#and I also apparently have to pick up part of someone else's work load starting next week

[ladyphlogiston]

I don't have a title for this yet. Also it is entirely unedited. Usually I make my husband edit my writing, but he's sick.

Anyway, this is the first part of my @inklings-challenge story. I have the next bit mostly written in my head and some of the rest sort of plotted? Honestly I don't know. It might be Terrible. We'll see.

"Where should we be next, Zillah?" Vesta asked.

Zillah straightened up, shook her long brown braid back, and surveyed the ruins of the village of Cubrickton. The survivors of the fire had been relocated to the remaining homes, and wounded were being treated in the Home's infirmary. Hestia was helping to rebuild some of the houses, but high summer meant there would be plenty of time and available hands to rebuild before the harvest. They could probably move on.

"How is Eden doing?" she asked.

Vesta shrugged. "She's okay. Getting tired, but everyone has been treated so the heavy triage is over."

Zillah nodded. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms together, focusing inwards on her Gift. She opened her eyes again. "We're still supposed to be here," she said, frowning.

Vesta looked around. "Why? Did we miss someone?"

Zillah shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe there's something else coming and they need our help building?"

"Might as well." Vesta moved towards the nearest burned-out shell. She picked up a half-burned board, tucked it under her arm, and began sifting through the rubble for others.

Zillah worked her way along the side of the ruined wall, collecting china plates that must have fallen from an interior shelf. Some of them were intact.

A purple light formed in the air between them, rippling oddly in the air. Both the sisters turned to look at it, then look at each other in consternation.

"Or maybe we're here for that?" Zillah suggested.

"Any idea what it is?" Vesta asked, backing away carefully.

"My Gift just says it's a portal, which is less helpful than you'd think," Zillah replied.

"Is it dangerous?"

"Don't know."

The sisters waited as it got larger and brighter. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it vanished, leaving a young man in strange clothing behind. He dropped hard against the stone and rolled over to slam against the foundation of the house, as if he'd fallen from a height.

"Well." Zillah looked at him, then bent over to check his pulse. "Still alive. Better make a stretcher for him, in case that fall rattled something."

"What's his name?" Vesta asked. She laid one of her boards on the street, then pulled a length of twine from her pocket and began tying shorter sticks to the top and bottom. Under her hands, the air shimmered as her Gift turned the boards into a full stretcher.

"Paul," Zillah replied. "I can't see his home. It's very far away. For now he belongs with us, I think."

They carefully loaded him onto the stretcher and carried him towards Home. The big egg-shaped structure, apparently woven from willow branches, was on the edge of the town, and they passed through a hole in the side into the clay-lined infirmary inside.

Eden looked up as they entered. She helped Zillah transfer the young man to an empty bed, then unwrapped the orange band that wrapped over her curls and covered her ears. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Paul," Zillah answered. "He was unconscious when he....appeared."

Kaylee looked Paul over, focusing intently with her hands hovering over his body. "Just bruised, I think," she said. Briskly she refastened her headband and grabbed a pot of salve from the workbench, then rolled him over and began peeling his short tunic away from his back so he could apply the salve to his back and shoulders.

Vesta allowed the stretcher to fall back into pieces of wood and twine, and put the twine back into her pocket. She headed back towards the entrance to throw the pieces of wood away, and met her twin sister coming in.

"Another?" Hestia asked, seeing Paul on the bed.

"He's not a villager. He just appeared. Like a Major Gift, but there wasn't anyone there to use it," Vesta explained.

Hestia raised her eyebrows. "A True Miracle, then?"

Zillah joined them. "I think so. He's from far away."

"Well, there's not much to do until he wakes up," Hestia decided. "Does he need to stay here or can we get moving?"

"He belongs with us, so probably we can go. Did you say our goodbyes?" Zillah asked

Hestia nodded.

"Good."

They made their way through the clay-lined rooms of Home to the driving bench at the front, where a woven window opened into the streaming sunlight. A map of Gasardia was pinned to the wall, covered with careful annotations in colored ink.

Hestia found Cubrickton, on the road between Thire and Philomel. She added a purple X and the date to the map, tracking their journey so far. Zillah would update the logbook with details of their work while they traveled.

Zillah sat on the bench, facing the map, and pressed her palms together. She allowed her eyes to unfocus, looking at what her Gift was saying rather than at the map itself.

Finally she looked up, puzzled. "We're supposed to be in Acoda Keep."

"We can't get to Acoda Keep!" Hestia objected.

"I know that and you know that," Zillah replied. "But apparently my Gift thinks we can."

Hestia sighed, and traced the road south. "Acoda Point is at least a three day journey," she said. "I guess we could start in that direction. If we end up having to stop, we'll figure it out from there."

Zillah nodded. "Thanks. We'll pass through Lorton tomorrow, so I'll check our stores. We can stop at the market."

[broken-clover]

Solaxl Week- Day 3

Ooookay so apparently I completely forgot to put up day 3...woops. Suppose I should have double checked. At least it means I can post back to back!

Not much in the way of notes on this one, I'm just very certain that in addition to their musical nostalgia Sol and Axl are also annoyingly fond of 80's movies and think there hasn't been anything better since. Also slightly poking fun at myself for the fact that I always confuse Footloose and Dirty Dancing for each other

3. Pirate AU, Domestic, Movies

-

Axl had quite literally dropped in, as he was prone to do. One minute, Sol is content with his evening plans of drinking beer and doing fuck-all, the next he’s playing host. How things play out depends on his mood at the time. Axl’s gotten good at pacifying his bad moods, but not perfect. One wrong step has him getting thrown out to bother someone else.

To compensate, he’s gotten pretty good at bringing the party favors.

“Chiiiiiief~” Sol could hear the smile on his face, even if it was hidden. There was an armful of something burying the lower half of his head. “Lookit what I gooooot!”

A mix of intrigue and pity had the man lighten his uninvited guest’s load. Stacks of something hard and plastic, rattling when shaken. Just unfamiliar enough after a long stretch of time that Sol wasn’t certain he was looking at what was right in front of him.

“Are these…DVD’s?”

Axl’s grin was even bigger after he wasn’t drowning in video cases. “Hit the bargain bin while I got stuck in Nevada! Classics ‘re classics, but you can get ‘em cheap. I know yer a softie for old music, how’s about old movies?”

Well, he supposed it beat drinking alone. Again.

But of course, they couldn’t just immediately jump into it. Accidental or not, Axl had made one of his better choices crashing into Sol’s emporium of tech garbage. Buying up a heap of cheap movies was all fine and good in the turn of the millennium, not a century later. Heck, they would have been pushing it even if it had only been twenty years after the fact. Re-releasing barely-changed tech every other year that only worked with specific hardware for the sake of selling more units, that fun little facet of capitalism was still fucking them over even a century and a half later. The two of them were stuck spending the better part of an hour sifting through parts.

“Does this bit go to a CD or a DVD player…? Bleedin’ hell, how’m I supposed to tell the damn things apart??”

“Mph. I got the wrong kind of connector. Lemme see if I got something upstairs…”

Even if he wasn’t the most enthused at first, having to go to all the trouble just to watch it made movie night feel like much more of a reward. Sol turned over the cases individually, trying to determine what to watch first.

“Gah, you’re takin’ too long! Y’know we can watch ‘em all, right?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Sol replied. “Fine, let’s start with ‘Back to the Future’...uh, that ain’t gonna hit too close to home, will it?”

Axl found a spot on the nearest comfy seat. “Aw, pish. If anything, it makes me feel seen, y’know?”

He did not, but he chose not to pursue that conversation further. That sort of thing could easily turn into an hours-long ramble. Instead, Sol settled for putting the disc in their newly assembled reader. After a few thumps on its side, the machine began to hum.

“Damn, honestly impressed, here.” Axl watched as his companion found another spot to sit close by. “Wasn’t sure we’d be able to pull it off. Gah, this is awesome! Can’t think of a better way to spend an evening with ya-”

Sol picked up the remote and spiked the volume. “At this rate, I’m not even gonna be able to hear any of this. You’d better not talk over the whole damn thing.”

Despite that, once the plot had started rolling, Sol found himself more amenable to conversation. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a movie night. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so mundane with friends. The memory was so close yet so distant.

Axl had made himself more than comfy in his chair. While his legs draped over one armrest, he propped himself on the other with both arms tucked under his ribs. Were Sol to try and describe it in words, the first thing that came to mind was ‘a very smug cat-mermaid.’ Yeesh, the guy had awful posture. Maybe Sol shouldn't have passed judgement on other people’s habits, but other people didn’t have Gear cells to make up for their shitty spinal health.

“Man…” Axl half-muttered, untucking one arm to balance his chin on his palm. “The eighties had some good flicks.”

“Guess you made a good call after all. Are all of these from then?” Asked Sol.

“Eh, most of ‘em.” Replied Axl. “Figures that’s prolly what you grew up on, thought I’d get nostalgic- ‘n yeah, before you ask, I did get ‘Flash Gordon’ too. Knew you’d like the Queen songs”

The Gear made a noise of approval. “Not bad, Low. Guess I owe you one for that. Been listening to the same recording for decades, might be cool hearing a different one, even if it’s the same song. Kids these days dunno what they’re missing.”

The two went quiet as the Delorean slowly drove out of the truck and into full view for the first time. Axl whistled. “Still love that bit. I dunno, though, chief. I mean, not like we didn’t have some shit movies, too, y’know?”

“How’s that?” Sol said, taking his eyes off of the screen for the first time in a while. “Guess there was some schlock, the real cheap stuff-”

“Not even the cheap stuff! Like, ‘Dirty Dancing.’”

“...what?”

Axl shrugged. “‘Dirty Dancing’ was trash. Sorry, chief, but I gotta be honest-”

“Shut up. Are you kidding me?” The movie playing was well and truly out of his thoughts as he gawked. “I figured even if you thought the plot was crap, you’d think Jennifer Grey was hot enough that the story didn’t matter.”

“Which was she, was she the lead? Eh, doesn’t matter. Like, look, I can excuse some real corny shit, but like…��ohhh, we’re gonna ban fuckin’ dancing because it’s too sinful, that’s just dumb. I got limits, too.”

Sol was continuing his staring, but a new emotion had joined it. ”...Are you sure you’re thinking of the right one?”

“Yeah, remember? That’s why it was called ‘Dirty Dancing.’ The reply came with gestures for emphasis.

“No, it was called that because they were a bunch of scruffy-looking jackasses. Pretty sure the one you’re thinking of’s ‘Footloose.’”

“No way, chief! Footloose was the one with Costner, wasn’t it?”

“No, that was ‘Dances With Wolves.’”

“For real? Nah, you’ve gotta be fucking with me. You’re fucking with me, right? Great, and I didn’t get ‘em, so it’s not like I can check-”

A noise made both men turn to the neglected screen. Marty was stumbling out of the crashed van in the barn, undisturbed by the audience’s squabble.

“Ugh, damn it, we missed one of the best parts.” Sol picked up the remote and put the film in reverse. “Can’t remember where we were, haven’t seen this movie in too long. Gonna just skip back to the bit with Einstein.”

Axl readjusted himself in his seat, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Why were there so many eighties movies about dancing?”

[bearpillowmonster]

Wolfenstein: The New Order

Actually, no, I hate this cover, it's a bit too basic.

THERE WE GO!

Hugh. Not Hugh as in Hue or Hugh Neutron but Huh-gah, as in a sigh.

So, where do I start? Every now and then, I'll get an FPS where the mouse just does not gel right with the game, whether it be sensitivity or mouse smoothing or what, but for some reason I've had so many games seem so misoptimized and apparently I'm not the only one with this problem but I'm putting it all down here. Vertical sync. Vsync. Turn it off. It worked, that's all I can say.

My dad is someone that plays with his mouse set up an unbearable sensitivity anyway so this might fit him. You know what else my dad plays? Wolfenstein. At least, the older ones. I remember when we moved and he decided it was time to update his gaming catalog since most of his were 5+ years old with classics like the Quake trilogy, Doom 3 and Unreal but one of the games he picked up was Wolfenstein 2009. And oh boy do I have just as fond memories playing that game as he does. It's not the best reviewed game either, heck, I didn't even play it for myself but you better believe that every time he loaded up that game I was right there next to him. I'd pull up a chair, sit on the floor, heck I'd even stand and watch him play, I loved it.

I remember one time I heard him booting up the game and the pitter patter of the gunplay while I was in the shower. I can't say that I've taken a faster shower in my lifetime because I believe that might've been around the time he finally beat the game. Everyone talks about how Bioshock made this and that with all these neat powers and stuff but- you know what, this review isn't for that game, let's skip a little bit ahead. Of course, I was excited when New Order dropped except…my dad found a new game. I bought him the game around release and he still hasn't played it to this day and that was kind of our thing and I wasn't interested in the game he was playing (still playing actually, it's an MMO) anyways, I decided to carry it on anyway because from what I've seen of trailers and pictures, you get a laser gun. That's all I needed to know.

I'm familiar with id's style of gameplay with Doom and such, in fact, I've played the demo of New Colossus and may even recall the mouse problems to be apparent in that as well but I saw this for free on Epic and practically jumped for joy. One of the things that sets this game apart from the others in its franchise is that it tries to lean more into the futuristic stuff as well as Blazkowicz' character.

It's nifty to have the enemies with blue electric coming out of their helmets every now and then, it makes for a good symbol when shooting from a long distance.

As for story, I just raved about 2009's game but I couldn't read you back the story, just what you do in the gameplay and I feel like this might be a similar thing, the opening isn't all that great, it's kind of average war game material, not much of an opener in my opinion and if you really wanted me to dive in why, I actually played the beginning twice. I'm also not going to bother avoiding spoilers for this game since it's nearly 10 years old, just fair warning.

(Prince Charming and his mother from Shrek 2)

So it's pretty linear, there are things here and there that you can go off track and collect but the first level is the most linear part of the game in my opinion. If it was story driven or had a setpiece or something that would tie it all together, it'd be fine but it felt stagnant to me, nothing impressed me and had this not had the name attached then I might not have picked it up based on that alone. The plane wasn't much to me.

The game itself is split into two depending on who you choose to keep from dying at the beginning but that decision doesn't feel earned, it's kind of an all or nothing kind of deal, don't give me lame half excuses to pick one character over the other, that's just not fair. So what I jumped out of a plane and this guy happened to be there? So what the other guy threw a grenade one time and I tried to calm him down? Either build them up to make the decision that much more painful or don't give me any context at all. That's from a narrative point of view.

You see, it seemed like it was banking on its gameplay being good enough that you'd give it a pass like for the reason Blazko gets knocked out, a piece of shrapnel blows out of the hole, cuts the back of his head in the funkiest groove imaginable then lets him float out at sea, what is that? And I mean, I expect silly as well as seriousness, it's a game about cyborg nazis and one of the most over exaggerated nazi hunters but I feel the silliness is misplaced here and there.

But it picks up, the scenario they give to you afterwards is actually pretty cool. Someone who ends up injured and in a hospital/asylum, seeing these guys who put him here but not being able to do anything and stuck that way until you're pushed to the brink to either break out or die, then team up with a nurse. I just find that so cool, it's one of the reasons I look up to MGS5's intro so much.

Characters become meaningful (for a while), some even a little more so than others, like Caroline. She was actually introduced in 2009's game and she was carried over so if you didn't know her story, you get the gist here but it's a lot more meaningful if you played 2009 despite being a separate canon (but for some reason just isn't available on any storefronts...)

You can dual wield, I know I mentioned the laser gun and how that was all you needed to sell me on this game and yeah, it is fun when you use it, but it's still limited to certain areas and certain things. I also had a bit of trouble towards the end with getting the wires to line up so it'd actually cut the fence but it was still pretty cool.

There are actually a few side missions here and there but I can't help but feel that there should have been more, like maybe one after every mission. I mean they're mainly just fetch quests inside the base but that's just it, as an overall product, it teases its potential but didn't quite hit the bar for me. It would've been really cool to expand on that asylum idea and have him involuntarily kill, like seeing a nazi will trigger it and kick off the rest but no. Then they have these interesting side characters like Bombate who's there…but that's it. Or in my case, J (it depends on which playthrough you're on) but he gets introduced and you don't get to talk to him until later to which he explains that he doesn't even like America and explains why and how he just hates Nazis more, challenging Blaskowicz' pro American ideals but then the next time we see him he plays the Star Spangled Banner as if "Yeah, he got over that." there was no growth or anything there (there didn't need to be) but it just seemed rushed or shoved aside. You can have those types of things where they're shorter but what then when you don't go too deep into any of it? I was kind of disappointed by that ending because it all sounds so cool when you put it on paper but then in action, it just seemed like another level, like "That's it? Oh well", it didn't feel like a proper end for any of the characters. So it didn't win me over with playing the other later entries but maybe I'll give RTCW a try some time.

[baconator-deluxe]

Y'all mind if I

[astaroth1357]

Ok but like, what if MC's fandom starts to make ships with MC and the guys. Just think about the ship wars, the fancams, the fanarts, the absolute CHAOS when the brothers find out. It would be even worse if they start shipping MC with the undatables, one day everything is normal and the next day there are ship wars fighting over MC x Barbatos vs MC x Solomon (who are both very smug about it)

The MC's Fanclub are… Shippers?!

Perhaps… The italics blurb has been fulfilling its greater purpose all along…? Perhaps in its state of existential angst, it has in fact developed a plot of its own… An arc of introspection and self-discovery in which its own longing for purpose has forged a meaningful identity… It now has… a story…

Lucifer

As if they couldn't get any MORE frustrating…

He's not an otaku. He's not a part of ship culture. He's not even sure why anyone would care about who dates who around this school, but apparently it's a big deal to some people...

He only became aware of their interest in him and the MC's relationship through some very… subtle clues…

Like the groups that would follow them around in the hallways with their phones out.

Or the multitude of fan rumors about their relationship that Satan spams him with from time to time just to irritate him.

