#There's probably a better team I could take but this is all my 3am brain has atm
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call-me-chips · 6 days ago
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It's the zombie apocalypse. You can bring 3 people, who and why? You can also sacrifice 3 people, who and why?
(Fictional characters btw)
Alrighty.
You say I can bring 3 people. If we're talking about characters I'd wish to survive, I'd probably go with Jirou, Sero, and Kiri cuz they're my babies
But if we're talking about characters who I'm taking with me to try and survive, I'd take Ochako, Itsuka, and Kirishima. Ochako can make us all float, and Itsuka can make her hands huge and make a big clap so we fly in the opposite direction, hopefully easily escaping the zombies. And I'm taking Kirishima because I doubt any zombie attacks are getting through his hardened skin, and we could always use some brute force. Ideally, I'd love to have a long distance fighter on my team, but I think so long as we try to avoid the zombies altogether we should be fine. But I mean, I can use my rifle to shoot zombies at a distance, so ig that kinda makes up for it
Ik there are many different character combos that offer a similar result, but I know these guys will get along with each other, whereas recruiting someone like Bakugou or Christian Dean will likely be disastrous in the long run
Now. The characters I'm feeding to the zombies.
First off, I'm throwing Montressor. He's a bitch.
Secondly, Mineta. He's a bi perv so no one is safe.
And my third option is a dude ik irl named Aiden. I don't care about the rules. He accidentally sucker-punched me in the face and didn't apologize for it a few years ago. Not to mention he's just all around rude and inconsiderate and lazy and a pain in the ass.
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ameliabartons · 5 months ago
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Amelia was drunk. 
Obviously, if you asked her, she’d probably tell you she was fine. Or, at a push, she might settle for tipsy. You know, like a liar. The fact of the matter was, Amelia Barton used to be one of the finest athletes of her generation. For four years straight she had qualified as one of the Top Ten fastest women of all time in the 400m, had managed to to beat 6-time gold medalist swimmer Emma McKeon in the 200m freestyle, and had qualified to compete for team USA in multiple competitive categories. In short, Amelia Barton was a bit of an athletic prodigy, had excelled at every sport she’d ever tried, and had a sense of balance that could rival that of a world-class tight rope walker, and right now she was wobbling precariously on 6-inch heels, her knees weak at the joint, and her vision blurring behind her usually oh-so reliable contact lenses. 
Sufficed to say, she was definitely drunk. 
“Charlieeeeeee,” Amelia grumbled, her hand reaching desperately to find purchase against the closest wall. 
She glanced up, expecting to meet the gaze of her most handsomest friend – Oops, she thought. Sorry to the Lou-Lou that lives inside my brain! You’re handsome too! – only to see that... oh. He was gone! She could’ve sworn Charlie had been beside her just moments before. In fact, the two had been giggling and throwing back jello-shots at the bar, and her most surf-tastic pal had insisted on taking her for a spin on the dancefloor. If she remembered correctly – and, given her current state of inebriation, it was very possible she didn’t – he’d told her that her dress looked totally mermaidy and that it would look mad sick with the fabric flowing behind her while she spun in circles. Neither of them had paid any mind to the damage she might do to her ankles in these heels, thinking it an even better idea if she decided to – and, again, these were Charlie’s words – Coyote Ugly the shit out of that bartop, dog. And yet, there she stood, not a Charlie in sight. 
It had distantly occurred to her that he’d mentioned something about having a later set that he might need to ditch her for, just for an hour or so, which Amelia thought might even be the reason she’d stopped by this particular club on this particular night? She couldn’t recall, though. All she remembered was that Cheerful Charlie had been having a Not-So Delightful Day and that she’d been feeling equally miserable, and the two had concluded that vodka might be the only solution to their woes. 
Still, Amelia was a big girl and she was sure she could make her own fun without Charlie – until he was done, obviously. Then they’d get back to their whole Coyote Ugly bit, maybe even grab themselves a 3am breakfast to really stick the landing. 
Palm trailing along the wall of the club as she kept herself upright, the sound of Charlie’s set filled the air as she tried to scout out an empty seat – she assumed it was his, anyway. It was very good, so she doubted it could be anybody else’s! After what felt like an eternity of following the outskirts of the room, she still hadn’t managed to find a vacant booth, or even so much as a stool, and her feet were killing her, so she opted instead for sitting on the ground. Her back slid down the wall as her butt hit the ground, and Amy reached forward in a clumsy attempt to try and remove her torturous footwear. 
She was absently aware of the plunging neckline of her dress and the way she was giving half of the venue a bit of a show when a man sidled up next to her, lowering himself down onto the ground next to her. Over the thump of the bass and the current ringing sound that was chorusing through Amelia’s eardrum, she just about managed to catch that his name was Jonah and that he thought she was hot. 
“Oh my God, Jobah – Wait... Jovah... haha, like Jehovah? Sorry, wait. No, I got it... Jonah,” Amelia found herself sounding out his name, her tongue suddenly feeling far too big for her mouth, slippery as it seemed to get tangled around each tricky letter!  
Bemused, Jonah simply stared back at her, smiling back at her rather politely, so she thought! She knew, at that moment, that Jonah had been sent especially for her. Maybe by God, or her mom, or possibly just Charlie. But Jonah was about to be her new best friend for the night, and she found herself twisting her body to face him, a hand clasping his as she told him exactly that! 
“You’re so right, Jonah. I am hot. It’s so hot in here. It’s like, totally four billion degrees. Four billion and one, maybe!” she confirmed, suddenly thrusting her free palm up into the air as she laid the back of her hand against his forehead, as though to prove just how hot she was feeling. 
Amelia’s vision continued to blur as she looked at Jonah and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. It wasn’t really his fault she was so drunk, but right now the spinny world was causing her to misread just about every signal, her reality warped as the effects of copious vodka-jellies made it seem as though Jonah was staring directly at her cleavage! She knew her dearest, most darling friend Jonah would never, though. Not by a long shot. 
“Hey, Jonaaaaahhhh,” Amelia called his name out, her hand sliding down his face to cup his cheek. “Could you pretty please go and get me some water?” 
She beamed across at him, awaiting his response as she mulled over that simple word, finding herself in something of a trance as she repeated it over and over again, in varying degrees of silly accents. 
“Wahdurrrr... Wor-ter... Waw-ah... Can you get me a cuppa waw-ah govnah?” Amelia found herself giggling to herself as she watched Jonah disappear towards the bar. 
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ssamie · 4 years ago
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them getting caught simping for their s/o (part 1)
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·˚ ༘⌗ just hq boys simping for you and getting caught simping by their friends
·˚ ༘⌗ characters include: tanaka ryuunosuke, oikawa tooru, iwaizumi hajime
·˚ ༘⌗ gender neutral pronouns were used.
·˚ ༘⌗ warnings: swearing and fluff lol
gen masterlist.                      hq masterlist.
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TANAKA RYUUNOSUKE
honestly are we surprised?
he's already a massive simp, so why should he hold back when it comes to his s/o
he simps by literally any and every way you could think of
hyping you up? ofc, no need to say anything he already does that on a daily basis
want cuddles? say less,, he's already waiting with his arms wide open
want to go on dates? who cares about practice, he'll go on a date with you anytime, no matter what the consequence he may face
want to meet up at 3am for no reason at all? wdym, he's already up and waiting outside your house
you're sick? no no, he's already in your room taking care of you with meds, soup, and cuddles <3
i could go on but...you get the point
anyways
he gets caught simping by the team when they walked past you and him sitting by a tree on the school yard
he had you sitting on his lap with a gleeful and lovesick smile as he brings his chopsticks up to your mouth to feed you
"do you like that, baby?" he asked you with a smile. "yeah, it's very good" you said. "did you cook this?" you asked him
tanaka proudly smiled and nodded "yup! i have to make sure my baby gets only the best food there is!" he exclaims as he wraps his arms around your waist
you laugh lightly and playfully smack him in the chest "you're too sweet, ryu" you said "but thank you."
"hmm, anything for you, babe" he muttered in reply as he pressed a soft kiss on your cheeks and temples
the whole team is watching with varying reactions lmao
first of all, noya and hinata are crying from jealousy (suga too but he won't admit that 🙄)
tsukki, yams, and the other second years are snickering while daichi and asahi jokingly join along
they tease tanaka about it, but it's not like he cares lmao 💀
"damn what a simp."
"you're so smitten it's actually sad."
tanaka: "you're just jealous you don't have an s/o!"
it's true. they were just jealous 🙄🤞🏼
they're still very happy tanaka actually found someone that loved him back. they all knew he had a heart of gold, and he deserved every bit of love he received from you
i love him :(
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OIKAWA TOORU
oikawa is actually a very affectionate partner
he does have a high ego, but he will succumb once he gets a quick glimpse of you
to him, you're the most beautiful being to ever walked the earth, not even kidding.
that's usually how he simps lol
he just praises you about pretty much everything
gives you never ending compliments and aims to make you feel like the most perfect person alive, because thats how he sees you
also loves physical touch <3
doesn't have to be sensual,, he just likes feeling your skin on his.
his favourite is when you're holding hands because his hands are much bigger than yours and he finds that cute >:(
"tooru, practice will start soon" you said to him as you comb your fingers through his hair, though being careful enough to not mess it up.
"hmph" he said, though it only came out as muffled murmurs, seeing as his face was buried into your chest
"you're very clingy today" you hummed "something wrong?" you asked him
his hand, which he felt the need to intertwine with yours, squeezed yours tighter as he brought them up to his lips
"mm, i just love you that's all" he said as he went back to burying his face into his your sweatshirt.
you smiled and kissed the crown of his head, making him sigh in content. "love you too, tooru"
they clown him.
the whole team just clowns him.
it would start with iwaizumi quietly snickering, though he wasn't really that fazed since he sees oikawa like this with you a lot
but makki and mattsun saw you too and just burst out laughing. idk why either they just did
they, along with yahaba, would just laugh and throw in some teasing comments
he usually responds with petty replies
"damn, what a simp"
"didn't think the oikawa tooru would like anyone but himself"
oikawa: "shut up! stop teasing me, you're all dumb! you're just mad i have a god/goddess of an s/o. you probably don't know what that's like cus you're all ugly. unlike me ofcourse. though blah blah blah.."
oikawa sweetie... shut up <3
kindaichi laughs along,, kunimi and kyotani just doesn't care lol
i love tooru sm :(
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IWAIZUMI HAJIME
i love you sir 🛐
anyways, iwaizumi is a very loving boyfriend!! very protective and affectionate, but more showy when you're in private
he could never say no to you, no matter the request
you could probably ask him to eat cat shit and he'd do it for a kiss ngl
okay.. maybe don't go that far.. but yeah
you want kisses? he's not the biggest fan of pda but he'll do it if u really want it
wanna go on a date? can't say no to that
want him to buy you food/clothes? he'll do it no questions asked.
i could list down more things but my brain can't think of anything else so no <3
anyways
you were outside the gym, getting drinks and snacks and just talking
and you thought it would be a good idea to try on some clips you got on his hair
"please, hajime" you pleaded with a pout "i got these really cute clips yesterday but im wearing enough already" you said
"so i want you to wear the rest" you present him a small bag of colorful butterfly clips with a smile
iwaizumi looked at it with dread, not really wanting his head to look like a rainbow. but one glance at your hopeful smile and he just ~melts~
"ofcourse, baby" he said with a small smile "do what you want" his smile only widened as you cheered, excitedly picking out the colors to accessorise him with
"would you like blue and pink or blue and purple?" you asked
"which do you like more?" he asked "hm. maybe blue and pink.. i dunno though. you'll look cute with both" you said
"just do both then" iwaizumi shrugged as he leaned his head back on your lap, closing his eyes and humming as you comb through his hair with your fingers.
"thank you for letting me play with your hair, haji~" you cooed with a soft laugh as you press a kiss on his nose
"anything for you, love" iwaizumi replied with a chuckle
everyone just stops for a second. just pause.
they definitely didn't expect to see iwaizumi to enter the gym with his hair decorated with blue, pink and purple butterfly clips.
oikawa gasps in shock and would probably ask to borrow some.
he already knows its from you since iwa is his best friend, and he really didn't want to get a beating so early into practice.
"iwa-chan! can i have some?! give me the blue ones!"
iwa: "no way, shittykawa get your own fucking clips!
makki and mattsun would tease him to death. they were the only ones brave enough to do so :p
"damn, y/n really had you wrapped around their finger, huh?"
"ah, the things we do for love~"
"what a simp"
makki and mattsun came home with a bruise that day.
kunimi and kindaichi are quiet. they didn't want to end up like the two idiots. though kunimi may or may not have snapped a quick photo
kyotani thinks its iconic. he's an iwaizumi supremacist, what can i say.
i love iwa sm pls 😖
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i think im getting better at making headcannons,, idk tho jjsbsnabs
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emerald-chaos · 4 years ago
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Insomnia
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*gif not made by me, credit goes to the owner*
Hi Everyone! So it's been probably like...10 years since I wrote my last fic lol. Watching TFATWS has rekindled my undying love for Bucky Barnes and I just couldn't help but start writing again. I had to get my feelings out! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I've been considering writing some more parts...so tell me if that's something you'd be interested in! I appreciate any and all constructive feedback or just feedback in general! Much love.
Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes
Word Count: 2533 (lowkey popped off...oops)
Warnings: Just in case...vague allusions to a dark past, struggles with mental illness, explicit language, and some suggestive conversation. Oh and some really bad jokes lol. Fluffy and angsty.
No matter how much you tossed and turned, how many sheep you counted, or how much you prayed and pleaded to any higher power that would listen – the release of sleep just wasn’t going to happen. You’re not sure why you were surprised, it’s not like this was the first time. You let out a heavy sigh and toss off the covers. This has been a nightly occurrence for as long as you can remember. When you were trying to rest, when there was no noise to block out the images in your head, it was a battle. A battle which you have always lost.
You flip on the bright florescent lights of the bathroom as you trudge in, dragging your feet in exhaustion. It takes a minute for your eyes to adjust to the harshness of the light as you place your hands onto the countertop. The cool marble feels good against your palms as you close your eyes and lean your head back, another sigh leaving your lips. You twist your neck from side to side, trying to release some tension and maybe get a satisfying pop. No such luck. As you open your eyes and gaze upon the person staring back at you a small laugh tumbles from your chest.
Jesus, she looks awful.
The dark circles that permanently reside below your eyes appear more pronounced than usual. The corners of your mouth hang low and you just look…tired. Like you were rode hard and put away wet.
The bottle of melatonin tucked away on your counter catches your eye. You pick it up and twirl it as you inspect the writing. “Sleep Support” you read, “may help promote restful sleep”. What a load of shit. You place the bottle back down and inspect the orange one next to it. The pills inside were about as useful as the melatonin. Nothing seemed to quiet the voices or stop the scenarios that plagued your mind. You splash some cold water on your face and grab for a towel to pat it dry. Your eyes drift to the mirror again, as if though the water was going to wash away the dead look in your eyes.
Yeah, fat chance.
