#and he just gets to be suspended in this weird between state of 'yeah too far but nOT THAT FAR' and it's so fun | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spotaus · 2 months ago

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YEAHHHH!!!!!! >:D

Ancha I am SO glad you liked it because. Ough. I started writing it at like 11 at night and just. Kept going??? I was so so pumped!!!

I'm gonna try and follow where you went with the ideas, gimme a sec-

Okay so, yeah! Nightmare, at this point, views the training has his relax time! Kinda how someone can spend all their time doing work, say writing reports, and still enjoy writing stories in their free time! It still challenges him and interests him, but it's in a way with low stress. His knights can improve inch by inch now that their foundation is stable! And the training room is one of the most secure rooms in the castle, thanks to reinforcing it to withstand magic attacks!

And I really really wanted to take on idea of each of the guy's strengths! You got it perfectly so I'll try not to linger, but I kinda wanted to run off that original idea I had for the Knights knowing eachother and being in sync, but now it's more fitting to their personalities since I've gone into more depth with them! Killer has greatly influenced the others, in the way they fight and the way they act on the battlefield. It's like setting loose a feral animal on all these Knights who are Not Ready for dirty fighting. (Dust was used to diplomatic scuffles gone wrong, usually with the use of enchanted weaponry, Horror just. Did not fight prior to this. Abd Cross, as mentioned, was a muscle-memiry routine combat kinda guy!) And in the same breath, Killer learned from them too! Night might be their mentor, but Killer was committed to being a good influence on them, even if it didn't register to any of them-

A lot of that was also me trying to get a grip on how they'd behave in such a space alone with Night. Killer the most relaxed, Cross the most nervous, etc! And the little banter between them was fun!! (I also was trying to use technique I learned recently so combat reflection was a good opportunity for it, haha!)

One of my favorite bits in the beginning I think was, like you mentioned, Nightmare making sure they left training on a high note! I took the idea from your Q&A drabble actually, when u mentioned Night looking for ways to better keep hold of his knights? Yeah, he ensures to be even more vocal about what he noticed everyone doing well, just so they know! And Cross takes the praise the best visually, but he can tell the others at least seem pleased by it <3

Lastly!!! Yes, the bed-time was meant to be sorta a hint to the incoming turn of events, but it's also just meant to be a cute lil cameo too!! I think a few things never quite left his habits (like, his body getting more tired around Bedtime even though he regularly skipped sleep all together anymore) because. Y'know! Adult body still has Kid Night in there running the show! And because of the weird suspended state of his mind, it left him with odd quirks!

Okay, okay, hearing that you enjoyed the drama bit makes me SO happy, because this time I wanted to go with sonething that felt a bit more Nightmare-accurate. Night was always a quiet kid, a fawn rather than fight or flight, he kept his emotions tight to his chest because so few people cared in the first place. So, when his magic (the thing that made his moves for him, before he could freeze up or downplay or smother his feelings) Leaves? He's exhausted, and confused, and scared, and frankly out of it. He fawns again!

And the magic leaving, this time I wanted it to feel like it was in a moment of lull, no tension, no stakes (aside from a stinky Killer) and no sign for Night that anything was wrong. It all just dipped at once, and as it left his awareness it left him dizzy, disoriented, and!!!! I'm glad that you caught that he couldn't feel anything because the magic refused to work with him anymore!!! So the normal input didn't transfer to him!!! That weird lack of senses was also sort of my excuse to let the Knights start freaking out! Because idk how clear it was (intentionally not very if I did my job right lol-) but when Night's balance starts to screw up, Killer turns around. But it's Night initially who reaches out and grabs his arm, and then Killer has indirect permission to support his weight further and grab hold of him! Night subconsciously reached out to Killer, even if he didn't realize it in the moment. And ofc that's Killer being like 'oh that's not normal'.

And!!! Like in the og drabble, Dust goes on high alert immediately, but this time Cross and Horror hesitate! There's a part that Nightmare misses where Horror expresses worry and suggests he should grab the first aid and take a look, and Killer tells him no. Because Night (in that moment) is unresponsive, and Killer doesn't think Horror coukd help even if he tried. He might make it worse. And Horror tries to press his offer, before Night comes-to again to hear Killer snap at Horror to get Ccino! And like you said, Killer has no idea what's happening, but he's sure if anyone could help it would be Ccino! And in the meantime he just tries to keep Nightmare close, keep him steady. He doesn't like it one bit, but he knows he has to keep watch because Dust doesn't sense/see anyone, and Cross doesn't either as he guards the door!

And, ofc, Killer was horrified to find what was basically a babybones in his arms when all the goop left, but he was also shaken because. Well. That's the Prince from the tapestry. Night doesn't make the connection, but he'd seen images of Nightmare a few times, abd certainly images of his twin, enough to recognize that. Yeah. That's the same guy. And he can't explain it, but since Dust chimes in with magic loss, Killer makes some leaps in judgement. (Also!!! Dust isn't good with magic usually, but Nightmare's was so impressive it was always looming. The moment it was gone he spoke up. He's also OBNOXIOUSLY familiar with symptoms of magic loss. For. Obvious reasons 🙏)

Nightmare, in his fawning, couldn't decide whether the voice in his head reminding him that these Knights were kind, loyal souls was right, or if the instincts telling him to get away NOW were winning. He compromised in the firm of 'can't really move anyways so I'll sit here and be scared'.

And!!!!! I'm glad u liked Killer telling Cross to hold onto the magic! Killer's smart, and a fast thinker, and Cross was the nearest thing with any chance if keeping his king from??? Melting??? And to Cross' credit he DID grab it! He did great! (He feels awful about it after because from what *he* saw, it didn't help. It did! He just doesn't know!)

And. Ccino's piece in this was probably the part I was least certain on. Because Ccino assumed the Knights somehow set Nightmare into one of his worse episodes. Or, worse, he worried Night accidentally hurt one of the Knights and panicked. Horror was pretty vague about why he needed to hurry. And Ccino gets there and- well.

He hasn't seen that little skull in seven years, and it's got a big crack, and it's trembling, and one big eyelight is looking up at him. Nightmare was always his little brother, and yet all at once his instincts kicked back in. This was no powerful bomb waiting to be nudged just too far before exploding, not some otherworldly tyrant. This was his Nighty, somehow back to the way he was the day he protected his twin and swore into the prophecy. This was HIS Nighty.

So, for the first time in a while he drops pretenses. There's no effort to hide him away, Ccino knows well enough that trying to remove Nightmare from the Knight's vision right now would possibly get them both in hot water. So he does what he can, throws open his arms, and coddled his little brother tightly. So, so tightly. He has no idea how, or why, and obviously it's the same Night who'd spent the morning writing laws, but it was so surreal that he just had to get him close!!!!!

And Night, yeah, he just feels safe with Ccino, and irrational mind running off of a huge magic-drop? He deemed Ccino's arms a perfect place to shed some tears and then pass out-

If I had to do a follow-up it'd definitely be either a Ccino or Killer chapter following either the moment Night is free of the goop (Killer) or the moment he enters the training room (Ccino) and then the conversational aftermath! (I also think they move the whole party to Nightmare's room eventually, and somewhere along the line Dust brings up that lighter foods might help-) just lil silly details haha! But it's basically a force of nature making the Knights and Ccino agree to a pact of sorts just to agree to help Nightmare. He's still the king. He's just... young now. Again.

Okay I got a lil wild but- I'm just so so happy you enjoyed it!!! A healthy balance if shenanigans for the boys, panic for Nightmare, and an unexpected surprise for Ccino!!!!

New Age AU (The Magic Retreats)

Hi guys!!! So, I wrote this one in a fit of passion, but here's a brief take 2 on the most important chapter of the fic and the first one I posted! (In which Night becomes Tiny again :] ) As always this drabble is unedited and un-checked so uhh. Good luck!