"MC refused hug from Luci in halls today!! Are they bout breakup??? 🥺"

"Tots got pic of kiss today!! Relationship upgrade??"

"IS ARE MC+LUCIFER SECET LVRS?!? PLEASE RESPOND"

It only got worse after he found out the MC gets shipped out a loooooot….

If he had to pick his least favorite ship, it'd be MC x Mammon. He can kind of see it with any of his other brothers (admittedly, Levi is also a little mystifying) but the idea of them ending up with Mammon makes his skin crawl...

He once found a drawing of the MC and Mammon in an… explicit position in one of the classrooms and he was so disgusted that he wouldn’t even touch it. He just set fire to the paper outright. Disgusting...

Mammon

Shipping, eh…? More money making opportunities!

Has some passing idea of what shipping is from Levi and, from what he knows of it, shippers eat cutesy couples stuff right up!! If all he's got to do to make bank is to look all couple-y around the MC then sounds like a win-win to him!

He'll happily pose for a photo or two (paid in advance) of him throwing his arm around the MC or something. Want him to hold their hand? Sure thing!

But since this is still Mammon we're talking about, the second MC actually starts getting into any of it he'll still turn into a blushy, stuttery mess...

For WEEKS the headline picture on so many of their fans' blogs was an image of him turning beet red while the MC kissed him on the cheek. (A fan really got their money's worth there... 😏)

Though he doesn’t exactly like the MC getting shipped with other people, he'll still totally sell pictures of any of them together. He almost paid off an entire credit card with the money he got from the t-shirt sales of the MC and Satan!

If he had to point to one ship he doesn't like it's either MC x Asmo or MC x Levi. His opinion, but Asmo won't treat them right and they could do waaay better than a shut-in. Like him. Ship the MC with just the Great Mammon, got it?

Leviathan

… Lowkey super active in the MC shipping community but is a self-shipper to the extreme.

Like, he never uses his real name on anything (and would probably die from embarrassment if anyone ever found out) but a lot of their fans probably know a couple of his aliases.

He does everything from mod forums, runs a couple blogs, even anonymously posts his own work of him and MC that are totally not his secret fantasy dates or AU versions of themselves, shaddup.

It’s a lot easier for him to keep his involvement secret because he’s hardly at RAD, but the few times he does show up he tries to keep an eye out for anybody prowling for pictures so he can get in a good pose and save the image later.

Mind you, his version of a “good pose” rarely gets more spicy than linking pinkies, but even then he’s still lit up a Christmas Tree throughout.

Naturally, he’s also not a big fan of any ships that aren’t just him and MC and he can find a reason to be jealous at almost anything. But he keeps a special corner of hate for MC x Mammon and MC x Diavolo. Like, the first one doesn’t even need an explanation but MC x Diavolo?? Really??? Do those two even talk?? (please, please, please make sure they never actually talk because a guy like him versus literal royalty? He’d lose MC for sure….!! 😫)

Satan

He hates to actually agree with Lucifer on something, but their fans are starting to get out of hand...

Knows what shipping is in concept, he may have done it once or twice to characters in his books, but he was kind of surprised how it could evolve into such a… group activity?

He was pretty quick to pick up that the MC’s fans had a bit more interest in them together than they did when they both were apart…

I mean, those hideous shirts that Mammon was pedaling were kind of a dead giveaway…

Considering he finds their fanclub all rather annoying, even without their bizarre interest in his love life, when they started actively meddling with him and the MC he was ready to smash some heads.

No. He will not stop for pictures. No. What things they do together is none of your business. No. He has zero interest in seeing your explicit fanart and if you don’t start running that will be the last question you ever ask.

He DOES, however, appreciate the cringy “annoy Lucifer” ammo. They could keep that up for a lifetime... 😏

He doesn’t have a least favorite ship because he doesn’t care about any of this, leave him alone. (That’s a lie, it’s MC x Lucifer. He pokes fun at Lucifer, but he can’t stand it either. Big shock, I know 🙄).

Asmodeus 

Oh he is shamelessly a part of the community, are you kidding?? 

He could practically call “Shipping the MC” one of his favorite pastimes. He’ll openly gossip with their fanclub about who they’ve been with, who they’re seeing, who’s got a chance, etc… He lives for this shit!

He’s the only person who knows that Levi is also in the community and what his aliases are (not because he told him, but because Levi’s not as subtle as he thinks he is… Who else would call themselves “SupremeRuri666” and speak mostly in outdated chat lingo?) but he doesn’t out him because he thinks his very obvious crush is kind of cute. 

Plus, Levi needs the outlet waaaay more than him…

Doesn’t stop him from constantly trolling him and getting into arguments over who the MC would be better with though (the two are “virtual nemeses” as far as Levi is concerned).

Appreciates all forms of expression that comes out of the community (especially the saucy kind 😏) and will happily feed into his own shippers without a care in the world.

Truthfully, Asmo will say that there isn’t a ship he doesn’t like but if someone mentions one that he thinks is kind of “eh,” he’ll just add himself into the mix. “Oh, you like MC x Barbatos? Well how about Asmo x MC x Barbatos? That sounds loads more interesting doesn’t it??”

Beelzebub 

Oh, Beel… Sweet, sweet Beel… Beel doesn’t even know what their club is doing…

Because Beel has a reputation of being pretty protective of MC - and against the fanclub in general - the club keeps a healthy distance… but that doesn’t mean they’re not going to sneak in some picture or make a SHITLOAD of fanwork about them.

Between classes and practice Beel is a busy guy, so sometimes he just doesn’t notice that there’s people hiding behind trees when he’s out with MC. 

Honestly, his complete ignorance of it all makes it even cuter because when he acts sweet, it’s not just for the camera. That’s the real deal.

Mammon was the one who eventually let it slip that there was even shipping happening and Beel was… kind of creeped out because isn’t this stalking? But also kind of weirdly happy(?) that MC x Beel was so popular… Very conflicted boy here.

He never actually acknowledges the community, though, and just keeps on being Beel (which still gave the fans more than enough material so all’s well that ends well?)

Beel genuinely doesn’t have a least favorite ship (because he believes the best ship is whoever makes the MC happy) but his second favorite under himself is probably MC x Belphie. They look very cute together...  😊

Belphegor 

Ride or die, Beel x MC x Belphie. 

Just kidding (kind of), Belphie isn’t into the shipping but if asked he’d be pretty okay with that one.

His campaign against the MC’s fanclub and their attention stealing ways means that he found out about their shipping thing only slightly ahead of Beel when Mammon was trying to get pictures of them napping together…

Honestly, he couldn’t care less if a bunch of weirdos were weirdly invested in their relationship, but he’s not about to let Mammon just make a quick Grimm off of it. Belphie makes sure that he gives him NOTHING to work with. 

Since Mammon is the main dealer, the shippers in both the MC fanclub and Belphie fanclub aren’t nearly as well fed and pretty desperate for anything... You best believe he plays that to his advantage (because it’s okay if he does. He’s not Mammon).

Really helps that MC x Belphie is legitimately a very cute looking couple, carried by Belphie’s cuteness alone if nothing else. Add an adorable MC and you reach levels so cute it could actually melt people into puddles of goo... They could be a registered weapon.

Least favorite MC ships are any that don’t involve him or Beel. Any others may as well just not exist, he won’t even acknowledge them. MC x Who? Yeah, that’s what he thought.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 125.4: Accidental Bonding (Part Four)

(You can start at Part One, if you’d like.)

"Come on," Harry begged, the following Friday. "Please come to dinner." The bond had only seemed to strengthen in the past eighteen days and Harry found his mind turning to thoughts of Draco almost constantly whether they were together or apart.

And touching the other man was almost second nature at this point. They spent all day every day touching the other without thinking; they sat with their ankles pressed together under their desks, hands brushed against shoulders and backs as they walked past each other, they frequently held hands without even talking about it first, and Harry couldn't remember the last time that he'd woken up without being wrapped around Draco's body or vice versa. Yes, the bond wasn't showing any signs of weakening.

"Your friends hate me, Potter," Draco reminded him as he pulled a wine glass down out of the cupboard.

Harry sighed, "But they wouldn't if they got to know you."

Draco leveled him with a glare, the kind that Harry had learned to recognize as a shield of sorts that the other man used when he was feeling insecure. "They have good reason to hate me," he said as he filled the glass.

"Not anymore," he protested.

The other man rolled his eyes and took a large swallow of his wine.

"Come on," he said again. "If you're there no one will flirt with me."

Draco face twisted in disgust, it was unpleasant for both of them if someone touched one of them with certain intentions.

"If they're rude, you can leave right away," he added.

"What's in it for me?" Draco asked.

He thought for a moment, "A foot rub," he offered, remembering the night that Draco had drunkenly been complaining that his feet hurt and Harry had drunkenly offered a foot rub. There'd been something immensely satisfying about it, he assumed it was something to do with the bond and not with the look of rapturous delight on Draco's face.

(Read more below the cut)

Draco's eyes narrowed, "And I can leave immediately if they're unkind."

"Yes."

"And you'll give me a long foot massage?"

He laughed, "Yes."

"Fine."

Harry grinned at him. "Excellent. Let's go then, they're meeting us at The Night Owl."

"How did you know I'd say yes?" he asked, looking affronted.

"I didn't," Harry lied, even he'd had a strong suspicion he could convince the other man. "They could eat there without us if you didn't want to go."

He didn't seem entirely convinced but he allowed Harry to take his elbow and he apparated them to the apparition point closest to The Night Owl.

Ron and Hermione were already sitting at a booth when they arrived, and Harry slid his fingers through Draco's as he headed over. "Hey," he greeted brightly.

His best friends both looked up, smiling at Harry before doing a double take when they saw Draco standing there beside him.

"Malfoy," Hermione said, eyebrows lifting. "What a surprise!" she said, glancing at Harry.

He could feel Draco's nervousness like it was a tangible thing. "Yeah," Harry said, widening his eyes meaningfully at her, "I told you he might be coming."

"Yeah," Ron said, "But we didn't think he actually would."

"Well," Draco said, detaching his hand from Harry's, "This has been fun but I'm going to-"

"No," Harry said, turning toward him and grabbing his hand again, "It's fine," he said, glaring at his friends, who he had told to be on their best behavior and to just give the other man a chance.

"Yes," Hermione piped up. "Stay, please. We were just surprised."

Draco looked at Harry for a long moment, obviously arguing with himself before nodding once and sliding into the booth.

Harry slid in next to him, the first (and hopefully largest) hurdle out of the way.

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

Dinner went surprisingly well. Hermione and Ron obviously struggled a bit but Harry had asked them to give him a chance and they seemed to be trying.

Everyone seemed to relax a bit once they'd had a few drinks and when Draco got up to use the loo, Harry turned to his friends, "So?" he said eagerly, "He's different, right?"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other before Hermione said carefully, "I think it's too soon for me to tell."

"Yeah, mate," Ron agreed, "I know you've always had that thing for Malfoy but," he shrugged, "it's hard to know what's real and what's an act."

"You do know that he like cut ties from his parents, right?" Harry asked incredulously, "he believes that all of that pureblood nonsense is garbage."

"Does he though?" Hermione asked, "Or is that just what it behooves him to have you believe?"

"He lives in a tiny flat!" he protested. "He said that he was so compelled by your arguments about house elves that he couldn't bring himself to have one for his flat."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked, "Or does he just hide it from you? House elves are wicked good at magic."

"He knows how to cook," Harry said, "From scratch. And he knows cleaning spells," he added. "Why would he have to know cleaning spells?"

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, "Maybe you're right-"

"Just give him a chance," he said. "You won't-"

"Better talk about something else," Ron interrupted, "He's headed this way."

"Well, I tried to get Lugnok to speak with me about the discrimination that Goblins have been facing for ages in the wizarding community, but he wasn't very forthcoming," Hermione started as Draco slid into the booth once again.

"Oh," Draco said as he pressed his shoulder against Harry's and they both relaxed into the pleasant hum thrumming through the bodies, beginning at their shoulders and radiating outward. "I read the last article that you published in The Daily Dilemma," he said excitedly. "It was fascinating," he added.

"Really?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised.

He nodded, "I always wanted to learn more about Goblin magic but good information is so hard to find. When I was young, I'd hoped that it was something they'd teach at Hogwarts-"

"Yes!" Hermione agreed emphatically. "I have been trying to convince Minerva of that for years."

"We don't know nearly enough about magic that other beings possess and honestly," he said, lowering his voice slightly, "I don't know why any other magical being puts up with us. I can't understand it." He shook his head, "I mean for all intents and purposes, their magic is stronger than ours and they've got better control of it. A house elf, for example," he said, "when they want to apparate somewhere it's just a snap of the fingers. And their blind apparation is loads better than ours," he shook his head, "And that's just one spell."

Hermione nodded, "It's never made sense to me."

Draco swallowed, "I'm sorry about that, by the way," he said, not quite meeting her eye, "for making fun of your organization." Then his mouth twisted, "For a lot of things, really," he continued. "Many that were worse than that."

"Thank you," Hermione said after a moment. "I appreciate your apology."

He nodded once. "You probably know this already, but Henri Laurence is a real advocate for changing the way we treat other magical beings. He could probably help your causes."

"Who?" she asked, brows furrowing as she tried to place the name.

"Henri Laurence," he repeated.

She shook her head, "I'm not familiar with that name."

"He works in transportation," Draco replied.

"Why would I talk to someone in transportation?"

He gave her a wry smile, "Henri works closely with a lot of department heads to schedule their trips. He's very amiable and everyone loves him," he added. "More than one political career has risen and fallen by his words. He also works with the Minister quite a bit, the Minister is quite fond of him."

"I never would have thought to start there. Thanks for the tip," she said, giving him a cautious half smile.

"Of course," Draco said automatically. "I'd be glad to give you names if you're ever wondering the best way to get things into people's ears. I'm afraid I can't do introductions, though," he said with a self depreciating laugh.

"Thank you," Hermione said, sounding genuinely grateful. "That would be so helpful."

Draco gave her a little smile and Harry felt hope bubbling merrily in his chest.

----------

As the evening drew to a natural close, Harry couldn't help but think that everything went exceptionally well.

Draco was still talking about Hermione's current project with the Goblins at Gringotts as Harry headed back toward the bedroom, Draco trailing along behind him. "It's invaluable," he said as he started to strip so he could put on his pajamas. "This research could change the way that we think about other beings. We could really have the opportunity to understand them better and then maybe we'd understand our own magic and our own limitations better."

Harry nodded, "You sound just like her. I thought you two might hit it off."

"Did you?" Draco asked curiously as he crawled into bed.

He nodded, sitting at the bottom and pulling Draco's left foot into his lap, pressing his thumbs up the curve of Draco's arch. "You're the only other person I know who likes to talk about Magic Theory."

He let out a low moan as Harry's thumbs rubbed the ball of his foot, "Potter, you are really good at that," he said, thoroughly distracted from the conversation they'd been having.

Harry laughed.

"I'm serious!" the other man protested. "If the whole saving the world, one idiot at a time thing fails, you can go into foot massages."

Chuckling, he shook his head, "Can you imagine?"

"Yes," Draco replied, closing his eyes and settling further into the mattress, "I'd come see you every day."

"Ah, in that case," Harry teased, "maybe I should think about it."

"You do that," he said, in that distant voice that meant he wasn't listening to him anymore.

"Read something," Harry said.

The other man opened one eye to look down at Harry, "What?"

"Read me something," he said. "Grab a book off your nightstand," he said, nodding to the pile, "And read. But don't pick something boring."

Draco reached over and plucked a slender book off the nigh stand, "I think you'll like this one. He gets everything wrong but it's delightful." He cleared his throat, "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit..."

Harry listened as he read, a smile tugging at his lips, his chest filling with warmth.

This was nice, Harry couldn't help but think. Living with someone, sharing meals with someone, having someone in your bed when you went to sleep and when you woke up. It was nice to have the sound of someone else's voice and the feeling of someone else's hand in yours.

He wondered if he'd miss it when the bond ended in twelve days.

More importantly, he wondered if Draco would miss it.

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

Part 3 | Part 5

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 24 part two

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Arguing

After enjoying a tense  afternoon with Lan Xichen, Wei Wuxian comes home to enjoy a tense evening with Jiang Cheng. He pauses in the doorway as he takes in Jiang Cheng’s mood and decides which metaphorical mask he will put on to interact with his shidi. As someone who grew up with explosive people, I find this routine very familiar. 

Wei Wuxian is always carefully playing a role as he interacts with the people in his life. Clearly he has read the classic sociology text The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life and is using it as a how-to guide. We see him do this same calculation over and over, in which he reacts internally to a situation, comes to a decision about what persona to inhabit, and then dons that persona. It’s a typical abuse survival tactic and...it is exhausting. 

This is why I think his leaving to be alone for a while in Episode 50 is a good thing. Being alone isn’t better than being with someone else, usually, but for Wei Wuxian, who is (by Episode 50) assured of love but not sure where he belongs in his own life, being by himself for a while is going to be the best thing for him. He can learn how to just be a person, instead of constantly trying to mold himself to fit everyone around him. 

For the current tense situation, Jiang Cheng is polishing his sword, which, incidentally, is slang (in English, not necessarily in Chinese) for masturbating. Which makes their conversation about how frequently it needs doing kind of a hoot. “One time a month should do,” per Wei Wuxian. 

Jiang Cheng yells at Wei Wuxian--fairly, really--for being drunk all the time and not working on clan tasks. Then he responds to a hug attempt by shoving Wei Wuxian and knocking him down. JC asks WW if he’s too drunk to manage his spiritual power. Now, we know that he doesn’t have any spiritual power to manage, and that’s the main point of this interaction. But it also shows us something else about their dynamic. 

This was just a quick hit, and when it takes WWX out, JC asks why he isn’t responding with spiritual power.  Which means that apparently *every* time Jiang Cheng gives Wei Wuxian a shove or a shoulder check, or strikes him--like he’s been doing constantly since Episode 3--he’s putting spiritual power behind it. That’s...really harsh. 