Before you know it, your legs are carrying you through the compound. The only sounds present are the whirring of various appliances and the soft patter of your feet against the tile floors. The moonlight casts shadows over the various pieces of furniture and lights your path. Your fingers curl around the handle as you pull the sliding glass door open. The crisp outside air kisses your skin as you step out and close the door behind you. You find yourself settling down in your usual spot on the balcony and you sink into the comfort of the chair.
Many a sleepless night has been spent out here, admiring the way the moonlight gleams off of a nearby pond. Before the compound and the balcony, it was a fire escape and a bottle of bourbon. You kind of missed that coping mechanism a little bit. You were thankful, of course, to call this place your home. Thankful to feel safe for once. Thankful to be a part of a team that felt like more of a family than any sorry piece of shit who had been in your life before. Not that you were bitter about that or anything. A little baggage builds character. However, life hasn’t always been kind to you and your stupid brain had a cruel way of constantly reminding you of that fact.
In all honesty, Tony rescued you. You absolutely hated to allow him to relish in that fact, but it was true. He took a chance on a royally fucked up kid out of college who managed to skate by and earn a mechanical engineering degree. If you were to ask him, he would say it was because the first words you said to him were fuck off. Apparently, something about that translated to, “hey, I would be a great addition to your tech and development team”. Although, you were pretty sure you just really meant that he should fuck off. I mean, the guy’s reputation does have a bit of moral gray area to it. Somehow, some way, your tenacity made an impression on the billionaire. Now here you were - living at the Avenger’s compound, sitting on a balcony at 3:30 in the morning because you couldn’t turn your brain off long enough to find some peace and sleep. What a life.
Even as you were sitting here in your special spot, reminiscing about some actual good memories – your brain still tried to drift into the darkness. Glass breaking; voices, thick with hate, engaged in a screaming match, and the cold nights spent trying to find a safe space to eat and lay your head. Your fingers gripped into the arms of the chair as you felt the heaviness in your chest increase.
“God damn it,” you cursed through gritted teeth.
The panic attacks were a second nature at this point, but you still really hated when you lost control. Your eyes closed tight as you tried to rack your brain to remember the bullshit your therapist had told you earlier in the week. Something about 5 things you can see?
“We gotta stop meeting like this, Doll”
The voice ripped you from inside your mind and back to reality. Your eyes opened and were met with a beautiful pair of cerulean ones. You blamed the skip in your heartbeat on your fading panic attack - although, you knew better than that.
“Well, it seems to me that the only logical conclusion is that you’re stalking me, Barnes” you quipped as a grin spread across your face.
“Could say the same about you,” Bucky retorted as he sank into the chair beside you, “besides, been doin’ this a lot longer than you’ve been around”.
You rolled your eyes, but the super soldier had a point. Almost each and every time, aside from the ones that happened when the team was away, you two would meet like this – here on the balcony, both searching for something to replace the sleep that neither of you could find.
“Yeah, we get it, you’re old” a laugh fell from your lips as Bucky snorted at your remark, a grin remaining ever present on his lips.
The familiar silence took over as he leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes. Meanwhile, yours were hungrily taking him in - tracing over the stubble on his chin, the soft pinkness of his parted lips. Recently he’d gotten his hair cut and even though you much preferred the long hair, you would rather die than actually admit that to him. Your crush on the 106 year old grumpy ass was one of your best kept secrets. At least, you thought you’d kept it from being painfully obvious.
The man sitting before you, he had a tough exterior and a horrific history, but you knew him better than that. You knew about the way his nose scrunched up when you made him laugh and the way his eyes looked as he listened intently to every story you ever told him. You knew the sweet melody of his laugh and the far off stare that meant he was also held captive by his own thoughts. This late-night rendezvous had become somewhat of a routine for the two of you and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t your favorite part of the day.
The first time it was a short nod and typical white person, thin-lipped smile as you left to find a different spot to suffer alone. Shortly after, it developed into cohabiting the balcony – staying on your own separate sides of course, only occasionally sharing words. Then, before you knew it, the two of you would be sitting beside each other, shooting the shit like you’d known each other for years. Just two, incredibly fucked up individuals, trying to make each other feel a little more human.
Bucky had always given off the quiet, brooding energy. Typically he kept to himself, other than with close friends like Steve, choosing to stand in the corner and listen to the conversation rather than be a part of it. Occasionally he would give a quip during a meeting that would catch people off guard, but mostly he just sat there and stared. The Bucky you had come to know was nothing like the person that others wanted to make him out to be. Sure, at one point he was a masterful assassin who killed like he got pleasure from it – but that wasn’t him. The Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes were not synonymous.
If only the world could meet Bucky at 3am.
“What’s going on in that empty head of yours over there?” Bucky’s voice once again brought you back to reality as you laid your eyes on the familiar grin plastered across his face.
“Please,” you huffed, cheeks tinted a light shade of pink at the thought of him catching you staring, “which one of us has a college degree again?”
His laugh was a symphony to your ears. Your smile mirrored his when he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you.
“So, what is it tonight? That nightmare again?” he asked, voice dropping an octave as his facial features softened in a way you really hoped only you got to see.
“Mm, not quite” you responded, your voice a broken whisper.
Bucky wasn’t the type to pry, but with you he wouldn’t even have to. Talking to him, sharing your deepest secrets and fears, telling him about the nightmares that kept you awake at night – it all came easily. Too easily.
“This week it’s...it’s that image of my stupid mother. Standing there with her black eyes and busted lip, telling me that it was me that was the problem. That it was me who...” you swallowed hard, the heaviness creeping back into your chest and tears fighting to wet your eyes. God you hated that you let this get the best of you.
Just as your mind started to bring you back to that dark place it was interrupted by the feeling of warmth spreading over your body. You looked down to see Bucky’s large hand resting right above your knee. When your eyes met again, he gave you a soft look that made your heart scream.
“I’m sorry,” you could tell he meant it as he gave your knee a soft squeeze.
A small smile flashed over your face and you had to resist the urge to reach out and cup his soft, stubbled cheek in your hand.
“Hey, we’re all a little fucked up, right?” you joked.
“Some more than others,” he replied, those beautiful wrinkles appearing around his nose as he scrunched it up with another laugh.
“Thanks, Buck... I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than listening to my sob story,” you reluctantly broke eye contact and looked down at the hem of your shirt as you fiddled with it in your fingers.
You were all too aware at the loss of contact as Bucky drew his hand back and leaned back into his chair.
“Doll,” he started as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again - you could swear you almost saw a grin on his lips, “there are very few things I’d rather do than sit with you on the balcony at 3am”.
At that moment it felt as though time stood still. Sure, you had flirtatious banter back and forth occasionally and made a habit out of spilling your deepest regrets to each other during the wee hours of the morning, but this felt different. This felt like a confession.
You’d be lying to yourself if you tried to convince yourself, or anyone else for that matter, that you didn’t have a thing for him. I mean - who wouldn’t? The guy was a gentleman; he was soft spoken and caring, he was a dork who loved to crack jokes at the most inappropriate times, the type of person who would give you the shirt off of his own back if it meant you were taken care of.
He....well, he was Bucky.
And god damn it if you didn’t love him.
You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but one minute you’re sitting on your chair, chewing your lip and droning on about the man in front of you in your head. The next minute you found yourself on his lap, knees seated on either side of his waist as your legs straddle him and your hands connect with the skin they so desperately craved to feel. Bucky’s eyes opened slowly and met yours as you let the pad of your thumb gently run along the curve of his bottom lip. The uneven breaths leaving your chest hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips softly. Refusing to break eye contact, Bucky gently pressed a kiss to the pad of your thumb. You dragged his lower lip down briefly.
“Well,” he began. His voice was barely above a whisper but it’s thick, lustful tone made you shiver from head to...well, you know, “are you gonna kiss me, Doll? Or do I have to do all the work myself?”
He barely finished his sentence before your lips captured his. It was messy, almost all teeth and tongue. It was needy, as if it was the last time either of you would ever kiss anyone again. It was fucking incredible.
Bucky’s metal arm snaked up your back and found its way into your hair, curling his fingers gently around the strands at the back of your head, as his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to his form. He was intoxicating. This whole situation was something you had briefly imagined months ago, but ultimately pushed out of your mind. There was no way that he would ever be interested in someone like you. Yet, here he was, tongue fighting for entrance into your mouth.
You aren’t quite sure who pulled away first. Both of you were gasping for air, chests heaving up and down as you both stared into each other's lust-blown pupils.
“You kiss pretty well for someone who hasn’t had a girlfriend since 1940,” you teased, laughing as he rolls his eyes at the comment.
“You just don’t know when to shut that mouth of yours, do ya?” he practically growled, ever so slightly tightening his grip on your waist, and you almost lost it from just the sound of his voice alone.
“Why don’t you make me, Barnes?” you leaned in close, warm breath fanning over the shell of his ear.
A yelp escaped your throat as you were suddenly jerked up to a standing position, locking your ankles behind his back as he effortlessly held you up by your thighs.
“Oh Doll,” he chuckled darkly into your neck, almost making you pass out from the sensation, “I thought you’d never ask”.
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elius-learns-to-write · 4 years ago
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hi! omg i luv ur blog 💘 can i request/suggest (kinda angsty but then fluffy) where r has trouble sleeping and a lot of nightmares/anxiety & mother!nat is there to comfort her? 🥺 like the whole team is super understanding and comforting but especially nat (bc we love mom nat around here!) anyways thanks so much ily bestie!
Hey Bestie! thank you so much for being patient and for supporting my blog! I know this has been in my inbox for so long but still! here it is. Sending my love to you <3 i have just realised that there is not a lot of comfort in here oops.
warning: this does include details of death and blood so keep that in mind if you read this <3
It’s Okay
You had always gotten nervous in public spaces 
Or at night when you couldn’t sleep
Or when you didn’t know all of the details of a plan 
Or when it was 3am and you were too scared to sleep
The point is you always seemed to have 100 thoughts plaguing your mind 
“Y/n sweetie I’m gonna need you to concentrate on my voice okay?” Wanda's voice waded through the watery noise in your head. You knew she was right and that logically there was no reason to be so upset, but you just couldn’t help it. It had all started after the group had decided to not tell you about the meal they had planned at this fancy restaurant that Tony wanted to try and of course this had sent you into a spiral and you were now very very aware of every possible outcome. “Come on kid, you’re alright, breathe slowly” Tony tried, or was it Steve maybe it was Bruce. When you got like this, voices sounded the same and nothing felt real. You couldn’t breathe and that was your main worry.
The team had gotten used to it and always reassured you that it was okay 
They didn’t mind and would always be there
And no matter how much you appreciated all of the support there was 1 person the team always knew to call
Natasha
Crash, thud, bang. The noise coming from outside the room had woken you from the sleep you had allowed your brain to indulge in for once. Whenever you did this though your mind would be over run with the horrors of life and death. 
Peeling the covers off of you, you slowly crept from out of the bed. Where was the rest of the team? Had they woken up? You hadn’t heard anyone else get up but in your hazy state of mind shrugged it off as them just being deep sleepers. Something you would later regret telling yourself. 
As your hand pulled the handle of your room down to open it you heard another noise. Laughter? Hesitating you looked around in the hope of finding a clock but as your eyes frantically moved in an effort of finding one the floor seemed to start to sway beneath your feet. Soon the darkness engulfed you.
For the second time that night your body jolted forward and you gasped for air, the dryness of your mouth hitting you like a punch to the gut. When was the last time you had a drink? Where did the laughter go? Why had you passed out? So many questions and yet it felt like you were trapped in an endless game of hide and go run with a twist, you didn’t know who you were running from and how much time you had before they found you. 
Before you could even begin to think logically again the loud twang of metal hitting the ground sounded from down the hall. Slowly stepping outside the room you had woken up in which you had realised wasn’t your own, you guessed you had been in Steve’s bedroom which was odd given that he wasn’t in there. Maybe he was out helping Bucky with his nightmares? 
Bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor of the tower you tried to navigate your way through the dark to wherever the team had gone. The sounds of machines whirring stopped you, the lights must be getting turned on. Sure enough, bright white light blinded you, spreading through the faster Pietro could run. Blinking away the pain and blind spots from your eyes you were met with big red letters painted on the floor.
 ‘The crowds will come and flood your world, yet you will remain empty and incomplete’ the red bleeding off into a winding path that would probably lead to whoever had wormed their way here. Even with this in mind the words seemed to swim through your mind; you had always felt empty even when your life was full but you never told anyone but Natasha and she would never tell anyone your secrets she had promised. She wasn’t like that. Repeating that phrase like a prayer that would save you, you followed the red wet paint. 
Red can signify many things: energy, passion, lust and the one you should have paid more attention to. Danger. 
Instead of being faced with some psycho who broke in all you were greeted with was the horrifying image of your family dead on the floor. Blood trickled out of anything it could noses, ears, mouths. Eyes open with a stare of pure terror. A scream tore its way though your throat. The familiar metallic substance flooding your senses. 
Knees crashing to the ground as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Because when you have nothing, when all you have is gone, what can you do but cry yourself a river and let your soul float away on the memories of simpler times? 
You knew your knees would bruise from the mpact but you didn’t care. You didn’t deserve to go through this painlessly after what they had gone through in their last moments. 
A creak made itself heard above the sound of your cries, head slowly lifting to see what it was, damaging your throat further when you saw the lifeless bodies of the avengers sitting up and staring back at you. Salty tears streaming even quicker as you tried to scramble away. Slipping on nothing. Suddenly the lights shut off again. You didn’t move. You didn’t scream. You didn’t even breathe. 
“Wake up y/n”. What?
It had been Nat that woke you up from the nightmare
Even though the whole team had been aware of what was happening all they could do was watch in horror as your body writhed in fear
After making your way to Nat’s room where you knew you would spend the night
Unable to brave it alone
You finally found it in yourself to talk
“You were all dead” you croaked from the cocoon of blankets the redhead had wrapped you in. sitting down next to you and wrapping her arms around your body, you found yourself desperate for the comfort of her hugs. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, just know that I will never ever abandon you. How could I leave my little sunflower to fend for themselves? You give me a reason to be better and I will never leave you. Nor will anyone on this team for that matter” she spoke softly, as if cooing a terrified animal out of their hiding spot. You had and always will have a family as long as you have Natasha. She would make sure of it. And soon you drifted off into a peaceful slumber to the sound of her sweet hums. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away”.
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hanibalistic · 4 years ago
Text
#5B52AD | NA JAEMIN. NCT DREAM.
genre | fluff, friendship
word count | 2835
warning | a fever, mention of pain
note | i got kind of sick after my first dose of vaccine and i think about is my mother used to sit and rub my tummy whenever i get tummy ache even when it’s 3am.
