 10 years so much happened that I still can’t help but feel a little sour. …Though ygo back in the day wasn’t good at tag comments, so I didn’t even know those were a thing for years until I branched out. 5/10. But grows to a 7/10 because i’ve settled into a niche area with so few people that it’s now a silly little club. 💕

🧡 Dragon Ball/Z - GENUINE CHAOS. Started off slow but intensified hard cuz get who got involved while Super was airing??? (I didn’t watch it lol), so the discourse and fighting was at an all time high. I have no idea how I even survived this in retrospect. My slight association with people netted me troll asks and my liking of Yamcha also set me up for those. …and frequent art reposting, and quite a few bizarre interactions. Pretty sure my art and edits have circulated more in latin america than I even know. This was also pre-tumblr purge so the amount of nsfw that got thrown my way is… something. That said!! Made also really good friends 💕 and DB/Z probably desensitized me to longer form discussions. 5/10 for insanity, but 8/10 for good reception and VERY PEAK and generous humans.

I think dbz hardened me.

💚 Invader Zim- started off fun (mostly irl with my friendo from days of YGO), but quickly devolved into territory that tested my patience. WHY ON EARTH THIS SERIES’ CONSUMERS had such a huge morality high ground base is beyond me. It’s this fandoms fault I learned about certain modern day online discourse terms and what instilled an irrational posting fear for a year lol. Fun at first and there’s super creative and receptive folk (then those people got kicked out) and left the most insufferable beings imaginable. There’s no in between. Shoutout to all 3 friends made who are still peak. 3/10, if I ever finish any remaining projects or decide to bite the bullet and show completed work, i’m not engaging again. The base just skews somewhere I can’t handle. Which is crazy given the ABOVE contenders have, on paper, done so much more.

dbz hardened me but iz weakened me. Which is probably why i need the formers bootcamp back. Don’t think I’m as fearful now, but i’ll still be salty.

💜 Twisted Wonderland - this is a work in progress experience. Will require further evaluation if all of the above experiences haven’t set my standards. Will stay in my corner. So far it’s 6/10 in vibes (they’re much calmer than the last one), tho I question how much of the interest is from what i do vs. what I did for others. Haven’t shared a ton of opinions yet and god knows lol we don’t want that /s. Still recovering from the former making me wanna just not do much. Baby steps I suppose.

💙 - Sonic The Hedgehog: This is a cheat, I have never interacted with the fandom directly (purely by happenstance, so thankfully no traces exist), but I have been into this since I was a child with no issues. So by default this is the best one. 10/10, didn’t engage, but I do lurk. Though all the stuff I see on tweeter isn’t exactly anything out of the norm for fandoms in general to do, so it weirds me out that people rag on this one for just kinda talking amongst themselves about innocuous things.

“omg this fandom is arguing over QUILL length ughhh can they never be pleased [30 yt videos about this drop]” ngl, this just feels like par for the course junk fandoms do. It really feels no different from DBZ where people go ham about the art style changes and which one is better. Or stupid shit in IZ where they fight about comics vs movie vs show. Like??? The only major difference here is that StH has more people in it (by the millions).

So literally nothing these folk do or say strikes me as anything more serious than what other fandoms already do??? Its just more outsiders see it then churn out content and perpetuate something worse from what’s honestly….pretty tame stuff. Maybe it’s just twitter’s setup given that’s all folk talk about.

[cxdemistake]

| Hi friends—

So under the cut here, I have an idea for a possible comic/fic I want to make. It’s regarding JJBA, specifically part 3 bc you know I love my boy Jotaro. It’s very long so that’s why it’s under a cut! It’s not fully fleshed out yet, so please forgive any vagueness or possible inconsistencies!

Also if you’re here from Discord hi I love you— |

My idea begins when DIO awakens. If I’m looking at the timeline right, it was around when Jotaro was 12. He started having very vivid dreams, most of them random but normal, besides being extremely vivid, and he could never control them. But when DIO began converting people to his cause like in Part 1— killing, making others into vampires/zombies, etc.— the dreams became nightmares. He stopped wanting to sleep, because he didn’t want to witness the horror anymore. He tried to tell Holly, but she couldn’t understand how he was having dreams this horrific and thought maybe he was being influenced at school. She listened, of course, but she didn’t know how to handle this situation on her own.

Holly took Jotaro to multiple doctors, and they told her they couldn’t figure out why he didn’t want to sleep, because he was otherwise healthy. Jotaro started becoming more irritable and hard to manage, but Holly didn’t want to push him by being too naggy, so that was why she was always so complacent with him.

(Note: As for why she didn’t contact the SPF or Joseph, I’m thinking his hatred of all things Japanese was part of her reasoning for not wanting to talk to him until after Jotaro went to jail— she thought it was more trouble than it was worth and that maybe it would be fine if she could figure out what was wrong.)

The twist here is that the dreams weren’t really dreams. I don’t think DIO needs to sleep as a vampire (at least not that much?) so what Jotaro was seeing was either memories (if DIO did sleep) or he was seeing exactly what DIO was doing as he was doing it, as a further connection to DIO having Jonathan’s body and using it for his own purposes.

He didn’t know anything about Stands until his own manifested, but I imagine he saw when DIO manifested The World and was confused, even though he still thought it was a dream. But when Star Platinum appeared, he just assumed that this was some kind of karmic punishment and didn’t want to risk hurting anyone else after how he’d beaten the group of men up— so that was why he didn’t want to leave the jail.

I haven’t gotten into how this would work further into the story except for a few small things. First, he’d vaguely recognize Avdol, as he would’ve seen him running from DIO in his dream, but the outcome of their fight remains the same— there’s a little more hesitance on Jotaro’s part to hurt Avdol, but he still chokes him and breaks out of the cell to get to him.

Second, when Joseph shows off his own Stand and shows the picture to Jotaro, it triggers something in him. He almost brings out Star Platinum to destroy the image, but he doesn’t since they’re in a public place. It takes a lot of prompting and pleading from Holly, but eventually he spits it out.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but… this man is the one I keep seeing in my dreams. He’s done so many despicable things. I’ve seen everything he’s done. He’s why I can’t sleep, why I don’t want to.”

It’s a very serious moment, but it still doesn’t stop Joseph from yelling that he can’t believe he’s spent so much money to break cameras when he could’ve just asked his own grandson to go to sleep for a bit.

It becomes a running gag at some points, too. “Jotaro, you need to sleep.”

“I’m not tired, leave me alone, old man.”

“We need to know DIO’s next move, dammit, now shut your eyes already!”

Of course the journey is still long and full of shenanigans, bc why wouldn’t it be? Eventually, though, like with Hermit Purple, DIO catches on. He starts doing things to deliberately torment Jotaro’s mind, taunts him about his mother, says he’ll take great pleasure in killing the Crusaders, and it becomes even harder for him to sleep. It takes more out of him every day, but the other Crusaders insist he needs to sleep, and they take turns watching him when he finally collapses to be sure to wake him if he gets too restless.

Anything further beyond this I’d need to develop more, but I like the idea so far.

A bonus twist for the end (completely optional): DIO could also see what Jotaro saw and kept it to himself until the final battle, meaning he knew all of their steps in advance and was just as confident he’d win as he was in canon… only for Jotaro to absolutely destroy him.

As another bonus, I can imagine when they’re fighting Death 13 that he’s unfazed and he’s just like “I’ve had worse nightmares than this.” and the other Crusaders become even more concerned.

[plutonicmirror]

Zero Hour (1994) #0 [and Zero Hour in general]

Let’s continue my Zero Hour first reading. After skipping some filler tie-in issues, I reached the finale. Again, funny numbering gimmick with a 0 issue. I think Marvel also had something similar with their -1 issues back then. Oh, the 90s!

Hal Jordan Parallax reveals his master plan: “I’m gonna erase the universe so hard, I’m gonna create a new one where everything is right and everyone is happy™”. Classic case of a hero reacting to tragedy the readers are supposed to know about the Emerald Twilight story arc, but I’m LARPing as a snot-eating 10yo in 1994 who just started reading comics and doesn’t have enough attention span to know the lore with absurd amounts of cope and a plan that sounds extremely good on paper, but that other heroes must oppose because morality yadda yadda yadda. Looking at you, Injusticeverse.

Shout-out to my man Danger, a D-lister that was brought to the final fight fOr a ReAsOn. I’m gonna be honest, I skipped his tie-in because I couldn’t give a fuck about who he was. I usually like me some B/C/D/Z listers, but I also don’t give a fuck about DC’s Titans and his book was apparently tied to that whole mess so I was like “meh, next”. I mean, this young dude is a nobody right....?

*one trip to a comics wiki later*

Oh...

Ahem, moving on. The Spectre shows up looking for REVENGE after all of the JSA folks get ultra aged up or straight up deleted from existence, even though they had previously asked him for help and he was like “nah that’s human bullshit, I ain’t movin’ any finger”. Good job, asshole.

So yeah, remember our D-lister? Turns out his power (which is absorbing energy and making explosions) is specifically needed to counter Parallax’s new Big Bang. So our heroes’ plan is...to recreate the universe exactly as it was. So basically Parallax’s plan but done by them because fuck you Parallax, you don’t get to play God. Except...it doesn’t come out exactly as it was, because there’s “““subtle changes”““. In a meta way, this event was supposed to be a soft reboot to fix some of the fuckery that Crisis on Infinite Earths (a big event I haven’t read yet out of fear) caused. Was it accomplished? According to Comic Pop’s Back Issues video on this event... it kind of wasn’t. Sidenote, I highly recommend that channel’s Back Issues series, after reading an event it’s fun to watch a recap that adds background bits for the uncultured (like me) even if I sometimes feel the critique of the host is too harsh.

A not-Killing-Joke’d Batgirl from another timeline who temporarily sided with Parallax because she was doing her best “I want to be a real boy” Pinocchio impersonation got killed in the heat of the moment, so the other normal-powered hero in the room (Green Arrow) gets pissed at his former bestie. After this whole event he ragequits btw and apparently a common joke is that many readers think that should be the standard reaction to the whole thing.

Parallax is seemingly killed but it’s comics so he’ll be fine, trust the process. If I recall correctly, Hal gets to be the new Spectre for a while [*Vietnam flashbacks of Identity Crisis*]. I forgot to mention that the current Green Lantern of the time Kyle Rayner and Wally West were also “killed off”. Again, they’ll be fine. I just didn’t care enough to read a wiki and find out how they come back. But that bit brings us to this “oh yeah, that happened” moment:

Power Girl was pregnant and gave birth to a baby with the help of Wonder Woman who conveniently decided to play midwife instead of stepping up to the threath. Bue hey, guess who also was sort of born in the aftermath of this event? That’s right, I was! So surely that means that baby is a very important char-

Whoops, nevermind.

FINAL THOUGHTS ON THE WHOLE EVENT:

“7/10 it was alright” - IGN.

The contrarian in me doesn’t hate it like most nerds out there do, but it’s certainly not the greatest event ever written. Granted I went in without knowledge of a lot of stuff, like how was I supposed to make sense of what was happening in the Hawkman tie-in issue aka the whole “let’s try to solve the problem of having multiple origins for this character by literally merging them all into one” thing? How could I know what CoIE fuckery needed to be fixed if I don’t know the big impact of CoIE besides Supergirl being killed off (this fact is cultural osmosis at this point)? Did it matter to me in the long run? Not really, because it’s not like I feel compelled to keep reading DC continuity and make sense of it for the time being. The art was good, the colors were pretty, the Parallax suit was rad, the pose Ollie made at the end was Jojo-esque and dramatic, Batman fucking off from the final fight via being killed was good.

Now, the tie-ins. Some of them were fun, some of them were a drag to read because I had no idea of background info for most of them. Almost all of the Superman tie-ins were fun to read with the exception of Steel because I was tired of wiki-hunting when I reached his issue, shout out to the alternate Jor-El and Lara, the Alpha Centurion and the “Superman tries to save the Kents during the chronal rift” stories (Superman vol. 2 #93, Adventures of Superman #516, Action Comics #703 respectively). The Legion of Superheroes and adjacent issues were extremely confusing to me as a casual but oddly engaging. I had no idea what was happening but it was sort of fun. It revived my itch to read LoSH comics even if I’m still feeling overwhelmed at the mere thought of going further with that task. Oh yeah, the silent Green Arrow issue was a lot of fun! (Green Arrow vol. 2 #90).

The characters introduced were a mixed bag. On one hand we have Bart Allen aka Impulse, who was created in the prequel to this event and was sort of interesting. But then the chronal rift time erasure bullshit happens and since he’s from the 30th century he basically does nothing of importance... Alpha Centurion, as I mentioned, was a fun read in his Adventures issue but in the core event he was... a convenient minion. Thriumph? Thriump was an annoying character, one of those “oh yeah he was totally there in the beggining of the big team but the big name characters just don’t remember tee hee!”. Don’t worry though, he would later die of a cold. Or something like that. Extant felt edgy throughout most of the core issues and the tie-ins, he really had that Madara Uchiha endgame villain energy...until he was revealed to be just a pawn that was just rebelling. And then he fucks off. Shout-out to this specific goofy panel:

Tie-in issues skipped: Anima #7, Batman: Shadow of the Bat #31, Damage #6, Robin vol. 2 #10, Showcase ‘94 #10, Steel #8, Team Titans #24 (yeah, this team got erased from existence and I just couldn’t care), The Darkstars #24. Also skipped: all of the Zero Month aftermath gimmick #0/soft reboot issues.

New Year’s resolution when it comes to DC? I’ll get around reading the 70s Green Arrow and Green Lantern book. Ever since I found some academic paper on it that mentioned the words environmentalism and malthusian I was like “ok wtf I have to read this”.

Tytyty for reading my blog.

[echoesagain]

#8

Don’t often include trigger warnings but this includes (mild) self-harm and mental health shit. You’ve been warned

Probably going to be a long one this time. It’s been a while since the last one (at least it’s felt like ages), doesn’t affect much anyway. Uni exams all done, my time is coming to an end for first year. Back home, smiles, drinks and making more drunk mistakes- what more could a 19 year old physics student want?

So, a lot of shit has happened, as you’d expect. I got a very interesting book called Radio Silence by Alice Oseman and holy fuck, did it wreck me. For context, the only other Oseman content I had read before this was Heartstopper (web-comic then netflix show) and I thought it was alright, loved the art style. But, wow, she writes incredibly. I haven’t cried in over a decade and that book made me have to hold back full on sobs. I had to put it down several times to curl up into a ball and try and block out the avalanche of noise, the tirade of life bearing down on me. I am convinced I had some kind of mental episode as I ended up balling up a fist and pounding it into my desk again and again until the feeling of air on my knuckles caused me to wince, the mere idea of twitching a finger caused me agony.

Quick break- I am not mentally ill. I have never exhibited any mental symptoms before this nor since. I can’t explain why or justify myself, I just felt the urge to let it all out while reading it. In that sense, Radio Silence was one of the most cathartic books I’ve ever read. I promptly bought Solitaire and Loveless and read them in similar “all-at-once” fashions but without the whole going completely fucking insane. Reading this all back, I seem like a troll or an attention-seeker. I promise, I am only the latter, my previous posts are more than enough evidence of that. The worst part is, I don’t know exactly what about Radio Silence caused it to happen. I don’t relate to any of the characters that much (no more than other fictitious characters) and the plot has no resemblance of my life or experiences other than I’m a first year uni student.

It scared me. I scared me. It was such a rush of emotions from nothing and, believe me, I have reread that book three times in as many days (and yes, I got it three days ago). I have had similar reactions each time but I managed to avoid pulping my fist on each re-read. I have found no particular character, plot development or even sentence that had any cause to distress me so. All I know is, that book causes me to slowly build tension in my body until it all comes out and ruins me. I didn’t sleep at all yesterday and I’m writing this at 1:05 am at the uni football pitches working on around 40 hours since I last slept.

For christs sake, I relate to Georgia Warr more than Aled, Frances or Daniel yet for some fucking reason, I can’t let it go. Yeah, apologies that this blog became a kind of fucked up book review/ rant. For what it’s worth, the book is incredible and I cannot describe my experience as negative, only very confusing but very, very interesting. 9/10 because I cannot justify self harm.

Now, I’m forced to question my mental health. I’m hoping it was just a one-off, freak accident caused by decades of bottling up my emotions (#toxicmasculinityftw) but I can’t call myself a self- respecting physicist and write something off as a “random error”, especially when that something is as big as this. Maybe I do relate to Frances or Aled or Daniel more than I thought I did and I just didn’t realise it. Maybe I just got so immersed in the writing style that I just felt so empathetic towards the characters (especially Aled) that I couldn’t help it? Honestly, who knows and, frankly, speculation on a bench at 1:13 am will get me no where. I passed several parties of people on my way here, all presumably celebrating exams end and I couldn’t help but wonder if I envied them or if I’d sooner shoot myself than be in such an environment. Maybe it’s all to do with company.

Sorry, getting too speculative again. All I know is, I need to read Radio Silence again, Alice Oseman is a phenomenal writer and their writing style is just so relatable (maybe that’s how 50’s kids felt when they read Catcher in the Rye? Idk, I enjoyed it but the writing was “so phony” and it “killed me”). Regardless, more research is needed, I’ve never felt more confused (and that’s coming from someone who still isn’t sure of their sexuality) and I need some chips. Until next time!

[thewertsearch]

Asks Compilation 27/6

I’ve heard about this! They’re both games about building up your house, so they’re a natural fit. Do send those games along when I get to the point when you can!

It’s just like being a furry - sure, it seems weird, but many subcultures do. There’s not really anything wrong with weirdness, after all. 

They’re a street gang, and they’re led by Gamzee himself. Watch out, Markiplier. 

The whole thesis of the music video is a celebration of everyday miracles. 