Jiang Cheng wants Wei Wuxian to fight back, and Wei Wuxian can’t; this is a big part of why their relationship breaks down. Casual blows loaded with spiritual power are part of their vocabulary, and Wei Wuxian can’t speak that language any more, even for basic defense. He’s literally not safe having simple interactions with Jiang Cheng now, because he’s secretly disabled, and Jiang Cheng is casually injuring him whenever he gets too close. 

(more after the cut!)

This time Wei Wuxian has had enough, and raises Chenqing to Jiang Cheng, who immediately backs off. Jiang Cheng has seen that thing in action, not just on the battlefield, but in a small room full of whatever remained of Wen Chao when they were done with him. He takes this as a serious threat, and backs off, disturbed and puzzled and hurt.

Jiang Cheng thinks the change in Wei Wuxian is coming from apathy, not from disability, and so he misunderstands it over and over.  Think of a friend saying “whatever, I’m sick of arguing with you, do what you want.”  Jiang Cheng is very ready to feel rejected, and not at all ready to look at Wei Wuxian’s behavior and try to actually understand it. 

Crying Over You

Wei Wuxian bails and goes to see Jiang Yanli in the ancestral hall, where she is polishing a name plaque. I turned the gamma way up to see whose it is and...I dunno. This character might be 江 (Jiang), I guess?

Jiang Yanli is the only one of the trio who knows how to mourn properly, in that she is taking some time to sit and be sad. Mourning the dead--both ritually and just in the emotional sense--is as important a part of reclaiming Lotus Pier as the training of disciples and having good times on the lake.

She asks him about his fight with Jiang Cheng and he says he’s used to fighting with him. Jiang Yanli asks him if he’s tired of living there, and Wei Wuxian deflects and deflects, saying “it’s my home, where else would I go?” and that if Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted him he would still be begging in the streets. He says “no matter what happens, I won’t leave Lotus Pier,” which is not an answer to her question.

It’s also not true. Like so many of his promises, it’s an expression of his wishes, with no space for the surprises real life is made of. He promises her that he won’t be reckless again, and asks her not to be mad at him. She says she can’t be mad at him, and then they share a flashback about Jiang Fengmian finding him on the street. This is a story, not a memory; Wei Wuxian can’t remember but he remembers her telling him about it. Jiang Yanli wasn’t there, in the moment. So this is her telling the story as it was told to her, probably by Jiang Fengmian. 

Flashback Time

In the flashback, picky salad-hating Wei Ying is out on the street, looking for food in a cartload of pretty okay scraps. I mean, yeah, skip the tomatoes, but most of the greens look fine.  

He’s found and fed by Jiang Fengmian, who recognizes him and decides to take him in. 

Within a couple of episodes, we will see Wei Wuxian paying this favor forward, saving someone he finds starving on the street. Just like Jiang Fengmian, he's going to upset and disrupt his family in order to help someone for whom he feels a deep connection.

During this flashback we get a look at Jiang Fengmian’s sword, and it is a beauty. 

What is Love

As the flashback ends, Wei Wuxian is smiling, hearing Jiang Yanli tell this touching story of starvation and orphanhood. She tells him he was born with a smiling face, and that he never minds much about sorrowful things; no matter how bad the situation is, he is always happy. Way to reinforce that metaphorical mask he’s wearing over his deep, deep despair, sis!

They talk a bit about Jiang Cheng’s bad temper.  Then Jiang Yanli says now that her parents are gone, they three are the closest in the world, and he responds by putting his head down on her knee and theatrically saying he’s hungry. But he’s crying for real, and so is she.

Then he decides to ask her why people fall in love, basically, and claims that he does not have anyone in his heart. He says there’s no need to like a person that much, that it’s like “haltering your own neck,” according to Netflix. Let’s have a look at that figurative language for a second, and what’s missing from the Neflix translation. 

What he says is (as near as my qhanzi.com skills can make out) “這不就是自己給自己脖子上套犁拴韁吗” which Google tells me means "Isn't this just putting a plow on my neck with a rein?" The part of the image that’s missing from Netflix subs is the plow, and the hard labor and animal servitude involved in pulling a plow. This isn’t a pro-romance image.

He’s clearly thinking about Lan Wangji when he lies about having no-one in his heart, but right now the yoke that he wants to escape has nothing to do with Lan Wangji. The person he’s harnessed to in a team, the person who he labors with, the person he wants to escape, is Jiang Cheng.  What’s chafing his neck is the promise he made, to stay and serve as one half of a pair, when he can no longer pull his weight. 

Busted

Speaking of Jiang Cheng, he is hanging around outside the shrine, listening to the conversation. Wei Wuxian busts him, pointing out not that eavesdropping is bad, but that it’s bad for grownups. Jiang Cheng points out that he’s the master of Lotus Pier so he’s allowed to go anywhere he wants.

(I love how he looks framed by this giant lotus behind him)

We Wuxian has another of those moments where he assesses the best approach to Jiang Cheng before responding. 

Then he picks a fake fight with him about soup.  Yanli comes out and tells them both to grow up, saying that JC is losing his demeanor as clan leader. He jokingly fixes his already-perfect robe ad they all have a chuckle.

Then Jiang Cheng reminds Wei Wuxian of his promise for the millionth time, and Jiang Yanli goes to make soup for the millionth time. As soon as the boys see that she’s gone, the smiles drop right off of their faces. They’re both performing their typical relationship dynamic for Jiang Yanli.

Being Reasonable

The brothers repair to the main hall, and stand behind the lotus throne looking out of this complicated wall/doorway thingy, while they talk about Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. 

Jiang Cheng is being mature and sensible here, trying to give Jiang Yanli what she wants and also explaining very, very basic political stuff to Wei Wuxian, who is too caught up in his hate boner for JZX to want to think about the bigger picture. He also thinks that Jin Guangyao is a nicer person, but Jiang Cheng says that nice doesn’t matter.  

Wei Wuxian is getting a full head of steam going about what a jerk JZX is, when Jiang Cheng makes him actually stop and think, by pointing out that it’s not for them to forgive or not forgive Jin Zixuan’s past behavior; it’s up to Yanli.

Wei Wuxian sees the reasoning in this, and starts to say he can’t understand why Yanli chose to like this person, but then he stops himself and goes through a rapid series of thoughtful, uncomfortable expressions. 

Perhaps he’s realizing that he himself has chosen to like an infamously stuck-up, fancy cultivator, albeit one with no soup-related character deficits.

Library Time

The stuck-up cultivator in question is currently in the Cloud Recesses library, where he has snuck into the forbidden books room, against his uncle’s express command, for the purpose of helping Wei Wuxian. The forbidden books room is an entire basement floor of the library; it probably has more books than the not-forbidden part of the library, since the main floor needs space for the restrooms, circulation desk, and copy machines.

(Did OP photoshop the Wangxian-in-the-Library porn picture onto Lan Wangjis’ book? She did.)

A couple of other Lans come along and see the main door unlocked. The lock is a big fish that probably uses magic for locking; it definitely doesn’t use a key. One of them steps in the doorway, glances back and forth without walking through, and does not check the secret door to the forbidden vault. Gosh, how did Su She and/or Jin Guangyao  ever manage to steal secrets from this highly secure location, wow.

Lan Wangji hears the Lan disciple on guard duty say “don’t tell Hanguang Jun about this!’ and has a series of microexpressions that might indicate some kind of feeling about simultaneously being a rule breaker and a rule enforcer.  

Boat Time

We end with an idyllic scene on the lake in Lotus pier, where a new batch of disciples is harvesting lotuses and learning the opposite of boat safety. 

Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian are having a good time, and seem utterly carefree; both of them are good at living in the moment, or faking it. 

Wei Wuxian thinks, in voiceover, that it seems that it’s not so hard to go back to the old days. Uh...ok.

Except he’s hiding a massive secret and these replacement kids are not the same juniors he used to hang out with, and he can’t actually teach them cultivation, since he has no socially-acceptable magic power, and everything is about to go to shit in the next episode. But you gotta take your joy where you can, I guess. 

Note: There are a lot of questionable effects in The Untamed, but there are also beautiful scenes like this one, which looks like a Maxfield Parrish painting. Compare with the BTS below and you can see what a good job the VFX team did in bringing this lake to life. 

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: L - Language 

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

Enjoy! :D 

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

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

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

“Jason!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason recalls what he said and grits his teeth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I rest my case.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jason!”

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

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

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

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

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

[snackhobi]

pairing: namjoon x reader / word count: 9.3k / genre: pwp/smut

summary: You’ve been letting your laundry pile up for a little too long. Fortunately, your neighbour Namjoon is there to lend you a hand.

warnings: sexually explicit content, masturbation, edging (kinda), unintentional voyeurism (briefly), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), bigdick!joon, dirty talk, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, overstimulation (reader gets fucked dumb), praise, aftercare (please heed the warnings, and let me know if I need to clarify/add any!)

--

For most people, Sunday is a day of rest. But not for you.

Sunday means chores. Sunday means tidying up, dusting, vacuuming. Sunday means finally doing all the Adult Things you’ve been too busy/lazy to do for the rest of the week (or even longer than that, as evidenced by your overflowing laundry basket). Sunday means work. 

You slap at your vibrating phone, fingers sliding uselessly across the screen as you fumble to cut off the chirping alarm, and then you groan. “Ugh." You bury your head into your crumpled pillow. And then, once more, with feeling: “Uggggggh.”

You roll around in your bed, thrashing a little like a child having a tantrum, before you flop on your back and stare at your ceiling with your limbs akimbo, a starfish.

“Why?” You whine out to no one in particular. “Why me?”

Fortunately you live alone, so there’s no one to witness your sulky behaviour.  You would put off getting all your errands done, but you’ve already been doing this for so long that you’re practically out of clean clothes to wear. That’s one part about living alone that’s a double-edged sword- you have your own space where you can act however you please, which is Great, but also you’re the only one responsible for keeping on top of things, which is Less Great. You can’t rely on other people to get things done for you.

You’ve never been a morning person, and the fact it’s so nice outside already does nothing to brighten your mood; it’s the perfect kind of day, the chilled bite to the air mellowed by the sun in the cloudless, pale sky, and you’re going to have to spend it indoors. Ugh. You eventually grit your teeth and pull yourself out of bed, waking yourself up with a cold shower. Once you force a cup of overly sweet coffee into your system and the caffeine hits you so that you’re fully awake and ready to go, the world suddenly feels a lot more bearable. So you’re unperturbed when your underwear drawer comes up practically empty.

“Oops,” you say. “Oh well.”

It’s practically empty, but not entirely; there, at the back, there’s that pretty lingerie set you’d bought on a whim in a sale and then promptly never worn. Honestly you’d be happy to go without, seeing as no one else is here and you have no one to look pretty for, but you find that you never get anything done if you’re not in a bra. It’s like a Pavlovian response that you've ingrained into yourself: when you get home, your bra comes straight off, no ifs, buts, or maybes. Bra off means it’s Relaxation Time. Bra on? That means it's time to get things done.

But, yeah, if you’re going to wear the bra, you may as well wear the matching thong, right? It came as a set so you’d basically be committing a crime if you didn’t wear them together. You take one moment to admire yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that to appreciate how it makes you look, before promptly ruining the illusion of sexiness by covering it up with a pair of old sweatpants and a too-large tank top. They're the only bits of clothing not in your laundry basket that you don't mind getting dirty while you clean, so, you have to make do.

The worst part about doing chores is getting the whole process started, but you’ve been doing this long enough that you have a routine. Bra on, hair up, mental checklist ready. You toddle through to the kitchen with your laundry basket, picking through for the colours and whites, feeling entirely too accomplished once you get the first load sorted. This kickstarts the whole chore procedure and once you get stuck in, you actually start to have fun; you’ve got your noise cancelling headphones on and your cleaning playlist is full of songs that get you pumped up, and you sing along to the music as you get started on your next job.

You wiggle your butt to the rhythm of the beat while you hoover, pushing your vacuum into the corners of your flat and ruthlessly sucking up the dust bunnies that have gathered there. You're in the middle of belting out one particularly long note when a spider scuttles out from under your sofa and the note rises into a little scream; you act on pure instinct and suck the spider up into the hoover, watching as all the long hairy legs fold together and get schlorped into the vacuum’s nozzle before disappearing forever. You feel immediately relieved but also immensely guilty when this happens- spiders are awful and you hate them but usually you’d try your best to catch them under a cup before flinging it outside, so the fact you’ve maybe just killed it? You really are just awful. (But thank God it’s gone.)

Maybe that's enough hoovering for now.

You empty the dust bag into the bin, mindful of the fact that the spider might still be alive and come crawling out onto your hands. Thankfully it doesn’t, but you’re not going to take any chances; you draw the bin liner shut and tie it tight, before deciding that the best course of action is to put it into your outside bin, in case the spider decides to come back with a vengeance. 

You hoist the bag up and pause for a second to glance down at how the straps of your too-loose top have slipped down your shoulders to reveal the top of bra, the intricate lace trim of the cups and extra straps that criss cross your chest- definitely an, uh, interesting outfit choice for a quick trip out of your flat. You make the executive decision to shrug on a hoodie and zip it all the way to your neck to preserve your modesty and save you from the chill outside. Once that’s done it takes two seconds to slip your feet into your (fake) Converse shoes, another few seconds to fiddle with the lock on your door, struggling with the latch- it’s been a bit janky for a while and you keep forgetting to sort it out- before you hop your way downstairs and  to the outside shed where everyone's bins are stored.

Ewch. It doesn’t smell that great in here. You make quick work of dumping your rubbish and escaping from the hut, shutting the door firmly behind you to try and keep the stench locked inside, before almost falling over when you feel the telltale sensation of a cat curling around your ankles. He’s meowing up at you but your headphones have been drowning him out, so you slide them off your ears and hook them around your neck so you can actually hear him.

"Oh, hi, baby!" The ginger stray likes to hang nearby the building, always friendly and happy to see you, even if he seems to like sneaking up when you least expect it. He meows at you again as you squat down to stroke him, butting his head into your palm as his tail curls in delight. "Aren't you just the most gorgeous boy? Yes, you are, aren't you?"

The cat ends up putting his paws onto your knee to butt his face against yours, and the next thing you know, you have an armful of cat. You laugh and continue to pet him, cooing at how cute he is as he purrs back. "Awh, baby, you're so sweet," you say. "I wish I could take you home, but my meanie landlord says we can't have pets."

“I was thinking of starting a petition, actually, so the landlord gets rid of the No Pets clause in the tenancy agreement. You’re welcome to sign it if you like.”

You glance up from where you’ve been allowing the cat to shove his nose against your chin, standing up straight to address the man who’s talking to you, cat still clutched in your arms. “Oh! Hi, Namjoon-ssi. That’s such a good idea, I love that. Stick it to the man. I’d definitely sign it. How are you today?”

Kim Namjoon, aka your neighbour from across the hall, is smiling at the cat in your arms. Namjoon’s the perfect neighbour and ideal tenant- quiet, tidy, considerate, although he does have a tendency to lose his keys and gets locked out of his flat on a pretty regular basis. 

It’s actually how you’d started to talk in the first place. When you first moved in you’d given him a small box of chocolates to endear yourself to your same-floor-friend, only exchanging small nods and pleasant greetings for a while after that, but after you’d found Namjoon waiting sheepishly on his own doorstep- “My friend has a key but it’s going to take him a little while to get here,” he’d explained- you’d invited him into your own flat to wait, rather than just in the hall. 

Since then you’ve started to have chats whenever you see each other, and occasionally knock on each other’s doors whenever you ask to borrow things like sugar or a screwdriver or whatever, and you always invite Namjoon in for a cup of tea when he’s waiting for one of his friends to rescue him from his own forgetful nature. You’re still toeing the line between Friendly Neighbours and Kind Of Friends, but one thing you already know and admire about Namjoon is his ability to actually be a mature and put together adult. Sure, you drink a decent amount of water, you have a skincare routine with multiple steps, and you usually manage to eat your 5-a-day, but a lot of that feels like you do it because you’re expected to, sort of like a child playing make-believe. 

Namjoon, meanwhile, manages to just ooze the sort of gravitas that comes with being a fully realised human being, someone who actively participates in the world around them because they’re entirely engaged with things and basically just Super Mature Adult (even if he apparently loses/breaks things on a fairly regular basis). Hence why you’re not at all surprised at the petition thing, or when Namjoon proceeds to tell you that he’s going to spend the afternoon at his friend’s uncle’s strawberry farm, picking fruit, because of course Namjoon is the kind of guy who supports local, organic, free range produce. (Wait. Can strawberries be free range? Or is that just eggs?)

“Ahh, I love strawberries! That’s so cool,” you say. “It must be fun.”

“You’re welcome to come, if you like,” Namjoon says. He’s always gracious so you know he’s just saying this to be polite, but you can’t help but think it would probably be really nice to spend time picking fruit and talking with him.

“Ah, I’d love to, but unfortunately I have prior commitments. I’m catching up on chores,” you admit ruefully. You’re still absently scritching the ginger cat’s chin as you speak, the animal purring up a storm in your arms and shedding all over your clothes, although you don’t notice or care. Namjoon is incredibly endeared- not that you notice that, either. “Hence the runway-ready outfit.”

Your hair is so messy it looks like some sort of wild possum has been nesting in it, your hoodie sleeves are so long they threaten to swallow your hands, and you’re not even wearing your cheap knock-off shoes properly- you’re stepping on the back collar of them in your bare feet so they’re basically glorified flip-flops at this point. Total fashionista. (Not.)

Namjoon, however, seems surprised at your dismissive tone. “You look cute and cozy,” he says.

You snort in an unladylike way, lifting the cat in your arms a little- you can’t gesture properly with an armful of fur, especially when the stray takes this as an invitation to crane upwards and shove his little face into the crook of your neck, knocking against your headphones. “Cute baby,” you coo at the cat, before turning your attention back to Namjoon. “You look cute and cozy,” you echo. It’s a little chilly today and Namjoon’s wrapped up, long scarf curled around his neck, beanie on his head, hem of his coat fluttering around his thighs. Super cozy, and again, a well-put-together adult. 