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your body felt heavy, you could not walk without an awkward arch of your back and at an annoyingly slow pace. you haven't gotten a migraine in so long that the gentle ringing in the back of your head now felt like a gradual decomposing of your brain. your tummy gurgled obnoxiously from time to time, confusing your body and mind with hunger and pain.
long story short, you were sick. you got sick, unfortunately, after a streak of good health for the past years, and you barely knew how to take care of yourself now because of how unusual the occurrence was.
you suspected it was the pouring rain you walked under the other day, or the multiple cold nights you've stood through in the unorganized tent area backstage during award shows this past few weeks. either way, since there weren't any other possible reasons, bad weather was the only thing you could blame your sickness on.
you had contacted the team manager about taking a few days off, leisurely estimating your return date while the manager told you to take your time and make sure to only work once you have fully recovered to avoid spreading your sudden fever to the dreamies when you get back. another thing you also asked of, with more grit and firmness this time, was to make sure the manager leak not a single word of you being sick to the boys.
it was true that you have not been sick in a long while, but so far you have gotten a grip on how it works and adapted to being uncomfortable and alone. reminding yourself to take those over-the-counter medicines was annoying but doable. moving around the apartment so you could cook and clean was exhausting but also doable. you did not need an extra pair of hands; it would definitely be good to have one, but you could survive without one.
you knew very well if the boys knew that you caught a fever, they would insist on visiting and taking care of you.
they would probably try to pull up to your apartment with some homemade soup and old movie discs, rambling on and on about sneaking out and forcing the driver to come to your apartment estate, complaining about you keeping everything a secret from your friends. then they'd get unreasonably mad at you for not visiting a doctor, and they'd force you to stay in bed while promising to take care of everything. they would be loud, and destructive, and annoying and—ugh! everything you do not need when you have a fever burning on your head!
"oh, finally!" you groaned in tired delight when you heard the doorbell ring. you have been waiting on the jajangmyeon takeout you ordered about fifteen damn minutes ago (to be fair, it felt like two hours with that migraine in your head).
shaking the shiver off your back when you stood on the cold wooden tiles with your bare feet, you grimaced at the pair of fuzzy socks you previously pulled off out of spontaneity, not wanting to bend down to get them from the ground. you stepped on then as you moved begrudgingly from the messy couch, where your blanket and tons of pillows resided, to the front door.
you unlocked your door with some trouble, finding it hard to stand on your legs and twist the lock. when you slowly swung open the door, you muttered, "sorry for the delay, it's kind of hard to–huh."
you cut yourself off when you saw the sight of renjun handing cash to your delivery man and patting him on the back as he bowed and left your house with your jajangmyeon. your eyes pulled back to look at the bigger picture—four people present before your apartment door, all wearing the same reaction to your figure uncared for.
renjun has turned his attention back from your delivery man and his grimace deepened when he saw your red face. donghyuck pulled a face at you when he saw your terrible posture and dead expression, and he tightened his grip on the small bag in his hand. jeno was frowning in disapproval with one brow raised as if you were spreading the bacteria to him but he was too polite to cover himself up. jaemin looked like he didn't want to be here, like always, but for a moment you saw his eyes flicker with soft concern over your visibly sick posture.
you sneered. that bastard! the manager snitched on you and here came the power rangers of the 2000s judging you at your front door! you would not take this absurdity!
"goodbye," you muttered blandly before you went ahead to close the door on their faces, but a hand swiftly reached out and blocked the door frame from meeting its end.
jeno smiled casually at you from the side, his arm muscle flexing as he, with no effort against your sickened strength, pushed the door open. you attempted to struggle against him, but obviously you were of no match for him, riddled with a fever or not.
"lee jeno," you warned.
"[full name]," he returned.
you clicked your tongue. you were too dizzy to get angry, but the rumbling inside your chest sounded anyway so you wouldn't be so overwhelmed by the boys' relentless care that you forget you didn't like this nor want this, that this wasn't ideal for you.
"please leave," you asked. "i don't need help."
"no. we're coming in whether you like it or not, [name], so give it up," donghyuck mentioned as he gently brushed past you into the apartment. "and before you ask–no, we are not leaving. we got our phones, and we brought movies. we also have to take care of you, so we got plenty to do here. we won't get bored."
you rolled your eyes as the rest of the boys followed behind. kicking their shoes off and placing them neatly to the side, they slowly began acting as if they were back in their humble abode.
donghyuck headed over to the coffee table before your couch. he grimaced at the sight of falling blankets and unorganized pillows as he placed the bag on the surface, then he turned to renjun, "renjun, where do we put the soup?"
"not on the coffee table, take it to the kitchen!" renjun exclaimed as he pointed aimlessly at a spot.
donghyuck listened. as he made his way to your open kitchen, he began rambling off. "you know, i can't believe you didn't tell us you were sick. i knew something was up when you were absent for more than a day!"
renjun nodded in agreement as he crossed his arms, looking to you with a semi-displeased expression. "he is right. we are all friends here, you should tell us if you need some help."
just having them around your apartment was enough to make you want to jump out the window. it was nothing personal against the boys, though. you would have felt the same with just about anybody who dared enter your territory when you felt uncomfortable. but the way they never stop talking—ugh, it made you want to end it altogether so you didn't have to listen to their voices overlap each other in such annoying frequency.
"if i needed help, i would have asked," you dragged out through gritted teeth.
donghyuck snickered from the sink, rolling his sleeves up and getting ready to do the unclean dishes. "oh yeah, that's why you have no clean bowl and spoon to use!"
"also, why are all your stuff here on the couch, [name]?" jeno complained as he picked up your heavy blankets in his arms. he popped his head out from the side and eyed you. "i'll take them back to your room, you should stay in bed!"
jaemin leisurely approached the coffee table, his face was bland with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants. despite acting like he didn't want to be here, his curiosity to know whether you were doing well alone was killing him inside; you weren't, it appeared. he gazed around your apartment with feign disinterest before an opened box caught his eyes.
bending down to pick up the medicine, he furrowed his brows and turned to you. "these aren't doctor prescribed medicine."
ignoring the drowsiness in your eyes, you looked at the displeasure on jaemin's face before you sighed, "i didn't see a doctor."
"you what?" jaemin exclaimed in disbelief while the rest of the boys gasped in what sounded to be disapproval.
there it went. there came the wave of complaints and disagreement piling out of their mouths like rainwater flooding into the ditch. the migraine in your head magnified the more frustration built up inside you, trying to force you to explode on the boys who only meant well.
"yes, i didn't visit a doctor. stop making a big deal out of it," you retorted, straining your voice to make yourself heard. "do you know how expensive an appointment at the clinic is?"
"still! it's always better to visit a doctor!" renjun pointed out softly.
the others agreed with him like dominos, opinions falling on top of each other in the form of noises. you closed your eyes in hopes to cancel their presence, but they've been talking nonstop it felt impossible to ignore them.
their voices were adding to your nausea, too many words to understand and to process that you felt useless not being able to retain their words as quickly as usual. it made you want to vomit, it made your chest tighten, it made your tummy hurt.
"god... please... shut up," you muttered under your breath as you glared at the floor. "shut up... stop talking... stop talking!"
the heat burst.
"[name]..." jaemin began cautiously, dropping the empty box of pills on the table as he eyed you sturdily.
you grimaced; your lips quirking down in guilt and your eyes darting elsewhere but their faces. seeing their innocent, good-intentioned, widened eyes would just make you feel like a bad person more than anything. shaking your head, you waved your hand at them dismissively and proceeded to turn away.
"thank you for coming, but please leave because i don't need your help," you said, "i'm gonna go to bed. lock the door when you leave."
the boys watched you move back to your room slowly, still surprised at your sudden outburst. they half-expected something like this to happen, but not exactly the way it turned out. they did come here fully prepared to be kicked out kindly knowing well your inability to accept aid from others, but the event has taken a turn for even worse, it seemed. they had not expected you to yell at them.
donghyuck turned away from the sink, his confused gaze darting between the door to your bedroom and the rest of his friends. "we're not actually leaving, right?"
"no, but we will leave them alone," jeno mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. "for now, at least."
jaemin's eyes trailed after your steps and they have yet to tear themselves away from your bedroom door.
he knew you well, better than the rest of his friends if he could say so. even though you might have meant what you said, you wouldn't do anything if they refuse to listen. and the consequences of adhering to your request and leaving you alone when you just did something you didn't want to would outweigh those of them not listening to you.
you don't need help, you never ask for them, whatever reason that was. but you do want them when they were presented to you. he knew that much, at least.
"jaemin, where are you going?" jeno asked when he saw his friend shuffling across the small living room.
nobody talked when jaemin moved to your room and knocked on your door. he pushed it open without waiting for your permission, and the stifled cries stayed beneath the walls unknown to the outsiders. he softened at the sight of you helplessly rubbing your tears with your forearm, wanting nothing more than to coddle you, but he leaned against the door instead.
"feeling bad now, are we?" jaemin said to catch your attention.
your head hurt, the pain was piercing. but nothing shattered you more than realizing you were a bad person for refusing help from good people who cared about you, realizing the mortifying cycle of loneliness you cannot thrust yourself out of because you could not accept any form of good social interaction. you were never one to cry from those whimsical things, you were used to it, but the thought of your friends shuffling out of your apartment and leaving the area dead cold made you cry.
you still have them now, but for how long, really? how many more "leave me alone" and "i don't want your help" would they take until they truly leave you alone for good?
you sobbed out breathlessly, your words continuously getting cut off against your will. eventually, you made out a sentence.
"jae-jaemin, my head hurts."
like a sharp shot through his heart, jaemin wavered and crumbled. he wasn't sure if this kind of melting was good, but he was taking the ache along with him. he approached you swiftly and sat down on the edge of your bed, a spoiled gaze dawning within his eyes while he moved his hand to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and messaging your scalp.
"try going to sleep, it'll help," he coaxed.
the more you cried, the more he sunk himself onto your bed. he kept his head high up against the headboard of your bed, and he let you snuggle close against his side for comfort. your head hastily leaned against his chest, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to focus on the rhythm of which he scratched your head dotingly.
"shhh, it's okay," he hushed, reaching his free arm over you to pat your back. "it's going to be okay."
jaemin was always so kind. everyone was always so kind. with their homemade soup, their refusal to abandon you at a tough spot, their snark remarks against your constant attacks, their nagging and coaxing—they were your friends.
you never knew why it took so much effort to get it into your head that they were going to be here whether you wanted them to or not. when you pushed them away, they would push back ten times harder, however many times they needed to. they knew you hated blatant affection so they never show it, nor do they make you show it, but it was here. flowing between their heads was love, discreet love, love that sat in patience, understanding, and stubbornness.
you pack a mean punch, but they could take it.
"jaemin... how are they doing?"
jaemin looked up from your sleeping face to find donghyuck at the door. his hands were wet from messing around in the kitchen, and he wiped them clean on his pants as he quietly approached the bed to take a peek at you. he raised his brow when he saw your face smushed against jaemin's chest and hidden under your arm, then he signed.
sleeping, huh. good. he heard you cry from outside a while ago, everyone did. nobody said anything about it and the living rooms were hushed quieter until your sobs gradually calmed down.
"are you going to stay here?" donghyuck asked after he pulled away. "you might get sick."
"yeah," jaemin nodded down at you, "i might."
donghyuck pursed his lips together, then he shrugged. "alright, i'll leave you then. do you want me to turn the lights off?"
"no, i don't want to fall asleep," jaemin said, stroking your head gently. then he nudged his chin toward donghyuck. "i do want my phone though."
donghyuck scoffed when he was by the door. he was only gonna turn the lights off because it would help you, so if that wasn't needed...
"interesting," he said. "i'm not your errand boy, though. you can stay bored."
jaemin held back a hiss when donghyuck ran out to the living room. he grimaced after the opened door, eyes wide in annoyance that donghyuck left the lights on and the door open, that irresponsible bastard! and he wouldn't even run to get a phone, which would only take a couple of steps!
turning his attention, he glanced down at you instead and breathed out a sigh. he wasn't going to be on his phone for long anyway, he just wanted to tell jisung and chenle you were doing okay. other than that, he has the plan to stare at you until you wake up—your scrunchy nose and closed puffy eyes were abnormally adorable, he has to admit.
"yeah, i'll get him," jaemin whispered playfully down at you. "we'll get him when you wake up."
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woogyu · 4 years ago
Note
Can I please have 4,5 and 8 with hyunjae 🥺
4. You're staring again
5. Wow. You look stunning
8. Don't smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy
»»————- ♡ ————-««​
notes; MIGHT HAVE NEARLY SOBBED WRITING THIS, THIS IS SO CUTE, AM DYING, HOPE YOU LIKE. Tbz and royalty aus are just a perfect match in my brain.
Thank you for requesting!!
wc; 1633
Drabble Game Requests | OPEN | Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny
»»————- ♡ ————-««
“You’re staring again,” Younghoon elbowed Hyunjae in the side, nearly causing the prince to drop his drink. Hyunjae shot a glance at his oldest friend, eyes wide as he was caught watching the far door.
“Was not,” Hyunjae mumbled, his cheeks tinged a light pink as he quickly averted his gaze anywhere else.
“She’ll be here.” Younghoon told him, voice softening as he realized what the prince was doing. Hyunjae didn’t respond, his attention now very focused on the glass in his hand. He had already brushed off half of the ladies at the ball, wanting to save his first dance for the special one he was waiting for.
“We are late because you spent so long with those hair curlers,” you hissed at your friend, hurrying up the palace stairs. “Beauty comes at the cost of time, my dear y/n,” the girl responded, batting her eyelashes at you. A smile threatened to pull at your lips as you rolled your eyes.
You were honestly foolish for even coming here, for assuming that the prince would be expecting you. He had his pick of all the unwed ladies attending, there was no way he would want to waste his time with you. It was really a miracle you had even spoken with him at all, a chance of fate some might say.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
You were here far too late, but the head baker had left you with a seemingly endless number of tasks to complete before you could leave. Granted, the tasks had been left to your entire team of bakers, however, as the youngest of the bunch they had graciously left them for you as an ‘initiation’. You supposed that taking advantage of the new staff was nothing new.
You worked on rolling out the dough for rolls, your arms screaming in pain after being worked for nearly 16 hours straight. Part of you wanted to leave, quit this job and go back to your town. Forget about your dreams of becoming head baker at the palace and admit to your family that they were right. Blinking back tears, you shook your head, no, you could do this. You wouldn’t let them force you out.
“Gods! You scared me half to death,” a voice cut through the silence, your eyes darting to a figure in the doorway. It was nearly 3am, no one should be awake right now.
“Don’t the baker's shift end at 6? You are either here very late or very early.” The voice commented, walking toward you. As they entered the light you realized, to your horror, that it was the prince. You were very aware of the fact that you were covered in flour and probably had horrendous dark circles under your eyes. You quickly wiped off your hands and bowed, your shoulders tensing up.
“Your Majesty” you greeted, voice wobbly and uncertain. He waved a hand, leaning against the counter you were working on.
“No need for the formalities…” he smiled at you and you could have sworn your heart jumped at the sight. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before… and I am a frequent visitor of the kitchens” he hummed, reaching under the counter to retrieve a glass before filling it with water.
“I just started working here… my name is y/n, your ma-“ a quick glance from him cut off your honorific. You shut your mouth and relaxed a little bit. You had always heard wonderful stories regarding the prince, both in reference to his kindness and beauty.