Sure, it’s presented in a pretty bizarre way, but there is a good point there - life is full of things that, by rights, should never stop impressing us. 

Jade + AC = future Juggalos? 

Look. All I’m saying is: have you memorized Maxwell’s equations?

Jokes aside, I guess it’s pretty easy not to know how magnets work when you explicitly don’t listen to scientists...

I didn’t even know there was one, to be honest.

It’s not unrealistic to see these thirteen-year-olds from 2009 dropping slurs, but I try not to include them in the commentary. 

Bec is the invincible Super Dog, and he will help her complete the level. He’s even white! 

Blue-bloods scoff at the low-brow Daedric, and Red-bloods think anyone who uses original script is stuffy and boring.

Thanks!! I’m finding I’m enjoying this project more with every Act. There’s just so much to get into with this comic!

It occurs to me that the later you find this blog, the more of a backlog you have to catch up on. Which, depending on your perspective, can be another positive!

As for the ‘sona.. to be honest, it’s taken a lot of willpower not to pause the liveblog and make a full fanfiction for her Sburb adventures. 🤣 Guess I need all the Sburb lore to do that, though, and it’s fun to slowly develop her session as we slowly learn how sessions work. 

Aw, shucks. Honestly, I haven’t really done any sprite art in years, but when I was answering the Alchemy ask, I realized I just had to depict these items I was coming up with!

Btdubs, I used Aseprite for all the art, including the gifs. Highly recommend it. 

Oh, dang it, I didn’t even notice! Gotta amend the script a little, because that might cause some problems with interpreting the text down the line. 

He kind of is that, isn’t he? 

This was my full prediction for Gamzee’s personality, based solely on his username. The guy isn’t exactly a thrill-seeker, but he is a sopor addict with little concern for his health. Once again, these usernames really say a lot. 

Yeah, if you actually think about what’s happening in John’s case, you can make an argument that his entry was the most stressful of all. He was the first in, and understood his situation the least, while Rose and Dave at least had the benefit of knowing what an Entry was. 

I didn’t think to interpret John’s hesitation to bite the apple as a deer-in-headlights response, but, now that I think about it, that may have been exactly what was happening. 

No, but now I wish it was.

Sally official title CONFIRMED as Chef of Food. 

Since it’s not Terezi, I don’t think any of the trolls we’ve seen so far are Vriska - the vibes aren’t right. I think it’s one of the five trolls we haven’t heard from yet...

Dimple, eh? I hope he doesn’t start possessing people, like some other Dimples I know...

* Smells like SC4L3M4T3S. 

That’s one of my favorite Undertale quotes, and it’s only fitting that it be a Terezi reference. 

I actually don’t remember fighting that dude in Undertale, but yep, apparently it’s a Hotland spawn. The references never end!

Thank you! Had a ton of fun making those items. 

I’ll hopefully be making more of them, down the line - maybe next time my Kidsona will try to make meta-items incorporating the Alchemiter, Kernelsprites, etc? 

Act 5 has been a great demonstration of dramatic irony. We know all the trolls will end up in the same session, and we know the session is doomed - the only thing we don’t know is how we got to that point.

Why does this feel like something Terezi would actually do?

And yeah, the gradual reveal that all of Terezi’s bizarre behavior with the kids was her actual personality is one of the best and most understated bits in the comic so far. 

Terezi would fit really well in the Ace Attorney universe - either as one of the many unhinged human lawyers, or as a straight-up alien in a crossover game. 

I honestly feel like Terezi would make a really good lawyer irl, with the proper training. Her mannerisms wouldn’t be a problem if she had talent - and I think she has talent. 

Heh. To be honest, the Witch class has always been the one that sounds the coolest to me. Bard and Maid are in joint second place, but I just love the irony of a technically-minded Player getting a mystically-flavored class - just like Jade did, I suppose!

[cloudybarnes]

the reveal

Pairing: peter parker x bestfriend!reader

Summary: after years of being friends, y/n wants to tell peter just how she feels. the night she decides to tell him, she walks in on him in his spider-man suit and suddenly second guesses if it’s the right time

Word Count: 2.7k+

Warnings: one curse word 

A/N: added in some platonic interactions with ned and y/n cause why not :)

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰ 

“I think I just failed our math test.” You huffed as you dropped your lunch tray onto the table. 

Peter and Ned left an open spot between them for you to squeeze into. 

“Honestly, I don’t see how you could have failed this test, (Y/N).” Peter chuckled.

“Yeah,” Ned agreed, “if you think you failed this test, then I don’t even want to know what I got.”

That made you laugh. “Okay, maybe not failed, but definitely not my best. I feel like I know what we’re learning, but it’s hard to do on paper, you know?”

Peter nodded his head. 

“Whatever,” you chuckled, “let’s talk about something else. What are we doing after school?”

Peter whipped his head to you, “we had after school plans?”

“Well not exactly, but it’s Friday so I thought we could do something fun.”

Ned agreed, “Yeah, plus we haven’t all hung out in a while.”

Peter sighed, “Guys, I have that Stark thing tonight remember? I can’t just abandon my internship.”

You pout and poke Peter’s arm, “but all you ever do now is go to your internship. It’s like Ned and I don’t even see you anymore, Pete.”

“She’s right. You were so busy last weekend, (Y/N) and I had to go to the opening of her sister’s dance recital all by ourselves.”

“I mean, I understand why he didn’t want to go to that one. It was a nightmare.” You chuckled. 

Peter sighed, “Listen, I’m really sorry I’ve missed a lot. I’ll make it up to you guys, I promise.”

“So... tonight?” You asked hopefully. “I swear, we will make it worth the time of the all mighty Peter Parker.” You teased as you bumped your shoulder with Peter’s.

He nervously chuckled, “Y-yeah! Okay, um, yeah, tonight.”

You giggled, noticing a new warmth to his cheeks. “So, what time do you get done?”

“Get done?” He repeated.

“You know, your internship.” Ned reminded him.

Peter gasped, “Oh, right! Right, my internship. Um, actually it might be late, are you sure you want to do it tonight?”

You shrugged, “It’s the weekend, I’m sure my parents won’t mind. Please Peter, we haven’t hung out in forever! The internship is eating up your social life!” You chuckled.

Ned gasped, “oh my god, we should totally have a sleepover at Peter’s tonight! I can bring some comics and movies for us.”

You cheered, “Yes! That would be so fun!” You noticed Peter looked a little awkward from the conversation. “Unless, you just don’t want to hang out, which is totally okay! Ned and I could always ju-”

“No!” Peter yelled.

He looked around the cafeteria, embarrassed. He cleared his throat. “I-I mean, no, I do want to hang out with you guys tonight. I think I should be getting back around ten, so you guys can come to my place.”

Ned gasped, “Peter, you work that late and you’re not even getting paid?”

He chuckled nervously, “well, yeah. I just really like working for Mr. Stark, so I don’t mind it.” Peter wiggled around awkwardly, almost like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Peter’s hand rested on his leg, and you placed yours on top of his. He looked up at you, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. 

You gave his hand a squeeze. “Peter, you’re my best friend. I can see how you’re acting right now. If you don’t want to hang out tonight, that’s totally understandable. We get how important this is to you, and we wouldn’t want to get in the way of your opportunity.”

Peter’s face softened into one with a smile. He squeezed your hand back, “thanks (Y/N), that means a lot. I do want to hang out with you guys, though. We’re going to have a sleepover at my place tonight, and it’ll be fun. I promise.”

Peter cleared his throat, and stood up. “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to use the bathroom real quick.”

Once Peter left, Ned started to chuckle. 

You turned to him and smiled, “what’s so funny?”

“What’s funny is how obvious it is that you have a thing for Peter.”

You giggled, “come on Ned, no I don’t.”

Ned shook his head and grinned at you, “I know you do; I just know these things. The way the two of you look at each other is like you’re in some rom com.”

You groan, “okay fine, I do like Peter. And I’m only telling you this because your my best friend, not because I want you to tell him!”

Ned scoffed, “please, of course I’m not going to tell Peter. You should be the one to do it.”

You smiled and lightly pushed his shoulder with your own. “Thanks, Ned. Also, don’t make anything awkward now that you know, okay? Peter will definitely know something is up.”

Ned made an ‘x’ over his chest. “Cross my heart!”

You look away from Ned just in time to see Peter walking back into the cafeteria. He takes his seat next to you and gives you a smile.

“Oh Peter!” Ned said, “I forgot that I have plans tonight already. My mom wanted me to try out this new yoga video with her. She thinks it’ll be a nice way to relax and release tension.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Peter nodded, “we can always hang out some other time.”

“Oh!” Ned gasped, “Well, (Y/N)’s still free tonight. The two of you can have that sleepover still. I’ll lend you my comics.”

“Yeah! That-that sounds cool.” Peter looked at you and smiled, “I’m down if you are.”

You grinned, “Totally! I’ll never turn down the chance to hang out with you.”

Peter blushed at that. 

You smiled at Ned, “Sorry you can’t come! We’ll miss you tonight.” You winked.

Ned chuckled a little, “It’s okay, there’s always next time.”

The bell that signaled lunch was over rang. The three of you stood up.

“Okay, well I’ll talk to you guys later!” You smiled. “See you tonight, Peter.”

He shyly smiled, “yeah, see you tonight.”

✰  ✰  ✰

“I think I’m going to do it tonight.”

School had finished without any excitement other than yours for tonight. You had already eaten dinner, and as the time drew closer to ten, you grew anxious.

You were dramatically sprawled out on your bed, with your phone on FaceTime with Ned. 

His eyes got wide, “Oh. My. God. You’re crazy.”

You quickly sat up, worried now. “Is that actually crazy? Cause I don’t have to; I mean, it might make things weird.”

Ned chuckled. “No, I meant like, crazy as in you’re a bad-ass. I think tonight is the perfect opportunity to tell Peter you like him; and I’m not just saying that because I gave up spending time with you guys so this could happen.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, walking over to your closet. “I think I’m just going to wear some sweatpants and a comfy top since it’s supposed to be a sleepover. Or do you think I should wear something nicer since I’m going to be telling him I like him?”

Ned shakes his head. “Definitely the sweatpants. If he doesn’t like you in your comfy look, he doesn’t deserve you in your dazzling look.”

You giggled, “you’re right, thanks Ned.”

“I’m here to help. Let me know how things go between you two. I think things will work out like you want.”

You smiled, “I’ll call you tomorrow! Bye, Ned.”

“See ya.”

You hung up the phone, and put your comfortable clothes on. Your bag was already packed with your overnight gear all ready to go.

You picked it up, and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Mom, dad! I’m headed out to Peter’s now, love you!”

You parents said their goodbye’s, and you were on your way to Peter’s.

The trip was very short; Peter and you lived only a short distance from one another.

Once you were at his front door, you knocked and were greeted by his Aunt May.

“(Y/N)! Oh my gosh, it’s been too long since you’ve been over!” She grinned, pulling you into a tight hug.

Since you and Peter were always so close, May thought of you as a daughter.

“Hi May! It’s great to see you again. Is Peter back from his internship yet? I know I’m a few minutes early.”

She ushered you inside and shut the door. “No, I don’t think Peter’s back yet. I just got out of the shower so he may have snuck in while I was in there. You can wait in his room if you’d like, Peter won’t mind.”

You smiled, “Okay, thank you May.”

You started to walk down the hall into Peter’s room before May stopped you.”Oh, and (Y/N)?”

You turned around, “yeah?”

May softly smiled at you, “don’t be nervous, dear. I’m sure things will work out.”

You lightly laughed, “how did you know?”

She just shrugged with a playful smile.

You grinned, “I’ll try my best, May. Wish me luck!”

You turned back, and headed for Peter’s room.

In your mind, you were trying to plan out exactly what you were going to say to him, and when. You were thinking about waiting a little bit before dumping all of your emotions onto him. Or you’d do it as soon as you saw him just to get it off your chest once and for all.

As you pushed Peter’s bedroom door open, you saw something you never thought you’d witness. Peter was standing, back towards you in the Spider-Man suit. 

When he heard his door creak open, Peter rapidly spun around. His eyes were wide, and his mouth agape. He looked scared and extremely caught off guard that you had just seen him in his outfit.

“Oh, my god.” Is all you could manage.

You stared at Peter with the widest eyes he’d ever seen. Your mouth gobbled open and shut like a fish out of water; you couldn’t find any words to say to him.

He rushed over and pulled you into his room, frantically shutting the door behind you.

“(Y/N)! I didn’t expect you to be here so early.” Peter’s heart was racing. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise.”

You lightly shook your head, “I think it’s exactly what it looks like.” 

You walked around him in a circle like a vulture stalking its prey. “You’re Spider-Man, aren’t you?”

Peter’s mouth opened, then shut as soon as it did, trying to come up with a response to you. When he couldn’t think of anything, he sighed. “Yeah, I’m Spider-Man.”

You gasped. Peter honestly could have told you he was just playing dress up as Spider-Man and you would have believed him, but here he is admitting to being the superhero that had been around the city.

“That is so crazy, Peter!” You grinned. “Oh, my god, I’m friends with Spider-Man!” 

Your face fell, “oh, my god, I’m friends with Spider-Man.” Oh, no. Why did Peter have to reveal himself as Spider-Man tonight of all nights! 

You were freaking out, now. You didn’t want Peter to think you only liked him now that you knew he was Spider-Man! You wanted him to know you liked him for himself, as Peter.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? I know this can be a lot to take in, but I need you to listen to me.” His eyes were desperate as he tried to talk to you.

You nodded your head and gave him your full attention. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, this just caught me off guard is all.”

He nodded his head, and placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell anyone, especially not like this.”

“So I’m the only one that knows?”

“Well, Mr. Stark knows cause he’s the one that gave me this upgraded suit, but yeah. You’re the only other one.”

“Oh, man. This is crazy.”

“You can’t tell anyone, (Y/N), please. If people find out, things will change for me, and I like my life how it is. I didn’t want to tell anyone because the more people that know, the more people there are that could be in danger.”

You nodded your head, and smiled at him, “Don’t worry, Pete, your secret is safe with me.”

Peter let out a relieved sigh, “I knew I could trust you. Sorry you had to find out this way, though.”

Peter presses a button on his chest that released his suit, leaving him in only his boxers.

You face heated up as you scanned you eyes over his toned chest. “Oh my god.” You quickly spun around to not face him once you realized what you were doing.”

Peter’s cheeks were hot as well. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking when I did that.”

You heard some shuffling around as Peter got changed. 

“You can turn around now.”

You do, and see that Peter is in sweatpants and a sweatshirt with his suit hung up in his closet.

He sat on his bed, and motioned you to sit as well.

You do so, and play with your fingers a little bit, now uncertain if it’s a good time to tell him how you feel. 

“Hey,” Peter said as he grabbed you hand, stopping your nervous fiddling, “talk to me. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, and it’s freaking me out a little.” He nervously chuckled.

You gently smiled and started to mess with his fingers. “I think it’s really cool what you’re doing for the city. I think you’re really brave for all of this.”

Peter smiled at you, “yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m just worried that you could get hurt from this. You know I care about you, right?” You nervously added.

Peter nodded his head with a smile, “I know you care. I promise, I’m being careful out there, don’t worry.”

You lightly smiled, and looked down at your interlocked fingers.

“So, Ned told me something earlier.”

Your head quickly perked up at that. “Oh, did he?”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah, he told me to make sure you tell me the thing you were going to tell me.” He sounded confused. “I don’t really know what he means by that, but he wanted me to make sure you don’t chicken out of it.”

You sighed. “Well, I was going to tell you something, but I don’t know if it’s the right time because of your whole... reveal.” 

“Oh, well I’ll still care about what you have to say. Just because you know I’m Spider-Man, doesn’t mean I’m not still Peter.”

You looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah, you’re still Peter.”

He chuckled, and you took in a breath, trying to calm yourself down.

“Well, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and I didn’t really know when a good time would be since you’re always at your internship or we’re hanging out with Ned as well. Not that I don’t like hanging out with Ned! I do, it’s just-”

Peter cut off your rambling by grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours. You were stunned, to say the least. Peter’s lips were soft and gentle against yours. He made no move to escalate things; it was like all he wanted to do was feel your lips against his.

You finally kissed him back, and brought one of your hands to the side of his face. You rubbed your thumb along his cheek as you kissed, loving the feeling of being so close to him.

When you couldn’t take anymore, you pulled back and took a breath of air. 

Looking at Peter like this was something you had only dreamed of. His lips were red and puffy from your kiss, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. You could only imagine how you looked.

“Was that what you were trying to tell me?” He cheekily remarked.

You giggled, “that was exactly what I was trying to tell you.” 

“Good,” he grinned, “because I really like you, (Y/N), I have for a while now.”

You let out a chuckle, “it’s a good thing I’ve liked you for some time as well.”

Peter bit his lip to try to stop himself from smiling so much. He grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together.

“So, does that mean you’d want to go out with me sometime?” Peter asked, hopefully.

You pretended to think for a minute, then giggled. “Yeah, I’d love to go out with you sometime, but right now I just want to spend our night together like we planned.”

You leaned in closer to Peter, gently pulling him in by the collar of his shirt. 

“I like the sound of that.” Peter gently said, right before you placed your lips on his. 

You have so much to tell Ned tomorrow.

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts:

Epilogue:

--/--

6 Months Later

“Stop- Katsuki, stop it!” You huff a frustrated sigh, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Why can’t you just sit still?”

“Because this is takin’ too goddamn long! Waste of fuckin’ minutes.”

“Well this is important to me, so you’re gonna sit back and shut up and-“ You nearly scream when he shifts again, almost dislodging the measuring tape you’d wrapped around his wrist. “Sit still! Jesus, angry man, it’ll literally take two seconds if you just stop fighting me!”