You muffle a sigh. He’s a well-put-together and hot adult, tall and built, so handsome in his casual outfit, effortlessly masculine. You’ve been lowkey crushing on Namjoon for a while now, as futile as that effort is- you haven’t seen any evidence of a special someone in Namjoon’s life, but there’s no way that man is single. Even if he somehow is, he’s like, a bajillion light years out of your league, hyper intelligent and kind and gorgeous, in comparison to your… um… your… well. Yeah. In comparison to that. 

He’s nice to you and he smiles whenever he sees you, though, and your weak little heart can’t help but flip flop in your chest whenever you see that dimpled little smile, even if you know you don’t have a chance in hell that he really thinks that you’re cute. He’s just being polite. 

The cat in your arms gives a little wriggle, apparently sated for the day, and you carefully squat down to deposit him onto the ground. He gives you both one last little mewl before scampering off and you fondly watch him go. “Let me know when you have that petition written up,” you say, brushing the cat hairs off your sleeves. “I better get back to my flat, I need to finish the rest of my laundry so I can continue the facade of being a functional adult. Have a great day, Namjoon-ssi, and I hope you enjoy the strawberries! You’ll have to tell me how they are.”

“I will,” he says, eyes warm as he smiles, those little dimples appearing in his cheeks. Ugh, you want to touch them so much. “Good luck with your laundry.”

Namjoon’s beautiful smile fuels you for the rest of the day, buoying you up as you scrub the walls of your shower and bleach your toilet, bright yellow gloves a size too large for your hands as you spritz your bathroom counter. You might not be a legitimate adult in the same way that your neighbour is but you can give it a damn good go; even if the rest of your life is maybe a bit more chaotic than you’d like, you can at least get your surroundings in order.

And you do. By the time you’re finished with hoovering and mopping your floors and reorganising your clutter, your flat feels brand-spanking new again, fresh and clean and airy. You’d even lit a few scented candles earlier and you give yourself a pat on the back for your forward thinking as you snuff them out, the delicate smell of vanilla lightly filling the apartment. All that’s left is to go to the kitchen and put the final load of laundry in the tumble dryer and once that’s been emptied and sorted, you’re all finished. Mission accomplished. Chores done.

Once the tumble dryer has started its cycle you reward yourself with a cup of tea, a blackcurrant and blueberry fruit infusion that you’d gotten as a Secret Santa gift at work and hadn’t used yet, saving it for a special occasion. You hum to yourself and continue to wiggle your hips to the music trickling out of your headphones as the kettle boils, watching the purple that bleeds from the tea bag once the hot water cascades over it. It looks rich and vibrant and it smells so good- but then you make a little face when you take a sip. Fruit teas never taste as good as they smell. It’s not bad but it’s a little disappointing, really, a subpar reward after a hard day of work. 

You stand in the middle of your kitchen with your mug still in your hand, eyes unfocused as you stare into space, trying to think of things in your flat that you could use to reward yourself. You’ve already used up those fancy gel eye masks that Jimin had given you for your birthday, and you’d let Jungkook have your sheet masks when he’d said his favourite brand was out of stock; Taehyung had pilfered all of your bath bombs as part of an experiment (the experiment being that he wanted to know what colour his bath water would turn if he used all your different bath bombs in it- the answer was ‘an incredibly underwhelming, if glittery, sludge brown’), and he still hasn’t gotten around to replacing them.

Pay day isn’t until next week and you’re tight enough on money at the moment that you don’t want to order out for dinner- living alone means you have to pay more rent so you have to be more careful with money- so you’re out of ideas. 

That is until motion out of the corner of your eye catches your attention. You glance over at it, pulled out of your reverie; the old tumble dryer has been in this flat longer than you and it’s showing signs of wear and tear, base warped a little from age, noisy and wobbly as your clothes are being spun inside. You pause, mug dropping a little in your hand as the thought briefly flickers through your mind, before you bite your lip and throw caution to the wind. Fuck it. You live alone and you’ve had a long day and you deserve some kind of reward. 

You abandon your unfinished mug of tea in the sink before eyeing the shaking tumble dryer. You hoist yourself up, straddling the corner of the machine, a little shiver running through you when you feel the vibrations through your legs and thighs as you settle into place; it takes time to situate yourself, thighs spreading as you tilt your hips forward and press your heat against the rumbling dryer. You shift on your hands, palms braced against the top of the machine as you wriggle into the best position- the second you get just the right angle you let out a little gasp, eyes squeezing shut when you feel how the shaking machine is sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

You keep your eyes shut as you continue to find the right rhythm. You rock your hips forward each time the machine rocks back, rolling the weight of your body down towards your clenching cunt; the vibrations are so strong that you can feel them through your sweatpants, lace of your thong rubbing against your clit in a deliciously rough way, sending little shockwaves of pleasure through you.

As you continue to work yourself up, your skin starts to feel overheated under your clothes, even with the chill spring air seeping into the flat- you fumble with the zip of hoodie, letting the material sag open before you brace yourself with your palms again. You feel how the hoodie slips down your arms, baring your shoulders, and you tilt your head back, revealing the line of your neck as you arch your spine. Each rumble of the machine rolls through you, wetness starting to slicken your folds as you grind down a little harder. It’s a steady, slow climb towards your peak- you shut your eyes to focus fully on the pleasure building between your legs, the way your clit feels swollen and almost over-sensitive from the strong vibrations from the dryer, the way your pussy clenches whenever you get the angle just right.

You start to gasp, biting back moans when you feel how your orgasm is getting closer. You lift one hand from the top of the dryer to run your hands over your skin- your neck, your throat, tracing over the straps of the bra that are digging into the swell of your breasts. It’s good, really good, but it’s not enough; every time you feel like the peak of your orgasm is about to crest, it ebbs away again, and you let out a little whine from the back of your throat. 

With your eyes still shut, you try to conjure up images that’ll arouse you and send you tumbling over the edge. Hands on your body, lips against your skin, your mouth. Normally when you masturbate you try to keep away from thinking about anyone in particular, because you feel like if you see that person in the future they’ll just telepathically know about it and you end up feeling awkward and guilty (even if you know it's illogical)- but today you can’t help it. Your mind slips to the thought of Namjoon this morning and the way he’d smiled at you, and once you start thinking about Namjoon, you can’t stop. 

Namjoon’s smile. His mouth. His tongue. His hands, his fingers. His tall, beautiful body, pressing you down against a mattress, trapping you against him. You take the hand that’s been trailing over your collarbones and lift it to your mouth and press two fingers past your lips, trying to imagine that it’s Namjoon. Imagine that it’s the weight of his cock on your tongue, hard and heavy. You bet it’s as gorgeous as the rest of him. You bet he tastes so good, hot and salt and maybe a little bitter, heady and masculine; you let out a low moan around your lips as you run the pads of your fingertips over your tongue, saliva pooling in your mouth.

All the while, your music has been playing on, heavy beat thrumming through you as you forget the outside world and focus on the reality you’re conjuring in your mind. Namjoon’s cock in your mouth. Namjoon’s mouth on your cunt. Namjoon’s skin against yours. Namjoon fucking into you, hard and deep. Your blood rises in your veins, toes curling as you can feel how your orgasm is getting ever closer now that you’re this turned on, your cunt leaking with arousal; the thought of Namjoon wanting you as much as you want him is dizzying, as unlikely as it is. The Namjoon in your mind fucks into you with a particularly rough thrust and in the real world you respond with a moan, garbled around the fingers between your lips. Fuck, you’re so close. 

Just as you're nearly there, your playlist ends and everything lapses into silence, your reverie shattered. The moment is gone. Your orgasm slips away from you again and you whimper, unintentionally edging yourself yet again. 

Your eyes flutter open briefly when your haze is broken, although you squeeze them back shut so that you can get back to picturing Namjoon and finally bring yourself to completion- but then your eyes fly open again, fingers stuttering in your mouth and hips going still as your entire body stiffens, blood turning to ice in your veins.

The very real Kim Namjoon is standing in the doorway of your kitchen. There’s a look of utter shock on his face, his lips parted, eyes so wide it looks like his eyeballs are going to pop out of his skull, frozen in place. You don’t know how long he’s been there. You don’t know if he’s just walked in on you. Really, though, it doesn’t matter if he’s been there for five seconds or five hours- he’s seen everything, the way there’s saliva dripping from your mouth around your fingers, tank top barely hiding your lingerie, the way you’ve been bucking your hips against the dryer. Utterly desperate and debauched and depraved. 

There’s a small, white plastic bag in Namjoon’s hands with a pretty strawberry logo on it, drooping further and further towards the floor as his arms go slack. You don’t notice it until it’s slipping loose from his fingers and landing on the floor. 

Berries go rolling out of the sagged plastic and across the tiles but Namjoon doesn’t seem to notice. That single point of motion in the room seems to kickstart your brain into gear, your flight or fight response screaming flight, and you practically throw yourself off the tumble dryer. Your brain is entirely empty of logical thought right now and the only thing you can think of is that you need to get away and hide forever. 

You rush past a still frozen Namjoon, stumbling down your hallway towards your open front door- you notice that the latch is stuck, not clicking into place when you’d come back inside earlier and leaving the door unlocked, you idiot. Namjoon always knocks and it must have swung open as soon as he rapped his knuckles against it, and you wouldn’t have heard it over your goddamn music. You absolute, utter idiot.

You’re not thinking about how illogical it is to flee from your own home to get away from someone. You’re just thinking about your escape. Taehyung’s flat is the nearest and it won’t take long to run there and you can survive without shoes; you’re still barefoot but you don’t have time to grab anything. You have to run. 

You’re just stretching out for the door when you feel large hands grab you from behind. You flail, door swinging shut as your fingers brush against it before you’re being pulled backwards by the arms that have slid around your waist. You start to struggle, squirming in the hold, pushing at the hands trapping you as you instinctively still try to get away from the shame and embarrassment; Namjoon’s body is warm and solid against your back, his muscles effectively trapping you in place, and you can feel how his voice rumbles through him as he speaks, audible through the silence of your headphones.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

You’ve never heard Kim Namjoon sound like this. His voice is authoritative, commanding. The part of your brain that acts on pure instinct- the part that just told you to go hurtling out onto the street without shoes- responds instantly, and you immediately go lax in his hold even though you’re still internally panicking.

“I was planning on going to the moon,” you say, unable to cover up how your voice is shaking, even if you’re trying to hide behind sarcasm. It’s your only defence right now. Your skin prickles with embarrassment. “Where else do you think?”

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, and your toes curl at how deep the sound is. “The mouth on you.” He sounds amused. You can’t look him in the eye. “Were you trying to get away from me?”

“‘Trying’ is the operative word.” You’re still staring resolutely at the door- it’s swung shut and the latch has actually clicked upwards this time. Traitor.  “As you can tell, I’m not doing a very good job. The sooner I go, the sooner I get the paperwork started for my move to Fiji.”

“I thought you were planning on going to the moon.” Namjoon’s hold on you is still firm. You’re utterly helpless. “Changed your mind?”

“Going to open a diner in Fiji to raise funds for my moon mission. It’s a long plan.” The spike of adrenaline that had burst through you is already dissolving in your system, leaving you feeling limp and strung out. You can’t see Namjoon’s face with how your back is crushed against his chest; when you glance down all you can see is how big his hands are against your stomach. Despite yourself, you shiver. As panicked and embarrassed as you are, arousal is still trickling through you, and you hate yourself for the effect that Namjoon is having on you right now. You try to sound calm and unaffected as you continue to speak, but you feel breathless from the lingering pleasure tingling between your legs. “Can you let me go now, please?”

“Is that really what you want?” You’ve had your hands on his wrists from how you’d been trying to push them away, so you feel how one of Namjoon’s hands starts to slide downwards, slow as treacle, and your breath hitches as his fingers slide under the waistband of your sweatpants. They don’t go any further than that, palm splayed over your hipbone, but you feel your pussy clench at the warmth of his hands on your skin and a whimper slips out of you. “Or do you actually want something else?”

Your fingers dig into his wrists. When you open your mouth to reply, your words fail you and instead you just let out a little breath.  You’re in utter disbelief at what’s happening right now, unsure of what’s going on- you’re not an idiot but there is no way that Namjoon is implying what you think he’s implying. Absolutely no way. Not a chance in hell. What?

As you continue to stay silent, brain trying to catch up with the situation, Namjoon doesn’t move.

“Use your words, baby,” he murmurs. “I need to know that you want this.”

Oh, fuck. When Namjoon calls you baby it feels like a switch has been flipped inside you; like he’s slipped a missing fuse into place and your entire body has lit up, full of energy and electricity from his touch. It’s overwhelming. “Of course I want this,” you confirm, trembling, and then: “I want you.”

Namjoon responds by finally moving his hand downwards. You watch as it goes, how he pauses when he makes contact with the fabric of your underwear, the unmistakable texture of embroidered lace under his touch. He drags his fingertips across the straps that cross over themselves, an arrow guiding him to his mark; your entire body goes tense when his fingers glance over your swollen folds, slick through the fabric.

You gasp. You’re still trapped against him by the strong arm curled around you, but your hands are free- you pull your headphones off and let them fall to the floor, twisting your head around so you can finally look at Namjoon’s face. His eyes are hooded and dark. He looks nothing like the cute and clumsy man who waves you good morning every day; he looks like some hungry animal, a predator who’s been waiting for the right time to swallow his prey whole.

“Namjoon,” you breathe. He gives you a small smile that’s more of a smirk, utterly at odds to his usual dimpled beams.

“You don’t have to settle for an old tumble dryer, gorgeous.” He kisses the bare skin of your shoulder, right next to where your bra strap is resting, eyes locked on yours. His lips are so soft and you shiver. “Let me help you.”

“I’ll have you know that tumble dryer was very close to getting me off, actually.” You’re so turned on right now but you can’t help the words slipping out; a lifetime of snark doesn’t leave you the second you start feeling horny. “So it’s less you helping me, and more you giving me something you owe me, seeing as you took it away in the first place.”

Namjoon’s silent for a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far- if you’ve run your mouth too much- when he hums. “Ah,” he says. “That’s true. You’re right.”

“Huh?” You say eloquently, surprised, but then he takes the hand out of your sweatpants and you whine. “Hey, put that back, you’re not done yet.”

Namjoon lets out a little chuckle. “No, I’m not,” he agrees. “But I want to see this pretty lingerie properly. You’re all covered up and that just won’t do.”  

He punctuates this statement by taking both of his hands to your hoodie, where it’s been caught at your elbows, and sliding it off you. He drags his large palms down your arms as he does this, cool against your overheated skin; goosebumps appear in the wake of his touch and you shiver again. You have no idea what's going on right now. Everything feels like some sort of fever dream but you're not about to start complaining.

“If you’re about to see me in my unmentionables I’d least like a kiss first,” you say, pout audible in your voice. The truth is you’ve thought about Namjoon’s plush lips more often than you’d like to admit, how beautiful his mouth is, and it’s got to be illegal for Namjoon to have been touching you for as long as he has without letting you have at least one taste of his kisses. “Please?”

“Turn around, baby.” You instantly comply, all but throwing your arms around his neck as you look at him with an innocent, bambi gaze; he still has that half-lidded set to his eyes but you can see how that ravenous hunger is softened by his smile. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” you say. You might sound like the protagonist to some cheesy romance film right now but the truth is that you’re still aware of the heat between your legs, the ebbed arousal that’s still coiling low in your stomach, and as much as you want to kiss Namjoon, you want to cum, too. “Kiss me, kiss me, kiss m-”

Namjoon kisses you. He cuts you off mid sentence by slotting his mouth against yours, open around the word he swallows, and he immediately presses his tongue past your lips; you yield to him, letting him press his lips to your cupid’s bow as you lick his lower lip, soft and full. Just as good as you thought. No- better. His hands stay steady around your waist, but yours keep moving as you keep kissing- his shoulders, his nape, his hair, his jaw. Every part of him is so warm and solid against you and you just can’t get enough.

You slant your head to get deeper, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths in a way that borders on lewd, rubbing against each other as you trade saliva, your mouth full of the taste of Namjoon. You swear there’s a lingering taste of strawberries. You feel better, a little more in control now that you know Namjoon will indulge you even if you’re being a brat, and you can finally chase the thing that got this whole sequence of events started.

“I wanna cum, Namjoon,” you murmur against his lips once you finally part, breathless from his kisses. “Will you help me cum? Please? Pretty please?”

Namjoon’s lip curls back from his teeth in a silent growl, and a shudder runs through you at the sight; seeing your usually composed neighbour act like this because of you is a heady sensation. “You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you,” he says, and your pussy throbs with need at his words.

“Jesus Christ, Namjoon.” Your eyes are wild. “I want you to fucking wreck me.”

You get no warning before Namjoon is literally sweeping you off your feet and you squeal in surprise when you feel them leave the ground, but Namjoon’s grip on you is steady as he lifts you in a bridal hold. You feel breathless at this physical representation of his strength- you’ve only seen his bare arms once (that had been a nice morning) before but you definitely hadn’t forgotten about how thick they are, as evidenced by the way he’s carrying you. 

Normally you’d probably be chewing him out for lifting you without warning, but right now there’s a very base, animalistic part of you that goes belly up at the very obvious reminder of Namjoon’s superior power. The instinctual part of you that had initially told you to run away from him now seems entirely content with the fact you’ve been caught, and so you stay quiet in his arms. You cling tight to him as he walks to your bedroom without the need for directions, your flat the mirrored twin to his; you keep kissing his neck as he nudges the door open with his foot, running a hand down his chest, feeling the flex of his muscles through the fabric of his shirt. 

He’s so fucking hot, what the fuck.