(HI @ancha-aus , @papiliovolens , and @mutzelputz welcome back!)

The days felt like they were growing longer again. Maybe it was the change of the seasons, or the workload ramping up again making his nights bleed into his mornings. No matter the case, Nightmare was lucky to have moments of rest from his endless piles of debts and taxes and laws and requests that were strewn all about his office. They were nice, neat, piles now, but they seemed to be an endless cycle. He'd solve one problem and it would result in a new report of catastrophe somewhere else.

Often, he wondered whether it was that his Mother's ruling style had truly worked, or if she'd ignored it. After all, she'd been a God amongst mortals, why would she care for a few challenged livelihoods amidst her paradise?

The sharp clash of metal on magic drew Nightmare's attention back to the present. Against all odds, he'd managed to convince Cross to start training his sword again. When Cross had first started getting lessons to properly control his magic, harnessing even whisps of Nightmare's own spells on occasion, he'd quickly neglected his physical training. Over the last few weeks, Nightmare had voiced his worry that Cross might find himself up against another foe like Dust. One who he couldn't simply control. He needed to re-learn his old battle tactics. Only then, he'd promised, they would move on to harnessing both at once.

So, now, he was sparring against Horror in the training room. Nightmare sat off to the side on the benches, Dust and Killer on either side of him watching intently. Two of his tendrils hovered readily before him, ready to pounce to intercept any wayward attacks or truly dangerous intent, though he trusted his Knight to not put his newest comrade in any real danger. The other two tendrils lay lax behind the bench, curling comfortably beneath where his other Knights sat at his sides.

These were the sorts of daily distractions he enjoyed. Which pulled him away from the stress of the papers and the outside world. He could focus solely on his charges and how best to help them. They helped him so often, he just wanted to return the favor.

His eyelight followed the movements, as Horror stayed more or less right on Cross's tail. His axe swung slower than normal, and it was obvious he was taking the training seriously without giving Cross a heart-attack from the force of his normal blows. It wasn't often Nightmare allowed them to pair up precisely because of that. Horror had no magic for Cross to control, none that would help him at least. Meanwhile, Horror's brute strength could snap Cross like a twig if something were to go slightly awry.

A swing of the axe, Cross's longsword cracking against the handle as he blocked. A push-off, sending Cross back a few steps before he swung. Missed. The axe was on him again, this time towards his side. Cross jumped over it, swung his sword. Missed again. The axe came in again, from above. A narrow block, one which forced Cross to his knee, before Horror let up.

Horror was simply a marvel of physical combat. He hadn't been a good fighter when Nightmare met him, but he'd learned very quickly. From watching the guards, from listening to Nightmare. Though, Nightmare was almost positive Killer had actually been his biggest influence. Killer, the cockpit, single Knight at that time. He'd taken Dust under his supervision at the time, practically heading the dismantling of the crime rings Dust knew so well all on his own. Meanwhile, Nightmare was working with Horror to understand how to fix the farming situation across the kingdom. Once things settled, and Nightmare expressed interest in having Horror stick around, it was Killer who showed off in combat training. Horror spun off his feet and pushed off his hands in the way expected of a much smaller, leaner, monster. Very similar to how Killer fought when he was playing around.

It was evidently too unfamiliar for Cross. He'd been taught formal swordplay, but here in this kingdom? That was about as useful as playing with a slingshot and trying to operate a trebuchet. It seemed similar, but it could only get one so far.

Cross had been steadily improving, of course. Just a year or so ago, Cross had been besting all the rest of the royal guard out on the training field. But placed against Killer, the best of the best at practical combat, no holds bar? He'd fumbled. Now, Nightmare knew Cross could hold his own against his proudest Knight. That meant a lot in such a short time. Pride filled his chest at the thought, as he watched the two of them clash again and again.

He knew his time was running short for today. He'd had Dust and Killer work on their team-building and attack him earlier on in training while Cross and Horror were warming up. As he already knew, they were chatty, but very efficient in their coordination.

"On your left!" Killer would call out. Dust would simply duck as Killer instead vaulted over his head as though emerging from the shorter Knight's shadow, knife in hand, glowing red with energy.

Killer's use of deceptive verbal cues was a talent he'd come up with all his own. Nightmare remembered him pestering Dust over it every dinner for a week after he'd first thought of it. Dust had seemed annoyed at first, but Nightmare could tell after the first session of them trying it out, against him? He'd been unaware, and if his magic didn't work separate from his mind on occasion, they would have gotten him in the first two minutes.

They'd used it again earlier, and even after several years it still kept Nightmare on his toes. He figured that was why he felt tired as he watched the two locked in mock battle before him. The cognitive challenges did tend to make his socket heavy with sleep. And he hated to admit it, but he always knew about when to end their afternoon trainings, because it lined up with when his mind would start to lag. Even years later, his body still seemed to respond to the familiar draw of a long-discarded bed time.

He'd let them exchange a few more blows, before calling it off and ushering them all off to clean up before dinner. Even if he knew only Cross and Dust would go wash up. Horror would go change out of his training gear into clean clothes, he hated to look messy at the dinner table, abd Killer would simply stick to his side like glue.

It never was a point of complaint, he appreciated the commitment, but sometimes he really did wish he'd at least take a moment to swap clothes. Sometimes he tracked all sorts of dirt and scraps of magic out of the training room and into the halls.

Mm. The clashing seemed to have reached a rhythm. That meant Cross had gotten familiar with Horror's movement patterns again. It never lasted long, Horror was very adaptable, but it did mean that Cross would be locked into the stalemate now, or it'd be an easy defeat for Horror. Better to call it now and send them off with a bit of praise. They never ceased to impress him, they'd all grown so much.

"Alright, end the match." he called. It didn't take hardly a moment for the order to register after his voice carried to the two monsters.

Cross was the first to pull away, with Horror letting his swing fall short and his Axe's momentum swing up and into the air. He caught the grip and almost immediately stuffed it back into its own holster along his back. Cross sheathed his sword, and while a bit out of breath, he still grinned triumphantly and bowed amicably to Horror. Horror returned it with a nod. Their little ritual.

"Wonderful work today, all of you." Nightmare announced, his front two tendrils slinking back to his sides as they no longer had danger to be hyper aware of. To defend against. "Tomorrow, I want to see you two spar again, I believe you are making great leaps in progress, Cross. Dust will provide you both with terrain obstacles in the form of erratic magic attacks to simulate a more turbulent battle field and provide Horror with more opportunity to practice dodging." The suggestion seemed well-recieved, and Nightmare let his good eyelight turn to Killer, who sat grinning beside him. "Killer, you and I will be doing more endurance training for your magic."

"Looking forward to it, my Lord," Killer replied.

That made Nightmare chuckle a bit. Once upon a time, Killer would tense up at the premise of magic training. Then, as he grew bolder, groan at the mention. He was not proficient in the sort of magic Cross, Dust, or he himself relied on, but his preferred weapon was a knife or two summoned by his own soul. Since it was magic, Nightmare insisted he learn to better sustain and alter it rather than letting it atrophy in the wake of his extensive physical training. Now, seeing him grin lazily at the idea, not a worry weighing on his soul? It made Nightmare feel a lot more justified in making the rambunctious Knight do the more "boring" practical training.

"If we understand what to expect for the afternoon tomorrow, then you are dismissed. I will see you all at dinner," he declared. Humor filled his chest at the warmth which rolled off his knights at the mention of food. Dinner was always cooked by Ccino, and Ccino was the best cook. Nightmare would know.