He grumbles, something low and petulant under his breath, but then falls back against the couch fully. Bakugou finally relents, hand going slack in your hold as he shuts his eyes.

You were gonna kill him, no seriously, you were gonna murder him. He was being so difficult, way more difficult than usual, and you had a sneaking suspiscion it was because he was tired- because, as you’d quickly found out, from only a few months of dating, Katsuki was an absolute toddler about sleep. You’d come to understand that him being tired led to him being cranky, and him being cranky led to him being so goddamn annoying and combative that it made you want to tear your hair out.

He was lucky you loved him so much- not that you told him that yet.

You’d known you loved him for months now, could feel it the way your body heated if you thought of him, the way your blood sang if you so much as heard his name. It was a full body sensation for you- the way you loved him. There was just no escaping it; no escaping the way he’d carved himself a spot in every single part of you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, didn’t even want to try- but you couldn’t tell him so.

Every time you’d tried you were tongue-tied and stuttering and red in the face. The words were thick in your mouth, clogging up the back of your throat. You just couldn’t figure out how to say them; no matter how many times you’d tried. 

You flip his arm over, measuring the space between his thumb and his wrist. You’re trying to be delicate and gentle, but truthfully you really just wanted to get this done quickly.

With the deadline for your last college project quickly approaching, you’d spent the last few weeks doing nothing but devoting all your time and losing sleep over it. It seemed like no matter what support item you’d devised, it didn’t seem perfect- didn’t seem inspired enough to turn in for your final grade. So you dedicated yourself to watching clips and looked at hero rankings and pretty much sacrificed your social life entirely, just to stew over it. It took watching Bakugou’s own hero highlights with him to snap you out of your funk. You wanted to smack yourself; he’d been in front of you the entire time! Of course, it had to be an item for him. So you got to building and designing with renewed spirit.

Katsuki was an amazing fighter, you knew this, and his prowess in battle and raw power alone was quite literally unmatched by almost every opponent- but, the only thing holding him back was that he didn’t do so well with civilians. Try as he might, Bakugou’s loud, flashy, quirk just didn’t paint him as particularly friendly, and his brash personality didn’t help either. And, since you’d long ago given up trying to soften his character, but maybe you could help with his quirk. You figured that was pretty much your degree right?

So, for the past month or so, you’d been secretly working on a gauntlet attachment for him. You’d designed it to quiet his explosions, similar to a silencer on a gun, in hopes that civilians would stop reporting hearing loss after being saved by your very loud boyfriend. Truthfully, you knew it wouldn’t fix all his problems, but maybe then his ratings would go up a tiny bit. And, you figured, if you then just built the prototype you designed, then it could serve as a birthday present for him too. Two birds with one stone, right?

If only it was that simple.

It wasn’t. You were a perfectionist and you’d been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears for weeks now, but it still didn’t feel like enough. It felt like you were running out of time. Even now, while actively taking measurements for said project, you felt uneasy spending time with Bakugou. 

“You done yet, woman?” He peeks an eye open.

“Almost.” You grab your phone, typing the measurements into your notes. “See how easy and quick this went when you stopped being annoying?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so fuckin’ annoying if you’d just tell me what you’re makin’ already.”

“Nope. Already talked about this, Katsu,” You let go of his hand. “It’s a surprise! You don’t wanna spoil your birthday surprise, do you?”

You’re joking, smiling widely at him and fluttering your eyelashes. He doesn’t look very amused. Katsuki just squints at you for a moment before poking your side.

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. You’re being annoying. Stop it.”

“Fine. Well I guess since you don’t want it, maybe I just won’t give it to you then.” You tease, moving to leave the couch. “Maybe I just won’t give you any of the gifts I was planning to.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, huffs like he is very inconvienced, and grabs your wrist. He pulls until you’re falling into him, crashing into his chest and settling on his lap.

“I didn’t fuckin’ say that, idiot.” He grumbles, hands falling around your sides. “Stop putting shitty words in my mouth already.”

“I can’t. Pretty sure that’s my job actually.” You laugh, bracing your hands on his chest as you straighten. “Besides, you say like 3 words and all of them are swears, angry man. Someone’s gotta be the talker out of the two of us.”

“It shouldn’t be you. You’re better quiet.” His words were cold, but he was rubbing warm circles into your lower back. “Fuckin’ silent.”

“Wow- we sure are cranky tonight, huh, angry man? Is it bedtime for baby, already?”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, I’m pretty funny.” You laugh, brushing the the wild hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. “But seriously though, if you’re tired, I don’t have to stay. I don’t mind, I can leave if you just want to sleep.”

He screws his face up at that, comically offended and dramatic as he drops his face into your shoulder. Katsuki’s arms wrap around your sides, pulling you close until you’re flush against his chest. He tightens his grip and doesn’t seem like he plans to let go any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, angry man, I get it. I won’t leave right now- but I can’t stay for too long.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“That project, remember? I’m nearly done.” 

He huffs again, arms curling tighter around you. You’re a little confused- truthfully, he usually is more physical than verbal, especially when he’s tired, but he’s never this physically affectionate. His voice is a near snarl when he speaks again.

“I fuckin’ hate that stupid as shit assignment.” 

 “Yeah, well, you hate pretty much everything; so I can’t say I’m exactly suprised, Katsuki.”

“No. Seriously.” He gruffs, fingers twitching at your sides. Katsuki takes a deep breath, biting out his next words quickly. “Haven’t seen you in fuckin’ days.”

“Aww-”

“Say another goddamn word and I’ll take it back, woman. Try me.” 

“Okay. I won’t.” You giggle. “But I really am serious, I can’t stay over tonight. Got work to do still.”

“That’s stupid.” Bakugou says and then he’s squeezing you once again, keeping you trapped tight against his chest. “You’re being stupid.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You snort, looking up at him. His mouth is pressed into a tense grimace, so you try patting his cheek playfully. “You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

He doesn’t seem to like your joke. Not at all.

“I’m kidding. I’m not going anywhere.” You console. “I’m only picking on you, you know, so don’t be so sensitive, angry man. You insult me all the time.”

“When the fuck did I insult ya?”

“Katsuki-“ You utter in disbelief, your hand moving to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You literally just called me stupid!  And you said you liked me better silent! Like 2 minutes ago!”

He shrugs, and you can feel his face heat against your neck, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re awfully lucky I like you so much.” You sigh. “Because otherwise I’d have to kick your teeth in every time you opened your mouth.”

“Like you could even get that close to me, shitty woman.”

“Strong words for a man currently making a home in my collarbone, Katsuki.”

“That’s-I- You know what,” He starts, extending an arm and pushing against your shoulders to create distance. “Say shit like that again and I swear to god I’ll...”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll- I’ll fuckin-“ He stutters, face red and fists clenched. “I’ll-“

You think he looks adorable- all huffy and red and embarrassed where he sits. Katsuki’s eyebrows are pinched together in that competitive crease you’d come to know so well, his mouth curled around a familiar snarl. You were sure it must’ve looked terrfying to anyone else- but you weren’t just anyone else. You were his soulmate and you knew exactly how to get him to calm down.

You caught his face in both of your hands, crossing the distance until your lips met his. Bakugou tried to set the pace, because he always tried at first, armed with bruising pressure and dominance and uncoordinated aggression. You weren’t new here though- you had a lot more tricks of your sleeve than he did.

You ran a hand up his spine, your nails just barely catching on to the fabric of shirt, trailing the back of his neck until they landed in his hair. He damn near melted into you at that, and he pretty much dissolved when your other hand ran under the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna what now?” You asked, pulling away slowly. You’re breathless and blushing yourself but that never stopped you before. “C’mon, Katsuki, tell me. What you were gonna do?”

“I-huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” You giggled. Unable to help yourself, you pecked his lips again. “You seemed so determined though!”

He’s still dazed- red and embarrassed as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. You can’t stop the victorious smirk that rolls across your face.

“You’re an evil fucking woman.” He finally says, breathless. “Shitty too.”

“Mhm, I know.”

“Shouldn’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it. ‘S not a compliment, idiot.”

“I know.” You pat his chest, pushing away from him until you’re standing on your own. “Now, c’mon, up. Sleep time, right?”

You see the look on his face, and it almost kills you to crush it.

“No, that doesn’t mean I’m staying, angry man. I’ll take a nap with you and then I’m going home.” You offer your hand out to him. “Sound good?”

"Whatever.” He doesn’t seem all that pleased and he bats your hand away lightly, standing on his own. He starts down the hallway towards his bedroom with stomping steps and you follow. “You better actually go to sleep though- ya got ugly fuckin’ bags under your eyes, woman.”

You stop in your tracks, a wheeze escaping you. It didn’t matter how many conversations you’d had with him, how many times he’d accidentally insulted you with his blunt words, it still surprised you every time. And maybe it was your tired state, all the sleep lost over the past few weeks finally piling up, but his words hurt a little this time- hit a nerve and made you angry. 

“Alright, well, on that note. Maybe I will go home!” You huff, thumping a fist against his back. “That was so mean! What the hell, angry man! I’m literally busting my ass right now and that’s what you have to say to me? That I’m ugly to you? That’s fucking rude! I didn’t- I’m leaving. I don’t even have enough time for this anyway and I-”

He spins around quickly, pressing you into the wall as he grabs your arm. You can’t hit him anymore, not with the sturdy grip he has on your wrist, but the look on Katsuki’s face really makes you want to. He looks insulted, tired, but mostly just annoyed by your reaction. You swear you could kill him that moment, but then he’s gathering you into his chest and you’re melting against him. He’s still your soulmate- no matter how angry he makes you.

“N-not like that. Idiot. Not ugly.” He mumbles against your hair, voice tight and shy. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing furiously. “I meant- I- you’re not fuckin’ sleeping. I can see it. So you have to sleep.”

“I-what?”

“I’m not fucking stupid. You’re tired- it’s obvious. Have been for weeks.”

“You noticed?”

“Course I fuckin’ did.” He shifts on feet anxiously, swaying you a bit in your arms. “See your stupid face all the time- I can tell that shit about you.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” You pull back a bit in surprise, trying catch his eyes. He won’t let you, eyes zeroed on the wall, just behind your head. His face is a violent shade of red. You roll your eyes fondly, gently guiding him to look at you with your hands on his burning cheeks. “I shouldn’t have flipped, but that still wasn’t very nice. You really should’ve just said what you meant the first time around, but it’s fine. I understand. School’s just been tough with final assignments and stuff, you know? I’m alright though- just a little tired. Like you said.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem pleased with your answer, his eyebrows creasing as he grumbles something under his breath.

“What? Couldn’t hear you, angry man.”

“I said-” He starts strong, nearly confident until his tone quickly falls off. Then he’s mumbling again and crushing you to his chest so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. 

“W-what are you trying to say?”

“God, you always make me say such embarrassing shit!” He growls, voice loud next to your ear. “I said- I said- you’re doing too much, idiot! You haven’t been around much and it’s fuckin’ makin’ me mad and worryin’ me and all that stupid, disgusting, annoying, shit! So just give yourself a fuckin’ break, already!” 

You’re pressed close to Katsuki, and when you press you hand flat against his chest, you can feel his heart racing wildly under your fingertips. He must’ve been upset about this for a while, you realize- to be expending this much energy, when usually he’d be dead on his feet at this time of night. You feel a little guilty for it, but more than anything you’re gooey and warm all over. 

“I-I’m sorry. For worrying you.” You soothe, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest. “And I know you tell me not to apologize to you, but I mean it this time. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll take better care of myself. I promise.” 

“Good. I-”

“Hmm?”

“N-nothing.” He stutters, flushing violently all of the sudden. He spins on his heels quickly, dragging you down the hallway and into his bedroom. “You have to stay now.”

“No- I can’t. I told you.”

“And I fuckin’ told you to chill the hell out and take a break.” He barks, digging through his dresser and throwing a pair of sweats at you. “Stop being fuckin’ difficult. You’re staying.” 

Truly, you want to fight him. Your brain is running wildly, a million different ideas and worries battering around inside your skull- but he’s right. You are tired. Have been tired for weeks now. If you went home now, you knew you’d just talk yourself into working some more. So maybe a tiny, tiny little break wouldn’t hurt, right? Just something small. A single night.

“Fine. But I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

You knew you made the right decision when he smiles at you; a small, tiny, pleased, little thing that just barely curls the edges of his mouth. It seems like it’d be hardly noticeable, but you’d been dreaming of that smile for months now. He very rarely graced you with it, very rarely shared something so delicate and uncharacteristically soft but it winded you every time. 

Katsuki fell asleep almost immediately after pulling your down into bed with him. He’d barely curled around you, hardly even let his head hit the pillow before beginning to snore. That smile stayed though. He kept it even as his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened. 

That same overwhelming warmth you’d been feeling for weeks overtook you again- that same blistering, endless affection rendering your limbs shaky and your breaths unsteady as you stared at him. 

I love him. You realized. More than anything.

--/--

As it turns out, letting Bakugou drag you into some much needed rest is exactly what you needed. 

The next morning you’d left his place, mind refreshed and completely reinvigorated to once again start working on the gauntlet attachment. You’d love to say it was just the sleep that fixed you up- but you knew the truth. It was him- him and increasingly strange ways of showing affection.

Settling down into your desk chair, you pulled the schematics you’d drawn up once more. There wasn’t much left to build, only a few more parts you’d need to fabricate with your quirk, and then you’d be ready to put it all together.

Using past records of his costumes, and studying various clips of him in his current costume, you’d finally felt certain that you’d gotten it right. It was a pain conducting the research, especially because you’d had to contact the support companies personally, but in the end you were happy you did it. You wanted this to be a possible improvement for him, but you also wanted it to fit in with his current arsenal. It was a risk for sure, giving your prototype as a gift, and you’d be totally crushed if decided to not use it, but you’d take the chance. 

Bakugou had only mentioned the problem a single time in the past, and even then it was a passing comment, but you couldn’t seem to let it go.

I’m sick of kid’s always fuckin’ cryin’ when I save them. My explosions aren’t that fuckin’ scary, are they? 

He’d said it in the middle of a rant, his eyes pressed tightly together as he paced angrily, but something about his tone struck you. When he said it, he didn’t sound angry. Bakugou sounded upset and frustrated and almost hopeless. You knew it bothered him more than he let on, and from then you wanted to help him- but you couldn’t imagine stripping him of his quirk. 

It, his explosions, were important to him. They were his power and his pride and they helped him save people. He was so, so proud of them, and it broke your heart to think that they were the only thing left holding him back. So, you figured, what if he kept the force but lost the sound? Kid’s normally liked bright lights a lot more than loud sounds, after all.

Grunting with effort, you began fabricating gears and wires and screws between your hands. It took hours and nearly all of your energy, but you’d finally done it. You had everything you needed to finish his gift. 

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of construction, and deadlines, and sleeplessness but by the time his birthday rolled around, you were ready. Your schematics had been turned in and approved by your professors, you’d passed your final project, and you were finally finished building the prototype. Everything was going great- but you knew why you were really happy.

The last few weeks had been packed for you, and you’d hardly had time for anybody. You felt guilty about it, of course, and you only felt worse when you only heard Bakugou’s voice over the phone each night, but there was no helping it.

Or, at least, there wasn’t- but it wasn’t crunch time anymore. You’d suddenly found yourself with an wealth of free-time, and you knew exactly who you were gonna spend it on.

--/--

Using the key he’d given you, you slipped into the apartment, closing the door quietly. It was difficult in the dark, stumbling slightly with the gifts and cake currently held in your hands, but you’d managed it. Everything had gone smoothly on the way there, you’d just put the cake safely in the fridge, and now you could wake your soulmate up to the best birthday of his life.

What shame he had to go and ruin it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You jumped, heart seizing in your chest. 

“Jesus- fuck.” You yelled in the dark. You blindly felt your way out of the kitchen and into the living room, towards the sound of his voice. “Bakugou! What the fuck, man?”

“What the- no! Me! I should be the one fuckin’ saying that!” His voice was raised, and you couldn’t see his fists but you knew they were probably clenched tightly into fists. “Almost blew you up, idiot! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh my god.” You huffed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes. “I was going to wake you up! Surprise you! Because it’s your birthday and it’s- wait, what the fuck are you even doing up? It’s like 6:30 AM, on a Saturday!”  

“What the hell are you even on about? I’m always fuckin’ awake right now!”

“Yeah! On a work day! When you’re working!” You can’t help but be frustrated; you wanted to be cute and sweet and Bakugou had ruined it entirely. As he so often did. “But you’re not even working today! It’s your day off! And I know you sleep in on those, so why?”

“Couldn’t fuckin’ slee-”

“What do you mean?” You interrupt, finally flipping the light switch and flooding the room with light. “Swear to god you’re dead to the world the second you hit the pillow! Literally happens every time I stay over. You’re out by 8:30! Why is today of all days the day you choose not to sleep?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to your outburst, and that’s when you finally look at him. It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d last visited, and he didn’t look like you remembered him. It wasn’t anything super obvious at first, but upon closer inspection you could see the deep bags under his eyes, and the pale, lifelessness of his skin. He was telling the truth; apparently, he really hadn’t be able to sleep- and it didn’t start just last night either.

“Hey. Katsuki,” Your irritation from earlier faded. Suddenly filled with concern, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hands. Bakugou tried to turn away, but you didn’t let him. “What’s up, huh? You alright?”

“Fine.”

“No. You’re not. You look tired. Are you sick?”

“No.” He mumbled, his hands falling on your waist as you stood in front of him. “I’m fine. Workin’ a lot or whatever. I’m fuckin’ fine.”

You nod, eyebrows rising in surprise as he suddenly pulls you in. He presses his face into your stomach, arms around your sides as he shuts his eyes. There it is again- that unusual physicality. This strange behavior had stopped for a while recently, but now it seemed to be back in full-force.