He’s hot, and strong, but gentle, too. When Namjoon sets you down he’s so careful even though he could easily manhandle you in any way he wanted, and you give him a kiss as a thank you. It’s a brief moment of quiet, that little kiss, but then Namjoon is pulling you back towards him and his hands are all over as he helps you strip; Namjoon’s eyes are heavy on your body as he drinks you in, finally wearing nothing but the lingerie he’s been so desperate to look at.

He sees the way the interweaving straps rest against your skin with the perfect amount of pressure, little swells letting him know that he’ll be able to trace the touch of lace on your body even after he’s ripped it off you. The lace cups of your bra do nothing to hide how your nipples are standing to attention, begging to be touched. But the most eye-catching thing, the thing that Namjoon can’t stop looking at, is how sodden the lace between your legs is; your inner thighs are slick with your arousal, shining, and you haven’t even cum yet. 

“Look at you. So gorgeous,” Namjoon says. “Gonna make you cum over and over, baby.”

His hands feel so good against your skin as he skims his fingers over your panties, but he doesn’t take them off, and you let out a needy little noise. “Please,” you whine. “I need to cum, Joonie, been waiting so long.”

Namjoon watches as you reach to fumble with the clasp of your bra and reaches for your hands, stopping your motions. You blink up at him, confused, but then he’s turning you towards the bed and bending you over it, motions firm and undeniable; not that you would try to defy him, anyway. You brace your palms against the mattress and instantly arch your spine so that your ass is pushed out, enticing as possible.

You’re wondering if you’re going to have to beg for Namjoon to touch you but it seems what little patience he had has run out; his warm palms are immediately against your ass, touch reverent as he slides his hands over your skin, and you press back into that touch, wanting more of it. His hands skim up your sides and his fingers dance along the edge of your bra before reaching for the hooks, unfastening it so that it slips down your arms and onto the bed before you shove it aside. 

He bends over you, chest broad and warm against your naked shoulderblades, arms coming around your body so that he can cup your breasts in his large hands; his palms cover so much of your skin, your sensitive nipples, and you gasp at the shock of sensation that shoots through you as he drags his hands over them before using his fingers to pinch the hardened nubs. You twist your head and make a little noise, and Namjoon obliges you with a kiss, grinning against your mouth with each desperate sound he muffles with his plush lips.

Eventually, though, he pulls away from you. You glance over your shoulder to see that he’s gotten to his knees, still staring at your soaking core, before he hooks one of his thumbs into the fabric covering your aching pussy and pulls it aside before pressing his mouth against you.

“Oh, fuck!” Your body goes weak and you slump forwards onto your elbows and shove your face into the bed, and Namjoon follows when this moves you away from him, tongue buried in your cunt as he eats you out with no mercy. He’s utterly shameless, noises slick and lewd as he drags his wet tongue over your entrance and clit, swallowing down all the arousal that’s leaking out of you, ravenous. You reach behind you with one of your hands to grip his hair, and when you grind back against his face he lets out a satisfied hum; you gasp at the vibrations against your lower lips, oversensitive from all your edging.

“Gonna cum,” you say, twisting your head so that your cheek is pressed to your rumpled blanket. “I’m so close, oh, God, Namjoon-”

He’s been rubbing his tongue up and down your clit in a particularly sinful way, and after one more particularly hard stroke, you finally, finally reach that precipice you’ve been reaching for all day. You shove your face back into the blanket as you cum, all your gasps and moans coming together in one long cry as your toes curl and you tighten your fingers so hard into your sheets you almost pull them off the mattress. Your entire body trembles as your cunt pulsates with pleasure, each ripple of your pussy feeling like it’s passing through your whole body, and Namjoon doesn’t let up for a second, lapping down each wave of cum that flushes out of you. You feel utterly weak as you flop forwards against the mattress, boneless and shaky, but Namjoon’s mouth is still on you and you let out a whimper, oversensitive.

“It’s too much,” you gasp. “Namjoon-”

He takes his mouth off you immediately. “Sorry, baby,” he apologises, pressing a kiss against the swell of your ass. You want to sag your lower body against the bed but his hands are keeping you up, fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass and hips. “You just taste so good. Can you lie down for me?”

“Yes,” you say into the blanket, your voice a muffled slur. You’re so eager to please him even though you feel so weak from your post orgasm haze, and your muscles feel like jelly as you try to lift yourself onto the bed. Namjoon obviously notices how fucked out you are because he helps flip you over so that you’re on your back, staring up at him.

You continue to stare at him as he sheds his clothes. You let your gaze shamelessly rove over his body as it’s revealed- the honeyed tone of his skin, the muscles that shift underneath it, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, the long legs, the thick thighs, the trail of hair that dips down to his-

“Holy fuck.” Your voice is reedy with desperation, and Namjoon laughs.

His cock has to be the biggest you’ve seen in real life, long and thick, fully erect even though you haven’t touched it yet- the fact that you’re apparently arousing enough to bring him to full hardness is flattering, honestly. Even as you stare at it, it twitches, a dribble of precum oozing from the flushed head, almost an angry red from neglect. You watch, enraptured, as he circles his fingers around it; it doesn’t look any smaller in his large hands. He pulls on his cock, long and slow, before he spits onto it and fucks into his fist as you watch him, spreading the wetness over himself.

“Gonna fill that hungry little pussy with this cock,” he says. “Gonna give you a reward for being such a good girl. Is that what you want?” Namjoon watches you as he thumbs at his slit, precum weeping from his tip. “Does my good girl want this cock?”

“I want it,” you beg. You do, you want it so bad. His mouth and lips and tongue felt so good but it must be nothing in comparison to how good it’ll feel to be filled up  by Namjoon’s heavy, long cock. “Fuck, Namjoon, please, I want it.”

You lift your hips so that Namjoon can slide your panties off you. He stares at the strings of wetness that cling to them as he peels them away from your core, finally bare to the cool air of the room, and you suck in a breath. He wastes no time, climbing onto the bed and settling above you, cock swaying between his legs before he grasps it and tilts it towards your entrance. 

You lift your hips again, tilting them towards him for an easier angle- and immediately cry out when he broaches you, head pressing past your entrance. You’re so turned on and flushed wet that the initial slide in is easy, but as he gets deeper and deeper you can feel the stretch, your pussy forced open for him, feeling like you’re being split open with how big he is- you’ll feel the burn tomorrow, but right now your body is ripe and ready for him to take you, cunt clenching as he bottoms out in you. You experimentally tense your muscles and the two of you gasp in a breath, shocked pleasure at the sensation.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon groans. “You feel so good.”

He holds still for a moment to let you adjust, leaning down to kiss you. It’s deep and slow, tongue swiping into your mouth as you part your lips for him and let him take what he wants. When he leans back, all that softness is gone- your legs fall apart as he starts to fuck you, hips snapping forward as he ruthlessly presses his cock into you. He’s so big and he’s striking so deep it feels like you can feel him in your stomach, and you arch your back into him and cry out each time he strikes home.

The pace he sets is rough and aggressive, the slap of skin against skin and wet noises from his cock driving into your pussy filling the silence of the room, every part of you hypersensitive to every sensation- Namjoon’s weight pressing you into the mattress, the shaking bed, the rising smell of sweat and sex, the firmness of his hands on you. He leans back and you catch a glimpse of his hungry eyes before he puts his hands under your knees and hitches your legs up so that you’re practically bent in half when he fucks into you again- you cry out at the change of angle, how this lets him splay his large hand over the line of your hipbone as he starts to rub his thumb across your clit, continuing to fuck into the whole time.

“Gonna c-cum again,” you hiccup between thrusts, the air punched out of you each time that hot cock spears into you. “Joonie, gonna- gonna cum aga- oh!”

Your spine arches as your orgasm rips through you, coil of pleasure exploding like a firework as you cum for the second time that day, walls tensing around Namjoon’s cock; he continues to thrust into you, even when your cunt clenches so tight it feels like there’s no space inside you for his length. He keeps forcing your body open for him even as you keep falling apart around him, and you keep taking it, loving it. The only thing you can register is the delirious, mind-numbing satisfaction, sobbing out as Namjoon’s cock continues to fill you- you feel like he’s fucked you dumb, like your body was only made to be fucked by him, sloppy and open and wet. Each time he fills you up again it forces a noise from your throat, sounds of almost animalistic pleasure spilling from your lips, all semblance of coherent words gone.

When Namjoon pulls out of you, even though your body feels weak and limp and entirely fucked out, you whine at the loss. The next second, though, he flips you over, nudging your ankles apart before sliding back into you. The change of angle has him dragging against your sweet spot, balls slapping against your clit, overwhelming off the heels of just cumming, but you just take it, drooling into the pillow as your brain gives over to the all-consuming pleasure.

“So pretty when you cum around my cock.” Namjoon’s bent over you, murmuring praises that you barely register as he litters kisses over your shoulders and the side of your throat. “Greedy little pussy takes my cock so well. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Wanna be a good girl for you.” Your words are a slur, your brain foggy but eager to please, answering the question. “Joonie.”

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he says, lips pressed against your ear as he whispers filth to you, still mercilessly fucking into you. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy with my cum. Do you want my cum, baby?”

“Wan’ it,” you moan. There’s heat curling in your abdomen again, pussy tightening as another orgasm creeps up on you, the promise of Namjoon’s hot cum filling you pulling you closer to the edge. “Want your cum, Joonie.”

His fingers tighten around your waist as he starts to jackhammer into you. His cock feels like it’s splitting you open even as his rhythm starts to falter, and after one particularly hard thrust your eyes roll back in your head as you tumble over the edge again, cumming so hard it’s a wonder you don’t pass out. You let out a strangled moan and Namjoon curses as you tighten around him, your entire body trembling under his hands as you give yourself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through you. 

His rhythm falters before he lets out a shout and his cock jerks inside you as your tightening cunt pulls him into climax. Hot cum fills your pussy as he empties himself inside you, aftershocks of your orgasm drawing his seed deeper, painting your insides. You lie there and take it, face turned into the pillow as you focus on the sensation of his twitching cock, the way your body is milking him even in your exhaustion, like it’s desperate to satisfy him even when you can barely speak.

You shiver when you feel him slowly pull out. He’s stroking his hands over your skin, kissing your shoulder blades and nape as he turns you over, gentle as he touches you. “You did so well,” Namjoon praises, smiling at you. “So good for me.”

You still feel fuzzy but you latch onto Namjoon’s words as he kisses you on your forehead, your cheeks, your nose. Words seem so hard to string together right now but you try your best, voice small and weak. “Did good?”

“Absolutely perfect, baby,” Namjoon says, and you let out a happy sigh. You stay quiet while Namjoon slips out of your bed before returning with a damp cloth. You let your muscles go entirely lax as Namjoon rolls you onto your back and gently spreads your legs; he watches as his own cum drips out of you before he gently swipes the mix of cum that’s smeared across your pussy, mindful of your sensitive clit. You bask in his touch, feeling like a cat bathing in sunlight as he cleans you up, stroking his hands across your skin.

He gathers you in his arms and continues to murmur praises between kisses and touches. You slowly come back to yourself as he keeps lavishing attention on you, skin warm against his, turning into his touch as your brain starts to flicker back on. 

Namjoon brushes his lips against your forehead as your higher thought processes continue to fall back into place, although you’re still a little hazy. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah.” You feel thoroughly fucked out after three back-to-back orgasms and your pussy feels raw and you’re not sure when you’ll next be able to walk in a straight line, but none of those things detract from how fabulous you feel right now. “More than okay. Wow. When I said I wanted you to wreck me, I didn’t realise you’d do such a good job.”

Namjoon smiles at you, and you finally get to indulge yourself, lifting a hand to stroke a finger across his dimples that deepen as you touch them. “I’m always happy to oblige,” he says, and you grin as you brush your nose across his neck, nuzzling into him.

“You really are the best neighbour,” you say. “Did you seriously come over to give me a bunch of hand picked strawberries? That’s what that bag was, right?”

“Of course.” Namjoon’s fingers continue to rub circles into your shoulder. “I thought you deserved a nice treat after a day of chores.”

“Oh, I feel very thoroughly rewarded,” you giggle, before pulling your head back to look Namjoon in the eye. “God. I was so mortified at the beginning, though. I seriously thought I was going to have to pack my bags and move away.”

“The strawberries wouldn’t be enough to persuade you to stay?” Namjoon strokes his knuckles down your cheek before resting his thumb under the swell of your bottom lip, pushing up a little so it looks like you’re pouting at him. “After I spent all afternoon picking them and thinking about you, and how lovely you’d look while you ate them with this pretty little mouth of yours?”

You relax into his touch, letting him rub the pad of his thumb over your lip, all but kissing his finger each time your mouth shapes itself around another word. “You think about me?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Namjoon says, stroking over your lip one last time before cupping your chin in his palm.  “I don’t genuinely lose my keys as often as you think I do. Though I do still lose them a lot,” he adds, a little sheepish, and you laugh.

“So you’re saying that if I give you a spare key to my flat, I should have back-ups on hand just in case?” You tease, leaning into the hand that’s cradling your chin. “Good to know.”

“A spare key?” Namjoon looks a little taken aback, and you blink at him.

“Yeah,” you say, like it’s obvious. “Y’know, unless you want me to go back to using the tumble dryer.”

The hand that’s been on your shoulder tightens a little as Namjoon digs his fingers into your skin, possessive. That part of you that’s gone belly up for him preens at the attention, still eager to please him and make him happy, loving the sensation of being so desired by someone who you thought was out of your reach. “No.” Namjoon’s voice is a rumble in his chest. “I’ll make you cum whenever you want, sweetheart.”

“Mm.” You hum quietly before kissing his cheek, and then Namjoon uses the hand under your chin to turn you towards him and presses his mouth softly to yours. “You might regret saying that. I’m very demanding. Starting with this- do you want to go get those strawberries so I can have a taste?” You flutter your lashes at him, and Namjoon chuckles as he indulges you. 

You watch the flex of muscles in his thighs and ass as he walks from the room, still in a bit of disbelief that you’ve touched him and kissed him and been so thoroughly fucked by him. Kim Namjoon is a ten course meal (not including drinks or dessert) but here he is, naked on your bed as he feeds you the sweet, ripe strawberries that he picked with his own hands, kissing the taste off your lips between each bite.

You feel utterly pampered and taken care of, reclining against the pillows as Namjoon feeds you another strawberry. You reach out for the largest you can see and return the favour, letting him lick the sweetness off your stained fingers and giggling at the sensation. 

“The dryer’s finished its cycle, by the way,” Namjoon says after he’s finished kissing your fingertips.

“That’s nice,” you say as you carefully pick out another strawberry and rest it against the dark red flush of Namjoon’s lips. “But I’m busy feeding the world’s most beautiful man right now, so it can wait.”

Namjoon smiles at you, eyes lovely and warm as he parts his lips to accept the fruit, before leaning down to press his berry stained mouth against your own.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts 

Part 14:

It was getting a little exhausting at this point.

You were once again searching through hero rankings, staring and staring and hoping that it would make a difference- but it didn’t. Of course it didn’t. You just couldn’t think of any prototype that felt like it was good enough. 

Your eyes burned as you closed out of one website, opened another, and rinsed and repeated several times over. Nothing was new or exciting. It was all the same recycled clips and drama about the same few top heroes you’d already been used to seeing. It also didn’t help either that nearly every community board, almost every comment, was currently serving as a means to bash some pro-hero named Dynamite nd nothing else.

Apparently the attack he stopped a few days ago had a few more casualties than the public would’ve liked. On one hand, you sort of understood. His quirk, while effective, did seem objectively dangerous- but, you also couldn’t help feeling bad for the poor guy. Often the most effective means of stopping violence was through more violence, and that wasn’t his fault. And he definitely didn’t deserve to be blamed for a situation that was already bad in the first place- especially at the non-stop rate he was being vilified.

It was everywhere you looked. Thread after thread of people pulling old clips and resurfacing audio and digging into his apparently very messy past. You couldn’t imagine how that would feel- didn’t even want to try. You didn’t know who Dynamite was as a civilian- you didn’t really care enough to look- but some part of you still hoped he was okay. 

You suppose that your hope matter in the end though, because even from your sympathetic angle, lives lost were still lives lost- and he was at the center of all of it.

You rubbed at your eyes, groaning loudly as you realize how much time you wasted looking at yet another news reel of nothing but Dynamite criticism. This wasn’t helping. This wasn’t productive, but you didn’t know where else to look.

You closed your laptop’s lid, nearly cheering as you realized what time it was. 

Woah. 

Remember that excitement earlier? All gone now.

Bakugou didn’t call you any names, didn’t make any jokes. You wouldn’t necessarily say he was a conversationalist, but over the last few days he had at least been indulgent of your antics. This didn’t feel that way. His response was cold, succinct, dismissive. He seemed angry- well, angrier than usual. 

You tried to think of a response but nothing felt right. You deleted the words almost as soon as you began typing them out.

You winced.

That, uh- you thought you were past this part of the relationship. A week ago, sure, you would’ve just barreled on without a second thought, but that didn’t feel right anymore. 

This was the first genuinely mean thing Bakugou had said to you quite some time now. It hurt, and the ironic thing was, you actually thought it would’ve hurt less if he called you a name at the end of it- at least then you’d know he was joking.

But you didn’t think he was joking this time, and it didn’t feel good.

His response only made you feel worse, but you didn’t want to push. You were sure Bakugou would see your genuine concern as nothing more than picking a fight- and you didn’t want that.

God, what a shitty day. You thought, shoulders slumping as you abandoned your phone on the bed. Might as well just start getting ready for bed. 

You hopped in the shower, turning the water practically scalding, but it didn’t make you feel any warmer than before. 

Jesus, when did I get so pathetic? He’s just another guy.

Except even you shook your head at that. You didn’t want him to be just another guy. Bakugou was your soulmate, and, as you were quickly finding out, that made everything hurt a lot more. 

When you left the shower, changing into clothes that didn’t feel as comfortable as you remembered, you realized just how tired and defeated you felt. So tired and defeated, that you almost didn’t hear your phone buzz. 