He watched as Cross gave a little salute before he turned on his heel to begin to follow Horror's lumbering gait towards the heavy doors separating this room from the hall. The newest Knight's voice was quiet, but excitable as he started to reflect on his techniques to Horror. He always debriefed after a training.

Beside him, Dust swung forward off the bench and landed silently, already moving to follow the other two. His body-language always seemed disgruntled, and his expression was hidden under his darkened hood, but Nightmare knew he was pleased with his work tonight. Content with what he had accomplished.

"Cross is gettin' a lot faster." Killer's voice was calm beside him, and Nightmare followed the other's hollow gaze to where the other three were discarding their gear, hanging it up on the racks near the door where they always stored the supplies.

Four spaces, one for each knight. Killer had gouged his name into the wooden base of his own years ago.

"I agree." Nightmare let one of his tendrils wrap at the ground around a leg of the bench. "It helps that he is eager and willing to improve on his skills. And that he has others to lean on as he continues to learn."

Killer's scoff quickly devolved into a laugh at the thinly veiled praise. It wasn't unusual of him to slip it into conversation. A quick, gentle nudge of praise. Acknowledgement and appreciation. Killer had heard to most of it, and Nightmare often worried he'd find it insincere.

As far as he knew, he never did.

"You should go put up your armor as well." Nightmare suggested, nudging at Killer's back with a tendril.

"Yes, sir." Killer chimed, the sharpness of his laughter still on his tongue.

Nightmare rose simply, and Killer pushed off the bench with a quick hop. His feet planted, and Nightmare waited for him to take a step towards where the others were before moving to follow. It felt right, to see them all in one spot. Relaxed.

He moved to follow Killer's quick steps, only... All at once his vision seemed to double, and he halted himself. He could feel his tendrils lash out, moving to stabilize him against the floor of the training room. He still stood upright, just barely, but it seemed all his balance had left him. Instinctively, in a fit of habit, he shut his good socket and took a moment. The swaying feeling he was gripped by, even after a deep breath an counting to five, did not fade. The darkness which usually seemed to calm him only seemed to make the swaying worse. He could not tell if the motion was coming from him, or I the ground beneath him was shifting like the deck of a boat. Without his vision he couldn't orient up versus down, let alone find his stability again.

Opening his good socket provided him with orientation, though his vision still danced and swirled. He was looking down, down towards the brick ground, from the space behind his palm. When did he place his hand to his socket? The view included his legs, which he recognized now were shaking, and his tendrils which were trying to hold him in place.

And...

He jolted at the contact he could see but hadn't felt in the slightest. He skull reeled up so that he could see who had touched him. One hand on his elbow. The other- when did he grab Killer's arm? When had Killer turned around to look at him? Why was Killer looking at him like that?

It was Killer, who had ahold of him, though he couldn't feel the Knight's touch, and he couldn't tell if he was gripping the other's arm at all. Though he was, he could see it.

His vision warped again with the quick movement. A desperate bid to look past Killer. Was there a threat? The blurry form of Dust shot past him, he thought. Horror and Cross still seemed to be by the door.

The ceiling. Why was he looking at the ceiling? No, wait, the floor now. It grew closer, in the space between himself and Killer, as the opening for him to see it grew smaller. Then he couldn't see it at all, his vision replaced swiftly by- training gear. The leather smell invaded his senses as the rest failed him. He couldn't feel Killer, though he knew the knight was near to him. That, as far as he could tell, Killer had caught him. That he'd sunken to the ground under his own weight.

Why?

His socket wasn't being helpful. It seemed, from what he saw, that his tendrils were trying to melt away as they moved errantly to slap onto Killer's back or the ground beyond. Surely that wasn't right? His tendrils had never wavered. He shut his socket again, letting his skull sink into the training armor again.

It didn't occur to him for a few moments, that he couldn't hear his knights, until he suddenly could.

The voices were loud and grating, breaking his wobbling darkness once again as he tried to force his socket back open. What was wrong with him?

"Horror, I said go get Ccino! Now!" Killer. He'd know that voice anywhere, though he didn't like the angry tone. Like fire spitting from his tongue seemingly right above Nightmare's skull. "This isn't some sort of test, I- I don't know what this is. It can't be good."

Nightmare tried to reach out. Not physically, it felt he still couldn't control his limbs. No, he tried to sense. Did the others know what was wrong with him? Was the rising panic in his chest originating from his own emotions or theirs? Had... had one of them done something?

No, it wasn't them.

"Shit." Somewhere behind him, he heard Dust's voice hiss. "His magic levels are dropping. And fast."

For a second, Nightmare was stunned. What did he mean his magic levels were dropping? Though, it made sense. Somewhere deep in his chest he could feel it, the swaying motion as his magic tried to peel away from his bones. He-

"What do you-" Killer still sounded frustrated, and he too spat an expletive a moment later.

Nightmare, for the briefest moment, thought he felt touch again against his skull. He let his blurry socket fall closed again, the vision only worsening as his magic rocked with unseen waves of revulsion.

"Cross, try to grab his magic," Killer ordered.

The familiar splattering of the young Night would've been comforting, if the suggestion didn't fill him with dread. Killer knew better than that. They'd agreed Cross could only touch on controlling his magic. Nothing more. It was too vast.

"W-what! I- I shouldn't-" Cross attempted to stammer a defense, but Killer was quicker with words. Always had been.

"Just try. Now. Hold it in place and see if it stablizes." The command was a lot more controlled than the previous one, but his tone was leaving no room for error. "When the King and Ccino are unavailable, I'm in charge. Listen to me."

Nightmare had never heard Killer take charge in such a way before, and in his haze he might've written it off as a product of his imagination. All of this being some sort of weird hallucination. But he felt the invasive force of Cross' magic snake over his bones.

He'd felt it before, a sort of blanket or hand-hold aimed at the ends if his tendrils which could make them twitch a bit with Cross's own will. This time he felt it creep up the length of his spine and dig unseen claws into his shoulder blades. He could feel it, just like he could now feel Killer's chin and shoulder, where his skull had been tucked. He could feel the hand supporting his back, the other his side. He felt limp as the forceful magic washed over him.

Nightmare gagged.

Cross's magic caught on something, like a hook finding the fish, and for a brief few moments, Nightmare felt like he had a ball of gunk in his non-existant gut. Something heavy and feral, trying to escape.

For just a moment, he regained a breath of awareness. He felt his Knight supporting his weight, he felt the nakedness of his back where his tendrils had completely abandoned him, he felt the emotions of the three still with him. Fear. Confusion. Anger. He didn't like it much. He still couldn't move his limbs.

And just as quickly as it was stable, the hold on the wild magic slipped away. Like the fish had broken the string.

It flowed up, like the force of a dam finally released. Through his ribcage, past his shoulders where Cross's magic seemed to dissipate all at once, into his mouth.

Nightmare regained some semblance of control over his body at that moment. As the magic seemed to rush towards freedom. He shoved away from Killer all at once, the chill of the stone hitting his palms heavily and his socket opening if only to watch as he lost it. That dark, thick, sticky magic that had marked him as a bad omen. That had gifted him the power to rule in place of his twin. Protect those he loved.

It spilled to the stone before him, and he was stunned to watched that, as he heaved suddenly labored breaths, it sunk away. Disappeared. Just like that, instead of his familiar darkness, the protective shield, the instinctive defense he had grown to know, he was staring at the floor. And the space in which his wobbling arms hid under too-big sleeves, and from the cuffs escaped perfect, pearly-white bone. Bone he could never seem to reach no matter how hard he scrubbed with water and soap. Bones that seemed so frail in the torchlight.

"My king?"