“You can call me Hyunjae” he said smoothly, chuckling when you quickly shook your head, mouth open in shock. You could never.
“So Miss y/n, what keeps you here so late or early?” he inquired, his eyes fixed on yours, nearly causing you to choke when you began to answer him. Why did your name have to sound so pretty on his lips?
“I stayed late to finish the work assigned to my t-“ you quickly cut off your words, you couldn’t rat out your team to the prince, that wouldn’t look good on you. “Assigned to me today” you quickly finished, hoping he did catch your slip up.
“Hmmm, a bakers’ assignment shouldn’t take into the night to finish” he mused lazily, moving around to stand next to you. He was quiet for a moment, sipping his water, either waiting for you to explain further or giving you time to think of a better answer. When you didn’t say anything he simply smiled and set his cup down, you were thankful he didn’t press the topic further.
“Would you like some help? I haven’t been able to fall asleep so perhaps a little bit of work might be good” he explained, causing your eyes to widen. You quickly shook your head, struggling to find out how to respond to such an offer. What sort of prince offered to help those working in his castle?
“I simply couldn’t… It wouldn’t be fit… You…” you struggled to supply, mind reeling with how close in proximity he was to you. This prince was going to be the death of you if he kept this up, your heart couldn’t handle it.
Hyunjae merely smiled at your weak protests, rolling up his sleeves and dousing his hands with flour. “An extra set of hands will make the work go faster” he offered, pulling off a piece of dough you had been kneading and began working it on the table.
»»————- ♡ ————-««
You had been in shock that night, and the weeks after only showed you that the prince would not run out of ways to shock you further. Your nightly rendezvous in the kitchen became nearly a daily thing, him helping you with your tasks and the two of you chatting about everything and nothing.
You hadn’t planned on attending the ball, unsure if you would even be allowed to do so. Then Hyunjae asked, and you were learning that it was impossible for you to say no to him. He looked at you as if you weren’t a baker and him a prince, but as if you were just another lady and him just another gentleman.
That being said, you knew how foolish it was to come here tonight. Stolen moments in a dark kitchen were one thing, but a ball where there were dozens of other ladies in beautiful ball gowns… you wouldn’t stand a chance in your simple white lace dress. And yet, you found yourself utterly excited about the event, about the possibility and of course, about the prince.
“Thank you… for attending with me” you told your friend before the two of you stepped through the doors. “I don’t think I would have been able to do this alone” you admitted, sheepishly looking down at the floor.
“Don’t let the other ladies intimidate you y/n, you look absolutely stunning” your friend said with absolute certainty before pushing the large doors open.
You stepped through, the bright lights filling your vision before the ball came into view. Many eyes snapped up to yours before retreating, but as you slowly descended the stairs you found a pair of eyes focused entirely on you. Your cheeks flushed as you focused on not tumbling down the staircase, the prince maneuvering through the crowd to meet you at the bottom of the stairs.
Upon reaching the bottom you took Hyunjae’s outstretched hand, your eyes focused on him as the rest of the guests faded into the background.
“Wow.” He swallowed, his eyes momentarily flashing down to your feet and back to your eyes. “You look stunning” he breathed as your heart raced. You smiled softly, nervously glancing down at your gown.
“It was my mothers,” you said softly, unsure if why you had even said that as if he would care. He simply smiled at your words, leading you out onto the dance floor.
“She must be proud to have such a beautiful daughter” he commented, his eyes sparkling in the brightly lit room. You flushed once more, allowing him to lead you onto the ballroom floor.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, his eyes trained on you as he held out his hand. You nodded a little too quickly, not trusting your voice to provide him with a verbal answer. When he pulled you in close, you could have sworn that time itself paused around you. You were entirely unaware of what was going on outside of you and the prince.
“I saved my first dance for you… I am so very happy that you decided to come” he admitted, his lips close to your ear. Your breath hitched and you nearly tripped over your own feet. Not only had he been waiting for you, he hadn’t danced with anyone else… If your heart hadn’t been racing before it certainly was now.
When you didn’t answer he leaned back a little bit as he looked down at you wearing the most dazzling smile you had ever seen.
“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy” you breathed before you could even register what you were saying. You flushed and his smile only grew… gods you could have sworn there were stars in his eyes.
“Like what?” he promoted, amusement swimming in his gaze. You look a steadying breath and brought your eyes back up to his, getting lost in the depth of them.
“Like I’m the only girl in the room” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. He let out a breathy laugh, his arms tightening around your waist.
“In my eyes, you are” he stated, the sincerity in his voice washing over you.
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nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years ago
Text
Human (Natasha Romanoff)
Human: Chapter 1
A/N: Troyes, France is 6 hours ahead of NYC so 7pm there is 1pm in NYC. For the sake of this fic we’re going to pretend that the Battle of New York lasted quite a few hours.
*This is my first ever fic and I wrote it at 3am so bear with me
WARNINGS: swearing; mentions of weapons; violence; panic attack; anxiety; my crappy writing; and I think that’s it (lmk if there’s anything I should add)
Barcelona, Spain; January, 2012:
The repetitive ticking of the clock registered in my brain before my eyes even opened. I didn’t need that clock to know what time it was, of course. It was 4:30 am— the same time I've woken up everyday for the past twenty-five years of my life. I no longer need to wake up this early, yet it’s a habit so deeply engrained in my framework that it’s seemingly unbreakable. I roll out of bed and make my way into the dingy kitchen with light footsteps. With some quick math I figured that I got barely two hours of sleep last night, but that’s more than usual. I started the coffee machine and asked with a sigh, “Would you like some coffee or are you just going to lurk in the corner?”
The leather-clad stranger with an eyepatch stepped up to the kitchen island opposite of me and responded, “I wouldn’t mind a cup. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew I was here.”
“Well, you know what they say about old habits. You got a name?”
“You can call me Fury. We have a lot to talk about, Eight.” I slid him a mug of cheap coffee and gestured for him to take a seat. 
“Then we’d better get started so you can get the hell out of my apartment.” He simply chuckled in response and I could already feel my patience wavering.
Two Hours Later:
“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division? Really, dude?”
“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Trust me I know.”
“I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing, Fury, but there’s no way in hell I'm working for some government spy circus.”
“It’s technically an extra-governmental spy agency-“
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not joining,” I said, cutting him off.
“So, you’re just gonna hop from one shitty apartment to the next until you die? That doesn’t seem like a great life.”
“Better than the one I lived before.”
“You aren’t the person to live in hiding. You’re the person who thrives in the action and lives to kick ass, and we both know it.” When I didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll leave you my card. When you change your mind, which you will, you’ll know where to find me. You don’t have to be the bad guy anymore, Eight.” With that he slid off the stool and left my apartment, leaving me with nothing but my rapidly spiraling thoughts and a black business card.
Troyes, France; May, 2012:
It had been four months since Director Fury came to my apartment in Barcelona. We’d kept in contact and he hasn’t given up on me joining S.H.I.E.L.D.. I'm living in my third apartment since then. Wow…those landlords must really hate me. I was watching the seven o’clock news when I saw something that made me choke on my Cheerios. “An alien invasion?! What the fu-” My Cheerio-muffled exclamation was interrupted by the ring of my burner phone. “Hello?”
“Eight, you watched the news recently?”
“Uh yeah, I'm watching it now. You fighting aliens now, Nicky?”
“Okay first of all, I told you to stop calling me that. Second, yes… aliens. I’m forming a team of…extraordinary people to help protect against these threats and they could really use a hand to finish off this fight.”
“I may be weird as hell but I ain't ‘extraordinary’, Fury. I don’t wanna join your band of misfits.”
“Alright, how about a compromise? You fly your fancy jet here right now and help them out and if you still don’t wanna join once the battle is over, you can go right back to France and I’ll stop bothering you about joining.” After a few seconds of silence I agreed. 
“Fine, but I’m not gonna change my mind. Wait, how do you know about my jet?”
He gave a hearty laugh and said “I know everything, Eight. You should know that by now.”
New York, New York; 96 Minutes Later: 
I flew my jet into the city, making sure to take out a few flying Chitauri in the process. We don’t need to talk about how I got my hands on a German jet that can fly 2100mph. I saw a few interesting characters standing in a circle fighting off an endless sea of aliens. I maneuvered the jet and— wait…is that guy wearing blue tights? Is this what Fury meant by extraordinary? Whatever. I landed in the street about 20 yards away and killed the engines. I hopped out and started jogging towards the group. A couple of them turned around, probably wondering who the hell the chick in the black uniform is and— whoa that’s a beautiful woman. After realizing my steps had literally faltered in a mini gay panic, I slowed to a walk and said “Y’all need a hand?”
“Depends on whose hand it is,” replied the redheaded source of my panic.
“I’m a friend of Fury’s. He practically begged me to come save your asses.”
“Fury doesn’t beg,” she said in a doubtful tone.
“Not typically, but I'm just that awesome. If you don’t believe me then call him up but I’m gonna go kill some aliens.” With that I took off down another street where there was a group of the repulsive bastards. After unloading all of my magazines into Chitauri bodies, I switched to my swords and daggers. After another hour or so of fighting, there were no more aliens in sight. I started jogging toward the rich dude’s tower when I saw said rich dude falling through the rapidly-closing portal. I stopped next to Mr. Blue Tights and the buff blonde guy with the hammer when the big green dude grabbed Mr. Rich Dude from the sky and landed next to us. The green guy yelled, waking Mr. Rich Dude up with a start. “What the hell? What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Except for her, she’s pretty hot,” he said nodding toward me. Just then the redhead jogged over to us and eyed my blood-soaked form from head to toe. 
“See something you like, Red?”
“No. I’m pretty sure I'd be classified as a sadist if I liked the sight of that much blood,” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.
“Yeah that’s fair.” She shook her head at me with a small smirk. There was barely a second of silence when Mr. Rich Dude spoke up. 
“Anybody want shawarma?”
Three Hours Later:
I had gone to the Triskelion after the band of misfits apprehended Loki. Agent Hill showed me where to park my jet and directed me to a room so I could shower and stay the night if I wanted to. I had put on black jeans, a white tee, and a black jean jacket, all of which had been in a to-go bag in my jet. I was toweling off my hair when someone knocked on the door. I opened the door to see none other than the one-eyed-wonder standing there. “What can I do for you, Nicky?”
“The Avengers are being debriefed in Conference Room 6B in ten minutes. You should come.”
“The Avengers? Is that what you’re calling them? That’s cute. But I'm not an Avenger and I don’t want to be an Avenger, so no thanks.”
“You should come anyway.”
“I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”
“You know me so well, Eight,” he said with an amused grin.
I walked into the conference room and the Avengers were already there. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff—whose names I learned from Hill— were scattered around a large table, along with Fury. Romanoff eyed me from where she was standing and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. I squinted my eyes and wiggled my eyebrows in response, and I could see her stifle a laugh. “What’s your name?” She accompanied the question with a blank expression, which made me feel oh-so-special. 
“That’s a very personal question, Miss Romanoff. Let’s slow the pace, please.”
“You know my name but I can’t know yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“The world isn’t fair, Miss Romanoff, and I love a good mystery.”
“If you two are done flirting, we have business to attend to,” interjected Fury.
“Right, my apologies, Nicky.”
“Don’t call me that, Eight.”
After an excruciating 43 minutes and 27 seconds, Fury finally let us leave. I was so close to freedom when that unbelievably sexy voice called to me. “Eight!” Romanoff hastily walked towards me in an effort to catch up.
“Yeah?”
“Is your name actually Eight?”
“If you want it to be.”
“Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“It amuses me, Red.” There was a brief silence during which both of us were trying to figure out if the conversation was over. 
I was about to leave when she continued, “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”
“Well, no. I’m going to stay the night, steal some really expensive jet fuel, and then leave in the morning before Fury can get up my ass about joining his little team.”
She rolled her eyes and responded, “Why won’t you join the Avengers? And why won’t you tell me your real name?”
“It’s just not my style. I’d rather fly solo.”
“You ignored my second question.”
“Then maybe you should take the hint and stop asking.” With that I turned around and started walking away, but a hand on my arm stopped me dead in my tracks. Alarms started going off in my head, and I'm pretty sure Romanoff was saying something to me but I was too caught up in the memories of beatings, punishments, and psychological conditioning to register it. After a few of the longest seconds of my life, the white of my vision cleared up and the voice telling me ‘physical contact is strictly forbidden’ faded into the background. My heart was still hammering in my chest and I was trying to keep my breathing steady despite the inevitable panic attack trying to drag me under, I regained my neutral expression and said. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Are you okay?” She had a concerned expression and if I wasn’t so blinded with anxiety, I would’ve appreciated how cute the furrow of her eyebrows was.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna turn in. It’s been a long day.” I turned around and walked back to my temporary room at a brutal pace. As soon as the door closed behind me, hot tears raced down my cheeks and I lost the ability to breathe. It was gonna be a long night.
3:21 am:
I finally managed to calm myself down and stop the panic attack after almost four hours. Well, I passed out because I couldn’t breathe but it did calm me down. Trying to sleep would be pointless, so I decided to leave before anyone woke up. I didn’t really have much to pack so I grabbed my duffel bag and left the room. I made it to the corridor attached to the landing pads and ran into the one person I really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing out and about, Red?”
“I’ve got places to be and things to do. Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the night like a teenager with a rebellious streak?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually. Do you need a ride? Where are you going?”
“Madrid. Fury said I could hitch a ride on another plane that’s headed for Germany.”
“Well I’m going to France if you wanna ride with me. My jet will get you there a lot faster.” She studied me for what felt like way too long, probably debating if I would try to kill her or not. You know how spies are with their trust issues.
“What the hell, why not?”
And that is how I ended up in a jet with “Candy Shop” playing over the speakers and Natasha Romanoff in the copilot seat yelling at me to, and I quote, ‘slow the fuck down.’ “Why would I slow down, you psycho?! That’s the whole damn point of this thing!”
“Where did you even get a German jet this fast?”
“Germany.”
“No shit Sherlock. How did you get it?”
“I went to Germany, stopped in at the local speedy-jet dealership, and walked out with this beauty.”
“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know? You’re only being like this to keep me from seeing the real you. You built walls. You want everyone to think you’re fine when in reality, you’re falling apart.”
“Okay…um…there was no need for that, Dr. Romanoff. I can find my own therapist, thank you very much. And don’t go pretending you’re all healthy in the head, Miss Assassin.” It was quiet for all of five seconds before we both burst into laughter.
Madrid, Spain:
I landed the jet at the local S.H.I.E.L.D. base and killed the engines. Romanoff and I removed our headsets and I stood to help her get her bags. “Welp, I’ll see you around I guess.” I really wasn’t good at this type of thing. Or any social interactions, really. Twenty-four years in a cell will do that to you.
“Will I? See you around, I mean?”
“Um, I don’t really know, honestly. I’m not part of S.H.I.E.L.D. so we won’t just run into each other or anything but…”
“Why won’t you join S.H.I.E.L.D.? I mean what else are you doing?”