“Do you wanna try sleeping again?” You ask after a beat. “I’ve got birthday stuff for you, but we can do always do it later. We’ve got the whole day, right?”

“What- you plannin’ to actually be here or some shit?” He grumbles, with a lot more intentional bite than you’re used to hearing from him. “I’m surprised. Didn’t know an idiot like you still had the fuckin’ brain cells to remember.” 

You’re shocked, rendered completely still and stiff in his hold. Was he- was he mad at you? 

“What?” You try to push away from him, to get a look at his face, but he doesn’t let you. Bakugou’s arms only tighten and you’re left even more confused. “Are you upset with me? Are you tired? What’s wrong?”

“You really fuckin’ piss me off.”

“What?” 

He only growls under his breath, voice raspy and deep. “Whatever. You don’t fuckin’ get it. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“No- but I-” You stutter, feeling out of place. Katsuki sounded so frustrated and angry and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “If you’re upset with me we need to talk about it. What happened? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, only knocks your feet out from under you and stands with you in his arms. You’re dumbfounded. He has never, not ever, carried you anywhere. He’s never even made an attempted to lift you! Something was seriously off with him today- and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was. 

Katsuki was mad at you. You knew that, he’d said it himself. But then why was he carrying you down the hall to his bedroom? Why wasn’t he kicking you out?

He kicks open the door, pushing it shut loudly behind him. He looks pissed when you look up at him, his eyebrow’s creased together in an agitated line, but even so, Katsuki sets you down on the bed gently. You’re hardly able to catch your breath when he’s climbing in on the other side, pulling you close and lying practically on top of you.

“What? I- Katsuki?” You asked desperately, brain reeling. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand?”

“I’m fuckin’ tired, woman. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t! Not when you’re upset like this- seriously, what’s wrong?”

“You. You’re what’s fuckin’ wrong!”

“What?”

“God, you’re so fucking dense!” He growls, angry voice vibrating against the skin of your neck. “Fuckin’ showin’ up in the mornin’ like nothin’s wrong? Been avoiding me for weeks now!” 

“What- no! We literally called last night! What are you talking about?”

“We called for 2 fuckin’ minutes before you fell asleep! And you-” His voice drops suddenly, and then he’s pressing even closer to you, starting up once again. “You piss me the hell off, you know! Sayin’ shit about how you’re gonna do better and then leavin’ for weeks? Not talkin’ to me? What the fuck is that? And then you sneak in here and scare the shit out of me! And you’re running your stupid fucking mouth about the whole day when you’re not even gonna be her-”

Oh. Oh.

He was mad because you’d been busy; because the last time you’d seen him, Bakugou had told he was worried about you, and you blew him off. The last time you’d seen him, you’d promised that you’d take better care of yourself and then you didn’t. All you did was continue working yourself to death, and while you didn’t regret it for even a second, you hadn’t kept him in the loop. You’d barely even managed to call him each night, and even then you’d fall asleep half-way through every conversation.

“Have you been worried this whole time?” You asked quietly.

Bakugou takes a deep, shaky breath, and you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your neck. 

“You were worried.” You whisper. “Weren’t you?”

He nods minutely.

“I-I didn’t realize. I told you- but I didn’t realize. I was so focused on school, so busy, I’m so sorry.” You press a kiss into his hair, your heart sinking when his shoulders tremble. “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t fuckin’- I didn’t-”

“I know. I said it. I’m saying it. I’m sorry, Katsu. I missed you.” You sigh, tightening your arms around him. “Is that why you’re not sleeping well?”

Bakugou is silent but he tenses, going completely rigid under your hands. Your stomach drops.

“It’s-I’m good. Really, this time. Everything’s done. I’m completely finished and everything is gonna go back to normal.” You cradle his face, making him look into your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We’re good.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

Bakugou shakes your hold, tucking his head until you can’t see his eyes anymore. You can hardly see any of his features, but you see the wobbly line of his mouth. Can feel the shaking of his fingers. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. Barely there.

“Didn’t mean it, last time, when I said your eyebags were ugly. You’re not ugly.”

You blink, hardly able to recall the conversation. Wasn’t that the last time you had visited? Weeks ago? Why was he still thinking about it?

Bakugou huffs again, apparently frustrated by your silence.

“So I’m s-sorry. For insulting you. So now you don’t have to disappear again.” 

Your eyes widened.

“You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

You remember how upset he’d been when you’d made the joke- how his shoulder’s dropped and his eyebrows caved and his mouth smoothed out into a thin line. Was that really the last time you’d visited? Did he think you were mad at him this whole time? 

 Guilt flooded you, awful and thick and viscous as it tore through your stomach. You had to make him understand. You just had to.

“No. I- Katsuki. Look at me. Look at me.” You insist until he’s looking at you. His eyes are the dullest you’ve ever seen them- more vulnerable than ever before. “I didn’t- I was just busy, I promise! Not upset. I didn’t mean to ice you out like that. It’s fine! I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki growls, grasping for your hand and hiding his face behind it. “I didn’t- I’m sick of stupid angry shit I say ruinin’ stuff for me. So don’t just fuckin’ say it’s fine if it’s not.” 

“It is. I promise. We’re good.” You soothe, caressing his burning cheeks with your knuckle. “That was a bad joke, okay- I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I knew it was gonna make you worry so much. I promise I was just busy these last few weeks. Nothing you say is ever gonna get rid of me, alright? Not even if you tried! Because I love you and I-”

“You what?” 

You freeze, shifting uncomfortably as your cheeks heated up. This was not how you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him like you meant it, not just tacked onto the back of a bunch of other statements. He’d heard though, and no matter what you wanted, you couldn’t run from it.

“You what?” He asks again.

“I-I love you. Katsuki, I love you.”

Bakugou jolts, nearly jumps out of his skin and then he’s digging his face into your neck. He’s hot, his skin nearly burning, and there’s a strangled, clipped noise leaving his mouth. You’re filled with so much adoration in that moment that it nearly chokes you, but it’s freeing too, because you’ve said it. Finally. After waiting your entire life for him, after knowing him for so many months, after loving him for so long, he knew.

“I love you.” You repeated again, giggling breathlessly. “I love you, you dummy.” 

He finally lifts his head, expression so full of awe and disbelief and childlike confusion. It’s just like the first time you’d really kissed him; like he couldn’t figure out why you loved him. It was like those first few days all over again and you couldn’t help it. You loved him so much.

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium. 

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving. 

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending. 

You pull away, panting for breath. He follows, resting on his forearms and dropping his forehead to yours. 

“I-I- I love you. Too. Idiot woman.” 

You laugh under him, cackling loudly as you turn to press a kiss into his forearms. Of course he’d said it like that. It’s tough love or not at all with Bakugou Katsuki- and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop laughing!” He orders, face screwed up uncomfortably. “You’re always fuckin’ laughing at me! You fuckin’ witch! Stop it! It’s- I’m not- I take it back! I don’t- stop makin’ fun of me, shitty wom-”

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Oh my fucking god! You laugh at me and then you go thinkin’ your just gonna interrupt me while I’m yellin’ at you? No fuckin’ way! I’m not gonna allow that shit in my own fuckin’ house and I-”

“Katsuki.” 

“Jesus christ! What?”

“I love you.” 

He freezes entirely, collasping his entire weight directly on top of you. He’s so hot it’s like his skin is burning. You wrap your arms around him with a happy giggle, burrowing your own blushing face into his hair. 

“I love you.” You whisper, slow and earnest against the shell of his ear. “I really, really, really love you, angry man.” 

He startles again, jumps in your arms and only seems to run hotter. He groans something strangled and defeated, until he’s sinking into you again, pressing you against the mattress.

“S-s-stop fuckin’ saying it. You’re doing it on fuckin’ purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“You fuckin’ know, you witch woman.”

“No, I really, really, dont.” You say indulgently, laughing as you drop kisses into his hair. “Care to share?”

“No. Fuck no. I’m fuckin’ done sharing. Forever.” 

You rolls your eyes, once again enduring his very familiar dramatics. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Katsuki. I was just happy to hear it- that you love me too.”

“Well, remember it, because I’m never fuckin’ saying it again.”

“Not even if I say it to you?”

“Especially not fucking then.” 

“You’re so difficult sometimes, I swear. You’re really lucky I love you so much.” You say softly, before scratching idly at the back of his head. “Now, c’mon. Get off me. I didn’t forget- you need to go to sleep.” 

“I’m sleeping here.”

“No you’re not, you man-child. You’re gonna crush me.” 

“Good.” 

“No, not good. You wanna celebrate your birthday with a murder charge?”

“Yes.”

“Katsuki.” You laugh, pressing against his chest. “Seriously. Up. You’re supposed to use those muscles to save people not kill them.”

He just groans loudly, flopping backwards gracelessly. Katsuki is pulling the blanket up and shutting his eyes, and you think everything is finally okay. Until he clears his throat. Until keeps clearing his throat.

“Oh my god,” You huff, opening your eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

“Say it again, idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know what I’m asking you.”

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks red. You thought he was adorable- just the cutest man in all of Japan. You knew what he was asking, of course you did, and if he hadn’t been so upset earlier you would’ve made him work a lot harder for it. As it stood now though, you just scooted closer to him; shifting until you were right next to his blushing face and sharing the same pillow.

“I love you.” You say, running a gentle thumb over his heated cheek. “Now go to sleep, okay?”

You can see the smile he’s fighting, the way his lip twitches and he raises a hand to cover it. Then he’s pulling you close and digging his head into the pillow.

All is quiet, and finally, finally, he gets some sleep.

—/—

Katsuki, on a good day, was an absolute beast to wake up- on a day off however? The man was damn near impossible to stir. 

You were squatted next to the bed, trying to pull the pillow out from under his head as he held it in his grip. It was absolutely unfair- even at his groggiest your soulmate had the strength of a one man army. It was seriously pissing you off. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” You’re grabbing at his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away from the pillow but he’s not budging. Katsuki’s got his eyes shut tight, and he’s dutifully ignoring your every word. “I’m serious! It’s noon! Get up already!”

He finally peaks one eye open, just barely enough to see your irritated expression. Katsuki huffs, rips his pillow away from you completely, and flops on his other side. His back was to you, and normally you’d be thrilled about the free chance to drool over the planes of muscle- but this wasn’t a normal occasion. It was his birthday and you’d already made him breakfast and he was refusing to get up and eat it. 

“Bakugou Katsuki, I swear to god, if you’re not up in two seconds, I’m not gonna kiss you for a fucking week!” 

This does seem to illicit a response from him, because then he’s flipping back over, mouth pulled into a snarl.

“You think I care? You starved me out for fuckin’ weeks already!”

You want to roll your eyes. You thought he was being awfully dramatic and you knew you really shouldn’t stand for it- but he wasn’t technically wrong. However inadvertently, you had been neglecting him, and maybe it was time to treat him instead. Just this once. 

“Oh my god, you silly man, come here.” You relent, climbing onto the bed and hovering over him. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just asked.” 

“I-didn’t! When the fuck did I say that because I-”

You pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. It was a trick you’d learned early on, but damn if it wasn’t still useful. You pulled away right when he started to get handsy.

“No. Bad.” You say, batting his hands away from slipping under your shirt. “I didn’t just waste all that time trying to get you out of bed just to be pulled in. Now, c’mon, you have breakfast to eat and presents to open- it’s your big day, birthday boy.”

“Fuckin’ exactly. Let me do what I want.”

“No, because if I let you do what you wanted you’d sleep all day and only wake  to go blow something up.”

“Sounds like fucking bliss.”

“Alright, well then I guess you’re gonna have to experience nirvana all by yourself because I’m going to eat.” You pat his chest, climbing off the bed and standing straight. 

Bakugou grumbles under his breath, but then the blankets are rustling and he’s rising to follow you out the door. He tears into the breakfast you’d made him, shoveling eggs and bacon and pancakes down his throat at an almost inhuman pace. You would cringe, but you’d seen this scene already many times before. 

“You ready for presents, now?” You ask, putting the dishes in the sink.

“Sure. ‘m not a fuckin’ kid though, you didn’t have t-”

“I wanted to. Seriously. So be quiet and be a little selfish for once. Please.” 

He nods tightly, following you into the living room. He’s settling on the couch, once again rubbing at his eyes when you bring the gifts over. There’s three of them in total and he chooses to open the smallest one first.

“Fuck- this a new watch?”

“Yep.” You nod. “To replace the one you blew up last month.”

“When the- how the hell did you-”

“I have my ways. Now, seriously, promise me you’re gonna be careful with this one.”

“Okay.”

“Katsuki, that’s not a promise.”

“I’m not gonna just fuckin-”

“Say it.”

“No! Why the hell should I have to fuckin’ say shit just because you were spyin’ on me, you freak!”

“Katsuki.” You glare him down. “Promise me.”

“Jesus fuck, woman. Fine. I promise I won’t blast this one to pieces, alright?” He rolls his eyes. “Ya all happy and cheery now?”

“Very.” You smile brightly, moving to grab the second gift and place it in his hands. “Here’s the next one, open it.”

You watched him set the watch aside carefully, before taking the second gift. He might’ve been grumbling, but he couldn’t completely hide the smile trying to stretch across his face. You were glad you made the effort- he deserved every good thing and more.

“This is a jar.” He says flatly, looking down at the unwrapped gift. “What the hell?”

“It’s a swear jar. You know, for practicing how not to offend everyone within a .2 mile radius.” You deapan, taking the excess wrapping paper from him to throw it out. “You gotta work on it, Katsu- news has to censor you so much that your public appearances sound like EDM music.” 

“I’m gonna blow this up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You laugh. Then you lean towards him, sidling up close and lowering your voice as you run thumb across his jaw. “And, hey, if you figure out how to make it through the week without filling it up, I’ll give you something really, really nice as a reward.”

“Reward?” He’s asks, quickly putting down the jar. You know the look in his eyes, and you’re not surprised when his hands wander to your waist. “’s empty now, right? Think I fuckin’ deserve it. Huh, sunshine?”

“Nope. Sorry, Katsu.” You smile sweetly, dodging as he leans in for a kiss. “It’s saturday- week doesn’t start until tomorrow!” 

He groans, loudly, falling boneless against the couch and tugging you with him.

“You make me want to blow my fuckin’ self up. You know that, you shitty woman?” 

“Aw, thanks. Now, cheer up- you’ve still got one left to open.” You say, patting his grimacing face.

You shake his hold, just barely avoiding when he tries to pull you back as you grab the last present. This box is a little different from the last two, you’d spent extra time trying to make sure it was wrapped nicely and you’d even tied a ribbon around it. You hoped he’d like the gauntlet attachment- you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your disappointment if he didn’t.

“Yeah, so this next one,” You start, placing the box in his hand delicately. “I made it for you myself. Designed it too.”

He pulls the ribbon on the box, tearing away the paper. It’s like time stops for a moment, rolling nerves arresting you and choking your breath. You’re nervous and you feel like shaking and you so desperately want him to like the gift. Want him understand just how much work you’d put in for him and just how easily you’d do it all over again.

“Yeah so it’s an attachment for your grenade gauntlets, right?” You start, right when he’s pulling the device from the box and holding it in his hands. “I was thinking- wouldn’t it be nice if you could quiet your explosions sometimes? You know, for when you’re saving civilians and kids and stuff so they’re not so scared. Basically it works kind of similar to a suppressor on a gun, dispersing and slowing down the blast just a little to muffle the sound, but it’s just a little more high-tech and way more powerful- to match your quirk. Obviously. And it’s adjustable so, if, for whatever reason, you needed to wear it outside of your costume, you can collapse it slip it on like a bracelet and-”

Bakugou is silent. He’s almost frozen as he stares down at the gift, only twisting the gift around in his hands to get a better look. His eyebrows crease, and your stomach drops.

“No- it’s- please don’t get mad! It’s not supposed to offend you or anything! I-I know you don’t need my help to save people, you can do it all on your own, I know that.” You rub your arm anxiously, eyes averted to the floor. “I’m just trying to help- you know, because you always talk about your ratings going up, and I’m sure you could totally do it on your own, I know you could, but I just wanted to help you cause that’s what I do, support, and I can’t help you out on the field and I-”

Pop.

Pop pop pop pop pop

When you finally look up at him, you’re blinded by the smile on his face. It’s bright, and beaming, and brilliant as he fires off explosions. You can see the light dancing on his hands, the force of combustion shooting his arm back, but it’s quiet. It sounds like pop rocks and bacon grease and popcorn instead of cracking thunder and collapsing buildings and then he’s laughing- he’s laughing something full and joyful as he stands, holding his hands up right next to his ears and setting off more explosions.

“You hear this shit?” He yells, that wide smile dazzling you all over again. “Fuckin’ works!”

The nerves disappeared, the tension seeping from your body entirely as he grinned at you. It was worth it. Entirely worth it- you’d give anything, start all over and do it all again from the start just to see that smile. 

“You wanna hear?” He asks suddenly, nearing you with his hands raised. “Listen!”

“No! No- I’m- I’m good, Katsuki.” You laugh, batting his hands away from your head. “I can hear it just fine from here, no need to singe my hair.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“I know.” You smile up at him, poking his broad chest. “So you like it? Right? Because it’s just a prototype, first draft, you know, so if there’s anything you want to change about it, let me know. Or if you just don’t want it I-”

“I’m fuckin’ keepin’ it.”

“Huh?”

“I’m keepin’ it. It’s cool as shit.” He smiles down at you, eyes crinkled at the edges. “Besides, stealth, right? Could blow a fucker up in the next room and you wouldn’t even know it!”

“But I- I made them for you to save people? Like to help them?”