Nightmare let his eyelight raise from the ground. It wasn't as wobbly anymore, his vision slowly coming back to normal. He still took his time trailing from the ground, to look at Killer's pants. He was on his knees, hardly an arm's length away. Then the edges of his chestplate. His arms were outstretched, hovering barely away from touching Nightmare. He shook at the closeness, but didn't dare try to move. Killer's soul was wobbling. Nightmare's boww furrowed at the sight. It was very small, but he'd always notice the little changes and moves. Though, he noticed an absence of something at the back of his skull as he stared. Something missing.

Killer's face was last. He looked serious, his dark sockets not a new sight, but Nightmare hardly saw Killer so serious. He'd seen the look before. Usually when he'd see someone bothering Ccino. It had always been brief, quickly disguised under his patented sadistic grin. Killer just watched him now. As though he was sone glass sculpture ready to tip off the end of the table.

He hated, as he stared, that he couldn't- he could feel-

He tried to shift, to whip his head to look for the knight he knew should've been behind him. And he was right, of course. A glimpse of Dust's shadowed skull and tense body-language told Night he was on high-alert, but Nightmare hadn't been able to feel him. Hadn't sensed his presence at all. No emotions, no aura, no nothing.

"Woah, steady!" Killer yelped as Nightmare felt himself tilt.

Looking up at Dust had disoriented him. The weight distribution was different now. His body listed to the side, and he flinched when arms wrapped around at his sides and tugged his upper half onto soft fabric. Killer's legs. Killer had caught him.

"My king, Nightmare, it's you, right?" He sounded the same. Something told Nightmare he was uncertain.

"Y-" His attempt to speak was short-lived. His voice wasn't right. It was high-pitched and raw. All the rumble and low tones entirely missing. He couldn't be sure if he stopped on account of keeping his pride alive, or if he feared speaking in a voice he hadn't heard in years.

It didn't help that he couldn't feel them. No matter how much he tried, the only feeling in his chest was his own solitary anxiety. Balling up tighter and tighter, an old friend come home again. If he could tell what they were thinking- if he could know if he was safe...

He bit back his panic, holding in the weakness which was threatening to give him away. Though, what else was there to give? If he was right, then the prophecy had finally rejected him. Left him as an offering to a pack of wolves.

Nightmare knew he was shaking, but some irrational part of him thought that if he kept his socket shut that this would all be some absurd night terror and he'd wake up cozy in his bed, or exhausted at his desk, or maybe passed out on the floor. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.

"What's wrong?" That voice was deeply familiar, and all at once Nightmare felt like he had a surge of strength. "Why did Horror rush me back here? Where is our King?" It was Ccino. He sounded more frustrated than anything else, but he didn't need to feel his emotions to know the rise to his tone. The worry buried there.

"We finished training and everything was fine," Killer explained, tone as even as he could muster, "But when we were on our way out, he just collapsed."

Nightmare pitied him, having to tell Ccino any sort of bad news. Nightmare didn't think as he attempted again to shove himself up. If only to catch a glimpse of Ccino.

As he peered barely over Killer's shoulder, he saw what the others did. Ccino had some sort if flour or wheat all down the front of his nice apron, and a few streaks along the thighs of hid pants from where he'd probably wiped his hands along the way. His expression was a mix of concern and fury that set Nightmare's soul into a pretzel-twist of regret, and his eyelights scanned the room as he rapidly approached Killer. Obviously looking for answers.

Only, Ccino arrived to Killer's side, and his growing rage seemed to stop all at once, alongside his steps. He stared down at Nightmare with wide eyes. Nightmare stared up at him wearily. The king's sockets were beginning to water. Ccino's expression, the way his balled fists twitched and relaxed, the way he seemed to lose all the tension I'm his body, just getting a glimpse at him. Ccino recognized his face, no doubt about it.

"Nightmare?" Ccino's voice was small.

Nightmare fumbled a bit as he tried to launch away from Killer. Having Ccino so close to him simply... broke whatever had been holding back the emotional damage within. It didn't help in the slightest when Ccino crouched and immediately tugged him away from Killer and into a gentle bear-hug there on the floor.

For the first time, in a very long time, he found that the welling of tears in his sockets didn't result in dark, tarlike, goop that fell in chunks down his skull. This time the tears were real, a transparent lilac which raced down his cheeks abd planted themselves against the fabric of Ccino's tunic and apron. He wasn't wearing his fur, he was smart like that.

Ccino's arms wrapped around his back like they always did, and Nightmare felt himself slipping. Ccino was safe. He had always been safe.

Nightmare didn't have time to begin sobbing as he had expected, or to even begin to hyperventilate into Ccino's shirt or curl into a ball against his chest. The moment Ccino nuzzled the side of his skull, his vision went blurry again.

At the tightening of Ccino's grip, he heard Dust's voice again. "Magic-loss. A lot of it." Faintly rolled into his mind like a distance voice two doors over. He didn't quite catch when Killer started to speak again, or Ccino worriedly said his name. Dust was right, the magic was gone. Out of nowhere. It was a lot for his little body to handle.

#new age au #sorry I think I missed the bit about Killer and Dust being brither-coded and them not listening-#but that was another of my favorite bits!!!! Killer just can't shut up and Dust (not yet fed-up) humors it!! 3 levels of #distraction for the enemy!!

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shadeswift99 · 3 years ago

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One of the funniest things to me about the Wither Rose Alliance is that it's such a study in moral relativity. fWhip came in so obviously trying his level best to be the villain of the server - he had a great setup, he started off relatively innocent and had a clear path towards going too far, he justified himself at every step of the way but was so obviously in it for the chaos, the vibes were off the charts - and it would have worked! The empires would have quaked in the face of his morally questionable plot decisions! ....If he wasn't standing beside Mythical J Sausage, who hasn't seen a moral value in 15 years. fWhip's cartoon villainy just got so hilariously outweighed by War Crimes Georg of Mythland (who allies himself with 1.3 demons per year adn is a statistical outlier that should not be counted) that he ended up being a completely sympathetic antihero instead of an unhinged antagonist, purely by lightly suggesting that maybe his buddy shouldn't be quite that enthused about murder. I don't know what that dynamic is, but whatever those vibes are they're my favourite <3

#empires smp #fWhip #Mythicalsausage #wither rose alliance #i don't know if I was able to phrase that right but I'm fascinated by how perception of morality in media depends so much on context #(in a fun and games type of way in this situation of course but you know what i mean)#like if Sausage wasn't there I'm sure fWhip would have ended up being way more of an antagonist than he did #and if Gem wasn't there he probably would have joined up even more with Sausage and been more of a villain that way #but instead now he's playing chaos to Gem's (RELATIVE) order and reason to Sausage's wholesale cruelty #and he just gets to be suspended in this weird between state of 'yeah too far but nOT THAT FAR' and it's so fun #meanwhile Sausage would probably be a lot less sympathetic if he didn't have the others around to play off of #(to be clear i love that guy I think War Crimes Georg should be allowed to do as many war crimes as he wants <3)#and honestly if Gem was alone she'd probably be pretty dang morally dubious too! wizardly hubris arc!#'absolute power corrupts absolutely' and all that #but the three of them being together just...they just trip each other up no matter WHAT moral direction any of them try to go in #and it's beautiful #they just cancel each other out by complete coincidence and it's a total mess but i love them so much for it

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 2 years ago

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About Face: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

"Now what else is the whole life of mortals, but a sort of comedy in which the various actors, disguised by various costumes and masks, walk on and play each ones part until the manager walks them off the stage?" - Erasmus

Spencer is still sleeping, but you wanted to bring him breakfast in bed. After last night's activities, it's best that he fuels up for the day. No one else is in the apartment, so you cooked breakfast in all your naked glory. Spencer isn't a light sleeper, but you know that he would wake up at the smell of bacon cooking.