“Ohhh, I see. You just love me so much that you don’t want me to leave. You’re gonna miss me so much-” I was cut off when she threw her backpack at my head. “Hey! You’re lucky I caught that! Freaking crazy woman.”
When our laughter died down she said, “Well I should probably go. Thank you for the ride.”
“Of course. Hitchhikers are always welcome aboard my beloved jet.” A small smile appeared on her face and she stepped forward to give me a hug but she must’ve seen my body go rigid because she stepped back. She might’ve said something but the voice in my head was too loud for me to understand her. I don’t know how long it was before I unfroze but when I did, she was gone. I walked to the front of the jet and started the journey to France.
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dameronology · 4 years ago
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more than anything {poe dameron}
summary: poe can be oddly insightful in his own way, and with the pressure of the resistance pulling you down, it's exactly what you need (for @disastersim !! i hope you enjoy angel <3)
warnings: language, one slight innuendo
enjoy!
- jazz
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Working for the Resistance could be exhausting in every sense of the worst - emotionally, physically, mentally. Constantly fighting for a cause that had no guaranteed pay off was beyond challenging and the fight - the wars and the battles and the bloodshed - didn't seem to be coming to an end anytime soon. There were days where you made leaps and bounds towards entirely wiping out the First Order, in the same way that there were days when they made strides towards completely wiping out your side of the fight. It was a constant tug of war between good and bad; of course, it wasn't all that black and white, but it was difficult to see what anyone saw in the First Order's extreme principles. That was especially the case when your own comrades packed up and left the base to join them. With that said, there were more than enough people who left that side to come to yours. Ones who saw the Resistance as a source of hope- a light at the end of an awfully fucking long tunnel.
That's what you had to constantly remind yourself off: light. Hope. Courage. All the things that you'd sworn to fight for as long as you could remember - the very values that you so desperately held onto in an attempt to not completely lose it - and the ones you kept so close to your heart. Sometimes, it was easy to do so; easy to believe that the Resistance was going to pull through and that light would shine on the galaxy once again. Other times? Not so much. It was normal to have dark days and sad days but as of late, it had been dark weeks and sad weeks. Your team of fellow mechanical engineers had done their best to lift your spirits, but the weight on your soul was a little too much. It was just something that would have to pass naturally.
It had been effecting your sleep too, to the point where you found yourself wandering the base alone at night. The only other people who were awake were those on the nightshift, and the occasional droid that would whirr around the corner. From where you sat in the garage, you would hear the clank clank clank of Threepio fumbling about the base - he would sometimes say hello, and other you help with whatever it was that you were repairing or tinkering with. For the most part, though, he kept to himself. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, because his famous catchphrase of we're doomed! wasn't entirely the best thing for your morale.
So, there you were at 3AM, Poe's t-shirt hanging off your shoulders and the contents of his X-Wing laid out in front of you. Really, you were just taking it apart and putting it back together as a past time - like some kind of weird puzzle - but you were also looking at potential improvements. His only request was that you made it faster, which seemed a bit counter-intuitive when he of all people could have learnt the value of slowing down. The man was like a whirl wind, breezing in and out of different missions and meetings, barely stopping to take a break to think. The only time he truly and really calmed down was when he was with you; you were his safe space, and the only place he could let his barriers down. The pilot spent hours upon hours curled up against you, murmuring sleepily about nothing and everything all at once.
"This is a stupid time to be awake." (Speak of the devil, and thou shall appear).
Tossing your spanner down, you turned around to see Poe. He was leaning against the door, brown hair tousled with sleep and dark eyes heavy with his remaining tiredness. He was a heavy sleeper, so more often than not he didn't even realise you were gone - but if he woke up and saw your absence, there wasn't a chance in hell that he could get back to sleep. He needed you beside him at the best times, but especially at night.
"I couldn't sleep," you confessed.
"There's been a lot of that going around lately," Poe replied. He slowly approached you, holding out his arms as he did so that you could fall against his chest.
"I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No, there's a stupid owl outside my window that woke me up," he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He gently tangled your fingers together and brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. "I sent BB-8 to deal with it."
"Of course you did," you smiled. "I just gotta put this back together and I'll come back to bed."
"What's keeping you up?" Poe asked. "You've been really quiet lately."
You'd always been hesitant to tell Poe about your doubts: he was the epitome of what a good Resistance fighter was, and the beating heart of the entire cause. He never seemed to slip up, or lose hope, to the point where you sometimes wondered if he was naive. It did make sense, after all - his mother had fought hard for the Rebellion, as had his father. Having perfect balance of a rebellious side and a heart of pure fucking gold was probably engrained into his very D.N.A.
"There's a lot on my mind," you admitted. "It never seems to quieten down."
"I get that," Poe gave your hands a light squeeze. "Wanna talk about it?"
"It's probably dumb-"
"- your feelings are always valid, even if they're dumb."
Hopping up onto the wings of the jet beside you, he stuck out his hand and helped you clamber up beside him. The hangar itself was freezing cold - even in the tropical climate of Ajan Kloss - so he wound an arm around your side, pulling you closer to keep you warm. Just Poe's presence alone was enough to pull your mind out the dredges, and the gentle smell of his shower gel and aftershave was a comfort too. It was a mixture of spicy and sweet.
"Go on," Poe said. "I'll be your therapist for the next ten minutes, and then forever if you want."
"What do you charge per hour, Doc?"
He nudged your side with a grin. "We'll get to that later."
You rolled your eyes, but continued all the same. "Everything's just been a lot, lately. All the fighting and the missions, and we keep having set back after set back and I'm tired. I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I have no way of shifting it."
Poe's brown eyes flickered away from you for a minute as he pondered on your statement. Unbeknownst to you, he absolutely related - despite his outwards hopefulness and resilient exterior, he had days where he was exhausted too. It was made even more so by the fact that people turned to him to keep them encouraged too - he did have his own brand of ironic wisdom, after all - and it really took it out of him. It was like everybody around him expected him to keep them afloat when he felt like drowning.
"I understand," Poe replied. "The galaxy is a demanding place and sometimes it's more than we can handle. I have days where I feel like everything is going wrong and I just want to curl up in my bed and sleep forever."
"Sounds so tempting," you murmured.
"It does, but that's not how it works, sadly," he continued. "You just gotta...push forward, you know? That's much easier said than done but I find the trick is to take it day by day. Have some caff, get a hug from your favourite person and just pull through til you can collapse into bed and hide under the covers."
"And you do that? Every day?"
"Not everyday," Poe said. "There are good days too, like the ones where we get to eat lunch together, or the ones where BB-8 hacks the big screen in the canteen and shows the video of Hux falling over."
You couldn't help but laugh at that. The little droid had his own way of brightening the lives of those around him, but it was that video in particular that never failed to make you laugh. He'd accidentally recorded it on a break out mission and whenever people needed reminding that the slimy bastards at the First Order weren't completely untouchable, BB-8 would be on it.
"I love those days too," you gently smiled. "The whole day by day things sounds a lot more manageable than trying to digest the concept of time as a whole."
"Exactly," Poe nodded. "And you gotta find joy in those little things. Like, whenever I'm having a really bad day, I'll come and find you and annoy you. That little smile you get when you're trying really hard not to crack and laugh at me always makes things a thousand times better."
"I like that," you replied.
"Then one day, when we've won this fight and we can go home, we can still take things day by day, but it'll be little steps towards other things, like...marriage? I think that's the next logical step."
You thinned your eyes at him. "Is this a proposal?"
"If you have to ask whether it's a proposal, then it's not a proposal," Poe shot back. "You'll know when I'm asking you to marry me."
"I look forward to it," you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for listening to me. You can be weirdly philosophical."
"I'm smart and good looking," Poe cheekily grinned. "Man, I really am the whole package."
"And moment's gone-"
"- I'm sorry!"
He quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His cheek was pressed up against your forehead, stubble tickling your skin as he held you, softly swaying from side to side.
"I love you," he murmured. "And truth be told, that's the thing that gets me through those bad days."
"You going soft on me, Dameron?" you quietly joked. "I love you too - more than anything."
Poe released his grip on you before taking your hand and helping you climb down from the jet. You still had a few hours till you had to be up and now that the emotional weight on your brain had been relieved ever-so-slightly, you were more than ready to collapse beside the pilot and get some much needed rest.
What Poe had said had begun to change your perspective on things; rather than viewing the galaxy as one whole glob of shitty things, you had to go through it with a fine toothed comb. Find the little things that were sprinkled amongst the bad things, like the way Poe looked at you with a sparkle in his eyes, or the way Finn laughed at words that sounded naughty but weren't naughty. Then there were the times when Leia would give you warm hugs, and when Rey would try and make everyone pancakes on quiet moments.
So yes, the galaxy could suck and yes, the Resistance could be tough, but you had the best people around you. They were the life support that was going to help you see it through.
"C'mon, baby," Poe tugged your arm slightly. "Let's go to bed."
"Yeah," you replied. "Let's."
He wound his arm around you and held you tightly, guiding you back to your room.
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feanorianethicsdepartment · 3 years ago
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so! couple of months back, me and family went on holiday to a self-catering cottage in the backcountry, and when we weren’t having a grand old time getting lost in the wilderness i spent my free time, not writing for this blog, but watching random youtube videos. somehow this led me to watching a lot of six the musical animatics. i dunno, i’ve always liked horrible-histories-esque modern retellings of history, and i was reading a historical fiction series about the six wives of henry viii anyway
trouble is, this stupid blog has been keeping the silm muses much more active than they otherwise would be, and that was even more true when i was trying to churn out a new headcanon every day. i got interested enough in six to start looking up fanfiction, and i guess the settings were similar enough the muses started talking to each other? and then i remembered that ‘seven brides for seven brothers but it’s the fëanorians’ post, and then i thought that even those hellspawn would probably still make better husbands than henry, and then my brain worms started matching them up
so yeah, that’s how this list of which son(s) of fëanor i’d pair off with each wife of henry viii as portrayed by six the musical came into existence (and specifically as portrayed by six the musical, even if they’ve been dead for half a millenium trying to pair up actual humans who actually existed with my goofball interpretations of someone else’s ocs feels skeevy, and also like it would require way more work than this list deserves.) there’s actually an au growing in my head to support a context in which these couples could happen, auuugggghhhh. anyway, i’m sorry
catalina: caranthir. admittedly this was the last one i came up with, there’s a bit of pair-the-spares going on here, but i do feel like they’d have a very functional dynamic. given how temperamental they both are they argue less than one might expect; they’re good at setting and negotiating boundaries, and while they snark at each other constantly whenever they have business to take care of they go in as a Team. catalina also feels like she’d absolutely refuse to tolerate hellbeast bullshit, so naturally i’ve stuck her with the most down-to-earth of the bunch. they’re not the loudest, but they’ll build a solid place to return to when shit starts exploding
anne: curufin. she is a tiny bundle of playfulness and cheek and pure blazing ambition, and i think curvo would vibe with that. they would scheme together, they’d go into every social engagement with a plan and try to manipulate everyone around them, with mixed results. they’d definitely get up to, if not the most shenanigans, the shenanigans with the most collateral damage, and i feel like their skillsets would complement each other in a way that would nicely maximise that damage potential. whatever their big project as a couple turns out as, it’ll rapidly escalate into Anne and Curufin Burn Down Valinor. or early modern england. or both!
jane: maglor. okay this isn’t just me putting the woman who wants a big family with the habitual child thief (though i will admit, there is some nice synergy there.) it’s more that they’re both survivors, in a way, they both have this resolve deep down that could weather anything the world threw at them. i feel like they’d be one of the quieter couples in this set? sneaking out of court parties to wander the gardens and laugh at each other’s terrible jokes. they’d skirt around the edge of things together, softly enough so as not to be noticed, watching the world go by. and if it came to that, i think she’d wait for him
anna: celegorm. look the essence of anna of kleve is living in a gigantic palace doing whatever the hell she wants and not giving the slightest fuck what anyone thinks of her, and i feel like celegorm would be amenable to that. they don’t actually spend that much time together, he’s off in the woods and she’s chilling in her big fancy house, but when they do meet there’s always winks and finger guns. speaking of guns, their most common Couple Activity™ is going hunting, but you’ll also find them trading stories about the nonsense their social circles get up to over booze. they don’t usually show up for ~events at the same time, but when they do, they cut a swathe across the hall so efficiently you’d think they’d planned it in advance
kitty: ambarussa. this isn’t even a romantic thing, i just want them to be friends. i want her to go on adventures and have fun and be happy and not have to worry about guys at all, you know? they’d be the ‘two dumbasses and an enabler’ kind of terrible trio, i think, the twins getting up to the stupidest shit and her cackling in the background. absolute terrors, cause so much trouble, and they always try to dodge the consequences to varying degrees of success. and then they all head off home, promising to see each other the next morning and make even more mischief tomorrow
cathy: maedhros. i picture them having these long elaborate discussions about philosophy and ethics and religion and the differences between their worlds and all kinds of other things, these fascinating debates that go on until one of them notices it’s 3am. their interests don’t overlap 100%, but they have this shared fondness for big Projects that they always end up supporting each other in. you don’t see them talking much in their formal public appearances, but in private or when they’re just hanging out they’ll banter back and forth with the kind of carefree ease that comes from how comfortable they are with each other. she’s significantly more low-key than he is, but when push comes to shove she is just as intensely opinionated and willing to defend her ideas. should the time come, she would stand up to him like nobody else could
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shozaii · 5 years ago
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Hello! May I ask of a hc of shinsou,Todoroki,and Kirishima having a quirkless s/o whose determined to become a hero so they team up with hatsume to create an iron man suit replica they can use in battle? (They are basically Ironman but since they can’t call themselves iron man cause reasons they just call themselves Iron Maiden, don’t ask how she got into UA she has her ways lol) Thxs!
(a/n): hello anon! i’m so sorry this took a while as i had some other stuff to do argh. but i hope this one is worth it because iron man is my favorite hehe. and i also received your other ask! enjoy!
requests are still open!!💜
•••
iron maiden.
warnings: none!
^^
kirishima❤️
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so, so supportive of you.
when he found out you were quirkless, it didn’t matter to him! all that he was happy about was you wanting to pursue your dreams regardless of anything coming your way.
“heroes don’t always need a quirk! in fact, i think you’re even more manlier than me,” he wiped away tears of joy.
precious, i swear.
“thank you, kiri. i won’t let you down!”
“babe! you’ve never! you’re definitely not gonna let the whole world down either!”
he recommended you to check in with mei hatsume, the literal brains of technology. he remembered you keeping a lot of spare parts of your failed attempts, so he told you to bring them along to her.
“a creation of new babies? god, it’s probably going to be my 1000th one!”
let’s be honest, she has more.
eijirou makes sure you get some rest, because he knows the amount of times you’ve stayed up late.
he visits you sometimes 🥺
so the both of you finally came out with something so cool even mei couldn’t believe her eyes.