It buzzed four times, in quick, rapid succession, and even you were embarrassed by how you sprinted over to grab it. 

You glance up at his earlier message- the one that made you feel so miserable. 

Bakugou was still essentially saying the same thing, but now it felt different. You wanted to smack yourself. Why was this so dramatic? Why did it feel like your mood depended entirely on whether he was nice to you or not?

When did you allow yourself to get so attached? 

The thought made your head spin, and you very easily decided it wasn’t something that you wanted to get into. It definitely was not a thought process that would help you right now, or in any way be productive. 

So you tabled it completely. Because you were a responsible adult who did very responsible adult things like bottling up feelings that made you scared. 

Instead, you decided to tell him about a safe feeling you were having; a normal person feeling. A feeling that wasn’t something completely ridiculous like being overly attached to someone who’s only once, sort of, confirmed that he even likes you. A feeling definitely that wasn’t panic over someone who could very easily mean the names he calls you, someone who you’ve latched onto for no other reason than your own naïve dream of a fairytale love- oh god? Were you wrong? Were you reading into something that wasn’t there? Did he even care that you were his soulmate? He probably didn’t, right? He never said otherwise but he never confirmed it either which basically meant that Bakugou told you that it didn’t matter to him- that you didn’t matter to hi-

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. That wouldn’t help. Your cyclical anxiety wouldn’t help anything, especially if you were once putting words and thoughts into Bakugou’s mouth even after he explicitly told you not to. 

This is what you tried to avoid earlier. This exact thing. 

God, you wished you could compartmentalize better; but you couldn’t, so you settled for the next best thing.

You tried to focus on comforting the him on the other side of the phone instead of questioning the him inside your head, because the real Bakugou obviously needed it; and if your rambling was what it took for him to feel a little better than you’d make it happen. 

For him. 

Okay, you could do this. This conversation was normal, zero risk, expertly functional, nice- sort of comfortable, even?

That earlier thought? That poor, poor, ill-fitting word you used? Comfortable? 

Yeah, it’s gone now. Should’ve never been there in the first place.

Oh well, nothing left to do but go back to another familiar game, right? This one’s called pretending you’re fine.

It doesn’t bother you? 

What kind of loaded question was that? Even worse- what was your response to it? 

Bakugou started typing something and quickly deleted it. You watched as he didn’t start typing again, and that only solidified it for you.

The way you answered him was wrong. You were supposed to be reassuring him, not letting your own stupid worries slip through. Talking about your anxiety? To a person who was already having his own emotionally exhausting day?

Jesus christ, you didn’t think you could come up with a stupider move if somebody paid you. 

You felt that sickly feeling from earlier coming back again. You shouldn’t have said that. It was revealing too much and it was an insensitive response during a conversation that should’ve been about him. And maybe you just offended him and made him think you were selfish and not someone he could rely on and he’d never want to talk to you again because you just admitted you were unhinged and why would he want to put up with that when he-

You wanted to smash your head into a wall. God, why couldn’t your brain just shut up? 

Bakugou didn’t say that to you. Any of that. You were once again putting words in his mouth, and it’d been all of 3 minutes and he hadn’t even responded yet.

He wasn’t a bad guy, and he wasn’t just suddenly going to drop you. You knew that. He’d already proven several times that he actually cared about you, and would seek you out if you didn’t find him first. You also knew that the blunt things he said weren’t always meant to be rude, and the names he called you, while crude, were still just odd forms of endearment. 

You were just overthinking things. Bakugou was a nicer guy than he seemed- you knew that more than anything. 

With that in mind, you tried to re-focus on only saying words that would make him feel better from now on.

Your phone buzzed.

When you typed it out- you realized again just how stupid you were being.

This entire time, this entire conversation, you had been stuck in your own head and rendered essentially blind to what Bakugou was actually saying. 

He wasn’t asking you these questions to cause you doubt, he was asking for reassurance.

You wanted to scream. You were so consumed with your own worries that you couldn’t see his responses for the insecurities that they were.

When he asked ‘It doesn’t bother you?’- That was him really asking “Do you like me? Do you think I’m actually a good person?”

And the answer was yes. Easily yes. You might not have known concrete facts about him, or even really anything past his name, but you knew his personality. And you think that maybe that made things clearer than any first name could’ve.

 God, why were you so worried about how he’d react to your anxiety earlier? Why did you ever think Bakugou wasn’t just as emotionally stilted as you? 

You were both the same brand of socially inept- that’s the only way this relationship would have ever worked.

With that in mind, you cast away your worry. It didn’t matter right now. You had to be the strong one because Bakugou couldn’t be. He deserved that much.

Your heart broke. 

You wanted to hug him and tell him nice things and stop every person who said he wasn’t good from ever speaking again.

You watched him read the text, but it didn’t seem like he was going to respond.

You hoped he was okay- that what you said was enough to reassure him, because you meant it. All of it. 

But even so you couldn’t stop worrying, so after 10 minutes or so, you sent him another text before you could stop yourself.

Bakugou said he wasn’t a liar, so you’d trust him. If he said he felt better than you did your job, and you’d allow yourself to relax. 

At least this once.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 10

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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever @toodaloo-kangaroo

Marinette’s collection of vigilantes in her house was still growing, somehow. You’d think it would stop with just the ones that consistently lived in Gotham, but no.

Nightwing started dropping by whenever he was in town to try and teach her escrima. She wasn’t good with them because she wasn’t used to fighting people up close, but she didn’t really think that that was the reason why they were doing it.

Still, it was fun…

(Except for that one time they’d been heading back to her house and she dropped her phone down the drain and had to beg the rat-person -- she was pretty sure Nightwing had called them Ratcatcher? -- for help. It was very traumatizing. He’d given her a new phone but she was never going to recover emotionally from that day.)

And then, a few days before Thanksgiving, Flamebird had made an appearance.

The reason why was less fun, though.

She’d opened her blinds and stared at him for a few moments. He was leaning against her fire escape, hand pressed to his stomach.

“Hey, Robin, does Flamebird usually do the Napoleon pose?”

“The…? Oh, no, he does not.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I thought so.” She swung her window open. “Hi. Nice to meet you. What happened?”

“Got stabbed.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Okay, yeah, obviously, want to elaborate?”

“Got stabbed in the stomach,” he said, after a second’s thought.

So, no, then. She shrugged to herself and let him come inside.

“Right, Robin, go get the medkit out from under my sink,” she said, pulling a hairband from her wrist and tying her hair back.

Flamebird frowned. “Can’t you just undo everything with your magic?”

“Not magic,” supplied Tikki, popping her head out of Marinette’s pocket.

“FUCK,” yelped Flamebird.

Damian made the quiet clicking sound he made whenever he was about to say something rude but Marinette cut him off with a glare and pointed him towards the bathroom. Damian grumbled a little under his breath but obeyed for fear of being thrown out.

She turned back to Flamebird. “Also, that’s not how my ‘magic’ works. If I’m not involved in a fight…” She made a ‘poof’ motion with her hands. “No miracle cure.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Man, if I’d known that I would’ve just dealt with this myself.”

“Well, it is too late for that,” said Damian, who had come back out with a medkit. “Now, sit down, we will tend to your wound.”

And they did.

(Or, rather, Marinette did. It didn’t matter if she knew, logically, that he already knew how wounds looked and how to treat them, she just didn’t feel comfortable making him help. She sent him off to play with the cat and worked on dressing it. She’d made a mistake here by doing the normal routine while stitching someone up: asking about things they liked to distract them. He said he was an ‘avid reader’, she’d laughed and said that she probably wouldn’t know any of the books he mentioned because she hardly ever read in English, and now she was apparently in a book club. That was on her, she supposed, but it was still a little irritating.)

And that was all the vigilantes. They all came over from time to time. Sometimes they’d see each other and give each other awkward smiles or actively ignore each other, but it became a constant part of her life.

But it all came to a head one seemingly regular day.

She had been walking up the stairs to her apartment with Tim, ten bags of groceries loaded onto her arms and five on his (he was to open the door), and had nearly bumped into him when he stopped suddenly.

“Cass?” He asked, confused.

She raised her eyebrows just slightly. She’d thought everyone knew about each other but, now that she thought about it, because of the scheduling Tim wouldn’t really be around when everyone else came by.

He took Cass’s arrival in stride, though, fishing his key out of his pocket and pushing the door open.

He did not take in stride the fact that Duke, Damian, and Nightwing were all inside her house already. Duke was sitting on her counter, wrapped in a blanket as he scrolled through his phone. Damian was playing with Vanelope. Nightwing was doing stretches on her floor.

“Hey, look, more people that don’t live here,” Marinette said with only a hint of bitterness.

Nightwing glanced up. “You’re out of chips.”

“Already --?!” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Fine. Fine. I got more, anyways.”

Tim snapped out of it. He closed and locked the door quickly before sending Marinette a pout. “Alright, I can get you cheating on me with Cass, but come on,” he half joked.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “If one of the people I’m apparently cheating with is a five-year-old --.”

“TWELVE.”

“-- then I think you have more things to worry about than my serial adultery, darling.”

“... guess that’s true.”

“Also, I only buy groceries with you, so you’re clearly my favorite concubine.”

Duke grinned. “Actually --.”

“Except for that one time I asked Signal to go find ricotta because I’d forgotten it,” she conceded. “I guess he's my second favorite.”

Cass pouted and raised her hand.

“She makes a good case for herself. You’ve both been demoted,” she joked.

Tim was still pouting. Probably has something to do with going from favorite to second favorite. Who knows.

She rolled her eyes. She had bigger problems. Like her food. There were frozens and she was not going to lose her food to something as stupid and useless as the air. She waved him along as much as she could with the bags digging into her arms and started putting things away.

She tipped her head back after a second to squint at everyone. They were awkwardly staring at each other, for some reason… oh, right, they technically didn’t know each other.

“Uh, introductions, I guess. Signal, Robin, and Nightwing, meet my friends. Tim, Cass, meet my annoyances.”

Tim perked up a little at being called a friend rather than an annoyance. Problem solved. Kind of.

He set down his bags and leaned close to her ear. “So, they don’t know you know?”

“Duke does,” she mumbled back. “I’m not going to tell them about it, though, I want to see how long it takes them to notice.”

He snickered. “I can get behind that.”

“Good. You didn’t have a choice in the matter,” she joked, leaning forward to press a kiss to his nose.

She could hear Cass groan a little at the obvious affection and both Duke and Damian cringed. She fought the urge to laugh. It was just a little kiss on the nose, they didn’t have to act like it was scandalous or gross.

But, apparently, it was gross enough for Damian to grab her arm to try and pull her attention away from Tim (and physically pull her away from him, she noted, as she was forced to take a half-step back from him).

“Did you get more of my gummy bears?”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you ask for them? Did you tell me you were out?”

He looked a little put out and she felt bad enough to give up the act quickly:

“Yes, kid, I got you your weird vegan gummy bears.”

He beamed and started sifting through her bags.

She smiled fondly and ruffled his hair, ignoring the knife that was sent her way for the action with practiced ease, then started putting things away.

Everyone except Damian made their way over to help. There were no ulterior motives, they insisted, even as she watched Nightwing slip a bag of chips into Damian’s hoodie for safekeeping and Duke pocket an apple.

At least Cass and Tim were reasonably well-behaved, she thought right before she watched him split an orange with her.

~

Tim squinted at the three people below him.

Jon had come to visit because a) the no metas in Gotham rule had more or less stopped being enforced due to constant complaints from the Justice League, b) Damian needed friends his age, and c) it was Christmas and Jon was so sure that this year was going to be the year that Damian finally understood the holiday.

And, because Jon had come to visit, so had Conner. The worst part of being an older brother that Tim understood all too well.

But, now, he looked down at the three people gathered at the bottom of the stairs.

They were apparently competing to see who could be the stupidest. Steph was standing on a banister, Marinette was trying to sit on a vertical bo staff, and Conner was doing a handstand on both of their heads. It was a little shaky, what with Steph’s barely restrained laughter and the fact that bos are not meant to be balanced on and Conner trying to do tricks, but they were clearly having fun.

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the entrance to the cave. Did he have a type?

Their comms crackled to life and all three went stock-still, grins wiped from their faces briefly as they listened to see what had happened.

“I am requesting the night off to have an outing with Superboy.”

Bruce gave the grunt that meant ‘fine’.

The three relaxed now that they knew that everything was okay, quickly going back to their game. Marinette had added a surfboard. Steph was struggling with an exercise ball. Conner was slowly taking off fingers.

Tim sighed to himself. Yep. Dumbasses who can only be serious for truly important things -- and, even then, only for a few seconds at a time. That was his type. Someone, please, save him.

~

It had been a while since Marinette had gone out on her own (with the intention of staying alone, leaving for patrols didn’t count). Really, she normally wouldn’t, but she needed to pick up a piece of fabric she’d forgotten to get the day before and it wasn’t even a meter’s worth. She didn’t need help for that.

Besides, going by herself was much quicker. She was able to go by rooftop as Ladybug.

Of course, going as Ladybug had a risk to it that she didn’t realize until it was too late: responsibilities.

She groaned to herself as she made to jump to the next roof and her eyes landed on a person getting mugged in the alleyway below her.

She looked down at the bag with her fabric inside it and wondered if it was even worth leaving it there while she got rid of the attacker. Most of the time the people mugging people in Gotham were using fake guns. Even if they weren’t, muggings were common enough that most people had little on them and were only slightly annoyed when people tried to rob them. The person below was no exception, it seemed. They scoffed when the gunman poked their back.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” they said irritably.

Wait, shit, she knew that voice.

She squinted down into the darkness and, yep, she would recognize that almost unhealthily pale skin anywhere.

She dropped down into the alley between them and, to her slight surprise, it turned out the gun actually did have bullets in it. A shot rang out. She fell back a step, cradling her shoulder.

The gunman’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to shoot her. It had probably just been a split second reaction.

Unfortunately for him, getting shot really fucking hurts and she was going to take it out on him. Especially since he’d been trying to mug one of her friends. She glanced back at Tim, who was shaking and a little pale, and grit her teeth. Yeah, this guy was fucked.

Eventually, though, the pain in her shoulder, worsened by all the movement, got too unbearable and she rolled off of the mugger. She tied the man’s hands and feet behind his back with her yoyo and, after calling Miraculous Ladybug, called it a day. She’d get her yoyo back later.

For now, she pressed a hand to her ear. “Hey, Signal, I’ve got one for you.”

“You’re joining me for daytime patrols now?” He asked, his voice somehow brighter than the powers he had.

“Nah, just happened to come across…” She considered embarrassing Tim but decided against it when she saw her friend’s face. “... someone getting mugged while out today.”

He huffed a little but she ignored it in favor of relaying the address.

The perpetrator to be taken care of, she turned to the victim. She didn’t know whether the rules applied to people you knew, but she figured she might as well go through with the normal procedure. Tim liked procedure, it might help him.

So, step one: connect with the victim. She unzipped her hoodie and smiled brightly, making sure her eyes crinkled behind her mask.

Step two: check to make sure they aren’t going into shock.

Normally, she was able to skip this step. The miracle cure got rid of it if they had gone into it before the attack… but his eyes were somehow both fixed intensely on her like he was scared she’d disappear if he chanced a look away and extremely vacant.

She took slow, careful steps towards him, hand out to check his pulse.

Once she was close enough, he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. Marinette didn’t quite know what to do. The part of her brain still doing the normal procedure told her to hug back because this was a scared victim that wanted comfort, but the other part was tempted to push him off to check for a concussion… even though, logically, he shouldn’t have one because she had cast Miraculous Ladybug so her arm wouldn’t have a bullet in it anymore --.

Oh. She was stupid.

He’d watched his friend get shot and now he was freaking out. Like people are supposed to do.

She hugged him back, bringing a hand up to run through his hair.

“Would you like me to take you home?” She asked.

“My… my friend lives near here,” said Tim quietly, mindful of the fact that the mugger was still within earshot.

She nodded. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?”

He bit his lip so hard that she worried he’d break the skin and nodded.

She took him home and, with only a brief stop to keep Vanelope from escaping, set him down on the couch. She kept a hand touching him at all times as she gathered the blankets and pillows strewn about by all the visits the bats made. For once, she was glad she never really had time to clean, she didn’t want to let go of him when he was clearly so concerned about her.

Less than five minutes later she’d wrapped them both up as tightly as she could with as many blankets as she could reach. He rested his head against her shoulder, arms loosely draped around her under the blankets. Vanelope settled on their laps and started to purr; she made a mental note to give her a bunch of treats later.

But, for now…

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and waited patiently as he struggled to pull himself together enough to actually be present.

“Darling, I said I wouldn’t go anywhere. I’m not breaking that promise. Okay?”

He nodded slightly, finally releasing his lip to speak: “Okay.”

She pressed a kiss to his nose. A half smile made its way across his face.

“Now, how do you feel about Big Fish?”

He squeezed her a little tighter. “The circus scene is cute.”

She nodded her agreement. “I like the daffodil scene better, personally, but it is pretty cute.”

She turned the movie on.

~

Tim was sure he was overreacting. Of course he was. She hadn’t died, she wasn’t even hurt any more. It clearly didn’t bother her, he had ‘accidentally’ chosen that shoulder to rest his head on and she hadn’t so much as winced when he had. No, the only worry she had was about him.

So, he should be fine.

But he wasn’t.

She’d been shot and, for a second, he’d feared it would be another Darla situation. And he couldn’t deal with another Darla situation. He couldn’t. He had to believe that he was better than that high school Tim that had let all his friends die. Because if he wasn’t better than that meant he couldn’t have friends and he couldn’t deal with that either.

He didn’t want to be alone again.

No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He could think of a plan, surely. He was a planner, he found problems and he dealt with them. That had been his coping mechanism pretty much since birth and (if you ignore all the workaholic tendencies, independence issues, and General Trauma) it was working out pretty well for him. Can’t be sad if there’s work to do, after all.

Yeah. Work. He was good at work.

He bit his lip.