You bring the tray of food into the bedroom right when he opens his eyes. It takes him a few minutes to register what he is seeing, and then his eyes widen.

"What are you doing?"

"Bringing us breakfast."

"You were naked the whole time?"

"What? It's not like there is anyone else here, and it's nothing you haven't seen before," you grin.

You get into bed and kiss him gently, laying the tray between both your bodies. You made bacon, eggs, misshapen pancakes, and two glasses of orange juice. It's a nice way to spend the morning with the man that you love. Breakfast lasted as long as you wanted it to last, and after that, you two got ready for work. You weren't able to have a shower this morning because you took too long to eat, but you don't care about that.

Besides seeing you naked with a tray of food, Spencer is excited for today because it's the day before Halloween. It's the only holiday that he is truly passionate about, and he makes it known to everyone in the office. People at the Bureau like to decorate for the holidays, and this one is no exception. Spencer practically decorated the entire office himself.

Derek isn't into the holiday as much as Spencer is, but that doesn't stop your boyfriend from scaring the daylights out of your friend. Spencer bought two masks, one for you and one for him, to wear when you got into work. Derek doesn't know what's coming to him, and it's going to be hilarious when he sees your masks.

When you walk in with the masks on, JJ and Emily spot you two instantly. They smile, but you put your finger to where your mouth is supposed to be even though it's not showing. You don't want them warning Derek before the scare. He's sitting at his desk with his back turned to you, so he won't see you and Spencer coming. You and Spencer creep up behind Derek, getting as close as you can.

"I'm waiting for you," Spencer says in a weird voice.

Derek jumps and makes a small noise of fright.

"What the fuck," he whispers. You laugh and remove your mask, patting him on the back. "You're lucky we're at work."

"You love us," you grin and take a seat at your desk.

"Happy All Hallows Eve, folks," Spencer says, sliding his mask up so that it's hanging off his head. "To paraphrase from Celtic mythology, tomorrow night all order is suspended, and the barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporarily remooooved!"

"See, that right there is why Halloween creeps me out," Derek says.

"You're scared of Halloween?" you snicker.

"I didn't say I was scared, I said I was creeped out. There's a difference there, youngster. You should look it up."

"What creeps you out about it?" Emily asks.

"I don't know. People wearing masks. I don't like folks in disguises."

"That's the best thing about Halloween. You can be anyone you want to be."

"Nah, I'm pretty good just being me," Derek shrugs.

"Yeah, why is it that neither of those points of view surprise me?" Emily laughs.

"You know what, though? On the flip side, it does provide a pretty good reason to cozy up with a scary flick and a little halloween honey," Derek smirks.

"Halloween honey. Now I'm creeped out," Emily jokes.

"Guys, he's here," Spencer says.

The person replacing Gideon is going to be none other than David Rossi. He is coming out of retirement for reasons unknown to you, but you're eager to get a read on him. He's just another person to tell your secret to, and another person that might not believe you. Rossi enters the bullpen and locks eyes with you, and you try your best to read anything about him. He doesn't give you the chance as he's already gone from sight and walking up the stairs to Hotch's office.

"Did you get a read on him?" Derek asks you.

"He's very similar to Hotch, but a bit more passive-aggressive and humorous. He didn't give me much to go on."

You and your co-workers try to peer into Hotch's office, but the blinds are covering most of the action. It's not long until the two men walk out and into the bullpen.

"SSA David Rossi, this is SSA Emily Prentiss," Hotch says.

"Sir," she smiles and holds out her hand for him to shake.

"SSA Derek Morgan."

"It's an honor, Agent Rossi," Derek shakes his hand next.

"Please, just Dave."

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

"Sir, if I could talk to you later about your work with the Scarsdale Skinner. Psycho-linguistics is an incredibly dynamic field, and the fact that your profile of his reading habits ultimately led to his capture is something I find so incredibly intrig--"

"Reid, slow down. He'll be here for a while. You can catch up with him later," Hotch chuckles.

"Sorry."

"No problem, doctor."

"Maybe you guys can talk on the jet."

"The jet?"

"We have a jet now. It comes in handy."

"Last but not least, SSA Y/N."

"It's nice to meet you," you smile and grab his hand.

If you couldn't read him before, you can now. He's very arrogant at times, he's been through a lot of shit that made him into the man he is now, and he's hiding something from the team. There is another reason for why he decided to take the position here, and it wasn't to get back into the game.

"Are you okay?" he asks, noticing the look on your face.

"I am so sorry. This is so rude of me," you apologize and take your hand away.

"She's a psychic," Spencer says proudly.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm an empathetic psychic. I connect with the dead and people's auras/energies. It's how I'm able to help with the cases here."

Instantly, you feel distrust and skepticism coming off him--maybe even a bit of annoyance. He doesn't believe, and he almost has a hatred for people who claim to be psychics. The energy in the air shifts, and it's one of those that everyone can feel.

"Come on, JJ is waiting," Hotch clears his throat.

Rossi is the first to leave the group, and you bite your lower lip nervously. You follow the two men into the conference room where everyone gathers. You take your seat next to Spencer and fiddle your fingers together underneath the desk where people can't see. However, Spencer does notice so he reaches for your hand with his own. He interlocks your fingers with his, and you give him a reassuring smile that you're okay.

"Carrollton, Texas is a suburb just outside of Dallas. Four days ago, Michelle Colucci found this flier on her front door."

She brings up a picture of a missing persons poster with Michelle's face on it.

"She found it? As in, she isn't missing?" you ask.

"Yet. She took the flier to a friend's husband, Detective Yarbrough at the Carrollton police department who told her it was probably just a Halloween prank, and he sent her home."

"Well, I don't blame him. Halloween brings out the fool in everyone," Derek shrugs.

You look over at Rossi to see him writing in his small notebook, observing the team quietly.

"Still, he stopped by Michelle's house later to check on her. The door was open, and when he went inside, he found this." She pulls up another picture which is of her bedroom with hundreds of her missing persons flyers on her walls. "He still thought maybe it could be some kind of a prank until yesterday. Michelle was found floating in a small creek just outside of Carrollton. She had been sexually assaulted and her face had been removed."

"Removed? It wasn't animals or fish?" Rossi asks.

"The Dallas County ME says that the edges of the wounds were smooth, not torn. A very sharp instrument had been used. He also found water in her lungs."

"Oh, my God. What is that?" Penelope gasps.

You turn to see the technical analyst standing at the door with a horrified look on her face. She immediately looks away to shield herself from the horrors. JJ takes the pictures off the screen to protect her.

"Technical analyst Penelope Garcia, this is SSA David Rossi," Hotch introduces.

"Is it gone, JJ?"

"Yeah, you're safe."

"Okay. Carrollton, Texas, has nearly 117,000 residents, a diverse population with a... it's all in there," she stutters and hands over the file she put together. "I'm sorry. Very happy to meet you, sir. I'll be in my office. Sorry."

"She's different," Rossi says once she leaves.

"You have no idea," Hotch chuckles.

JJ puts back up the pictures so you can discuss them. There is a picture of a mask that was left behind. It's a plain white mask with the number one painted onto it in black.

"So, the unsub tells her she's going to go missing to psychologically torture her, then tortures her physically. Textbook sadist," Emily says, getting back on track.

"Number one," Derek says about the mask.

"That particular mask is known as a false face. It's most commonly worn during Halloween and Mardi Gras."

"Creepy. I rest my case."

There is something about the masks that makes you believe that the unsub wants to stay anonymous as much as he makes his victims out to be. With you in the picture, it's going to be very hard for him to keep this persona up.

"Local media has the story. It broke big."

"Tell Carrollton we'll be there first thing in the morning. Let's stop this one at one."

"Yes, sir," JJ nodded.