“And they could be used to blow shit up more effectively too. Win fucking win.” Katsuki pulls you in suddenly, arms falling familiarly around your waist. “Good shit, sunshine. Thanks.” 

“Of course.” You sigh, looking down at your feet. “That’s what I was doing- when I was gone. Designing it for my project grade and then building it for you. Sorry I got so carried away, I didn’t realize I was gone so long, you know?” 

“You’re still stupid for it, but it’s fine. Fuckin’ get it.” He grumbles. “You’re done now or whatever, right?”

“With school? Yeah I mean, I’ve still got graduation and stuff but otherwise I’m pretty much-

“Move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“God, you always make me fuckin’ say it again!” He flusters, voice loud and raspy. “I said- move in! Here! You’re fuckin’ disappearin’ all the goddamn time to wherever the fuck and I’m sick of it!”

“Y-you want me to move in? 

“That’s what I just fuckin’ said! Idiot!” He thunders, face a violent red when you look up at him. “And I’m not gonna fuckin’ say it again so you either have to say yes or no because I-”

“Yes. Obviously. Of course I’ll move in!” You say, warmth filling your chest as you throw your arms around his neck. “I love you, of course I will!” 

You see the smile he can’t contain- one so dazzling and arresting, as he looks at you. One exactly similar to the brilliant one from earlier. You couldn’t believe that sentiment made you emotional- the thought that you made him just as happy as explosions did, of all things. But it did make you emotional. It really, really, did.

“What’re you- stop cryin’.” He says suddenly, calloused fingers catching your tears. “Why’re you cryin’? I didn’t even say anythin’ rude this time!” 

“No, it’s not that.” You sniffle, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’m just happy. Really, really happy. I love you, you angry fucking man.”

Katsuki leans in for another kiss, and you don’t dodge it this time. You meet him in the middle and melt into him just as much as he melts into you. You can feel his hand under your chin, the other on your back, and you don’t think you’ve ever been warmer than in that moment.

You’d been waiting your entire life for him. For all of this. You were warm and loved and so very, very happy that it nearly knocked you off your feet. 

Or it would’ve- but when your knees weakened he just held you closer, righting you without missing a beat. You suddenly loved him for that, and for everything else too. You loved him for all that he was and his angry words and his subtle gestures. He was sizzling gunpowder and sharp steel and seared ashes, but he was the softest landing you’d ever known too. There was no hitting the ground with him, and he’d never let you fall alone. 

You’d know Katsuki was forever since the day your tattoo appeared, but it didn’t truly sink in until you’d learned to love him. Until you’d known him. Now you knew him like the back of your hand; you saw his face behind your eyelids, heard his voice in your dreams, and thought about his touch every waking moment. He was your other-half, as scary and loud and intense as he was, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

He pulls away suddenly, and when you glance up at him he’s staring right at you. 

“I love you.”

Your breath catches. You thought you were thrilled to hear the words last night- but it was nothing in comparison to now. Bakugou was finally looking at you, catching your gaze and holding eye-contact and his voice was soft like you’d never heard it before. His tone was bare, no anger or attitude or bite- just him and three little words that took your breath away.

In that moment, Katsuki is the only person in the entire world. There was no one else and no other conclusion, and of course you ended up here. He was the only ending you’d ever surrender to. The only finality that could ever possibly taste so sweet. 

And suddenly, all at once, you loved him all over again. 

//-//

i- sob. plS this was so much fun to write and im gonna miss it sm !! 

once again, thank u to everyone who liked and commented and reblogged any part of this! this is the first ever multi-chapter fanfic i’ve ever written , and i really really was nervous about my characterization and writing and stuff, but you all made me feel so welcome here.  i appreciate it sm. way more than any of you know.

anyways, thank u once again for reading lovelies and i hope u all stay safe. i love y’all. <333

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part Nine (Mycroft Holmes x Reader) SMUT

I am SO sorry for such a big delay between chapters! I’ve just had terrible writer’s block and my mental health has been.. challenging, to say the least! But here’s chapter nine! Sorry if Myc is a little out of character, I didn’t really know how else to write it! This is a shorter chapter but the next few should be longer! And expect some more emotional chapters coming up for when Mycroft finally talks to his parents about Eurus!

Word Count-  3766

Mycroft wasn't entirely sure how long after you had fallen asleep that he had followed suit. He hadn't been planning on falling asleep at all, really; he was rather content simply laying there and thinking over in his mind how he had ended up in this position at all. It was a strange feeling still, feeling the weight of you in his arms, the feeling of your hands bunching in his jumper as though he were your lifeline, the light feeling of your breath skimming the skin of his neck. Strange, and yet welcoming. He was beginning to question why he had never tried harder in seeking this kind of thing out before, but he knew the thought was futile. He wasn't entirely sure he'd have ever wanted to be in this position with anybody else, as cheesy and cliché as he had sounded. He had a reputation to upkeep, an entire persona behind his Iceman nickname, and yet he felt entirely at ease, thawed, if you will, with you.

He had opened his eyes to find his head resting slightly atop yours, facing towards the television that had long since surpassed standby mode and instead remained a dark black. Mycroft couldn't help but focus on the reflection that he could see in its screen, the image of the pair of you laying embraced on the sofa, his hand resting so casually at your back that it could be mistaken for a position that had been practiced for years rather than only a few days. It was nice, he had decided. Nice that things had ended up this way, even if it had taken so many years to get this far. In both his mind and your own, it had honestly felt as though you had been together for far longer; as though it was some unspoken decision between the pair of you that neither of you would take the step to start the relationship, and yet made yourself unavailable for anybody else, cancelled plans to be with the other, enjoyed more meals together than apart. Though of course this was far easier on Mycroft's end, not exactly having many other social dependencies, and a lack of opportunities for such things with other people. Still, he had remained inwardly thankful that you had adhered to the same ideas.

In his own way, he was glad that it had taken as long as it did. It allowed for him to truly know you, far more than any information on a file could give. It let him introduce himself to you properly, allowed for you to truly get to know him, for him to feel comfortable enough around you to lower his walls and drop his public, heartless politician façade. Not that he had much choice in the latter part. You knew from day dot that it was, as you delightfully put, "a load of old bollocks." Though you never once taunted him for it, not really, at least not in a bad way. You just enjoyed teasing from time to time. Mycroft Holmes had always been the kind of man to laugh at the idea of things as trivial as fate, the whole 'being at the right place at the right time', or even luck, always claiming that every event was purely cause and effect. And yet, he found his ever so brilliant mind allowing himself to, for once, divulge into the prospects of it, liking the idea that perhaps the Universe wasn't always so cruel. And with this rarely optimistic thought in mind, Mycroft once again found his arm tightening slightly around you and allowed his eyes to close- not to sleep, but to take up the rare opportunity in his usually hectic life to just relax.

---

Only 15 or so minutes had passed since Mycroft had woken up before you began to stir slightly, the hand that was fisted into his jumper moved and instead wound beneath his arm, holding at his shoulder blade and pulling yourself impossibly closer to him, your leg twisting slightly and angling your hip to brush against Mycroft's crotch with just enough pressure to make him gasp. Mycroft had blinked slowly, trying to register the sensation while simultaneously trying to ignore it. He had felt his body stiffen, which had clearly been unwelcome to your sleeping form. You had turned once again, other hand circling his neck and tugging closer, pressing against him once more and humming at the warmth. Mycroft coughed rather loudly, face burning, eyes wide, utterly mortified and, quite frankly, half hard.

He was truly embarrassed, his body reacting in such a juvenile way from the slightest of touch. He cursed himself for his lack of control and placed his atheism aside to pray to God that it would just go away. It's not that Mycroft had never paid that part of his body any attention- he was human after all- but with his usually busy work schedule, and then the Eurus mishap, and of course having you in his home, he hadn't allowed himself to.. indulge.. so to speak. So clearly the smallest hint of friction was enough to turn him into a teenager again. He had also noticed that in your movements the hem of your shirt had lifted just enough that Mycroft's hand was now resting against bare skin and he swallowed thickly.

Mycroft had, of course, contemplated the idea of sex- in any form- in his past. It was in college that he had noticed his peers coming into school with hickeys on their necks, conversed between each other of their sexual encounters, parading body counts, and in University where he had found himself accidentally walking in on far too many students going at it in various cupboards and empty classrooms. He had taken a brief interest but soon let it die down when he had never found anybody interested in him, nor anybody he was interested in. Of course with his occupation and links there had always been the option to fulfil such desires with the security of utmost privacy, but Mycroft had never been keen on the idea of paying for sex. So that, of course, left him in the position of being completely sexually inexperienced, which had never bothered him or caused him any embarrassment until this very moment.

When allowing himself to enter the relationship with you, Mycroft of course suspected that sex would be on the cards at some point, but he had hoped it wouldn't be the result of basic instinct like this. Previously, the idea of being that intimate with you had been an exciting prospect, but now all that was left was embarrassment of his history, and insecurity of his body.

"God, how long have we been out? I feel incredible." You muttered against his skin, not making any effort to move away from the cocoon of warmth that Mycroft was providing. You hummed appreciatively at the feeling of the elder Holmes' hand on your back and the heartbeat that you felt under the fingers on his chest. Only the heartbeat was significantly increased since before you had fallen asleep. "Myc? You okay?" Now you did move, angling your neck to look at the flushed features of the man you were lying next to. Mycroft coughed and nodded weakly, making any slight attempt to angle his pelvis away from you. "If you're sure..? Was I being too clingy? Honestly, you can tell me and I'll stop hanging on you like a baby monkey." You heard a quiet 'no' and smiled. "Okay good, because I REALLY like the cuddling." You shuffled in a little closer and continued. "And, please don't shove me off, I think you like it too because you didn't let me fall and yo- Oh!" Your fidgeting had allowed your thigh to once again rub against Mycroft's erection and he hissed slightly.

"Y/N I can only offer my utmost apologies for reacting in such a callow manner." He stuttered out, making every attempt to wriggle his way from your grip with the idea of making a beeline for the door.

"You don't need to apologise, Mycroft. If anything, I should apologise for uh.. friction? Or perhaps Da Vinci should apologise for discovering friction in the first place?" You breathed a small laugh but Mycroft only remained stiff and uncomfortable. You manoeuvred yourself until you'd both sat up, you sideways slightly with your legs resting across Mycroft's lap and covering him. "Sorry, I tried to make a sciency joke to make you laugh. It was just my way of saying that you're okay and that you shouldn't be embarrassed. If anything, I'm flattered." You laughed slightly again and Mycroft's shoulders slightly relaxed. "Christ, I could, that's if you want to and please do not feel pressured, I could.. help. If you wanted to?" His eyes widened dramatically, brows raising to his hairline while his jaw comically opened slightly in shock.

"I don't.. that is.. you don't have..I-" In a rare moment of time, Mycroft found himself lost for words and an appropriate reaction.

"Don't worry, just forget about it. We don't have to do anything like that until you're ready.. If you're ever ready, that is.. If you don't.. do that.. kinda stuff, that's fine too." And now you were propositioning that you were willing to forego any kind of sexual activity should Mycroft never want it? Why? You answered his unspoken question with a chuckle. "I mean, I've gone 5 years without it, what's the rest of our lives?" Mycroft closed his eyes and took a breath.

"No. It's not that I don't.. want to.. I just.. I, well.. I'm a very busy man and I always have been so.."

"Mycroft, quite frankly I couldn't care less whether you've done anything with a hundred women or none at all. If anything, I find it kinda hot that you haven't. And even more hot if I were the one to change that." He nodded slowly and you smiled back at him. "Is that a yes? Because it doesn't have to be if you don't want it to be. We have all the time in the world."

"Yes."

"Okay. Just promise me you'll tell me if you want to stop." He nodded again. "Promise me, Myc."

"I.. I promise."

--------- sexy times warning ---------

You raised your hand slowly to brush against his face before leaning in and pressing your lips against his. Mycroft sighed in content as you let your thumb graze his cheekbone. Shifting position, you moved your knees to either side of his thighs, straddling him slightly but with your weight resting above his knees, your other hand circling to hold the back of his neck.

"This okay?"

"Mmm." You let your lips travel along his jawbone, nipping slightly at skin and smirking in triumph at the tiny gasps leaving the politician's mouth. Running your hands from his neck down his chest, tugging slightly at the thick jumper in silent plea. Mycroft raised his arms slightly, giving you the access to lift it and chuck it at the side. Wincing, you watched as it knocked the half cup of cold coffee you left on the side, the brown liquid splashing from its porcelain confinements onto the burgundy cotton.

"Please don't tell me that jumper's some four-figured item hand crafted by only the finest of maids in a remote Peruvian town.." Mycroft took his focus back and grimaced.

"Five, and Venezuelan." You stiffened and gulped slightly. "I'm kidding, it's only from M&S." A dazed grin on his face, hands squeezing ever so slightly at your hips. The back of your hand slapped his chest as you relaxed again, breathing out a laugh.

"You are a very cruel man, Mr Holmes." Head lowering to kiss at his neck once more. "You're bloody lucky that you're pretty." His low chuckle was cut off with a deep hum as you bit softly at his collarbone. You dragged your hands down again, fingering at the top buttons on Mycroft's shirt, and not missing how his body became tight. "We don't have to take it off if you don't want to." Relaxed once more. "Can I just undo a few? You'll be more comfortable I reckon without being strangled by a shirt collar." He nodded once. And then again when you double checked. And once more with a small 'yes' when you really wanted to make sure. Taking it slowly, you opened the top three buttons; two to give Mycroft's neck more breathing space, and the other to give your hand enough space to explore the new area of skin- fingers brushing over the top of his chest, auburn chest hair tickling between your digits. You kissed him again, tongue running ever so slightly across his bottom lip; relishing at the small whimper as you pulled away. Myc let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding when your palm dragged down from his chest and to the front of his trousers, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you rubbed slowly. You looked up once more to make sure you weren't taking things too quickly, E/C meeting the tiniest speck of blue that hadn't been hidden from his blown pupils.

"Please?" His voice was barely a whisper, and you were sure you wouldn't have heard it if you hadn't been as close to him as you are now. You tugged at his belt and threw it with the caffeine infused sweatshirt, popping the button of his trousers open and lowering the zip. Mycroft threw his head back against the sofa cushions as you reached in and began to stroke him slowly, your lips latching onto the much better exposed neck. You experimentally gave a twist of your hand each time you reached the head, thumb brushing over the pre-cum that had formed at the tip and using it to slick up your hand- the elder Holmes let out a low moan from his throat, fingers digging into your hips so tightly that you wouldn't be surprised if they left small bruises. Not that you minded, anyway. Hearing Mycroft make those noises under your touch was exhilarating, and knowing you were the first to do such a thing only spurred the excitement on more. You could feel his thighs tighten beneath you, his breathing become slightly more ragged. You hadn't expected him to have lasted long, and you began to recognise the warning signs. Removing your hand completely, you couldn't help but send Mycroft an apologetic smile at the look of disappointment in his face.

"Look, I've already ruined a jumper and I'll be damned if I'm the cause of ruining your trousers too- which are certainly not from Marks and Sparks." You shimmied yourself back until you could feel the plush rug beneath your feet, dropping yourself until you were on your knees between his open legs. You could see in his eyes how he wanted to protest, or make some explanation on how it's unsanitary, but Mycroft's sheer need fed by his curiosity won over and he closed his eyes in waiting, regaining slight control over his breath before choking on it as you slowly ran your tongue from the base of his shaft to the head. "Unless you want me to stop?"

"Good God, no." His voice raised, making you grin as you took him into your mouth completely, head bobbing in a steady rhythm with your hand that pumped what you couldn't reach. Mycroft was certainly larger than any man you had been with before; his long slender cock suiting his form perfectly. You hummed as you imagined later sexual encounters with him- him filling you completely at last- and he writhed as the vibrations ran straight through him. Without a warning, you removed your hand and took him into your mouth completely, sucking and licking against the long vein that ran on the underside of his erection. Myc's hands instinctively shot to your hair as he felt the warmth build in his stomach, quickly cumming with a shout as you hummed around him once more. You pulled off him slowly with an audible 'pop', trying not to overstimulate while he was still sensitive, and tucked him back into his trousers. He tried to balance his breathing, removing his hands from your hair and running them through his own. Standing back up, you glanced over his form- his hair absolutely wild, shirt unbuttoned sligthly, red hairs poking between the fabric from a heaving chest, mouth still slightly open as he breathed, cheeks flushed immensely. God he looked gorgeous.

"Was that.. uh. Good?" You inwardly cringed at your words. Christ woman, you just blew him, not given him a cake. Uncharacteristically for Mycroft, his pale hand reached over to cup your cheek, bringing your lips to his in a sweet kiss; his tongue experimentally running across your bottom lip before pulling away. "Right, okay. That answered my question on where you stand on kissing after. With you sat there looking all messed up and sexy I was about ready to run and brush my teeth to kiss you again."

"Apologies.. I found myself.. curious."

"You bloody pervert." You winked, leaning to kiss him again. "So you'll kiss me after.. after.." You tried to think of a word that wouldn't sound overly vulgar to the man who had swallowed several dictionaries in several different languages.

"Fellatio?"

"Christ on a bike, Mycroft if you call it that I'll never do it again." The pair of you laughed like a pair of idiots for a moment before you continued on. "Anyway.. You'll kiss me after I do that and deem it 'curiosity', but I dip my chip in a milkshake and that's considered 'improper'? I'm starting to think you make up these rules to best suit you."

"Well, one should indulge in the odd act of impropriety sometimes, else I fear we'd go insane."

"So you WILL dip a chip in the milkshake next time?"

"Oh God, no. I'd rather snack on one of Sherlock's experiments." You both laughed again before silence took over, Mycroft's brain whirring as he tried to both comprehend what had happened, and work out the appropriate way to go on.