Alright, so the problem stemmed from his fear of being alone… which wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon. Good coping mechanisms? In this family? Please. Next.

Alright, so the problem stemmed from his fear of her getting hurt.

Simple solution! Don’t let her get hurt!

… not as simple a solution as it sounded on paper.

She wasn’t going to stop vigilantism anytime soon. He wouldn’t make her, and she wasn’t going to do it on her own accord. Even if she decided to at some point Tim didn’t have much hope for it. Every person in the family had tried that already, it never worked. They’d say that it would be fine, that they were going to stop for their mental health or even just permanently end it… but family was family and how could someone sit back and watch family get hurt when they could do something about it?

So, that wasn’t going to happen. What other answers were there?

Well, he supposed that she had left on her own and that was the main problem. If she hadn’t left on her own then he wouldn’t have followed after her in secret and he wouldn’t have gotten attacked in the first place.

But he couldn’t be around much more without it being weird unless he…

He couldn’t…

Could he?

He figured it was worth a shot. And he should ask now. If she said no he wouldn’t have to worry about her thinking him weird, she’d just assume it was a request made while in the middle of shock and forget about it.

He hesitantly let go of his lip.

“Hey, Bean?”

She stopped pretending to watch Big Fish for the sake of giving him privacy. “Yeah?”

“Remember when… I…” He bit his lip, trying to think of a better way to phrase it, but he couldn’t. There really was no casual way to ask. He took a deep breath to steady himself. “Can I, maybe, move in with you?”

She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, before quickly shaking her head.

He must have looked pretty put out, because she rushed to explain herself:

"You’re under emotional duress, darling, it wouldn’t be right to say yes.”

He nodded his understanding and it was silent for a bit before he eventually said: “But, if I asked tomorrow… would you say yes?”

She looked at him for a while, her face unreadable, before she gave him a hesitant smile.

“Well, I already said that you basically lived here. I suppose there wouldn’t be anything wrong with making it official.”

[babypandawrites]

Allies, Pt. 4

The Storm

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 1,790 Summary: You find out Sokka’s ideas are more terrible than you originally thought. 

-Navigation- | -Allies Masterlist- | -Atla Masterlist- 

Getting abruptly woken up by something jumping on your face then your chest was not a pleasant way to be woken up.  Y/n bolted up in a panic, reaching for her bow that had been laying next to her.  “Huh? Uh… What’s going on? Did we get captured again?” Sokka spoke groggily next to her, he must have gotten woken up too.  Aang looked between his friends. “It’s nothing, I just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”  “Don’t have to tell me twice.”  Setting her bow back down, Y/n spared Aang a quick glance, before deciding she was far too tired to deal with this right now. Seemed like Katara was going to talk to him anyways. She fell onto her back, and rested an arm over her eyes.  “Are you all right, Aang?”  Not falling back asleep immediately, she listened in on Katara and Aang’s conversation.  “I’m okay.” “You seem to be having a lot of nightmares lately, you wanna tell me about it?” “I think I just need some rest.”  She heard Sokka move around next to her. “You guys want to hear about my dream?” There was a pause. “That’s okay, I didn’t want to talk about it anyways.”  When the others went silent, Y/n drifted back to sleep.  The next morning, Y/n helped Katara pack up their things. Aang sat atop Appa’s head, pointing out to the sky.  “Look at those clear skies, buddy! Should be some smooth flying.”  Katara examined the bag they carried food in. “Well, we better smoothly fly ourselves to a market, cause we’re out of food.”  Sokka looked at them alarmed. “Guys, wait, this was in my dream, we shouldn’t go to the market.” Y/n looked at him questioningly. “What happened in your dream?”  “Food eats people!” The three looked at him unimpressed. “Also, Momo could talk.” He turned to look at the lemur. “You said some very unkind things.” 

Once they’d gotten to a market, they got some food. Currently, Katara was judging the quality of some fruit while Y/n, Aang and Sokka stood off to the side.  “Ah, it’s good! It’s perfect, I’m telling you!” The shopkeeper tried to convince her of the quality, but she didn’t seem to be agreeing. She shook the fruit, which made a swishing sound.  “I don’t know if I like the sound of that swishing.” “Swishing means it’s ripe! It’s the ripe juices swishing around, eh?”  “I think it’s true, Katara, swishing means it’s ripe.” Aang agreed with the keeper, though Y/n was skeptical like her friend.  “I dunno about that.”  Katara put the fruit back. “I just realized we’re out of money anyways.”  The shopkeeper groaned, taking the basket of fruit that Sokka had been holding, kicking him as he walked by. Dejected, Sokka rubbed at the place he was kicked as they walked away from the stand. “Out of food and out of money, now what are we supposed to do?”  “I could get some forage-” Y/n’s suggestion was ignored.  “You could get a job, smart guy.” Katara said to her brother.  “That also works.”  Hands on her hips, Katara turned to look at Y/n. “You could get one too, you know.”  They walked past a pair of old people who’d been speaking amongst themselves, but were easily overheard.  “We shouldn’t go out there! Please, the fish can wait. There’s going to be a terrible storm.” “Ahh, you’re crazy! It’s a nice day. No clouds, no wind, no nothing, so quit you’re naggin’ woman.”  Aang looked between the other three. “Maybe we should find some shelter?”  Sokka scoffed. “Are you kidding? Shelter from what?”  “This apparent storm.” Y/n glanced up at the sky. “That’s what my bad feeling must have been about.”  “You had a bad feeling and didn’t say anything?”  She looked at Sokka with a blank expression. “You guys never listen to them.” “My joints say there’s going to be a storm! A bad one.” “Well, it’s your joints against my brain.” “Then I hope your brain can find someone else to haul that fish, cause I ain’t comin'!” “Then I’ll find a new fish hauler and pay ‘em double what you get! How do you like that?” Sokka grabbed onto Y/n’s wrist, and dragged her over to the pair. “We’ll go!” The man pointed at them. “You’re hired!”  Katara, Aang and Y/n gave him a look. “What? You said ‘get a job’ and he’s paying double.” The man looked at Sokka like he was crazy. “Double? Who told ya that nonsense?”  Y/n ignored the old man. “Hey, why are you dragging me into this?” “You were told to get a job too!” Pausing, he leaned close to her ear. “And if we both do it, we both get paid. That’s double the pay regardless!” 

Sokka was loading up the fishing boat that belonged to the old man, Y/n hesitantly helping him. She paused, looking up at the sky with worry. It’d begun to fill with dark storm clouds, and the wind was starting to pick up.  Aang had been looking at the sky worried as well. “Sokka, maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I mean look at the sky.”  “I said I was gonna do this job. I can’t back out just because of some bad weather.” Sokka continued to load up the boat.  The old woman from before looked at the kids. “The boy with tattoos has some sense. You should listen to him!”  The old man sat down some boxes, before looking over at Aang. “Boy with tattoos? Airbender tattoos… Well I’ll be a hog monkey's uncle! You’re the Avatar, ain’t ya?”  “Y/n, come on help me out a bit here.”  Sighing, she picked up a box, and followed Sokka below the boat's deck with it. When they came back up, the others were nowhere to be found.  Sokka noticed this too. “Hey, they left without saying goodbye!”  “You’re friends ain’t too polite, are they?” Y/n went to grab another box. “They’re plenty polite..”  She was ignored, as Sokka agreed with the man. “I know! This one time I was-” The old man cut him off, handing him a box. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, get below deck.”  The three went off onto the boat, and set sail to sea. 

It didn’t take very long for the wind to pick up immensely, nor for the rain to start pouring down. Lightning struck in the distance, as a large wave hit the boat causing it to rock aggressively jerking them around.  Y/n found herself gripping tightly on the boat's railing, as Sokka and the old man struggled to pilot the boat.  “You know, Sokka, I think this will be a really good teaching moment for you if we get out of this alive!”  “Yeah okay! I’ll never doubt one of your bad feelings again! Can you get over here and help us?!” “What the boy said!” She looked at them with an exasperated expression as the boat rocked aggressively, jerking the three around. “You want me to let go of the only thing keeping me on board?! Thanks but no thanks, I think I’m fine where I’m at!”  The man looked at her. “Girly there isn’t going to be a board for you to stay on if we crash this!”  Gulping, Y/n hesitated for a short moment, before letting go of the boats railing. She moved quickly to join the other two, but a large wave hit the boat. It jerked her back and caused her to tip over the boat's railing.  “Y/n!”  With a shout, she was able to grab onto the railing before she fell into the water. The railing was wet and slippery though, it was hard to keep a grip on it. “Sokka, help!”  Sokka left the old man to pilot the boat on his own, and rushed over to the railing. He braced himself against it, before reaching out to grasp onto her wrist, catching her just as her grip slipped from the rail. “Gotcha!”  He pulled Y/n back onto the deck, and she was quick to latch onto the railing for dear life, breathing out a relieved sigh.  “We gotta get over there and help him!”  “Are you crazy?!”  Their grips on the railing tightened, as another large wave rocked the boat. The old man looked over at the two.  “I ain’t gonna be able to keep this in control for much longer! Listen to the boy!”  “Y/n, go! I’ll be here in case you get knocked back again!”  She wasn’t very willing to let go of the rail, that had been horrifying and not something she wanted to happen again. But still, she hesitantly released the railing and ran over to the man to help him. This time she’d made it, and Sokka was fast to join them to help try and pilot the ship. 

Suddenly- and thankfully -Aang jumped down onto the boat. After stopping a part of the boat that broke from hurting any of them, he grabbed onto the rope Sokka had. “Hang on to the rope!” He airbended himself back up to Appa, pulling Sokka, Y/n and the old man with him. They all landed on the bison safely. Behind them a shadow appears, the sound of rushing water could be heard. A giant wave was progressively growing behind them. Appa tried to fly away from it, but wasn’t fast enough, causing them all to get submerged. Aang drifted away from them, using his Avatar powers to create a ball of energy around them all, rising them from the water and back into the sky. Once they escaped the water, Appa took them all back to a cave.  The old woman from before ran over to embrace her husband. “Oh, you’re alive!” Now frowning, she pointed to Aang. “You owe this boy an apology.” “He doesn’t have to apologize.” “Mmm, uh, what is instead of an apology I give him a free fish and we call it even?” “Actually, I don’t eat meat.”  “Fish ain’t meat.”  Sokka held out a hand to the man. “Seriously, you’re still going to pay us, right?”  The old man raised an eyebrow, before dropping a fish in the boy's hand. He made a frightened sound, dropping the fish to the ground.  Crossing her arms over her chest, Y/n looked at the man with a blank expression. “Really?!” He just ignored her. Breathing out a sigh, she looked at Sokka. “Next time we need a job, I’m picking it.” “That’s fair.”  “Oh and uh… Thanks for saving me back there.” Pausing she rolled her eyes in a joking manner. “Even if it was your fault in the first place.”  They shared a quick laugh. “Yeah, of course.”

[saphirered]

Orym and a arcane Archer reader, maybe the group is in some fight and everything is looking bad for them but them out of nowhere all the bad guys are getting sniped left and right! After everything cools down this beautiful/handsome Archer steps out of the shadows and is checking up to see if their all okay while orym is just quietly freaking out cause WOW THAT WAS COOL AND HOT lol. Sorry that this is long I really like orym!

Here you go. Enjoy! 😘

They knew Poska’s folks would catch up to them at some point and maybe they should have prepared for that while they had the time. However, they got caught up in the mix of life and forgot about the entire fact they were on the run. The good thing about being in a forest; there’s loads of trees to take cover behind. The bad part, there’s little to no space for a cart to move through off road; especially not one dubbed the ‘glitter shitter’ and the moment your enemies make it up close, you’re already screwed.

Where are these guys coming from? Orym thinks. There’s more than they expected. Apparently Poska had learned her lesson after the whole ordeal; sending just the two to kill them, then falling under Fearne’s spell herself. She wasn’t going to let them get away a third time. Opal is about to take another hit but Orym swings in, covering her with the shield and successfully deflecting the blow. Then need a game changer and they need it quickly.

“Opal, if you ever thought apologising to your sister was a good idea, please let it be now.” Orym suggests and while Opal already had a brush with death once, she’s a stubborn one. She’s not backing down now. Ted’s wrong. She’s right but Orym does have a point. Could she fake apologise? Orym doesn’t care. As long as this works and they get out.

Dariax goes down but luckily Fearne is nearby to get him back to his feet. Dorian is in a scuffle with two of the Nameless Ones and there’s no disengaging with where he’s at so he keeps swinging his weapons trying to inspire the others to help the group as much as he can. Fy’ra is kicking some ass but she can’t save them all and she knows that. Orym gives Opal the chance to back off and get out of the thick of it. Their assailants are pushing them together, slowly enclosing them and they’re succeeding. Within a few rounds they have nowhere to run.

“We’re surrounded. What now?” Fearne looks at the faces of the Nameless Ones. One of them jumps a little meeting her glare. Good she left an impression but it’s not going to help her much.

The first one gets ready to strike, opens his mouth to speak but the words fall silent. Instead the man lets out a soundless scream. The bloodied head of an arrow visible to the group. Frantically the Nameless Ones look around for who just shot their buddy. Sinking to the ground clutching his throat that one’s out of the game. One down, several to go.

Sticking to the shadows and hiding in and behind the trees you keep moving every time you release another arrow. This group needs some desperate help so when you got a call from an old friend saying adventure and trouble’s on the horizon, how could you refuse. These poor suckers look like they could use some help. Seriously, they have two people that look like they’re properly prepared for a fight? How have they lasted this long? Granted, you came in a bit late and missed most of their fight but you’re here now so does it really matter?

“This is your first and only chance so listen carefully. You leave these people be. Return to your boss and tell her to piss off or you’re going to end up just like your buddy over there.” You hide up high among the branches. The thugs search the grounds but don’t spot you. Idiots.

“Yeah! You better listen to them!” The dwarf cheers on but is quickly silenced by Orym. How could they even be sure you’re a friend and not just someone else looking for the bounty on their heads? Then again, you did tell the thugs to leave them alone and pretty much told Poska to shove it.

You notice one of the thugs reach for a sword, making a move to attack the group. The halfling deflects the blow and swings back. This kickstarts the whole fight again. Okay, playtime’s over. You rain down hellfire from the comfort of your trees picking them off one by one. Both the groups and the thugs catch sight of a shadow moving through but you’ve disappeared before they can track you. In a matter of seconds with the collective fighting back of the group you’ve taken down most of their assailants.

The halfling is being attacked by one of the thugs who relentlessly keeps hitting. The intent is clear; kill. While the halfling deflects and dodges a fair amount of hits, still plenty of them come through and he’s looking a little worse for wear. You land down on the forest floor with grace, light on your feet you barely even make a noise. You draw an arrow calling upon your teachings of old. You pull back the string to the corner of your lips keeping you shoulders low allowing the back muscles to do all the work. You release the string, letting your fingertips slide off, watching the arrow fly and hit the halfling’s attacker right in the chest. It’s a true hit.

When Orym sees another hit incoming he lifts his shield to take cover but the hit never comes. Instead the attacker is gone and there he sees you, bow lifted, still in the aftermath of releasing the arrow you fired. You give him a little wink as you draw another arrow. Your place given away, one of the last thugs runs for you. You before the idiot can even reach you, draw another arrow, repeats the process but this time when your arrow strikes a burst of brambles takes hold over the thug. The thug tries to get out but the poison is strong enough to finish him.

“You might wanna move out of the way.” You turn your attention back to the halting who isn’t going to question your suggestion. The thug that disappeared reappears in the previous spot striking down and hitting nothing but dirt. You nock another arrow and fire. Killing shot. You’re on a roll. With the tides sufficiently turned and the thugs strongly outmatched you finish off the last of them. You certainly knew how to catch their attention.

You’re going around, collecting your arrows, or whatever still usable, letting the group do their thing. Finally getting a good look at you Orym hesitates to interrupt you. Perhaps it’s because you’re intimidating, your looks certainly fit the badass angel of death aesthetic. You’re dropped gorgeous. Or maybe he’s hesitant to approach for another reason. You saved his ass a few times during that fight and you’re highly skilled with a bow. He’s heard stories about archers like you and you’re like a myth standing right in front of him. Everything about you calls for his attention.

You notice the halfling keeping an eye on you. What were you told his name was again? Orym. He’s definitely cuter than you were told. Maybe you’ll stick around for a little while? Arrows gathered, unusable ones disposed of as a nice message left behind for the Nameless Ones that dare tread behind and make a move. The group has gathered most of their bearings but you need to move on soon. Others might follow.

“You all good? Because we need to move as soon as possible.” You come over to the group and you can feel Orym staring, his eyes following as you go. You’re unsure if it’s because you’re the stranger out here, the stunts you just pulled off, you being completely unimpressed by absolutely laying waste to these thugs or something else.

“Thank you. For your help and saving us, saving me. I don’t think we would still be standing weren’t it for you.” Orym tells you, gratitude and admiration written over his face. He’s surprised he doesn’t stumble over his words. You’ve caught him off guard in such a way he’s unsure how to handle it.

Helping them pack up and het back on the road you find yourself sharing the reigns of the ‘glitter shitter’ with Orym. You keep an eye out on the road jumping off every so often to do a perimeter sweep just to make sure you’re not being followed. You have a few conversations, mainly just trivial stuff between the two of you but the man hasn’t made a move yet to go into anything beyond surface levels of personal. After a good hour of silence, conversation seemingly having come to an end, nothing left to talk about just yet, Orym surprises you by breaking that silence.

“I just need to get this off my chest. When you came in, dropping those thugs dead like flies, you took my breath away and I don’t know how to say this the right way but you’re as gorgeous as you are deadly.” Flustered Orym keeps his eyes on the road not daring to look at you for a response. What if he said the wrong thing? He didn’t want to make things awkward between you and him and the group but he’s also at the point where he couldn’t not address this in fear it might get in the way in the future. Better to speak and be let down than say nothing and act solely on attraction later.