"If you want to take some time to get situated, maybe start on the next case?" Hotch offers Rossi.

"I'm not back to get situated, Hotch, I'm here to work."

"Everybody get your things together. We're going to Texas."

Your team used the jet early in the morning since there wasn't any time to waste. Rossi is sitting all by his lonesome, away from everyone else. You know he is brand new, but he must have some social skills if he's ever worked here before. This man unnerves you, and you're having trouble figuring out why.

You leave the small bathroom after washing your hands and start to head back to your seat. You have to pass by Rossi to get there, and you look over at him to see what he could be doing. He is holding a small bracelet with three names on three different charms. Connie, Georgie, and Alicia.

He holds such passion and sadness for the three names, and those emotions reflect onto you, giving you flashes of images. Small children, blood everywhere, two dead parents. You can only imagine that Rossi was involved in a case with these three children, and maybe that's his reasoning why he came back to the BAU.

He has unfinished business.

Without talking to him about it, you walk back to your seat next to Spencer and grab his hand to hold.

"Let's go over victimology. Would you like to join us, Dave?" Rossi gets up without another word to join the group, and Hotch turns to your boyfriend. "Reid, what have you got?"

"Michelle Colucci was single, lived alone with no boyfriend and no ex-husband. There's nothing in the reports that suggested she was dating."

"She was an architect. Friends and co-workers say she's a classic workaholic. Basically a loner who rarely went out of the house. She's extremely low risk."

"If it wasn't someone she knew personally, it's possible she was being stalked."

"Interesting," Rossi mutters to himself.

"What's that?"

"I'm just thinking out loud."

"Something to add?" Hotch asks.

"No. Sorry to interrupt."

Rossi doesn't work well with others, you can tell. That will change in the future because if he wants help with his unfinished business or wants to keep his job in the Bureau, then he needs to learn how to work with others.

"Well, she's pretty," Derek states. "It could be that the unsub met her casually and made her part of some kind of fantasy. Maybe he tries to act on it, and she rejects him. Could be the stressor."

"So, he tortures her out of anger?"

"Masks often represent a state of mind. This one's blank--expressionless. Doesn't really coincide with anger," Spencer says.

"Reid, it's hard to imagine he did this out of anything less than rage."

Penelope's face pops up on the computer that is set up on the table for everyone to see.

"Hey, guys. I have a list of Michelle Colucci's clients. She designed office space. Mostly big corporate remodeling plans."

"No private clients, one-on-one contact?"

"Doesn't look like it, no."

"Thanks, baby girl," Derek says, and she nods once before hanging up the call.

Since you left Virginia so early, you got to Texas before nine am. The detective on the case is waiting for you at the crime scene. There is another missing person, two crime scenes. Your team is going to have to split into two, and you can only assume that you're going to be stuck with Rossi.

"Detective Yarbrough?" JJ says once you touch down.

"FBI? We got another flier--this time in Metro Dallas. Enid White. Her roommate called Dallas PD this morning. Enid never came home after walking her dog last night," Detective Yarbrough shows the flier he snagged.

"Wait, she's actually missing?" you ask.

"Well, he wallpapered the neighborhood with fliers for two blocks around her apartment."

"Outside? That's different. No one saw him putting them up?"

"Dallas PD is still canvassing, but nothing so far. They're waiting for you on the new scene."

"Morgan, you and Prentiss go to Michelle Colucci's house. JJ and I will talk to Enid's roommate. Dave, do you mind walking the disposal site with the detective, Reid, and Y/N?"

At the mention of your name, you can feel the hostility come from Rossi. He doesn't want you to be here, but you're going to prove to him that you're not a fake. You're the real deal, and he needs a chance to see that.

"Whatever you need," he says finally.

"We'll regroup in an hour."

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tommyspeakycap · 4 years ago

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Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx

Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

hope I did this justice for you!

Fell for you

“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.

You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.

This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.

“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.

02:17am

“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”

“I’m outside your door.”

“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.

“Course.”

No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“

“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.

The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”

It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”

Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.

"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.

"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"

His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.

"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.

As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.

"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.

He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.

On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.

The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.

The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."

You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.

"What?"

He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.

You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.

"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"

He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"

You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."

Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.

"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.

"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.

"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.

"Before what?"

"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.

"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."

Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.

"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.

"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #jack grealish prompt #jack grealish blurb #england national team imagine #england national team #footballer fics #football fics

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sunfish-studies · 3 years ago

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Greed

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous: ‹ Acceptance › | Next: ‹ Moonrise ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Hinata’s overwhelming greed to grow–will it be a blessing or a curse for the team?

As the temperature rise, so was the tension–at first you didn’t really acknowledge the heaviness present in the air, but now it was suffocating. Your team certainly had it around them at first, however it now increased tenfold after Hinata bumped to Asahi for the ball. The prickling in the air almost felt as if it was scratching your skin.

“I wasn’t imagining the tension between Hinata and Kageyama-kun, right?” Yachi asked uncertain, but Shimizu nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. But it’s not just Hinata and Kageyama. Ever since Hinata and Azumane bumped into each other, they’re all on the edge.”

“That, and Hinata-kun just blurted out what everyone’s thinking right now,” you added, making the two turned to face you. “Hinata-kun wants to rapidly change, if everyone couldn’t keep up or made their presence clear in front of him…”

They’ll be eaten by that overwhelming greed the orange-haired boy has.

When the penalty was over, you quickly distributed the water bottles and towels with Yachi while Shimizu handled the notes. The absence of Hinata, Kageyama, and Sugawara were clear because as soon as they finished their penalty, the third year asked them to have a private chat outside the gym.

“Azumane-san, you felt that, right?” you asked the older boy, handing his water bottle. “The feeling of being eaten up.”

“Yeah,” Somehow, Asahi didn’t really surprise hearing those words from you. For him, you’re rather different–maybe it’s because you’re quite knowledgeable about volleyball and a quite observant person.

“I think you should try putting him in his place,” hearing those rather bold words from you made his eyes widened.

“P-putting him to place!? L-like scolding him? I don’t think I can.”

“N-no, just declared out loud that the ball is yours? From what I saw, Hinata-kun is trying to steal that ball away from you. You need to tell let him know that it’s not his.”

Asahi fell silent at first, thinking over and assessed what you just said. He found that you’re right–it’s ace’s job to get everyone in the team grounded. He gave you a smile and a nod. “Yeah, I’ll try. Thank you for the insight, [Name].”

“Oh, Hinata-kun, let me see your chin!” Asahi then watched you jogged towards the shorter orange-haired boy.

“Huh? Why?” he asked in confusion.

“You hit it when you’re doing the diving drills, right? At least let me check if it’s bruising or not.” You bent down to take a closer look, although still keeping a respectful distance from the boy so he wouldn’t be having a heart attack.

“A-alright, thank you!”

Your team didn’t stay for too long–once the last practice of the day was done, all of you were already packing to return to Miyagi. This practice camp was short, but you heard Coach Ukai mentioned that it would be even longer the moment summer vacation started–at that time, you will be staying around for a week.

Huffing, you lifted up a big luggage with the team’s necessities and began walking towards the bus in the parking lot. Ennoshita mentioned that if anything’s too heavy, you should ask for someone in the team’s help–however you were reluctant, especially after knowing all of them were certainly tired from practice match and diving penalties.

“Here, let me help you,” suddenly, the weight was removed from you. You were greeted with Akaashi’s figure with the bag in hand, you almost felt jealous on how he could carry it with ease.

“Thank you, Akaashi-san,”

After that you didn’t exchange any word as you approached the bus, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable either.

“So, how is it being the manager?” his question threw you off guard, not expecting him to start a conversation.

Laughing nervously, you replied. “It felt like being thrown into a room full of color and being doused in ice bath.”