"You know, there isn't any written etiquette on how to behave after your partner blows you on the sofa." A raised eyebrow in response. "I am not calling it fellatio.." You reached over and grabbed the tv remote, flicking it back on.

"And you said you couldn't read minds.." As the screen began to power on, you heard a small chuckle from beside you.

"What?"

"No it's nothing. Just ignore me." He bit down onto two fingers slightly to compose himself; the composure being short-lived as he started off again. You tilted your head at him, urging him to speak about what had suddenly crossed his mind.

"Sorry I was just thinking about this morning."

"Bernice? Bit of a weird thing for your mind to flitter to right now, isn't it? Maybe I should be concerned you'll sack me off for her; one bit of action and you're planning to wed the nympho." You teased, loading britbox back up with the intention of continuing your filmathon- a word you used and Myc hated.. so you used it more.

"Before that. What you said this morning, after I heard you wince and ask-"

"Head.. And I said 'who knows what the day will bring'." You snickered into your hand and slouched back, resting slightly aside Mycroft's shoulder. "Speaking of that.. I do hope you're aware that I don't typically do that after only dating somebody for little less than a week."

"Usually wait two, do you?" You slapped his arm.

"Cheeky prick, I'm being serious! I don't want to make it all mushy and awkward so I'll say it, you don't respond and then we'll start up Carry On Camping. Deal?" He nodded his head slightly, bowing it towards you in gesture to continue. "Doing.. that.. and you letting me, it meant a lot. Which probably sounds weird for what it was but, and don't let this over stroke your ego, I don't feel like we've only been together a week. It just feels like we've been together for years with a random rule of celibacy that an innocent nap on the sofa broke. So.. there. I dunno.. I'm just.. proud of you? For taking that step with me.. and I'm massively looking forward to a few steps time when I can get your kit off." You coughed the last sentence with a laugh. True to his agreement, Mycroft didn't say a word. You played the next film and grinned when you felt a long arm wrap behind your back, tugging you to his form gently before warm lips pressed against your temple.

From an outside perspective, your little speech would likely seem a tad bizarre but you knew it probably meant a lot to Mycroft- the kiss on your head solidifying that fact. So you were more than willing to spurt a few awkward sentences for the sake of his reassurance; pleased that it was received well and not like some 'well done for trying' certificate you'd get in primary school for coming 6th in the sack race.

"Ooh this one has Babs in it, doesn't it? God I loved Barbara Windsor."

"Mmm. I met Dame Barbara once, a fair few years ago now. She truly was wonderful." Mycroft praised.

"Of course you met her, her last name's Windsor. You'd do anything to get to anything related to The Queen."

"Dame Barbara's surname was actually Deeks. She changed it to Windsor, inspired by Her Majesty, in 1954 following her role in 'The Belles of St Trinian's."

"Mycroft, sweetheart, I was joking. You told me you'd met her when she was given her title. I was a Barbara fangirl, I know." You twisted and pecked him on the cheek, not even noticing the petname that certainly didn't fall on deaf ears from Myc. The side of his mouth flicked up in a small smile; his hand squeezing slightly on your hip before he leaned over and spoke quietly.

"Thank you."

"What fo-"

"Shhh, film's starting." And with that, the pair of you settled into a comfortable silence, being broken only every now and then with your laughter as you watched the telly. Mycroft's smiles and light hearted reactions came from watching you much more than the film, but he didn't think you noticed. Or if you did, you didn't say a word.

TAGLIST

@lola4pedro​

[allisonbaelfire]

NYX

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Nyx was a legend, others referred to her as a myth of a bygone era, but so was the Winter Soldier once. The two shared a common past and now a common mission. However, their feelings for one another could danger their goal.

Word Count: 4,403

Authors Note: This story is inspired by the Marvel Comics with Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff and Falcon and the Winter Soldier Series.

+ nyx =  /Nýx/ - the Greek goddess (or personification) of the night. A shadowy figure.

____________________________________

“I was their secret weapon...or at least I was one of them. She was another. Something about her touched what was left of my humanity. Buried under all that programming.” Bucky touched the back of his neck. “A long time ago, Y/N made me remember what it was to feel human.” 

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - Low Town:

After several weeks of looking for clues to the "Flag Smashers", your way brought you to Madripoor. One of the most criminal cities in the world. If you didn't want to be robbed or even die here immediately, you had to be someone and have made a name for yourself. It's good that you already had that.

“Nyx”, Your informant greeted you. “Where’s my money?”

You smirked. “Do I have to remind you what happens, if you keep talking to me in that tone?” 

You wanted to take a sip of the bourbon you had just ordered, but your informant knocked it out of your hand and the glass broke on the floor. Before the glass hit the floor, you grabbed him by his throat and pushed him down on the counter.

The bar owner, Jerry, wanted to interfere. His bar was the only one in Madripoor with zero tolerance against violence, if you wanted to fight you should do it outside.

You raised your finger and showed the owner that he should wait, he also knew who you were, which was why he repected you. 

“Do you know how hard it is to find a good bar with my favorite bourbon in Madripoor?” The guy shook his head while you gripped tighter. “No? now let me tell you - it's as hard as really doing anything with your expensive information.” You let go of him.

“I-I told you everything, I know.”

“I-I” You laughed. “Remembered who I am, huh?” You ordered another Bourbon. “So, first of all, this drink, you’ll pay for it.” You took a sip and smiled. “Next, you’re going to tell me all you know about Kali and then I’ll pay you.”

You didn't get an answer, but you realized he still knew something when he nervously looked at his phone. You rolled your eyes, stood up, and turned around. "Jerry, I'm really sorry but I tried the nice way." You slightly pulled your dress up and took out your gun, turned to the informant and released the fuse. 

“Phone,” You winded your eyes, “now!” 

You rolled your eyes, still pointing at the guy. “Zemo - High Town, you’ve got to be kidding me.”  You put your gun back and broke his phone. “I’m very disappointed and our Deal is over, don’t make a mistake - don’t follow me.” You spoke serious. “Or it's the last thing you'll ever do.”

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - High Town - Brass Monkey Saloon:

High Town in Madripoor was way different than Low Town. More drugs, weapons sex, rich people and power. The petty criminals were no longer represented here; criminal elite were gathered here.

“Nyx,” The Bartender greeted you. “Long time no see even though you look stunning in that dress (X), thought you were done with this life.”

“Well, a girl has to eat,” You smirked. “And to drink.”

The bartender smiled and brought you your favorite bourbon. “Did you hear the rumors about Zemo?”

“Heard he’s back in town.” You took a sip of your glas.

He raised his eybrow. “This Bastard is accompanied by the Winter Soldier.”

You choked. He patted you on the shoulder. After you were sure you hadn't misheard, you inspected the club more closely.

You looked at the Bartender, “You never saw me.” he nodded.

You nervously went to the ladies' room. You’ve heard that James was still alive and that he now had a part of his memory back, so you thought he had stopped being the Winter Soldier and started a life of his own outside of H.Y.D.R.A.. But now that he was Zemo's company you thought about following them and finding out what that their Partnership was about.

You checked whether there was anyone else in the toilet besides you and when you were sure that you were alone, you took a deep breath and turned on the water. You suddenly got a slight headache and grabbed your head, when you looked at yourself in the mirror, your flashbacks started. 

____________________________________

Ages ago - Red Room:

You were one of the best and yet you always had to prove it. After you had defeated each of your fellow campaigners, your leaders were still not satisfied and they let you fight the Winter Soldier - again

“AGAIN!” The Winter Soldier shouted and you fell you arm would break if you’d hit him again.

“AGAIN!”

“AGAIN!”

“James, I-I need a break.”

“What did you just call me?” He asked as he noticed the penetrating looks of the other woman and you remembered that nobody should now.

The Winter Soldier knocked you out.

____________________________________

After James knocked you out, you were brought to your room, you woke up hours later. You touched your head and noticed the bump he gave you. 

"Stupid, bastard." You mumbled.

“I’m sorry, you know I had to.” You recognized his voice.

You looked around and saw his silhouette sitting in the corner, presumably he came through the window into your room again, like so many times before.

You shook your head, “No, I am sorry. I've put both of us in danger”

Bucky got up and went to you. He let his right hand slowly slide up over your arm to your neck and finally to your head, he too felt the bump. You felt his guilt, but you knew he would never really hurt you.

“Stop it.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “James, you know I could’ve easily taken you down.” You smirked.

Because of him, you could endure the whole ordeal at all. If he just looked at you, you lost yourself in his blue eyes and if he held you in his arms he gave you a warm home. He was your anchor to carry on every day and you were his.

“I told you to call me Bucky.”

You pulled him closer to you, “I’m glad that you start to remember who you’re.”

He put his hands gently around your waist and pulled you closer as he slowly leaned in to kiss you.

____________________________________

After cooling your wrists and neck, your pulse calmed down and the flashbacks were gone.

“Thankfully I have often had to look out from above in this God-forsaken place.” 

You jumped on one of the sinks and pushed a panel of the roof aside. You pulled yourself up and crawled back to the dance floor so that no one could see you but you could see everyone.

You spotted Zemo, so it wasn't a rumor and he really was back, but you haven't been able to locate Bucky yet. But it was strange for Zemo that his companion was smiling Tiger.

You were a little rusty in lip reading but you understood that he wanted to talk to Shelby. This would have been your next step too. The mood in the club began to turn. People started staring at Zemo as one of Powerbroker's bodyguards made himself known.

“Зимний солдат атака” Zemo ordered.

“No” You covered your mouth with your hands.

Bucky stepped out of the shadows and was now clearly in your field of vision. He didn't see you, it seemed as if he only saw what he always saw first - an order and his mission. He was ready to comply. He attacked the men who were trying to get Zemo.

Elegant and graceful like a cat, you glide silently along the steel girders,  and watched every movement of James, did Zemo really manage to turn him into his personal puppet?

Bucky knocked down man after man as if they were nothing. Your pulse went faster and your movements on the steel beams became more uncontrolled as you followed his fight. Your heart felt the urge to intervene, you reminded Bucky so many times who he was - not any ones weapon, that you stopped counting and seeing him like this again felt like you had failed him. 

When you were almost about to fall, people simultaneously pulled out their guns. James stopped fighting and was called back by Zemo. You regained control of your heartbeat and your body relaxed, which helped you to find your balance again.

The bartender informed Zemo that the three would now be welcomed by Shelby. 

You couldn't follow them any further without getting into the line of fire. You waited until they left and slowly made your way down from the steel girders and landed on the floor. People looked at you questioningly.

“What? Lady’s stay out of meaningless fights.” And with that you left the bar.

____________________________________

After a few minutes outside the club you got a message, but it seemed you weren't the only one. Cell phones all around you started chiming, people were chatting and looking around. Shelby placed a pretty high bounty and now everyone would be looking for James

You heard gunshots, “Great.” 

Of course, instead of being smart and running away from the gunshots like every other person, you couldn't help but run to exactly where they came from. You hadn't seen Bucky in a long time, but everything in your body demanded to find him before someone could place a bullet between his beautiful ocean eyes.

You saw the bikers who drove behind Bucky and smiling Tiger, you pulled out your gun and fired at them. Two fell, thanks to you, the last one was taken out by a sniper.

“You seem to have a guardian Angel.” Zemo spoke breathless.

“Not quite.” 

Bucky recognized this voice, but couldn't place it exactly on a face. He was just sure she wasn't a threat.

A blond woman showed up, “Nice shot. I take it from here,” she looked behind the man. “and you can crawl back into the darkness.” You smirked and nodded. 

Before the men could turn around you had already disappeared into the shadows.

____________________________________

Within seconds you were on the roofs of Madripoor and on the way to your hotel. Being so close to Bucky clouded your mind and made you lose sight of your goal. 

It helped you to walk over the rooftops in the middle of the night, it was like a release for you. In the night, in the deepest darkness, it was easier to order your thoughts, this is how you had been taught, how he had taught you to focus in case you should lose your way - switch everything dark and only listen to your inner voice.

You remembered him saying those words to you, “Your voice is what makes me lose my focus.” you held your neck and climbed into your Hotelroom through an open window.

After you were in your room, you inspected every inch for cameras, microphones or intruders of any kind, after this you closed every window, every door and every curtain.

“Finally.” You sighed as you pulled of your dress.

You looked even more threatening under your dress. There were small knives on both sides of your ribs and two different guns on your legs. You took everything off and put your weapons aside, all but your favorite gun (X).

“Your place is here.” You spoke soft and placed it under your pillow.

You went to bed and closed your eyes. The room was dark and absolutely silent while your thoughts and memories yelled at you.

____________________________________

“Can we just stay here forever?” You asked while laying in Buckys arms on top of the roof the Academy.

You looked up, the stars merged with the dark night and they seemed to be in perfect harmony.

“Whenever we’re separated, I look at the stars and I think of you. You are my night and I'm your star, he looked at his metal arm,” He tried to make the gun on his body positive. “even if we are often apart from each other, I cannot be without you-” 

You lifted yourself up to look at him. “And I cannot be without you.”

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - High Town - Unknown Place

It was already very late when Bucky, Sam and Zemo arrived at Sharon's apartment. They all wouldn’t have expected that Sharon had such a beautiful and safe hiding place in the middle of Madripoor, plus a successful business.

“How’s the new Cap?” She asked curious.

Bucky sat down on the couch, "Don’t get me started" he said with an annoyed voice.

Sharon scoffed. “Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” She sat next to him. “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America!” Sharon chuckled as she noticed Zemo questioning look. “Cap’s best friend.”

Bucky was suprised by Sharon's words, none of them knew this side of her before.

“Wow. She’s kind of awful now.” Bucky mumbled.

Sam gave them an side eye, “Kali Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the super soldier serum.” He sat down. “We won’t leave until we find the one who cracked the code.”

Sharon turned and stared out her window, “That’d explain her appearance. Either she wants to take it or destroy it.”

“Who?” Zemo asked.

“Nyx” Sharon stood up and got herself a drink.

Bucky stood up and he looked petrified. It was as if he had forgotten how to move or even show any kind of reaction within seconds. As he thought more and more about the day, he had felt her penetrating gaze, even though she was nowwhere to be seen. His heart was racing. Bucky’s eyes ran through the room, every dark corner was inspected, but she wasn’t called NYX for nothing.

Sam noticed Bucky's tense body, everything about him seemed like he was hopelessly overwhelmed with something that piercing his head.

“Hey man. You okay?” Sam gently touched his shoulder.

Zemo looked worried like Bucky would snap again any minute. “What is going on with him?” 

Bucky went to Sharon and got worryingly close in her space. “What do you know about her and how can I contact her?”

Bucky's posture was tense. For someone who didn't know him, they might have thought, he would attack Sharon at any moment. But Sharon didn’t step back. She recognized something in his eyes, that she had once seen before, as she looked in Steve Roger’s after her Aunts dead - pain and a broken heart.

“This can’t be.” Sharon raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. “You’re her-”

“What the hell is going on?” Sam interrupted.

“-Star”

Bucky's eyes blurred, his head started to ache, and he held on to the wall to keep from falling.

“I know you’ll always be with me!” You chuckled and looked into the dark blue night. “You’re my star, you watch out for me.”

He remembered a feminine and warm voice.

“What if they catch us?” You asked him worried. 

Bucky gently touched your cheek, “Then I’ll fight them all.” he kissed you.

He remembered the texture of her soft skin and her gently touch.

“You’re not a Monster, no matter how many times they try to convince you - you’re not.”

He remembered how you tried to protect him.

“If you want him, you’ve to kill me first.”

He remembered how you fought for him...

...and how you lost the fight.

Bucky took a deep breath. He came back to himself. He remembered a part of his past that H.Y.D.R.A. left buried deep. A part that made him turn off the Winter Soldier again and again. 

His guilt grew. “I need to go.” He mumbled.

Sam came in his way, “Wait!” he sighed. “Talk to me, Buck.”

Sharon scoffed. “One Weapon wants to find the other. NYX is a Myth all around the world, like the Winter Soldier was.” She winked at him. “She’s as strong as an Army, fast like a cheetah, she knows the most diverse fighting techniques and speaks multiple languages-”

“-Okay and?” Zemo rolled his eyes.

“I was the secret weapon of H.Y.D.R.A. ...or at least I was one of them. She was another. Something about her touched what was left of my humanity. Buried under all that programming.” Bucky touched the back of his neck. “A long time ago, Y/N made me remember what it was to feel human.”

Sam held his head. “She saved us today. Well, saved you but-” he shrug with his shoulders. 

“And now she has become a shadow. She works alone, always clean leaving no hints behind. I don’t know how to find her but maybe I can contact some people who might know what her next mission is.”

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - Next Morning:

Your alarm clock rang but you had been awake and still lying in bed for hours. That you would wake up before your alarm clock was nothing special, but it was unusual that you were lying there instead of going to work immediately.

Your heart beat irregularly, and a slight nausea came over you every now and then. Seeing Bucky again without him recognizing you hit your psyche more than you wanted to admit to yourself.

Your phone rang, a new hint for the super soldier serum.

You sighed. “Ohhh f*ck this.” you put your pillow on your face.

But a mission was a mission. You took the pillow from your face, sat up straight, and took a deep breath. Even before you knew that Bucky was back, the mission was important to you personally and Bucky wouldn't be able to prevent you from destroying the serum - no matter what.

Your cell phone rang again and one of your informants wrote you where you could find the scientist who had recreated the serum. Buccaneer Bay.

You looked at your gun. “Hopefully I won’t need you for him...” You spoke and put on your weapons.

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR -  Buccaneer Bay

Your body was still tense because of Bucky, but it was also he who learned to suppress your own emotions. When you arrived in Buccaneer Bay, your way led you to the top of the container. A better view and you wouldn't be noticed right away.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor the less likely you’re ever leaving.” 