“a nanotech suit! one touch and you’re all good to go!”
you were in TEARS
sooner or later, you had your hero name! and it was called iron maiden. sounds majestic. he’s gonna love it
you needed eijirou to see this, but perhaps it shall be a surprise. but you did tell him your hero name. it interested him even more, because he knows you’ve been working on a lot of suits before consulting mei about it.
“i’m so proud of you, cupcake! you have to show me,” you could hear him pout through the phone.
“the time will come, eiji. you would love it!”
so it was, during an intense battle drill. it was finally time for you to shine brighter than ever.
as mei mentioned, you placed it on your chest, bracing for the impact.
eijirou was shook. what were you doing during this serious time? you did tell him about a surprise, but it wasn’t you appearing at this kind of time, right?
and so it came. the suit began to wrap around your body, fitting you in nicely. under 10 seconds, you were ready.
his mouth was open wide.
so this was the surprise, he smiled widely.
you took off, with rocket like feet attached to the soles of your newly built armor. your hands were your extra guide, balancing you off ground.
with a blast, you flew as fast as you could, bringing strong winds along with you. everyone watched carefully as you easily put off so many obstacles coming your way.
he was following you, wanting to observe more of your latest device.
it was delightful. training with sufficient information at the screens in front of your eyes, reminding you of incoming dangers. the iron was also lightweight; so that running would be easier.
you and eiji even teamed up! how sweet🥰
and from the inside, you saw your boyfriend. he had this adorable toothy grin, literal heart eyes on you.
“we would love to see more of that, iron maiden!” he screamed from down below.
“you got it, red riot!” you replied, reminding yourself to give him a big fat hug once this was over.
shinsou💜
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you were worried about what shinsou was going to say.
yes, he knew that you were quirkless. but he saw so many qualities in you that literally changed his life for the better.
no way in heck was he gonna listen to any bs about you! you were his!
“come on, kitten. i would have to hear it someday. i’m sure it’s not gonna hurt.”
“i’m thinking of making a suit.”
“ah. you did tell me about those before. what’s your plan?”
“i’m going to try and rebuild it again. this time, with a consultant! i just wanted your opinion, hitoshi; and i don’t know if-“
“does this plan make you happy?”
you nodded slowly.
“go on. do what you gotta do. if it makes you happy, i’m happy.”
he proceeds to embrace you, feeling so proud of your decision. i headcanon him being your number one fan💜
so there you were, working alongside with mei. a lots of twists and turns were found in your previous suits, and you were glad some parts came to good use in the new one.
“you’re gonna love this, y/n! make sure to give it all you got with our baby!” she said with pride.
he gives you calls and asks about the process🥺
he hangs out with you during your breaks
after weeks of ups and downs, it was completed.
you placed the little casing in your pocket. training was coming up soon and you wanted to give it your all. mei wished you good luck, and you left.
it was intense training, and it involved a few classes. including your boyfriend’s. so it was finally time to show it to him!
“hey, you done?” shinsou tapped on your shoulder, looking at you. “where is it?”
“you’ll see!” you said, smiling innocently. but deep down inside you were screaming with joy.
the battle began. everyone rushed out from the starting line, and the two of you followed behing the flock.
you pulled the little metal casing out from your pocket. this was your time.
fixing in on your chest, you clicked on the middle of the nano suit; as it began to assemble right in front of hitoshi’s eyes.
his eyes were wide open. he watched as the armor covered your body from head to toe. the color red was a majestic finish to the armor.
boy, was he prOUD
he was just there, looking at you- the armor. his s/o did it! for so many months were they sad due to all their failures, and finally, they’ve done it.
the face of the armor opened, allowing you to see his face at a better angle.
“you surprise me everytime,” he smiled.
the both of you continued training immediately after, with him continuously admiring your hard work. from the blasters to the attacks from your armor. the speed. balancing off ground. priceless moments he would love to cherish.
honestly he’s just boyfriend goals argh😭
todoroki🤍
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now if i were to be clear, these three boys are the most supportive towards their s/o. very. so here we have another cinnamon roll.
shoto is the person who shows love regardless of boundaries. moreover, you being quirkless was no sort of boundary he has ever imagined.
“after all, you’re human, aren’t you?”
that would’ve brought you to tears. being quirkless in this society was hard. but to shoto? that didn’t matter.
you’ve made it to ua, and he was proud of you for all your achievements. from new creations to development.
he has seen most of your suits. he also asks you a few questions.
so one day, knowing that he was good with listening and advice, you went to him to tell him about working alongside with mei hatsume.
“oh. she’s helped us upgrade most of our costumes. she’s really helpful, if you ask me.”
“so... what do you think about the idea?”
“y/n, i know you very well. this passion of yours makes you very happy. in fact, this idea sounds amazing. i’ll support you, always.”
“thank you, sho,” you hugged him.
“good luck, my love. let me know if you need anything.”
a few weeks passed and you were working miracles with mei. shoto and you came up with a hero name - iron maiden. knowing how you’ve always used iron to build new inventions.
he constantly texts you, telling you to take breaks if you stayed up late.
3am phone calls😤❤️
“so would this color do?” mei asked you, pointing at the matte red finish. “this baby would stand out with glory!” there were literal stars in her eyes.
“i love it!”
she gave you directions for the invention, of course. you two were like this inseparable duo, so i would say your conversations with each other were wholesome🥰
and finally, after so much of blood, sweat and tears,,, it was complete! the armor that you have thought of in your head finally came to life, within your hands!
shoto was very happy when he heard of your success. you also told him that it was a huge surprise. he waited patiently because he didn’t want to spoil the effect
“of course, love. i’ll be waiting.”
and he did, until training started.
like mentioned in the earlier headcanons, it was a joint session. this meant a lot of the students would try developing their quirks; in different stations.
you were of course heading to the ‘battlefield’ station.
there, you saw shoto. he has already begun training. so when he saw you he stopped, waiting for you to show what you’ve got.
you held out the little metal casing to him. his head tilted.
but when he saw it forming into an armor.....
....you guessed it. imagine that proud lil’ smile on his face😭❤️❤️
as the lightweight iron reached the last few parts, you asked him, “how is it?” eagerly.
he ran towards you.
“you’re gonna show all of them what you got.”
i guarantee you, your heart was bleeding confetti. i’ve mentioned it many times but his eyes tell stories.
this time, it was of how proud he was to see you achieve your biggest dream- becoming a hero.
i hope you liked it anon!! apologies for the delay and i hope this was a good read🥺❤️
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criminalmindsmad · 5 years ago
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Are you finished?
This one is SO long (3400 words long lol), and I must’ve been real moody when I wrote this but please don’t be mad at me! I’ve merged 2 requests together because they may have been very similar had I not! Let me know what you think! Leave any comments in replies or in the tags if you reblog ❤️- Ash x
Requests: 
-Something angsty for hotch, i know this is very broad but idm what you choose to do with it since all of your stories are amazing!!
-Can I request a Hotch x reader where they’re close/kinda flirty and work well together but then Hotch is suddenly really cold to her because he realised he has feelings for her and he’s forced to talk about it when they have to share a hotel room?
“Oh hey! Aaron!” you shouted across the precinct realising there were about 7 cops looking at you. You cleared your throat “Agent Hotchner. May I see you in the conference room for a second.”
He looked at you and cocked his eyebrow, he could tell by the look in your eyes you were up to something and as much as he loved it now was not the time. “Is it important Y/N?” you couldn’t stop your cheeky smile forming on your face, it couldn’t be less important if you were honest, but you nodded anyway. Hotch gave in and walked over to you and into the conference room. “What is it Y/N?” he tried to be serious but he couldn’t help but smile a little. You paused briefly wiping the smile off your face, looking out of the window for dramatic affect. 
“Your butt looks good today” you looked back over to him and he just shook his head, let out a little giggle and left. You quickly followed him. 
Over the course of the case you two were your usual selves, talking about everything and nothing in between bouts of case work, gently touching one another whenever you got the chance, catching the other staring and making fun of them. You and Hotch were best friends, anyone in the world could see how close you were. Which was…great…probably…you had resigned yourself to being best friends aware that being anything more was just completely off the table.
A major storm had hit the night you’d caught your unsub, grounding the jet and leaving the BAU stuck in Dallas with nothing to do. Most of the team had taken the opportunity to get some sleep retiring up to their hotel rooms one by one. You’d decided to stay at the bar for a little while and treat yourself to a glass or two of wine, things had been a little dicey on this case and you felt like you needed it. 
As you sipped at your wine and watched the rain splash against the window a warm hand pressed itself against the small of your back. You flinched at the touch and turned to face them, grabbing their wrist as you did so and yanking it away from your body. 
“Hey that’s not very polite!” Some smarmy guy in a business suit smirked in your direction as he put his hand up in defence. 
“Neither is touching someone without their consent.” You released his hand and shoved it away. 
“Look you don’t need to be a bitch, I was just trying to be nice!” He got up in your face, trying to intimidate you “Jeez you’re not even that pretty anyway!”
“Hey back off!” Aaron had emerged from behind him and began bounding over towards the pair of you. You smirked at him as you grabbed the guy harassing you and pushed his face into the surface of the bar, not spilling a drop of your wine. 
“If you think I was being a bitch then…you must think I’m a colossal bitch now! Ha!” You picked him up and shoved him away from you, Aaron caught him as he flew towards the door. 
“I think you owe my friend an apology.” The guy looked at you once again and shook his head. 
“Let him go Aaron, he’s not worth it.” You nodded to him as he let go of the man and walked over to you.
“You ok?” He put his hand on your arm and looked down at you. You smiled back and bought him in for a hug. 
“Yeah, much better thank you" 
That night you two spent hours talking, moving up to your hotel room at around 3am. 
“Look I just think if the toys in Toy story come to life because kids love them then of COURSE food is alive because we’ve all seen kids eat chicken nuggets!” You both laughed as you sat back down from your rant, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. 
“Your brain is both amazing and stupid!” He laughed and leaned towards you, stopping both of your laughter in its tracks. Suddenly it felt like there was a rope wrapped around you both, pulling you together. Like the world moved in slow motion as your bodies moved closer, your eyes locked on his as you pressed your mouth against his. He returned your kiss moving his hand to your hair and holding your face against his. And then as suddenly as your lips met, your lips parted and Aaron moved away from you “Y/N! This is highly unprofessional” you looked at him with stunned eyes, your mouth hanging open in shock. 
“What?” You could feel the tears prickling at your eyelids as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Aaron?" 
"This should not have happened. This was clearly a moment of weakness on both of our parts.” You stood up and walked towards him, holding you hand out. 
“Aaron can we talk ab…”
“No” he pushed your hand away “I won’t have to take any professional actions against you however we are not to talk about this with each other or our colleagues again, is that clear.” You nodded. Silently willing yourself not to cry. “Goodnight Agent Y/L/N.” and with that he left, leaving you in the dark of your hotel room.
You didn’t sleep at all that night. Instead sat tormenting yourself over what had happened, figuring out what signs you misread and at some point you questioned if it ever happened at all. 
Morning arrived and you slumped down in the lobby waiting for your team. As you glanced around to check if anyone had arrived before you, you noticed the guy from the bar last night staring at you from reception. You pulled your sunglasses down and tried to ignore his existence. 
“Hey, where’s your boyfriend?” The man wandered over a cocky expression plastered on his face “wouldn’t put out for him either?”
"Wow… I would almost have forgiven you for being a drunk asshole but I guess you’re just a regular asshole huh.”
“Listen bitch I know the sheriff. I can do whatever I want right now and you’re heading straight to county!” He tried to get up in your face. Standing up you met his eye level and tried desperately to wipe the smile off of your face. 
“I’m FBI jackass, I could break your arm right now and I wouldn’t get so much as a disciplinary.” It was an obvious lie but this douche didn’t need to know that. 
“Agent Y/L/N!” Aaron’s voice boomed from behind you, as you turned your head and spotted him and the team in your peripheral you suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you “what are you doing? Do we have to have a talk about your professionalism on cases?" 
"Sorry Aaron this is just the guy from the bar last night.” You motioned towards the now even more cocky man next to you.
“Once again Agent Y/L/N it is not professional to sleep with someone every time we are away on a case.” Your mouth dropped open as he spoke, eyes fixated directly on his. 
“What did you just say to me?” Anger radiated from your voice. “I did not sleep with this man." 
"No she didn’t but she did threaten to break my arm.” You looked at the man stood next to you and without missing a beat he recoiled away from you in fake fear.
“My apologies sir. Y/N you’re suspended. Find your own way back to Virginia and be in my office at 8am Friday.” He spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world, as if you were just some background character that no-one ever knew the name of and not someone he considered a close friend mere hours earlier. He walked by you, stern face completely unmoved by the shock plastered all over yours. The rest of the team shuffled by offering comforting eyes and the occasional touch on the shoulder, they seemed as shocked and confused as you were. 
And then they were all gone, you were stuck in Dallas, alone and heartbroken…at least you were in a bar…silver linings.
***
“Aaron… do you want to talk about what happened back in the hotel?” Rossi cornered Aaron in the plane kitchen. Concern spread across his face. 
“What is there to talk about? An agent acted unprofessionally, as they had done many, many times before, and I finally realised I needed to do something about it. I will discuss this further with agent Y/L/N when we meet next week. As for now, I have some paperwork to get started on.” He walked away, leaving Rossi stood at the other end of the plane. Emily and JJ looked over to the older man with questioning looks on their faces which was met, to their dismay, with an equally confused face from David Rossi.
***
“You’re late Y/N” a very stern Hotch mentioned as you knocked at his office door, not bothering to even glance in your direction. 
“I’m 15 minutes early Aaron.” You noted the clock on the wall. 
“Exactly.” You fought the urge to scoff at his comment “take a seat” you did as he said, sitting yourself in front of him. Usually the time you spent in his office was either splayed out on the couch or perched on his desk, this chair was uncomfortable, no wonder you never sat here. “I’ve taken the difficult decision to place the incident and your behaviour on the case last week as a strike on your record" 
"What?” Your eyes and mouth open wide, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. “But Aaron! That goes on my permanent record, it could affect my role in this team and the FBI as a whole. I find it very hard to believe that what happened last week is grounds for that kind of action." 
"You threatened a civilian Y/N." 
"After I was threatened and sexually harassed! You saw what he was like! I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” You stood up off of your chair and turned your back on Hotch, placing your hands on your head in frustration. 
“Please calm down Agent Y/L/N! Don’t make me extend your suspension further.” He stood up and slammed his hand on his desk making you turn around to face him. You stood eyes connected in complete silence breathing in unison. “The mark goes on your record. You may start back with us on Monday. Take the weekend to cool off and maybe think about what a professional wears to the office." 
You looked down at your v-neck and skinny jeans, an ensemble you had worn some variation of during your entire stint with the BAU. You let out a small scoff, composed yourself and spoke "fine. See you on Monday Agent Hotchner. Have a nice weekend." 
Leaving his office you shut the door and met the gaze of your teammates. JJ was the first to walk over, offering to walk you out. As you stood in the lift with her you decided to let your frustrations out. 