Once again, you didn’t expect him laughing slightly at your metaphor. You cursed the moment you laid your eyes on his figure because how can someone be so goddamn gorgeous from just laughing. Your heart skipped a bit and blood rushed to your face almost instantly.

“I could relate to that,” he hummed. “Especially having someone eccentric in the team, like Bokuto-san for example.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Otohaku-chan!!” As if being called, the mentioned boy jogged towards the two of you. Akaashi put the bag onto the ground after asking if it’s okay to do so. “Be sure to join the summer training camp so you can cheer on me, alright!?”

“That’s a wrong thing wrangled into one sentence.” Kuroo commented, accompanied by his infamous smirk. “And why would you drag other team’s manager when you already have two?”

“Please don’t request anything weird to Otohaku-san.” Akaashi deadpanned.

“What?? Why!? The only one here’s nice enough to compliment me is Otohaku-chan!!”

“You pushed her into doing so, Bokuto-san. Otohaku-san, if he’s bothering you feel free to ignore him.”

“AKAASHI!!”

“Well, Bokuto do have something correct, though,” Kuroo folded his arm across his chest. “Be sure to join the summer training camp. The more, the merrier, you know?”

“I will,” you smiled. You had no reason not to join–a manager’s duty is to help the team grow by letting their mind off doing mundane things, so you would do your best to support your team.

Kuroo’s hand reached out, finding itself on your head again and ruffling lightly. “Then we’ll be waiting.”

“[Name]-san is already good friends with Fukurodani and Nekoma’s captain,” Ennoshita, who watched the interaction from the sidelines, commented. Sugawara and Sawamura nodded in agreement, smiling proudly. You were known for being rather reserved, but seeing you began to have more friends were a huge development.

“It’s good she begins to open up and make friends, but,” Ennoshite flinched from the murderous atmosphere surrounding Sugawara. “I hope they could limit the physical contact with our dearest manager, though.”

“Right? They’re too close to my liking.” Sawamura added, smiling but with menacing intent.

“Whoaa!! You’re so tall!” as if the world was trying to spite the two, Lev joined into the picture–his hand found yours and immediately had them in his grip. “And pretty!”

Ennoshita had to refrain Sugawara and Sawamura from murdering the oblivious first year.

It was quite late at night the moment all of you were back at the school. Assuming it was late, you didn’t have any reason to stay longer and need to go home as soon as possible. However, noticing how the gym was lit, both you and Yachi decided to check it out–finding Kageyama and Hinata were in there with net fully set along with volley cart.

“Huh? You two aren’t going home yet?” Yachi asked.

“It’s quite late. You should get some rest instead.” You added, knowing how harsh the practice match and penalties combined together.

“Yachi-san, [Name]-san, if you don’t mind, could you throw us some balls?” instead of answering, Hinata requested some help.

“Huh? I can do that?” Yachi yelped.

“You just have to throw the ball above Kageyama’s head.” Hinata pointed out.

“S-sure, I’ll give it a try.”

“If you’re tired, switch with me, Hitoka-chan.” You said and she nodded.

Yachi throw ball after ball for Kageyama to toss while Hinata tried to hit it–and he failed. The ball didn’t sync at all with him, his movement didn’t fully pull out because he’s too focused on the ball. It’s not just second or third, with every ball being tossed, not once did Hinata successfully spike it.

“One more time!” Hinata called out, however there’s no ball this time because they already used it all.

“Instead of practicing an attack we’re not sure you’ll ever be able to do, you should be working on the attacks we’ve been using as well as serving and blocking!” Kageyama spat.

“But if this quick doesn’t work, there’s no point in me being on the court!”

“And I told you, your will isn’t needed for that quick! I’ll give you tosses that won’t be stopped by blocks!”

“But then I’ll never get better!” Hinata argued.

This is bad, you internally said. It’s not the usual bickering the two always do.

“The prelims for the spring tournament start next month! They’re right around the corner, what do you think will be an effective weapon for us? A complete quick or an absolutely useless quick!? Huh!?” Kageyama yelled, his hand already clutching onto Hinata’s collar.

“N-no fighting, guys.” Yachi stuttered, trying her best to get situation under control. “Calm down, Kageyama-kun. You, too, Hinata…”

“I want to be strong enough to compete by myself!” Of course, the two wouldn’t give any spare second to your friend’s pleading. And Hinata’s words seemed to be the trigger that snapped the chord.

“Your selfishness is going to destroy the team’s balance!” shouting in anger, Kageyama threw the shorter boy to the ground–the sound that echoed throughout the gym made both you and Yachi winced.

“L-Let’s all be f-friends, o-okay!?” Yachi stuttered.

“Stop it you two,” you stated, making sure to said it out loud so it could be heard. “Fighting doesn’t solve anything.”

Your heart thumping against your chest, your ears were ringing from the adrenaline rushing in your bloodstream. If you or Yachi couldn’t do anything, thing would escalate to a bad degree–the worst would be fist fight. And that would result the two being suspended from club activities. Separating the two physically wouldn’t be a good thing either–as much as you want to, you’re a girl and it would be dangerous.

“I’ll toss to anyone who’s essential to winning.” Kageyama declared. “But I don’t think you’re essential to winning right now. And I don’t feel any different now.”

“Kageyama!!”

Hinata certainly didn’t accept those words–picking himself up, he threw himself to Kageyama and clutching on to him.

“Damn it, let go!”

“I won’t let go until you give me a toss!”

The second time Kageyama threw Hinata to the ground full force, you knew you had to stop this somehow. Turning to look at Yachi, who’s standing behind you, you said, “Call someone, Hitoka-chan. We have to stop them!”

“B-but, what about you [Name]-chan-!?” she yelped, not wanting to leave you alone in a place where two boys were fighting.

“I’ll be fine, now go!” Yachi immediately bolted towards the exit to search for anyone who’s near–now that left you with the two. “Stop it, Kageyama, Hinata!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“That quick was stopped!! Today and during Seijoh’s match!”

“Are you trying to say that my toss was a fault!?”

“Enough!” You tried to pry Hinata away from Kageyama, holding onto his arm and pulled it. And it didn’t end up good for you. Maybe he was too blinded by anger or desperation or your existence currently didn’t exist in his mind, he shoved arm to shook you off.

His elbow hit you right in the stomach, which made you winced in pain and the sheer power you never thought he had thrown to the ground. If it’s only the ground then you wouldn’t have any difficulties, but you forgot there’s a volleyball cart near by and your back just happened to hit that first before the ground.

There will be bruises without a doubt.

Their yelling flew past your mind because the pain from your back and stomach already had your mind occupied. Soon, you heard another yelling and another set of footsteps. Yachi immediately ran and kneeled beside you.

“Y-you okay, [Name]-chan!? B-blood! You have blood on your arm!” she yelped, hands trembling.

At the mention of blood, you lifted your arm automatically–Yachi was right, there’s a long cut running from your elbow to your wrist. You didn’t even feel any pain from it, maybe it was being overshadowed by the pain from your back and stomach even though the cut was dripping blood.

It was a rough night for the four of you.

“This will be enough,” you said, making Kageyama stopped on his track to look at you. “My house is just around the corner. Thank you for walking me home, Kageyama-kun.”

“Y-Yeah…” he replied in stutters.

You didn’t immediately turn your back to him and walked away–because he was shuffling on his feet while looking here and there, you knew he had something else to say. Kageyama isn’t the best in pouring his mind into words, that’s why after knowing that you tried your best to be patient and let him composed himself to talk.

“Is there something you need?” you coaxed, noticing he couldn’t get his thoughts straight.