You rolled your eyes as you recognized a female voice. “I should’ve known.”

You leaned a little over the container you were standing on and noticed Sharon, Sam Wilson, Zemo and of course Bucky.

The four of them ran through the individual containers and it seemed as if they were looking for the same thing as you. Slowly and silently you went after them until-

Sharon stopped. “-Container four-two-six-one.” 

Bucky looked uncomfortable. He looked around in every direction. It was as if you could literally feel that someone was watching him.

“I’ll watch while you guys talk to Nagel.” Sharon handed them some earpods. “But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

“What’re you up to?” You asked yourself as you looked at her.

The container door cracked open, you waited until Sharon was far enough away to get to the next container and on to your destination.

The men went in and you heard them open another door inside. You waited 2 minutes, after all, Zemo and Sam were accompanied by the Winter Soldier, who would double-check everything. When you were sure that they were gone you went into the container.

____________________________________

As you followed them you heard how they drew their weapons. That wasn’t your way, while they first thought of pulling out their weapons, you thought of securing the container and waiting until the men thought they had nothing to worry about and were alone with the doctor.

“Doctor Nagel?” You heard Sam.

The doctor turned and went pale in the face. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super-soldier serum.”

You walked slowly into the room and decided to hide yourself first.

Nagel walked past them, “Get out of my lap.” until he noticed Bucky.

“You know who he is right?”

Nagel didn’t dare to move any further than looked deep into Bucky’s eyes and didn’t grimace. Sam grabbed Nagel by his jacket and pushed him at a wall.

“How about a counter proposal?” The Doctor grinned. “Make me a better offer and I talk.”

Bucky's body language spoke for him. He must have heard something, they weren't alone anymore. He pulled his gone and pointed at Nagel. You got nervous, was this Bucky Barnes or was it the Winter Soldier? Whoever he was, nothing should happen to Nagel.

Nagel began to explain how he managed to reproduce and modify the Super-Soldier serum. In your opinion, he was a bit arrogant.

“I was god.” He smiled and you rolled your eyes.

Zemo started walking around, you couldn't tell what he was going to do so you decided to get closer. He found a gun under a desk and went near Sam and Bucky. You heard the container door open again and you were ready to fight, but Sharon stormed in and for a second you couldn't keep an eye on Zemo, a shot went off - Nagel was dead.

You had to act immediately, you came out from behind Sharon and hit her hard on the head, she fell over like a stone. Sam held Zemo tight, his gun fell to the ground. You ran up to Sam, he was so surprised that it was easy for you to ram your elbow in his face and make him fall to the ground too. You pulled out your two guns, one aimed at Zemo and the other at Bucky.

“Y/N?” Bucky sounded confused.

“Its been a long time since I heard that Name,” She sighed. “Did you miss me, Soldier?” You gasped.

“Do you want the serum for yourself, my dear?” Zemo asked hands up.

Bucky shook his head, “She already has it.” He came closer to you.

“Ah-Ah-Ah, don’t make another move.” You were still aiming at Bucky. “I need the serums, I’ll destroy them so that no one can ever use it again, can use us like they please.”

Bucky's gaze softened. The whole time he was wondering what had become of you, but even if H.Y.D.R.A. or the KGB wanted to make you monsters, you were one of the monsters who worked for, instead of against, people.

He came closer and even without touching you he could feel how much your heart was beating. But what he didn't know, would you shoot him to get to your goal? 

He put his hand on yours with he gun, “Y/N...”

____________________________________

Before you could react to Bucky or even think about your next step, you were hit by a bomb that destroyed half the container and knocked you and the others to the ground.

“Y/N,” Bucky groans.

You heard heard the alarm blaring and glasses clicking, everything was shaking but you seemed unharmed as you could stand up on your own. But your eyes couldn't see that much, everything looked blurry. You could barely stand on your feet. 

“Did anyone see Zemo?”

Bucky helped the others up. You shook your head and slowly came to yourself. Bucky came and took your hand when another explosion destroyed the container, you all were lucky and made it out just in time.

“All right! Wait for my signal!” Bucky ordered.

You heard gunfire and placed yourself in front of him to take a shouter out. 

“Too slow old man.” You came out from behind the container and started shooting the other shooters. Sharon and Sam followed your example and helped.

“Damn it, Y/N!”

You could hear how one after the other fell to the ground but it seemed to get more and more.

“Hey?!” You looked at Bucky. “Do you remember Budapest?” You yelled.

Bucky did remember Budapest and shook his head. “Its too dangerous!”

Another explosion happened and smoke came up, it was perfect to cover you. You got out of your protection and Bucky ran behind you. You were standing back to back and started shooting around you and taking one by one until there was no one left.

Sam and Sharon were speechless after what they just witnessed. A super soldier and a spy who killed 20 people at once without even blinking. But it wasn't over yet, Madripoor was not known for criminals who would give up so easily.

“Okay come on!” Sharon spoke and you followed her into another container.

“So you two?” Sam started and Bucky and you gave him a death stare. “Okay, okay.” He grinned.

Bucky rammed open the door on the other side of the container and you could hear car tires screeching.

“Supercharged.” Zemo smiled.

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam replied.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?”

Bucky crossed his arms, “He’s right, we need him.” he opened the car door.

“Fine.” Sam clenched his teeth. “But if you try that shit again.” He placed himself on the backseat.

You looked at Bucky and he realized you weren't going to come with him. He took your hand and pulled you closer to himself. 

Everything in Bucky demanded to stroke you, kiss you and just feel you but he couldn't even find a word.

“I’ll find you.” You looked into his eyes and smiled soft. “even in the darkest nights.”

He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Then he went inside the car.

You nodded to Sam to show you trusted him to fight by Bucky's side. Then you turned around and walked past Sharon while you rammed her shoulder hard, once around the corner and you were gone.

Bucky put his head in his hands, wondering if he should have stayed with you or persuaded you to come with him. But it didn't seem to be the time for it yet. Sam touched his shoulder to comfort him. Zemo started the car and Bucky felt your gaze on him, he turned around and this time you allowed him to see you. 

He knew you’d see each other again, he still hoped for a better reason but the Serum was still out there - and your mission wasn't over yet.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading - Please share and leave some love here <3

[thesolferino]

Blood Red

⤷ knight!dream x assassin!fem!reader.

— summary: technoblade hires you to kill sir dream at king george’s ball while he’s off duty; sir dream wants a dance with the peculiar lady wearing a peculiar gown.

A red gown flashes past the sea of white and baby pink ones in a dazzling fashion, one of a Duchess or a Countess, surely not of a simple lady, but it flies by quick, so quick that you simply don’t get to catch the face that matches it. Quick enough that it leaves you stunned, slow enough for a knight’s eagle eye to spot.

The red is dark, darker than the simple scarlet red that the women wore on top of their buns or at the ends of their braids in the form of carefully tied bows. It’s dark, a dark maroon red, walking the line between uncomfortably red and obviously brown finely, careful not to cross each side. It’s an unsettling red, which makes it even more intriguing, especially to a knight - a knight who dances, off-duty, but fails to keep his eyes on the Dame in front of him, and he’s sure it might’ve gotten him in trouble if the porcelain mask hadn’t stayed stapled on his face, shielding his eyes from betraying him.

The red is outstanding, eccentric amongst all the pale, and the knight isn’t the only one who steals a look - the red was noteworthy, among the rest, and wasn’t that what a killer like yourself was made to avoid? Getting seen, getting noticed? Being the center of attention was for the masterminds, after all, not the ones who get their hands dirty; somebody might catch them staining.

It was a bad idea, the ones in charge had said many times before, but you always wore red to the job. They always dumbly ask why, you always repeat the answer. The blood would become invisible, you said. It was as if nothing had happened, at all.

That’s why your maroon flashed amongst the sea of ivory and lavender unapologetically, beautifully shining against the blush pink tiles, matching red heels clacking in obedience with your footsteps, feet moving lightly, gracefully, as if made for such a setting.

And when the song decrescendoed into silence and the violins started moving in a different pattern, the knight callously let go of the Dame’s hand and his feet carried him to where his eyes remained fastened on for hours, pale hand outstretching to your own, finally getting to see your face for the first time in the evening.

The red was too much for a Lady, and that’s why he knew exactly who you were. Maybe not by name, or by age, but profession and motivation were a strong guess. He’d been waiting for this moment - might as well make the most of it.

“May I have this dance, miss?” He spoke, hand still hovering in the air calmly, as she stared dead into the mask, right where she could imagine his eyes were. The stare gave him the answer to an already solved question - your gaze gave away absolutely nothing, and that’s what made him sure of it all. You’re good at your job, he supposes.

Beats of silence pass as couples sway behind you, some more gracefully so than others. You set your hand in his, lightly, carefully, so timidly it almost made him rethink it all. How could such a hand commit such vile things?

“Alright.” You spoke in return, placing your hand behind his shoulder, touch still as soft as before before slipping your other hand in his, not letting your fingers intertwine the way he may have wanted them to. He placed his arm on your back, just below your armpit, beginning to dance and move towards the center of the ballroom.

“From what I’ve observed, you seem to be a good dancer.” He mused, stretching his hand to let you spin, gown flapping around as you did, and he could’ve sworn it might’ve left trails of stardust on the floor everywhere you stepped. You smiled, in a way that screamed at him to escape, but his hand stayed glued to yours, moving further.

“I know a couple of things here and there.”

“How come? Excuse me if I am being intrusive, but I have not seen you at many balls. At least not the ones I attend.” He knew exactly why this specific ball was the one she attended, and the whole conversation inevitably leads to the answer he’s already aware of - he just wants to see how good of a liar you are, though.

“This is my first time here. I’m not a woman of some importance.” You replied, charm beaming off you like rays of light off the sun, and Dream could almost feel his legs tripping after the very hem of your dress. He’s playing with fire, and he knows it, but he just can’t help himself and pour heaps of gasoline. He’s always been like that, and perhaps George hates him for it, but George doesn’t matter anymore - he doesn’t exist as long as he doesn’t look at him. He’s off duty, and if he wants to play with the fire that lights just to burn him, then he shall do exactly that.

“Oh, believe me, you are of utmost importance if I’ve ever seen some.” He says, and you reply with nothing, simply spinning another time under his arm that holds yours firmly. He takes it as an invitation to spark some panic in you.

“Besides, the color of your dress would suggest otherwise. How come a simple lady’s wearing such kitsch cloth?” Dream points out when the two of you move a bit farther back, led by you, and he’s just about impressed at how well you are at suppressing all of this, especially when you let out a perfectly timed, airy chuckle in response, not a single flash of fear or danger in your eyes. It’s the first time that night that he’s actually felt like prey. Techno taught you well, didn’t he?

“I don’t think you’re one to speak on that, Sir Dream.” you respond, eyes flashing from the collar of his basil green suit to the nicely paired olive points of his shoes, back to the hollow eyes of the mask with a mischievous glint in your eye. He exhales a laugh.

“The color is pretty, isn’t it? Aren’t simple ladies allowed to feel like Duchesses every once in a while?” you continue, pulling the two of you mere centimeters closer, enough for any of the passing guests not to spare a single look, and enough for him to notice what you’re doing. He can almost feel a bead of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Maybe he’s more scared of death than he thought.

“I don’t think you’re a simple lady.” He professed, following your lead. You were pulling him dangerously close to the south side, where the balcony stood. You were impressingly good at this. “Simple ladies don’t have knives strapped to their thigh.”

He waited for a slip up, and he got none. Not a single hitch in your breathing, a stutter of your tongue - your lips, marked with a red lipstick that suddenly looked a lot like smeared blood even though it wasn’t, simply stretched into another coy smile. You say nothing, simply keep dancing, feet moving in a little bit of a different direction now, as to delay the operation, and he likes to think that’s enough of a slip up.

“Are you scared of death, Sir Dream?” Violins stammer in staccatos behind him, an awful representation of the tension he knows both of you feel, yet not a single other soul in the room can behold. The back of his neck grows warmer, and maybe it’s fondness, maybe lust, or maybe danger and that known feeling of being the prey in this situation, that he taps in with one foot, the other safely yet artificially placed on predator territory, because he refuses to admit he’s no longer the one with the upper hand, and his leg has lifted off predator land long, long ago.

“My death will be nothing more than a false victory to you.” He offers instead of an answer, hips swaying to the music and steals a glance at the rest of the couples dancing. It’s such an airy atmosphere, so calm, casual yet fancy, elegant. Gowns fly around and snake around naked ankles, but none of them are as pretty as yours. Dream refuses to think about the way his blood would look soaking it, and that’s when it clicks. You’re not so dumb, after all.

“I suppose it will, but your murder will be a true one.” you say, and your feet are tapping on the tiles a few feet too close to the balcony. Dream feels crazy, still dancing like this. He feels crazy, and maybe he should ask for help, scream, but he doesn’t. He dances on, dancing until either the stars or you take him.

“Will you feel alive if I take it off? Will he be more satisfied?” His head moves comically, just to bring attention to the mask that feels so unbelievably tight and suffocating, the strings pressing to the back of his head, threatening to snap. He wants them to snap so badly.

“It’s too late for me to feel alive now. I’ve been dead for years, and I’ll stay that way. Whatever you want, though, honey.” Your voice feels more like music than the actual musing of the fuse of piano and strings in his ears, and he still feels crazy. He feels high on something he’s never known. You haven’t killed him yet - maybe you’re high as well.

“I can bring people back to life.” He replies simply, six simple words that are nothing more than conversation fuel, but they hold so much meaning that he can’t miss the glint in your eyes. Your step falters for a second, but the knight’s eagle eye never misses.

“You don’t want me alive, you want yourself alive.” You whisper, heels clacking louder and louder now. Dream is convinced he’s going insane, but his feet move at their own accord, of their own body and soul.

“I want both of us.”

“Only one gets to stay.” You say, and it doesn’t make his blood go cold like he expects it to. It’s sort of depressing to know that his heart accepted his morality so quickly, much quicker than his stubborn brain.

“I don’t think you want me to go, though.” It’s one hell of a ballsy move, but when you press your lips together, he knows he’s done it. Unsure how, but happy he did, nonetheless.

“I’m quite unsure of what I want, I must say. Sir Technoblade does, though.” You spit his name out, and it forces an unwilling laugh out of Dream.

“Be careful, it’s death you’re dancing with.” You say, gaze as fiery as ever, reflecting the blood of your dress and the blinding lights of the chandelier that light your eyes on fire. He returns the gaze just the same.

“May I get one last dance with Death, then, before she makes up her mind?” The knight cheekily smiles, even though you can’t see it, but he’s sure you feel it. Your hand manages to go warmer in his own when you grip it tighter, and he thinks he’s got his answer.

“You know what? Death’s a pretty good dancer, but so are you. She’ll allow it.”

[cosmicjoke]

Ah, chapters 113 & 114 of AoT, and I’ve only got one thing to say.

Zeke, am I supposed to be feel sorry for the bitch?  Well I DON’T.

No, seriously, fuck this guuuuuuuuy, I know I keep saying it again and again, but God damn, if these two chapters didn’t just solidify my hatred for the bastard.

First of all, he is just... the most whiny, delusional, self-pitying pathetic loser, just... he really is.  I feel like a character in a Peanuts comic strip every time he opens his mouth.  All I hear is “whaa, whaa, whaa”.  And his delusions of grandeur would almost be funny if they weren’t so pathetic.  

Here’s the thing, alright, and I’m sorry if I’m going to offend any Zeke fans with what I’m about to say, but too bad, I guess.  

Everything out of this shitheads mouth is a lie.  And just because he’s convinced himself of his own bullshit doesn’t make the lies coming out of his mouth any more true.

He turns Levi’s fellow soldiers into Titans.  He does this without remorse.  Don’t try to tell me Zeke felt bad about it.  He didn’t.  You know how I know he didn’t?  Because in his private moments in the immediate aftermath, he mocks Levi over having done it, gloating about his supposed master plan of using Levi’s compassion against him and utilizing it to ensure Levi’s own demise.  Zeke’s entire attitude here is sickeningly unbothered, unburdened, uncaring, and smug in the EXTREME.  He mocks Levi’s compassion, literally makes fun of it and lambasts it as a pathetic sign of weakness when he says “I know you’re a caring leader.  Your soldiers haven’t done anything wrong.  They’ve just grown a little bigger.  You wouldn’t, say, slice them to pieces over that, would you?”.  This is Zeke making fun of the fact, finding AMUSEMENT in the fact that he’s just murdered 30 people who have never done a single thing to him, and reveling in what he thinks is a victory that will lead to Levi’s own death, reveling in having taken advantage of and weaponizing a better man’s kindness and compassion.  Zeke is ENJOYING this moment.  Just like he enjoyed killing all those soldiers in Shinganshina.  And then, the kicker, and this is a particular point about Zeke that just makes me absolutely sick, he pretends to himself as if he didn’t want to do it.  He PLAYS at his own regret, saying, “I didn’t want do this either,” and yet in the very next breath, continues to treat what he’s done with grotesque flippancy, saying “Still, how sad... There wasn’t even a battle or skirmish.”  Gloating over how easily he’s bested Levi and his men, before going on to sink further into his insane delusions of grandeur, blaming their inability to trust one another on Levi’s inability to “understand”.  I’m sorry, Zeke, but no.  You didn’t even TRY to help Levi understand, too wrapped up in your own egotistical god-complex to consider it a possibility.  ‘Oh, only I could possibly understand, along with Eren, the great task we two special beings have been burdened with.  He makes assumptions about Levi’s life, about the kinds of things he’s seen and experienced, and convinces himself that they couldn’t be anything like what Zeke has (which, hilariously, is all wrong, since out of everyone, Levi knows better than anyone else in the SC what it’s like to be treated as a second class citizen).  Zeke just assumes Levi couldn’t possibly ever grasp the complexities of the outside world, and so that’s why Zeke didn’t even bother trying to talk to him.  Blah, blah, blah.  No, Zeke, you didn’t share your stupid ass plan because you wanted to continue to feel special, like you’re the chosen one who gets to decide the fate of an entire race of people.  The most hilarious part of this entire sequence is when Zeke is thinking Levi couldn’t ever understand the concept of all the world’s militaries bearing down on Paradis at once, and what that means, couldn’t grasp the urgency of the situation, as if ZEKE HIMSELF isn’t completely fucking responsible for that situation in the first place.  Zeke literally engineered it.  He created the problem, and now wants to position himself as the savior.  He’s just such a loser man.  The God damned definition.  