"I just don’t get it! It’s like some weird twilight zone where my best friend has been replaced by a nastier moodier version of himself and nobody but me knows!” She laughed at your comments and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 
***
“Agent Y/L/N!” Hotch’s voice boomed across the North Dakotan precinct catching the attention of anyone within 15 miles of him. “interrogation room now!” You had become used to being dragged into rooms whenever Hotch saw fit, his eyes burning into you whenever you did anything trying to find a mistake or reason to call you up. And the once gentle touches had become rough pushes go get you to move in or out of somewhere. The last month had been Hell, on top of your one strike Hotch had managed to find a way to give you another, during a week of back to back late nights and stressful days you’d accidentally fallen asleep at a desk and no one had decided to wake you before they rolled out to apprehend an unsub, Reid had gotten injured and sure enough Hotch blamed you entirely ‘had you been there and not sleeping on the job we may have caught our suspect without an agent ending up in the hospital’ for some reason the rest of the team felt the same and your relationship with most of them had been a bit strained recently. 
“Hotch, have I done something wrong?” You asked, shutting the door to the interrogation room behind you. 
“What is this?” He threw a case file onto the desk, notes and pictures sliding out as it slammed against the table. 
“It’s Ryan Knowles, a potential suspect, I saw his name pop up a couple times and had Garcia run him through our system, juvenile crimes, peeping tom and a non existent mother figure. He fit our profile, I asked JJ to put him on the board so that we could…”
“And why would you do that?” His question took you aback, what was that supposed to mean?
“It’s my job? To follow a hunch and see if it pans out.” You furrowed your brow unsure why you were in trouble. 
“Maybe not for much longer. I’ve noticed you’re slacking, sleeping on cases, following ridiculous hunches and causing the team setback after setback!” He threw the case file against the wall sending paper everywhere “follow your hunch, and you better hope it pans out or you’re off this team" 
"You can’t do that!” You shouted trying to hold onto your composer for just a moment longer. He began to walk out of the room, putting his face close to yours,
“Watch me.” He pulled his face away and walked out of the room leaving you shocked and confused. You began to pick up the papers of your case file trying to put them back into some order as your tears began to blur your vision. 
You stood up and wiped away your tears, looking at a picture of your unsub you decided you were going to prove you were right and prove why you deserved that spot on the team, not that you really wanted to be there much more anyway. 
***
“Put the gun down Ryan!” Your unsub pointed his gun directly at you, you’d managed to catch him attempting to bury his victim,  You had radioed for backup as soon as you saw him and could hear the sirens in the distance “you don’t want to do this, hear those sirens in 30 seconds they’re all around here and if they see you standing there out in the open with a gun it’s not going to take too long for you to be the one in the ground.” You swallowed hard, keeping a level head as you gradually lowered your gun “but if you have me they’re not gonna shoot you, how about you let Amber go and take me instead, look I’m unarmed” you kicked you gun slightly away as you heard the screeching of tyres. 
“Come here.” You walked slowly to Ryan he grabbed you and quickly held the barrel of the gun to your head. You watched Amber run off and be caught by JJ, you sighed with relief that they had made it to you in time. 
As Aaron saw you his heart leaped to his throat and his stomach hit the floor. He’d thought he’d managed to bury his feelings for you after everything that had happened, but there you were completely vulnerable with a gun to your head and he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmingly worried. As Rossi tried to talk Ryan down Hotch kept his eyes focused solely on you, catching your stare right back. You nodded slightly and forced yourself downward allowing Morgan to land two shots directly into Ryan’s chest. 
As you pulled yourself free from his arms you ran forward to your team and for some reason Aaron was the first to pull you in for a hug. Your body tensed up and you blinked with confusion but at least you were safe and he wasn’t firing you. 
*** 
“I’m sorry Miss Y/N but there was an incident with your room. A pipe burst and unfortunately we cannot let you stay in that room this evening. We managed to collect all of you belongings before they were damaged but it seems you will have to share with one of your colleagues.” The older woman at the desk was ruining your life, not actually but in many ways she was. Your team had already gone up to their rooms while you spoke with reception. “I can give you a spare key to one of their rooms so you can just go and let yourself in ok?” You nodded and took the key, you didn’t mind sharing a room with most of your team, as long as it wasn’t Aaron. 
You knocked on the door and began to let yourself in “Hey it’s Y/N! My room got flooded so the front desk gave me your key! I guess we’re roomies for tonight huh!” You finished opening the door and was met with the face of Aaron Hotchner. You sighed “ah. I will go get a different key.”
“NO!” He cleared his throat “no it’s ok, we can share I don’t mind.” You silent nodded and closed the door behind you, putting you go bag down on the desk you began walking over to the couch to get comfortable “Agent Y/N.” Hotch stated sternly. You stopped abruptly and sighed, you knew friendly Hotch was too good to be true. Turning on your heels you didn’t give him a chance to speak first. 
“Look I know I was reckless, but you didn’t really give me much of a choice. If this means I get fired then fine because I saved a life today and that’s enough." 
"I’m not going to fire you. In fact I wanted to say something.” He looked sincere, and sad like whatever he was about to say was painful or something “that night in Dallas, when we talked for hours and then we kissed, well for some reason it broke me, I knew I liked you and knew I found you attractive, I just never put it all together until that moment. I realised I loved you and I wanted to be with you, and I freaked out. Everything I’ve done over the last month was because I was so scared that I was going to get hurt or that you were going to get hurt and it would break me, but then seeing you today and realising that you could die it all went out the window, I don’t have time to be scared, I want to be with you and I realise that now. I’m so sorry” He stopped his ramble, looking into your eyes with his big brown puppy dog eyes, pleading forgiveness and willing you to return the sentiment.
“Are you finished?” He looked shocked by your question nodding to respond. “And that’s it is it? You made my life hell because you love me?” He nodded again, quickly glancing to the floor. “What do you want me to say now? That I love you too? That I forgive you? Well I’m sorry but no. I used to, but then you ruined it. You cost my friendships with the team, you cost me my perfect record and my job and you almost cost me my life, because you are an immature, petty self centred prick! I’ve been so stressed and tired I’ve lost 10 pounds for god’s sake! I’m sorry Hotch but your half assed confession isn’t going to fix this.” You sat down on the sofa and put your head in your hands leaving Hotch stood in the middle of the room, eyes drilling a hole into the floor, looking the way you looked after he left you alone in your hotel room that night. Neither of you moved, both unsure as to what should happen next. “I’m…I’m not saying that we can never happen. I just need time to process, and forgive you and learn to love you again.” His eyes had moved up to you again and you noticed the tears that had formed starting to leak out as yours quickly did too. “What… what erm… what side of the bed do you want?” He laughed slightly at you comment and smiled weakly at you a smile which you returned. Maybe in a little while, this wouldn’t be so hard again. 
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sloppy-butcher · 4 years ago
Note
Request 2 of 2 is any killer you want meeting a sneaky survivor (later s/o bc I’m weak) who can get up from being moried but have reduced movement, repair speed and if they get hooked it’s instantly over for them (I say any because I want you to write what you like, I’ll probably request more characters for either prompts I sent tho if you’re ok with it)
okay so, with this ask i decided to do something a little different.
The idea of somehow surviving a mori is so bizarre and unlikely that it really took me a while to think about it. I mean, the whole point of a mori is to outright kill the survivor. so in order to bring this request to life i decided to set up some ground rules.
1.) it will be assumed that the survivor who can outlive a mori is one lucky bastard. Whether it is because the killer is in a rush and cannot ensure the job is done correctly or they just suck and overestimated their killing ability.
2.) It will also be assumed that in order to survive a mori, the person who gets up immediately seeks the best medical attention the Fog has to offer (i.e. They rush over to Claudette bleeding outta their asshole). They must also be near the end of a trial because once they escape all wounds will be healed and their supposed death will be null and void.
Below is a list of the mori’s that are a definite no-no and are a maybe (WARNING: i wrote these at 3AM)
Mori’s you would definitely die to:
Huntress (Axe to the face)
Bubba (*get that bitch Leatherface!* chainsaw up torso)
Hag (pulls spleen (?) out, needs some spice)
Deathslinger (speared from butthole to mouth hole)
Oni (sword through the chest and no more tongue)
Pyramid Head (huge knife through gut)
Freddy (fingers your chest)
Spirit (knife to meet you *screams in Japanese*)
Doctor (you got a brain? not anymore)
Legion [specifically Joey] (mans is determined and crazy strong. its lights out for you)
Mori’s that are a MAYBE live:
Trapper (basic slash 4 a basic bitch)
Wraith (*baby WHACK baby WHACK baby WHACK*)
Hillbilly (bruh it aint even that deep)
Nurse (lady got moldy worm fingers, dafaq that suppose to do)
Clown (steals a finger and cracks your back)
Demogorgon (again, cracks your back starting with your neck)
Myers (has no aim and could miss a vital organ)
Ghostface (again, has talent but got no direction)
Pig (cover that new mouth vagina quick then you’d be gucci)
Plague (i want her to spit in my mouth so)
Legion [rest of them bitches] (punk lil babies who probs can’t even open a pickle jar)
Pyramid Head (the mini mori where he just bonks you after being hooked/cage: vibe check failed)
Now, with this out of the way, I have chosen two killers to write about. hope they are ok <3
HeadCanons for The Wraith (Philip Ojomo) and The Plague (Adiris) with a sneaky S/O capable of surviving a mori
The Wraith (Philip Ojomo)
Has to do a double-take when he sees you up and walking. He’ll literally stop dead in his tracks and just watch as you stumble across the landscape, dropping all his previous activities to focus on you. You looked like a ghost.
He’d question himself for a moment. Had he actually killed you? Did he just down you and forget? No, no. Philip always remembered who he killed, their faces of fear and pain, and their cries as he slashed open their backs. He was a strong man, vicious in his attacks. There was no way he could have missed. Yet, like a living contradiction to his beliefs, you were there.
He’d stalk you, cloaked and extremely quiet, turning the invisible factor up to 120%. You wouldn’t even notice he was there. He’d follow you around, peaking from behind trees and through windows as you would hobble after teammates and sloppily repair generators. If one of the more bulky survivors were on your team they’d carry you, slinging one of your arms over their shoulders and leading you around. How selfless and thoughtful. The other, more clever survivors would hurriedly try to mend your wounds, quick hands weaving through medkits and over broken skin. However nothing they did return you to your prior vigor. You definitely carried the weight of a near-death experience. regardless, Philip felt moved by your teammates' determination to help you.
If you ended up being the last survivor in the trial, the others having been hooked or mori’d, Philip would always let you live. He’d watch you get back up from your position on the floor, blood spewing out of the wounds across your back. You’d groan and shakily get to your feet, swaying as you did so, before trudging off to start the final generators. He admired your commitment and vowed to not disturb you as you worked. But progress was slow and Philip always found himself circling you. Maybe if you were healed you could work better? He thought to himself as he quickly zoomed around the arena in search for discarded med-kits. He’d find some still clutched in the frozen hands of dead teammates and hurriedly he’d take and present them to you. Although he was too nervous to actually hand the items to you, Philip would quietly leave them on the floor for you to turn around and find. Then he would retreat back to the shadows and continue to watch you.
The Plague (Adiris)
Adiris would also do a hard double-take. She’d gasp loudly when she found you working on another generator. You could hear her mumbling ancient words under her breath, rambling, and getting more and more frantic as she approached you.
Unlike Philip, Adiris would have no hold-ups about hurting you and she would set to work chasing and quickly down you again. With one quick smack, you would be forced to the ground with the impossible tall lady standing over you. Her previous whispered had now progressed into full-blown shouts. She’d call out to the sky in a desperate and commanding tone, the Babylonian language feeling strange in your ears. With palms open and facing upwards Adiris would thrust back her head and shout out for an explanation. Were you some kind of God? Maybe even a demon or angel? Whatever you were, it freaked Adiris out. Her eyes focused solely on the dark sky, all previous engagements to the trial having been forgotten. You could hear her desperately calling out for her God, crying for a reason as to why you didn't die. After several minutes, with her eyes filling with tears, Adiris relented and lowered her head.
There was no answer. If you weren’t some type of supernatural being, and instead just some poor ordinary person, then Adiris had in fact just failed at killing a poor soul. She wasn’t stupid; she could tell that she was chosen to mindlessly hurt and kill people for her God. Her personal philosophy when it came to hunting down the survivors of the Fog, was to offer them a swift and painless exit from this world of suffering. But with you laying at her feet, wheezing with blood and vomit coating your clothing, Adiris had to realize that she had failed, not only herself but you. She hadn’t effectively killed you and instead only added to your pain.
Adiris knew that you carried that burden of her weapon and she felt it tear her up inside. She hated herself and her lackluster ability to effectively kill you. She debated whether to try to kill you again. But the thought of even attempting such an act boiled her stomach and made her sick. You watched her from your position on the floor. There was a deep sense of sadness in her eyes, her shoulders lowered and it seemed she had lost her prideful demeanor. She looked pitiful and lost, like a child having been told Father Christmas isn’t real. After a moment of watching her for signs of aggression, Adiris finally moved. She knelt down and gently placed a hand on your back. She mumbled something to you that sounded like an apology before she quickly stuck her hands underneath you. Effortlessly the tall lady picked you up bridal style and set off in search of your teammates. In the distance, you spotted Nea working on the last-gen. Adiris also noticed the girl and with long, determined strides, brought you to her. Nea went to flee at the killer's approach, but when she saw you in her arms, carried like a baby, she stood her ground. Adiris dropped you at Nea’s feet and with one final look, walked away never to be seen again for the remainder of the trial.
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astyle-alex · 4 years ago
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[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim] 
Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural
Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k
Summary:
One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.
When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.
This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.
As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.
Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!
- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2 
- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3
&
- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2
Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~
           A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.
           Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.
           A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?
           How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?
           It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…
           It could save lives.
           So… fiddling.
           Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.
           The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.
           It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…
           And then… it wasn’t.
           One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…
           A big flash of blinding light.
           Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.
           And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:
“… Oops…”
_     _     _
Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?
           Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.
           But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...
           And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling  program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.
           Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.
           It found an Angel.
           Sorta.
           It found a something.
           And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?
           Yeah. BIG Weird.
           Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?
           HELLA Big Weird.
           So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.
           Personally.
           And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.
           Charlie’s met Castiel.
           Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.
           Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.
           But, like, a cool alien.
           Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.
           And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.
           Not really.
           For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.
           And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).
           He is looking for something, though.
           Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).
           Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.
           She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.
           Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…
           Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…
           And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.
           Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…
           But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.
           So, she makes the call.
           Sam picks up on the third ring.
           “So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”
           With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”
           “Well, they do.”
           “Okay. And?”
           “They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.
           “Charlie, do you know what time it is?”
           “Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”
           There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.
           “Trench coat?”
           “I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”
           Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”
           “Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”
           “Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”
           “What if he really wants to head out?”
           “Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”
           He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.
           It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.
           Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.
           It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.
           She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.
           Only to find him looking back.
           For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.
           But he seems kinda zonked.
           And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…
           She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.
           He’s not really expressing anything.
           He’s just looking.
           It’s weird.
           Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.