You face him with a grin. While somewhat socially awkward, but a good fighter, you appreciate his courage. The dusting of scarlet spreading across his cheeks really warms your heart. You’ve said it before; cute.

“Well, don’t hold back on these compliments on my account. Flattery will get you everywhere.” You offer him another wink. This might just be the start of something fun. Maybe in time Orym will be able to flirt without getting flustered and that day might come sooner rather than later. He, just like you, is full of surprises. Maybe he’ll even get you to blush if he’s feeling particularly courageous.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 131

Two things about this chapter:

One: I am a sucker for these domestic chapters. I love showing people being people, and weaving world-building and plot development into those scenes.

Two: I am currently doing better from a work-exhaustion perspective, thank you everyone who was concerned!  I actually took the day off the day before I wrote this and just slept as much as I could that day, because the last day I worked, I was literally swaying on my feet if I stood still.

As always, thanks to @the-raven-fae, @baelpenrose, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for keeping me going, along with every. Single. Person. Who has found this story somehow and just binged it as fast as you could. I love when my inbox gets detonated by someone new, please never stop!

Glimmering Feathers Podcast is currently doing The Miys from the very beginning! Please listen and support!

“Have the shelter locations for non-combatants been shortlisted?” I panted as Tyche and I sat on the floor of the gym after an intense cardio and sparring session.

She shook her head as she took a gulp of water. “Not that I know of, but Xio hasn’t really told me anything yet.”

“You would think we would be told pretty quick,” I complained. “After all, we’re supposed to be putting together the rosters of who goes where.”

“We put together the lists of combatants and non-combatants.” She stood and held out a hand to help pull me off the ground. “Our part is done for right now, and we’re pretty far ahead of schedule, honestly.”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of thing we want to leave to the last minute.”

Tyche groaned. “Right about now, I wish you were planning the Festival still. You get crabby when you’re stressed and don’t have anything to work on.”

I scowled and made pincer-like gestures with my hands.  She just laughed and shook her head before I asked, “Are you and Antoine coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Only if you let me shower first. We both stink.”

There was no way I could argue with that, especially as I went to put my glasses on and caught a whiff of myself. “Showers, then dinner at twenty-oneish?”  As we exited the gym, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the far-dimmer lighting. Chills ran down my back every time I recognized the similarity to the nightmares Else had given me while trying to communicate, and I always had to spend a few minutes forcing myself not to step over debris that wasn’t actually there.

“Can we do vegetarian tonight?”

“You have to talk Conor into it.”

 A couple hours later, we were standing in my kitchen area.  Tyche was aggressively mashing chickpeas while staring down a nearly-flinching Conor.

I leaned over from where I was mincing herbs. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’m making him lamb, he just doesn’t know it,” she whispered back from the corner of her mouth. 

To avoid smiling and giving it away, I called out instead. “Hey, Antoine, can you come start the tzatziki? You’re better at it than I am.”

“If you would give in to the existence of salt, Sophia, you would be a much happier woman,” he teased with a serious face.

“I use salt!” I objected.

“At the end,” my sister pointed out. “He salts the cucumbers before mixing everything together.” She glanced back at Conor before arching an eyebrow at him.

Distraction time. “Love, how are the plans for the housing fabrications coming?”

“Your mate Arthur apparently convinced Huynh - somehow, it’s not like they talk - that we don’t need fortifications,” he groaned. “I keep trying to explain that we aren’t putting up fortifications, it’s for agriculture.”

“Wait, what? What does that have to do with housing…?”

He tilted his head side to side as he considered. I could almost see him rewinding. “We have several different blueprints drafted for housing, dependent on what we learn when we drop into ‘real space’. Lots of them include plans for those espell-things to grow on the side, but Huynh is pushing back. It’s holding up the approvals.”

“What does Charly think?”

“Anything that helps us grow more plants with less impact on the environment is a win for her, so I’m trying to take the long view. He can decide whatever he wants now, but she’ll go with the plants every time.”

Antoine appeared next to me, wiping his hands. “How would your plan work if there is a cavern system, as suspected, rather than a surface settlement?”

He conceded the point. “Still working on a sustainable grow-light system for that one. But if it works, we would have year-round crops, so it would solve for the problem of storage in the winter.”

The door to our quarters opened just then, and a very tired-looking Maverick paused to take off his boots. “What would solve for the winter storage issue?” he asked.

“Sustainable grow-lights,” Tyche tossed over my shoulder from where she was hiding the lamb.

He made it as far as the table before dropping into a chair and leaning heavily on Conor, who wrinkled his nose. “Mav, you stink.”

“Turns out grav-mechs are greasy, even in space,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the other man’s shoulder instead of taking the hint. “I hate calibrating them.”

“No dirty hands at the table!” I reminded him. He didn’t move his head, just held up two meticulously scrubbed hands. “Fine…” I surrendered.

“Why are we talking about grow-lights?” he asked.

“Huynh is fighting with me ‘bout the housing solutions,” Conor explained, stroking his hair.

“Ah… the plants?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you just make the plants where they can grow with less light? I thought you were already working on that.”

“They turned black, tasted horrible, and we ended up with a sentient plague,” I pointed out. “No more dinking around with plant genomes please?”

Tyche turned around, hands on her hips. “We are already trying to manage a food festival and a potential invasion by space-pirates. No more plagues. Knowing her luck - “ she jerked a thumb in my direction “- this one won’t be the apologetic and cute kind.” Apparently the words that just came out of her mouth registered, because she rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air before turning back to her top-secret dinner plan.

I finally finished turning the pale green paste into patties and shoved them in the oven, removing the griddle that had been warming in there. Hefting it onto the heating elements that served as a stove, I started putting together dough for pitas. “So, grow-lights. What kind of light do we need for them to work?”

“Blue, ideally,” Conor responded without even having to think. “Four-fortyish nanometers. Weirdly red light, six-fiftyish nanometers works, too.”

“So explain the issue, because I feel like I’m missing something. Charly designed lights in both those colors.”

“Wrong wavelengths,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s apparently really hard to finetune the wavelengths of organic lighting. She’s managed to get it right, but only for about twenty four hours before it shifts too far one way or another.  We don’t want to depend on completely inorganic light, if Von is as metal-poor as we think it will be.”

“Can’t replace them,” I half-asked. He winked and shot me a finger-gun to confirm my suspicion. “Yeah, that’s a huge problem.”

“The star emits just the right kind of light, barely, so if we stick with surface settlement, we should be okay.”

“And that’s where the storage issue came up,” Maverick mumbled sleepily, bringing us back to the original question he asked.

Conor jostled him gently, and I heard something about a shower to wake up before Maverick padded off in the direction of the bathroom.  Right at the same time, Tyche reached around me to flip a pita before blowing her fingers and cursing softly.  Apparently, her secret was done, so I handed her the spatula and started rolling out more dough.

By the time Maverick came back with wet hair and a too-big shirt that had to be Conor’s, most of the food was on the table and we were ready to eat.  Conor started grumbling about no meat and how could us weirdos eat a meal with no meat when he was interrupted by Tyche clearing her throat. His head snapped up and his jaw dropped.

“You! You are the sneakiest, most beautiful sister in law I could ever ask for,” he extolled dramatically as he saw the platter of lamb skewers in her hands.

She moved the platter out of his prodigious reach as she approached the table. “There’s a catch. You have to at least try the falafel. By itself, no lamb. Then you can have the meat.”

Maverick, more awake now and with half a sandwich already in his mouth nodded. After chewing and swallowing, he nodded again. “It’s really good, I swear.”

I pretended not to notice that he grabbed a skewer off the stack.  Then again, Maverick also wasn’t a grown man who still had to be bribed to eat vegetables. Usually, he had to be bribed to eat meat actually.

Conor, on the other hand, took the falafel pita that Tyche made for him and eyed it skeptically. “I feel like I need to point out that this isn’t a sandwich, this is what you put on a sandwich.” His hesitancy lasted about as long as it took for Antoine to stand and pick up the platter before he took a huge bite out of fear that the lamb would be taken away. He chewed frantically until Antoine put the platter back down, before he actually registered the taste.

I wanted to laugh at the confusion that flooded his face as he stared down at the sandwich in his hand. Finally, he swallowed, but the confusion didn’t stop.

“That’s…. Actually not bad. I thought vegetarian food was supposed to be bad?” He flinched when dual glares were thrown his way by me and my sister. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant - you know what, I’m going to shut up and eat before you two ladies decide I’m for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Very wise course of action,” Antoine confirmed solemnly as he carefully spooned tzatziki on his own, onion-loaded sandwich.

Still shaking my head, I started making my own food when I realized something. “I thought we made a lot more falafel than this?”

Tyche smirked but didn’t say anything. Neither did Antoine, focused on his own meal. Maverick however, was suspiciously quiet. I glanced over at him, only to see him staring really hard at his plate, which now had three empty skewers on it.  As my mind caught up, I actually found the sight kind of adorable.

I must have stared too long though, because Maverick muttered pathetically. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

Kissing the top of his head, I put another pita on his plate. “Baby, we made more than enough. Eat all you want. I just don’t want you to choke, that’s all.”

A long-fingered hand with slightly ginger hair on the back put a skewer on his plate. “Love, we can’t eat all this, you’re fine.”

“I always make enough food for ten people when you two are eating,” Tyche confirmed, not even looking up. “Teenage nephews in the Before. Lots of practice.”

He slowly looked up at us, and realizing that no one was angry, just surprised, he looked less afraid and sat up straight. Conor patted the top of his hand before deploying one of his weaponized, thousand-watt smiles. “C’mon, I’ll show you to make one with the lamb. You’re gonna need a lot of onions for this…”

I groaned, setting off a round of laughter. I wasn’t against onions on a sandwich, but they didn’t have to sleep between two men with onion breath.

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[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

[obxfishon]

Chasing Waterfalls

(this gif has my heart (LOOK AT THAT SMILE), creds to the creator)

JJ x Reader

Description: Emotions flow like the water in the waterfall.

Prompts: “I wish I had a boyfriend.” “so what do you look for in a guy?” “real stuff, like the shape of his ass” “So, I found this waterfall…”

Word Count: 1.9k (I’m slacking sry)

“BYE MOM I’LL BE HOME TOMORROW!” You scream as you run from the house.

John B’s was pretty close, and you were about to make today unforgettable. The crew had been down in the dumps thinking that there wasn’t anything new for them to do, it was just the same old same old, but you found something at work yesterday.

You work at the country club with JJ, you both applied together a few summers ago when it was becoming apparent that you needed money to go on all the adventures.

While bussing a table yesterday, the girls behind you were talking about this amazing hike that led to a waterfall that had water deep enough that you could jump off into it. You read the name from their tab and searched for her instagram, sure enough she was public and posted the pictures from the hike with a location tag.

Saving the location you texted the Pogues to meet at John B’s tomorrow with food, proper shoes and a bathing suit. You didn’t want to give too much away but they needed to be at least a little prepared for what you had planned.

Racing onto the property you see that you are the last one to arrive, the rest all sitting on the porch trying to figure out what you have planned.

“Are you all ready to have the best day of your life?” You questioned as you jumped onto the porch with them.

“C’mon (Y/n), just spill, what do you have planned?” Kie asks, excitement evident in her voice.

“So, I found this waterfall, well I actually heard about it at work yesterday, but then I found the location and we’re gonna spend the day there!” You explain, watching the smiles grow on everyone’s faces.

“It’s about an hour and a half drive, but I think it’ll be so worth it!” You finish, slightly jumping up and down.

Everyone smiled and nodded and started packing everything that would be needed for the trip.

“(Y/n),” JJ squeezed you into a tight hug and spun you in a circle, “you have saved us all from extreme boredom, so, you’ve been moved up in the rankings and have become my favorite person, John B you’re now in second.”

“HEY! I thought I was forever at first?!” John B yelled from the van.

“Well I haven’t heard you offering any fun ideas, but you do house me and drive me places, just be happy you're still towards the top.” JJ remarked and grabbed the last load of things to bring to the van, throwing a wink your way.

You met JJ and the rest of the group when you moved here a few years back, your mom ran a convenience store that kept you afloat for the most part, getting a job at the county club helped you guys have a little extra cash after the bills were paid.

You clicked with the group better than anyone thought possible, together you all formed a family and there was nothing that could wedge between you all.

—-

The drive was full of awful karaoke and dances between all of you. The energy was unmatchable, everyone just letting go of the stresses of home.

Quicker than expected you all arrived and gathered the necessary belongings into backpacks before setting off on the small hike to where the waterfall was waiting.

It was a hot day and this seemed to be a popular spot to come so there were quite a few other people when you came over the final hill and laid eyes on the waterfall.

It was beautiful, the water fell perfectly and the water was a crystal blue, speckled with a few other people enjoying the cool water.

The group set up towels and the rest of the stuff in a sunny spot before heading for the ledge that people were jumping off. Kie wasted no time in running to the ledge and jumping off, letting out a yell of pure joy as her feet left the ground, she resurfaces with the biggest smile on her face, calling for the rest of you to follow.

John B, Sarah, and Pope followed, but you hesitated due to the nerves that came out of nowhere, JJ picked up on this.

“M’lady,” JJ held out a hand, offering a little extra confidence with it, that you took before both running to the end and jumping off, not letting go of him until you had to in order to swim back to the surface.

Everyone was swimming and throwing water on eachother, occasionally getting out to jump back in again moments later.

After a good amount of time it was decided to get out and take a little snack and rest break, so the group moved to the towels and relaxed in the warm sun.

Looking out to the water again you watch as a couple clung to each other as they floated around the water, just based on the way they looked at each other you could tell they were in love. Without thinking you opened your mouth.

“Ugh, I wish I had a boyfriend,” eyes slightly widening when it came out of your mouth, but you shrugged it off, everyone wished that… right?

“You know, (y/n), I don’t think I’ve ever even known you to date, have you?” Sarah moved her head up to look at you, as well as the rest of the group now.

“Nope, it’s hard to find someone who can handle me,” you smirked.

It was true, you hadn’t really dated before, sure you had crushes and had been in that weird talking stage before, but nothing ever became official.

You were a very strong willed girl, you knew what you wanted and how you wanted to be treated, and some people just seemed to be turned off or scared of that.

You also currently had a crush so deep that it didn’t really let you see anyone else as an option. As soon as you met JJ it was hard to ignore the butterflies that came every time he brushed your shoulder or smiled so big that it reached his eyes, just the small things.

“What do you even look for in a guy?” Kie propped her head up on her hands.

“Oh you know, real stuff, like the shape of his ass.” You smirked again and looked back at the group to see them all rolling their eyes and scoffing.

“Okay but really, what would it take to sweep you off your feet?” This time John B pushed.

Realizing you weren’t gonna be able to joke your way out of this you shrugged your shoulders.

“I mean, I don’t know. I want someone strong willed like myself, someone who really cares, would be willing to drop anything in order to help someone,” sighing you continue, “he needs to be a good listener, willing to pay attention to the little things. He needs to be able to make me laugh, that’s a big one. Oh! And someone who is giving, not like buying me things, I don’t need that, but someone who is willing to give me their time and is willing to work on things together.” You nodded your head and looked at them all, just staring back at you.

“You want someone the opposite of what your dad was.” JJ locked eyes with you and you felt your smile falter a bit.

“Yeah... yeah I guess.”

Your dad was awful to your mother, always told her that he could have done better, just rude and uncaring. When you were 12 your mother caught him cheating. She packed the two of you up and you left, she didn’t have a destination in mind, just drove until she ran out of land, literally. The two of you happened to stop at a gas station by the ferry and saw a listing for the small house that you two lived in now. She paid for a hotel for the week, got things in order to buy it, and set divorce papers to your father all in that week.

After that you two had started thriving in this new house, just you and her. Of course the divorce got messy, but he gave up custody of you without a fight, so after a year the divorce was final and you and your mother never spoke of him again.

“I learned from my mother what it means to be a strong woman, she taught me what it means to love someone, how to find the attributes of that love in someone else. She also taught me about where she went wrong, I know what traits can quickly turn toxic so when I see that in someone I keep my distance.” You are looking at the ground trying to hold back the tears.

Feeling an awkward silence you stood and plastered a fake smile on.

“I don’t know about y’all but I’ve had enough rest, I’m gonna go jump in again.” Nodding you turned and quickly walked to the other side of the water where the ledge was, where you were slightly hidden from the others.

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes and just tried to forget about the memories that we’re trying to break through, this was supposed to be a fun day, so dammit you were gonna be happy.

“Hey, (y/n), are you okay?”

Your eyes shoot open to see JJ staring back into your own.

“Uh,” you plastered the smile back on, “yeah, yeah I’m fine!”

“Bullshit,” JJ pushes your hair behind your ear and then takes you into his arms, holding you in a tight embrace, “I’m sorry I brought up your dad, I know it’s a touchy subject, I wasn’t thinking, trust me of all people in our group I understand not wanting to talking about your dad, but you know I’m here for you no matter what.”

He felt a sob shake your body in his arms and held you closer, rubbing small circles on your back, then pulling away from you to wipe your tears.

“(Y/n), I’ll give you my time, my attention, shit, I’d give my life for you,” JJ looked down at his feet then met your eyes with his own, “I hate to see you in pain, let me make you happy, okay?” He smiled at you and you felt a smile grow in your own face, nodding as he wiped the rest of your tears from your cheeks.

He pressed a short kiss to your forehead and grabbed your hand as you two walked towards the original destination.

“You know, as far as the qualities you look for in a guy, I do have to say, I DO have the best ass around,” he looked at you, causing a short giggle.

“Eh I dunno, could use some work.” You tried to hide your smile as you passed him, your hand reaching out slapping his butt as you sprinted for the ledge, hoping he wouldn’t be able to catch you.

He caught up to you at the very end, grabbing your waist before you both launched off the cliff.

After landing in the water he kept his hold on you, you both just floated together, you head resting back on his shoulder.

Maybe he would be the first boy that passed your test, the one to finally break down your walls.

Only time would tell.