And as if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when it turns out Zeke’s plan to take Levi out failed miserably, and Levi comes after his sorry ass like a bat out of hell, Zeke continues to mock Levi, to laugh at what Levi’s just had to do in order to survive and pursue Zeke.  He says “Where’d your adorable little men go!?  Don’t tell me you killed them all!  The poor things!”.  Are you fucking serious?  Zeke’s behavior here is one of the most sickening things in the entire story, bar none.  The way he laughs at Levi here for having to cut down 30 of his friends and comrades, the absolute display of sociopathic glee and disregard for the severe, horrific trauma he’s just caused this man, is honestly shocking.  Man, I’m sorry, but anyone who sympathizes with Zeke over Levi after this display maybe needs to reevaluate their moral compass, because it’s damned broken.  And just as an aside, Zeke’s cowardly fear of Levi is also pretty damned funny.  He’s just such a bitch./

We go from this perverse display of psychopathic megalomania into Zeke’s backstory, and again, I’m sorry if I’m gonna offend any Zeke fans here, but to all of that, I ask, so effing what?  Oh, boohoo, Zeke’s mommy and daddy didn’t shower him with praise or spend any time playing catch with him, and somehow, I guess, this is meant to excuse his attempts later in life to commit mass genocide.  Poor, poor Zeke.  Yes, his childhood was sad, he experienced neglect from his parents for two whole years, was used by them as a pawn for their idiotic plans, and ended up disappointing his father when it turned out he had no real talent.  And again I ask, so what?  This sort of experience isn’t exactly what one would call unique, or even extreme.  There are countless children in the world who go through the exact same thing in various forms.  Parents who put too much pressure on their kids to succeed, parents who try living vicariously through their children, parents who make their disappointment known and even punish their children for failing to live up to their expectations (something Zeke’s parents never did, by the way).  The point is, this isn’t even what one would classify as extreme hardship.  It’s a sad story of a child being neglected and not receiving enough love from his parents.  This isn’t to undermine the very real pain one experiences from those things.  Not at all.  That pain is real and legitimate.  But it’s also fairly common and pedestrian, as far as childhood trauma is concerned, and it doesn’t even remotely begin to justify the extreme lengths of megalomaniacal, sociopathic, genocidal tendencies he later displays.  Also, Zeke also had his grandparents, who did love him and spent lots of time with him.  He had Mr. Ksaver, who played with him and acted as a mentor to him.  It wasn’t like Zeke had no one and grew up with zero connections.  That’s BS.  

Levi calls this bitch on his shit later in chapter 114, as Zeke’s muttering away in his delusions about how he’s “saving everyone”.  He asks Zeke “That was your plan?  Mercy killings?”.  Levi’s asking Zeke here who the hell gave him the right to decide who lives and who dies?  Who gave him the right to decide who’s life is WORTH living?  When Levi says him getting to die by being eaten by a Titan is pretty merciful, considering he stole the lives of so many of his comrades, Zeke’s reply speaks volumes about just how warped and demented his thinking is, when he says “I stole nothing.  I... saved them.  Them and the children they would have... I saved them all... from this cruel world.”.  He’s literally justifying murdering countless people by trying to redefine that murder as “saving” them.  It’s not murder because it saved them from ever having to suffer again!  He’s absolving himself here of his sins by casting his actions in not just a favorable light, but trying to sell them as heroic and admirable.  He takes no, actual responsibility for what he’s done.  He removes himself from that responsibility by pretending he was doing a good thing, an honorable, noble thing, by murdering a whole bunch of people who’d never done jack shit to him.  Yippee for Zeke, I guess.  He’s the very definition of an ego-maniac, of someone suffering from a messiah complex.  He’s insane, and morally depraved.  The very fact that he’s the one who comes up with the idea of eradicating the Eldian race by rendering them infertile is only further proof of this.  What teenager comes up with a plan to exterminate an entire race of people and thinks it’s a good idea?

Right before he blows himself and Levi up, he screams “I’m hope you’re watching, Mr. Ksaver!”.  He’s indulging in his own, fanciful notions of himself as the “chosen one”, as a unique person who alone is capable of delivering humanity to salvation.  He’s showing off, asking Mr. Ksaver to watch him as he “saves the world”, because all he cares about, really, is making himself feel special, of fulfilling what he’s deluded himself into believing is his destiny, his right to decide the fate of the world. 

And then he almost kills Levi in the process.

I swear, I wish Levi had just chopped his shitty head off right then and there.  No one can blame Levi for chopping the bastards legs up like he did, for being so angry.  It wasn’t just that Zeke had killed so many of his fellow soldiers by turning them into Titans, or tried to kill Levi by turning them into Titans, it’s also how Zeke laughed about it, and laughed at the pain he’d caused Levi, treating all of it as if it was worth nothing, and then having the unmitigated gall to cast himself as the hero bestowing his benevolent mercy on all.  Give me a fucking break.

Fuck you Zeke.  I hope you rot in hell, you dumb shit.  

Also, fuck you to Floch too.  I hate that bastard almost as much.

[dimonds456]

Gem Steven’s gem is flipped upside-down. (Theory/Speculation time!)

SPOILERS FOR @spudinacup’s SU AU “Gone Wrong”!

Also WARNING: long post!

So recently, someone pointed out that Steven has a scar on his torso going across his gem’s location, which I found interesting in and of itself. Makes sense, since he wasn’t able to heal it since he DIED and his gem was shoved out of his body before it got the chance to heal him. That slash mark is there now. Wow, neat! Nice detai-

Wait.

Hold on a sec.

Is his gem... flipped upside-down? Well, it’s been like this for a while, maybe it’s just a creative choi-

...oh.

This is VERY intentional.

So I did some digging, and found much more symbolism and possible foreshadowing, and now I want to throw out my theory about Gem Steven here, including his potential arc and character development. I’ll try to keep everything brief while still blowing your minds, and I’ll try to get across what my jumbled mind has come up with.

Spud please notice me.

I will not be uploading photos to go with everything I say (go reread the comic after this and verify for yourself what all I’ve said), but I’ll show visuals when they’re necessary. I do not claim ANY of this art as mine (I wish my art was this good ;u; ), all of it belongs to Spudinacup and their SU AU, which has all kinds of hidden symbolism, foreshadowing, and visual cues we haven’t picked up on yet, as I’ve just learned while researching this theory. This ain’t your run-of-the-mill AU, everything in here is intentional. Scott Spud doesn’t do coincidences. So I’ll point out that stuff in screenshots.

Okay let’s go.

SO! To begin with, let’s talk about why his gem may have flipped, and to realize that, we have to know when. We don’t see the gem much, but we do see it constantly through Chapter 1, where it is normal. The pentagon is pointed upward. However, in Chapter 2, this is where we see it flipped upside down. When did that happen? We didn’t see it. I believe it happened in that first scene in the bathroom, right after we left. The butterflies were swarming angrily, and Steven was very lost in thought.

Notice whenever those butterflies appear. They seem to show up every time he thinks about who he is. Is he still Steven, or is he someone else now? Steven is dead. Everyone is mourning him, trying to heal him, but Gem is still here. So if Steven is dead, but Gem is still alive, that must mean he isn’t Steven then, right? But then that undoes everything we learned in “Change Your Mind.” He IS Steven. He’s always been Steven. But that’s when they were together...

...And so the butterflies swarm.

Notice how the first one shows up when he looks at himself in the mirror. When you look in a mirror, you should see yourself, right? But who IS he? In the show, butterflies represent thoughts and ideas, mostly dark ones, disturbing ones, or ones you don’t want to think about. Well, he already spent WAY too long proving who he was, so now to do it again sucks.

But he isn’t Steven anymore. He’s on the couch being mourned. But he’s already proved he IS Steven before, and it’s this uncertainty that is making his mind swirl. I believe this is why he flipped his gem. Just upside-down, so it’s a small thing no one will notice, while he tries to figure it out. In doing so, he’s separated himself from “Steven”, as they’re not one and the same anymore, and the flipped gem shows this. He’s someone else right now. Maybe. He’s not sure.

So what do we call you for right now? Steven. He already proved he was Steven, so until he’s proved otherwise, Steven it is. Now he just has to figure out what exactly that name means and wether or not he still fits that quota.

Flipped gem/Pink Diamond imagery is EVERYWHERE, mostly hidden in drastic shadows or in panels. It’s things you don’t notice at first, until they’re staring you in the face. See if you can spot them from the 3 screenshots below.

There’s probably more hidden throughout the comic, these are just the ones I’ve found that I feel confident enough to show as hard evidence.

So, what does it all mean? We’ll talk about the screenshots in order, left to right.

First, the Diamond is hidden as the panel in the center. In it, Human Steven lies upside down while the gem-panel is technically upside right. This can be interpreted in a few ways, but what that means to me is that something isn’t right here. If you flip Steven back around so he’s upside right, the gem is now upside down. Notice Gem Steven looking towards his human half on the bottom panel there, clutching his shirt over his gem. It’s a motion we’ve seen Steven do a TON throughout the show, anytime he’s thinking about Rose/Pink, who he is, or complicated gem stuff as a whole. Because early on, his identity was always shrouded in shadow. THAT is Steven, on the couch, without his gem. So for Gem Steven to call himself Steven is inaccurate, but also not at the same time. It’s all swarming in his head, and thus, the gem is flipped.

Next, he’s just broken the rejuvenator. This was probably the hardest to spot of the three, but if you look at the panel where Bismuth asks “feel better?” you will see, in the background, a white line cut through the soft pink hues. Look closer. It’s the outline of the gem, but it’s flipped correctly this time. This is because Bismuth seems to be the only person NOT saying Steven is dead, and treating his gem half one and the same. Is she unnerved? Yeah, but who WOULDN’T be? This is still Steven we’re talking about, as emotionally blocked as he is. He’s aware of why everyone is being weird around him, so to see Bismuth trying her best to treat him with familiarity instead of a completely different, new, dangerous stranger is really calming and helps to calm the storm a bit.

Notice the gem is flipped correctly. This is because he feels like Steven right now. Bismuth has been constant confirmation that he is still Steven, no matter the circumstances. Notice how his eyes dialate back to a larger size. They do that a lot in the comic, articulating his emotions without changing the rest of his face. It’s a clever detail to keep track of. His eyes grow more relaxed, dialating bigger when she pats his shoulder, asking if he feels better after destroying the weapon that killed him. It’s a huge relief for him to hear. So, the gem is correct.

Finally, we see Bismuth telling Greg that his son is dead, which is very contradictory to what Bis was saying earlier (in Steven’s eyes). Where is the gem on that frame? Look at Steven’s shadow. There it is, facets and all. To us, the gem is correct, but think about it this way: if Steven were actually replaced with the gem in that frame, what would it look like, Pink’s or White’s? That’s right. The point is coming from his feet, meaning it would look more like White’s, meaning it is back to being flipped upside down. Again, Bismuth just said Steven is dead, meaning he’s back to questioning his whole entire identity. So it’s back to being flipped upside-down.

It seems that the orientation of the symbolic gems hidden throughout panels show quite clearly where his head is at in terms of who he is. If it’s upside down, he’s separating himself from the cold meatball on the couch, whereas when it’s normal/upside right, he is associating himself WITH the cold meatball on the couch.

Notice he’s been grabbing at his gem a lot recently, too, all things he does while in turmoil over who- or WHAT- he is. He cannot heal right now. He can’t use his powers. Some powers are new and unfamiliar (see the more recent pages where Lapis struck out with water and he blocked with those hexagonal shields/walls). “Steven HEALS people.” He can’t, so who is he?

This is something he’ll need to have an answer to by the time the comic is done, and this is a mission for Gem Steven and Gem Steven alone. If his human half were alive (and content without his gem), he’d probably call himself “Steven” no questions asked, since he GOT his answer already, two years ago. But Gem can’t do that, not when everyone keeps drawing all these lines between the two. He needs to learn what being “Steven” means, and know that he is a part of a greater whole, but on his own, he is STILL Steven. Everyone else needs to realize this, too, and stop separating the two. It’s gonna be rough, since it may feel like replacing what they lost, but is it really? It’s going to be a tough road to trek, and I don’t know what anyone’s answer is gonna be (that’s the big mystery here, after all), but I’m here for it.

Remember, all of this has been speculation on what may happen based on facts and clues Spud has presented us with. I’m not claiming to know how Gem Steven’s arc will end, but I am throwing my hat into the ring on where I THINK it will go. Either way, the foreshadowing, symbolism, and unspoken characterizations here have been excellent, and I’m looking forward to seeing everything play out. Spud, your mind is incredible, and whatever you’ve got planned over there, I’m confident the answer will be satisfactory.

I’ll shut up now. Thank you for reading this huge meta post, and go read Spud’s comic. You can find it at @suaugonewrong or on Spud’s Tumblr, which was linked above. If you think I’m wrong or have a counter argument, bring it. Let’s talk, cause this is genuinely interesting and fun to dissect. I wanna talk about it OwO

Thank you. You may now continue scrolling.

[shini--chan]

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

[shrinkthisviolet]

For The Top 5 Ask Game: I’ve got three for you:

Your Top Five Storylines You Wish Cobra Kai Will Do In The Series Going Forward!

Your Top Five TV Shows You Want To Watch, But Haven’t As Of Yet

And Your Top Five MCU Characters

Cobra Kai Storylines

I’d be happy to see any and all of these, but I do have a definitive ranking, surprisingly 😂:

1. There’s my S4 theory that Robby and Tory know something’s off with Kreese and Silver and are trying to take down CK from the inside. Aisha links them up with Sam and Miguel, because they hear about the new weapons rule for the AVT and know they need to shut it down. Since this probably won’t happen in S4, they could make CK win the AVT and rework the spies plotline for S5!

2. I want the parallels between Hawk and Johnny to be explored. I want Johnny to realize that he’s let Hawk down, that maybe his behavior towards Hawk is rooted in some issues he has with himself...and I want Johnny to do better for Hawk. And to acknowledge the harm he’s caused–because guess what, Johnny? Your actions don’t exist in a vacuum, and neither do Kreese’s. Kreese tried to recruit Hawk and Miguel (and Robby!). Guess which one it didn’t work on? Hint: the one you actually tried with 💀

(Disclaimer: I don’t actually hate Johnny. I just want some accountability for the stuff he did in the movies and in the show).

3. Robby and Johnny reconciliation done right! Maybe not exactly like this amazing fic by @emletish-fish (the stuff with faeries seems too outlandish for these writers)...but the depth!! The characterization!! The way Robby’s adults are trying for him, truly and honestly!! And Robby gets to be upset and express his feelings and he’s valid!!

4. Sam, Tory, Aisha, Miguel, and Robby all becoming friends! They don’t all go to the same college, but Sam and Aisha do, and Miguel and Robby get into a different college together. Tory visits though!

5. I want Sam and Robby to face off in the final fight, for Sam to trust him not to hurt her...and then for Silver to goad Robby into breaking Sam’s knee 😭 and Daniel...oh, Daniel. He can’t handle it.

Watchlist Shows

1. Daredevil, a must after NWH and Hawkeye 😂

2. Agents of Shield! I’ve watched the first couple episodes but then life got in the way. Hoping to pick it back up though!

3. Leverage, because @blackaquokat sings its praises and it has antihero/morally-gray stuff going on!

4. Jessica Jones, mostly because I’ve heard a lot of great things and wanna watch it!

5. Manifest, especially since it’s getting another season!

Honorable Mention for Irregulars. It’s tentatively on this list...but I have a question. I heard it got cancelled, did it end on a cliffhanger?

MCU Characters

1. Peter Parker! Maybe it’s the NWH talking but just...AHHH HE WAS SO GOOD IN THAT MOVIE! Spidey’s always been my favorite hero, and the end of FFH started to sorta sell me on him...but THIS MOVIE KNOCKED IT OUT OF THE PARK OMG (PS4 Spidey tho...always my favorite Spidey 💞)

2. Yelena Belova! She’s such a fascinating antihero character who is incredibly likeable and sweet 💞 but also incredibly fiercely loving! And she’s canonically aroace in the comics...and hopefully in the MCU too! 🤞

3. Kate Bishop, because she’s around my age and I respect her initiative and drive and I just love the whole vibe she has going

4. Tony Stark, because the theme of actively working against the bloody legacy he built is a compelling tale for sure! There are definitely things I don’t like about him, but honestly, his arc as a whole picture is amazing! And yes, I too wish he’d lived to raise Morgan and start his family. But...his death did serve a narrative purpose. He started the MCU off, he put it on the map and made people care about superheroes they might not have cared about. Him dying passes on that torch to a new group of Avengers–the New Avengers, if you will. Like Pepper said, he’d never truly be able to rest, not like the other Avengers–this is the closest he’d ever get to retiring for good. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t break my heart tho 😭

5. I really like MJ tbh? Like...just in general, her character in FFH and NWH (didn’t like her so much in Homecoming, but she was okay) was fantastic 🥰 tho I’ll admit, part of why I love her so much is likely due to @seek--rest (if you haven’t read their amazing fics, what are you even doing??)

Ask me my top 5 anything!