           The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.
           Dissecting it and diagnosing it…
           It makes her shiver.
           But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”
           The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.
           He blinks, real slow like.
           Then he nods.
           Relief floods Charlie.
           Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.
           In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.
           Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…
           But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?
           She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.
           “So, kid, what’s your name?”
           “Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”
           Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”
           Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.
           He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.
           Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”
           The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.
           Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”
           “My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”
           Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”
           The kid simply frowns.
           “So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”
           The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.
           For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.
           And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.
           “My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”
           Charlie almost bursts out laughing.
           The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.
           “Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.
           Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.
           “One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”
           Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”
           “Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”
           “You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”
           Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.
           For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.
           But really, his reaction is the more logical one.
           Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.
           “Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”
           The kid rolls his eyes.
           It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.
           The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.
           “Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.
           Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:
           “But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”
           “Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.
           In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.
           But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.
           Immediately, he softens.
           “Hey, what happened? You okay?”
           Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”
           “Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”
           “Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”
           “Like apocalypses?”
           “Yeah, kinda.”
           “Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”
           “Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”
           “Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”
           “Yeah,” she tells him.
           “So where are you now?”
           “Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”
           “Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.
           “No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”
           “That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”
           “What?”
           “I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”
           “So, Lebanon, Kansas?”
           “Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”
           “And..?”
           Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.
           She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.
           “I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”
           Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.
           But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…
           So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.
           But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.
           And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.
           Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.
           Sounds totally doable, right?
           In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…
_     _     _
Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!
Have a great week!
5 notes · View notes
svt-writers-club · 6 years ago
Note
OTP QUESTION THINGY- 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 for Verkwan, meanie and junhao :3
man, it’s been a while since i answered one of these!
VernKwan
1. Who’s big spoon/little spoon
Seungkwan is the big spoon and Hansol is the little spoon >:3 you can fight me on this headcanon, but you can’t pry away Hansol and Seungkwan sharing a bed after a long day, Hansol curling himself into a tiny ball so Seungkwan can cuddle him from behind. Hansol giggling as Seungkwan kisses the back of his neck and whispers a hoarse good morning against his ear. You can pry this away from my cold, dead hands, but Hansol is the biggest baby boy to exist.
2. Who’s a better cook
I do not trust Hansol in a kitchen alone and neither does Seungkwan. It’s not that Hansol is, on principle, a bad cook. It’s just that sometimes Hansol gets distracted and ends up leaving things in the pan/oven/microwave longer than they should be, which results in black, burnt bits in food. Suffice to say, Seungkwan is a lot more comfortable taking over the cooking, unless they both have the time to be in the kitchen so Hansol isn’t left unsupervised.
Not to mention Seungkwan is armed with the recipes of Mama Boo an her tutelage, so it’d be kinda a crime if Seungkwan isn’t the better cook.
3. Who’s cuddlier
:3 Seungkwan lives and breathes off physical affection. Heck, the only reason Hansol craves cuddling the way he does now is because of Seungkwan. If Seungkwan can’t get his daily cuddle with Hansol, he’ll be grumpy the whole day and no one wants to deal with a grumpy Seungkwan. Better to just let him have his re-energising cuddle with his boyfriend.
4. Who suggests watching a horror movie (to protect/get protected)
Hansol would definitely suggest watching a horror movie so he can protect Seungkwan from it. It’s usually when they’re having dorm movie nights and Hansol can be seen smiling into Seungkwan’s hair the whole time the vocalist’s face is buried in his chest, doing his best to distract him from the screams playing on the screen. Whoever said Hansol couldn’t be conniving and sly?
5. Who mentions babies first
Honestly, I can see Seungkwan mentioning babies first, because he’s a family man. He’s already figured Hansol was The One, so it was just a matter of planning out the rest of their lives together (and informing Hansol every step of the way, of course). He’s already figured that they’ll move into their own apartments, let themselves stabilise a little before he’ll even mention kids. Maybe when they’re, like, in their thirties.
Meanie
1. Who’s big spoon/little spoon
Mingyu is little spoon because he’s always wanted to be and Wonwoo’s pretty much the only person who could comfortably spoon him from behind. Mingyu also likes how protected he feels and how intimate it is. (He also likes how with a simple wiggle of his hips, they could go from sweet and innocent to hot and raunchy if he wants, but that’s for another time.)
2. Who’s a better cook
????? obviously Mingyu??????? Ming-chef out to save the world and feed his boyfriend, team members and anyone who likes food. Wonwoo could probably fend for himself in a pinch, but he’d always much rather have Mingyu’s kimchi fried rice over making his own.
(”What’s your secret?” Wonwoo asks, peering over Mingyu’s shoulder as the younger fries up some rice and vegetables in a wok, tossing the ingredients skilfully.
“Don’t you know?” MIngyu asks, taking the time to nuzzle Wonwoo. “It’s love.”
“I’m never asking you ever again,” Wonwoo mutters, glaring mulishly as a blush makes its way up his cheeks.)
3. Who’s cuddlier
:3 Wonwoo is a cat personified. You know what that means? That means that at any moment in time, Wonwoo will crawl into Mingyu’s lap and spend some time reading a book. Mingyu’s on the sofa? Make some room for Wonwoo because he’s coming in and he’s gonna demand cuddles. They’re in the bus heading out of Seoul for a show? The seat next to Mingyu is Taken because Wonwoo can’t sleep on the bus unless his face is smushed against Mingyu’s chest.
I’m not saying Wonwoo is touch-starved… or am I? ;)
4. Who suggests watching a horror movie (to protect/get protected)
Wonwoo loves horror movies, but Mingyu hates them with a fiery passion. There’s just something about ghosts and popping out of nowhere that Mingyu absolutely hates (Hansol does that a lot during practices and it’s constantly giving him a heart attack). However, watching horror movies means Mingyu will cower in fear and try to hide in Wonwoo’s hoodie (and failing miserably), so Wonwoo isn’t gonna complain when he gets twice the amount of cuddles during and after the movie (although he could do without Mingyu waking him up at 3am to follow him to the bathroom).
5. Who mentions babies first
Wonwoo does, because he’s older and big steps (like saying I love you and moving in together) are harder for him to take. That just means that when he does decide to take a big step, it’s a Big Thing. Mingyu knew, going into their relationship, that he’d have to move at Wonwoo’s pace as much as Wonwoo is trying to move at his pace as well. That’s why, when Wonwoo eventually brings up babies and maybe, possibly adopting one with Mingyu, Mingyu just smiles and says “Me too, hyung.”
(Mingyu has been thinking about having kids with Wonwoo for a year now, but all he can do is wait until the idea pops into Wonwoo’s head too.)
JunHao
1. Who’s big spoon/little spoon
Between the two of them, it’s a lot more… uh… combative. Cuddle sessions usually end up with a lot of arguing about who gets to be the little spoon. Sometimes it’s settled with a simple rock paper scissors, other times it’s a battle of who’s strongest (Minghao usually wins those, even if he’s the one who ends up being the big spoon despite wanting to be the little spoon, but he just wants to argue because, well, it’s Minghao).
2. Who’s a better cook
Honestly, I feel like they’re pretty equal in terms of cooking skill. Junhui’s no chef, but he can use a stove pretty handily. His yangzhou fried rice is nothing to sneeze at (or sneeze into – I’m looking at you, Kim Mingyu), but he can’t exactly pull of, like, chicken cordon bleu.
Minghao can cook. He can cook pretty okay. He’s still not allowed into the kitchen unsupervised after the Glitter Coffee Incident.
3. Who’s cuddlier
I think they just, kinda, attack each other with cuddles. Much like everything else about their lives, it’s kind of a game for them. Minghao is rather fond of jumping on Junhui’s back unsuspectingly, so he gets to spoon Junhui. Sometimes Junhui like’s to bundle himself into a blanket burrito when he’s having a sleep-in day. If Minghao ever decides to walk by the Jun-rrito, he’ll get snatched up and bundled in before he can let out a yell, much like one of those octupuses (octopi?) in the sea.
4. Who suggests watching a horror movie (to protect/get protected)
Minghao likes to protect Junhui from the scary monsters in horror movies. Gore does nothing to him, but it always scares the shit out of Junhui. However, if it’s a psychological thriller or, like, a Thai horror movie (if you don’t believe me when I say theu’re terrifying, I dare you to watch one. It’ll scare the pants off anybody), then Minghao’s going to spend most of the movie hiding in Junhui’s jacket. Much like a psychopath, Junhui really enjoys those kinds of horror. I???? guess????? they complement each other????????
5. Who mentions babies first
I feel like it’ll have to be Minghao, because Minghao is less likely to be willing to take the next step in stuff like this. It just means that Junhui needs to be more patient – and he has a lot of patience. He does, after all, have a kid brother.
That being said, Junhui’s ready to have babies (or adopt one, as is) with Minghao like a whole year before the thought even materialises in Minghao’s brain. It’s an agonising year for Junhui (because he doesn’t dare try and manipulate Minghao, which would make Minghao distrust him greatly), but it’s worth it when he sees the pensive look in Minghao’s eyes, before his lips purse and he hesitantly says, “Hyung… I was thinking. Maybe it’d be nice if we. You know. Adopted a kid together.”
Junhui nods and smiles into his mug of tea. It’s a good thing he’s ready with a list of orphanages they can go look at.
Feel free to ask me more of these ship asks here!
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agrassinthebeginning · 6 years ago
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They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera
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On September 5, a little after midnight, Death-Cast calls Mateo Torrez and Rufus Emeterio to give them some bad news: They’re going to die today. Mateo and Rufus are total strangers, but, for different reasons, they’re both looking to make a new friend on their End Day. The good news: There’s an app for that. It’s called the Last Friend, and through it, Rufus and Mateo are about to meet up for one last great adventure—to live a lifetime in a single day.
From Adam Silvera's official website Skip to the end of this post for the trigger warnings.
After reading my last book over the course of three days I was kinda worried the next pick would be tough. I considered the books in my library, the most recent birthday + Christmas loot versus the been-here-so-long-what-are-you-waiting-for books, and vaguely glanced over a started-this-one-three-years-ago-what-happened (I might have to go back to this one some time this year. I'll keep you posted).
Making choices is hard for me (understatement) and that's probably part of the reasons why I don't read as much as I'd like. Reading one book means I'm missing out on reading another; apply that logic to any other area of my life and you get a fair picture of my neurosis. I switched to my ebooks list because somehow digital words are less scary than printed ones and had already given up on any title possibly triggering a spark of interest until my brain went to a full stop and whispered: this one. They Both Die at the End tells the story of a world about exactly like ours except for the fact that everyday between midnight and 3am, thousands of people get a phone call telling them that today is the day they are going to die. They don't know why or how or when exactly they will die but they definitely have less than 24 hours to live and what they're doing with that knowledge and with that time, well, it's entirely up to them. How freaking terrifying.
Something that might be worth mentioning if you don't know me personally is that the thought of death terrifies me. Granted, most people probably aren't super thrilled about it either but in my case uuuh well let's say the mere thought of it is an entire ride to panic town. My brain freezes, skips, rewinds and repeats, my chest gets hollow, my throat feels full and my thoughts get in an endless loop of BAD. Now, you may wonder, if the very thought of death gives me a panic attack faster than you can say thanatophobia why the fuck would I pick this book to read? WELL WHAT DO I KNOW Fine.
I read this book for the challenge.
The challenge of having to read the thoughts of two people confronted to their imminent death, confronted to the urgency of it all, having to sort out their lives and make their goodbyes, make amends and live their last day the best they can, the best they ever wanted to live, all of it happening all at once with no escape. AKA the most terrifying thing. I've been working on myself to step outside of my comfort zone and this one could damn well have been a step, slip, end up in a painful accidental split and can't get my breath back out-of-my-comfort-zone situation but, well. I went for it. And the thing is, it saddens me to say I didn't connect to the characters as much as I wished I would have. I'm usually a character person. Whatever I read or watch, characters mean everything to me. Dialogues that sound real and people who seem spontaneous will sweep me off my feet way higher than a solid plot in a crazy-detailed universe. With this one though, I think maybe I wasn't entirely the target audience; not because I actually believe that there are such things as young adult novels that won't speak to older adults but rather because of what I was expecting from it. I usually ask my friends to never tell me anything about a movie I haven't seen yet. I don't even want to hear people's opinion about it- which is pretty rich coming from someone currently writing a book review, I'll give you that. But I know my friends too well; I know what they're responsive to and what bores them. If they sound like they enjoyed a piece enough but are still slightly disappointed I know which storylines won't go to the fullest of their potential, guess the end of the movie and then what's the point in watching it till the end. I didn't know anything about this book except it was from the LGBTQA+ book section and what the title gave away (I know what you're thinking- the title literally gives away everything, what more do you need?) but that was enough for me to build expectations and wish for answers to questions that turned out to be entirely off focus. They Both Die at the End is a romance novel. It doesn't mean it's intrinsically less good than any other kind but it does mean my questions weren't answered. There's a line in particular at the beginning of the book that stayed with me. When he gets the call, Rufus asks the Death Cast operator: how do you guys know? And that line just tilted things for me. I went on a hunt for clues: references here and there that people believe that Death Cast is a scam; a character who thinks a joke is being played on her until the very last hours of the day; damn, there aren't any public records of how the algorithm works! For all the love I give to slow burn and sweet love stories, this time around I wanted it to be more than that. I wanted Mateo and Rufus' last day to be a day of investigating Death Cast, trying to figure out if all of the deaths they "predict" are actual predictions or if some of them are plain old murders orchestrated to consolidate people's trust in the corporation. Yeah, for once in my life, I was Team Conspiration Theory. Instead the novel barely touches on those subjects- it's a book about people, not about the universe they live in. It's a science-fiction setting, not science-fiction story. It's not a bad book, just the wrong book for me. See, I was barking up the entirely wrong bookshelf.
I'm not disappointed I read it though. This book had something else to offer that definitely worked for me. The title sets a double challenge. It tells it like it is: it looks you in the eyes and goes "these two main characters will die at the end of this book, you have been warned, don't get your hopes up, don't get attached, it ends badly." So of course, the first challenge is "good luck with facing your own fear of death, bud." But there's another gamble coming with this title, it's the thought that crept up at the back of my mind the second I read the title and stayed with me throughout the entire book: Do they really? Do they really not make it at the end? And that's the deal with consuming fiction: these characters are my eyes and ears into this world. If they die then it's over. I'm not even that involved into their story or their families' but if they die, the possibility of their story just stops. I don't want it to stop, how will I know what happens next? What if there's a twist I miss, a chance I might like it better?
Let's take a breather. Think about that for a second. And now let's say that my wishes come true, that's when the fascinating twist comes in: my brain is not ever satisfied. Because no matter how much I want the story to continue, how much I want the characters to survive, how much I want to believe that we can escape death (because that's what this is about, isn't it? That's why I read it after all), there's a voice in my head whispering: But if they make it, won't I be a disappointed? By choosing this title, Adam Silvera makes a promise. And I guess each reader gets to decide how much they want him to keep it.
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They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera
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Main content warnings include: death, grief, suicide, gun violence, hospitals
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