“Uh,” Kageyama lifted his hand, finger picking on the band-aid you put upon his cut from where Tanaka punched him. “Y-your arm,”

“It’s fine,” showing him the long cut, he stiffened when he rested his eyes on it. “It stopped bleeding and I already cleaned it so it’s fine.”

Silence fell between the two of you for the second time.

“Sorry…” Kageyama finally said–you almost didn’t hear it from how soft he spoke.

“It’s fine Kageyama-kun, it’s my fault anyway. I should’ve waited for Tanaka-san instead of trying to stop you two on my own.” You sighed. “I’m worried about you two more, to be honest…”

The raven-haired boy outwardly grimaced at your statement.

“But, I know everything will fall into place soon,” you quickly added, trying to ease the guilt Kageyama was feeling. “Hinata will find a way to have mid-air battles, and you will look for a way to do something with your tosses. Then in the end, everything will connect and Karasuno will have a new weapon.”

“…Yeah,”

Seeing Kageyama’s shoulders shook slightly, you understood this also took a toll on him somehow. Stepping forward until you’re one foot away from him, you reached your hand out to gently hold on to his. You didn’t really know how to comfort the opposite gender, usually you would just pull Yachi into a hug when she’s not having the best feeling. Kageyama replied to your gesture by tightening his grip on your hand.

Not caring for the time, you choose to stay with Kageyama until he let go.

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joontier · 4 years ago

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Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: PG-15 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: none to note

word count: 2.6k

g/n: jungkook is a brat wbk; also,,, hoseok here is supposedly as old as seokjin heh i had an internal debate whether or not i should include two other scenes but aslkdfjkasljfas but i ended up with this instead skjff hope yall enjoy!!

[taglist]: @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

The orientation went by like a breeze with Ms. Narae’s quick run throughs of Woocheon’s clinical processes and systems, training programs, hospital expectations, and the explanation of the rest of the map of the hospital you weren’t able to cover during your tour earlier. Before she wraps up, she retrieves your IDs from underneath the table and places them on top of the desk for everyone to get later. She dismisses the orientation exactly ten minutes before twelve, requesting everyone to head straight to their department’s on-call room after the break.

Soomin, who you’ve recently discovered to have her own Youtube channel, takes out her phone and records a video. You watch from the side as Soomin does her thing, until she tries to call you all over and officially introduce you as good friends turned work colleagues to all her subscribers.

You hadn’t really expected this whole vlogger thing from her, especially when Soomin was a bit reserved when you were first acquainted with each other, but then again, as your friendship grew, you realized that she had a bit of Chohee in her as well and you thought that’s what caused you to gravitate towards her naturally.

“Anybody up for lunch?” Soomin asks, rubbing her hands together after she finishes her short recording and tucks her phone back in her pocket. “Yeah, I’m starving...” you murmur, placing a hand on your belly as you hear your stomach grumble its complaint.

“I heard Woocheon is known to have the best hospital food in Korea. Ever.” Jungkook says, looking around. You’re starting to get skeptical about how Jungkook is lingering around Jimin...Or was it the other way around now? “Shall we?” With Jungkook’s undeniable proposition, Soomin briefly glances at your reluctant face, her own lips pursing with your reaction. “Fine,” you sigh.

There’s no getting rid of Jungkook now.

Woocheon’s cafeteria...does not look like a cafeteria at all.

You weren’t expecting an...urban haven of some sort, a portion of the hospital that you had least envisioned to what seems to be the warmest part of Woocheon. The laminated flooring, faux wooden grain wall panels, along with the suspended lights from this wave-like uneven wooden ceiling - it was as picturesque as a spread on an interior design magazine.

The interior could easily outrival any other kitchen in the city. “Are you sure this is not some hotel we just walked into?” Jimin questions as he marvels over the sleek urban design of the cafeteria. There’s even a café - which you recognize holds the same logo as Good Day café. You ought to confirm this with Jimin later.

As you near the serving area, the unmistakable aroma of roast beef fills your senses, making you hungrier than you were just seconds before. “Please don’t tell me Woocheon is actually serving roast beef...”

You practically salivate at the sight of the food in the counters, a lot of which you realized were influenced by western food culture. There were three different kinds of salad to choose from, baked potatoes, burgers, seafood stew, stir-fried meat, as well as the Korean classic side dishes that you’d never miss in a meal. And, true to your trusty sense of smell, roast beef was at the end of the line up in all its roasted glory.

“Yeap,” Soomin says as she turns to face you, “You have three options for the sauce too: mushroom gravy, pepper sauce, or truffle sauce,” Soomin replies matter-of-factly, pointing at the farther end of the food counter.

“Oh I love this place already!” Exclaims Jimin who’s undecided between eating to his heart’s content and risking a stomachache on the first day of work, or sacrifice half of the dishes for a later time in your stay at Woocheon. Thankfully, Jimin decides on the former.

“Make sure you have your IDs ready,” Jungkook announces as he joins the line after you. “You’ll have to tap it against this tiny device then they will automatically deduct the total amount of the food you got from your account.”

Jimin’s face falls instantly at the realization. Jungkook claps the other man’s back, face crumpled as he keeps his laughter in. “Still love this place, Jimin-ssi? Don’t worry now, the three of us can pretend we didn’t hear anything at all.”

With features forlorn, Soomin makes a hilarious attempt to appease Jimin’s disappointment by stating facts - “Jimin-ah. Hospital food isn’t free.”

“Yeah. I realize that now,” Jimin replies, an ingenuine smile playing on his lips.

“Cheer up though! Ms. Narae did mention faculty and staff get a five percent discount on all hospital services...just so happened that they included the cafeteria there as well.”

Albeit reluctant about the price, Soomin manages to convince your entire group to try out the roast beef for once (and probably your last too. Figures.) “Oh, and by the way, there is one thing that’s free actually. It’s the drink of the day - free for all staff. One each, and available during lunch only.”

Your eyes travel to the end of the counter straight away at Soomin’s reminder. Calculating the number of cartons left and the people left in the queue, you’re beyond pleased at the fact that you’ll be able to get a free 250ML carton of banana milk today, and also the last person to do so.

Unfortunately for you, a staff member returns to the counter and retrieves a tetra pack, claiming it was for a senior doctor who forgot to claim the drink. Much to your dismay, a middle-aged man in a white coat was waving to the counter, with his other hand pointing to his tray to prove that he really wasn’t able to take any milk with him. You can’t hide the scowl that creeps on your face.

Through your peripheral vision, you notice Jungkook closely monitoring the milk as well, the same look of disappointment evident on his face. Maybe losing the milk wasn’t that bad. After all, if you couldn’t one, Jungkook wouldn’t be able to score one either.

While Jimin checks out his food, one of the kitchen staff suddenly retrieves another carton from the other side of the counter, mumbling about how it must’ve fallen over earlier. You were just about to grab it when the lady at the till calls you next, and you’re forced to move your tray sideward so she can calculate the total amount of your order.

When you look up to grab your free drink, Jungkook reaches out at the same time and manages to snatch the milk quicker than you. “Hey!” Jungkook simply shrugs his shoulders at your indignant tone. “Sorry darling, finders keepers.”

You stare at him in disbelief, until the lady calls for Jungkook next, a little too loud for your liking. Your eyeroll comes almost involuntarily, and you shake your head as you follow where Jimin and Soomin were headed to as they look for a seat.

Jungkook arrives shortly after you do, so you immediately lose the chance to rant about your annoyance towards the latter. He decides to sit across you and you don’t have the chance to complain about it either when he sticks the straw in his milk while he smirks at you.

What an actual kid.

You promised yourself you won’t let him get to you, choosing inner peace over fighting with a brat. Besides, two can play at this game, and it’s going to take more than a small carton of milk for him to truly vex you, so you simply smile at him back, returning the favor (of course, while secretly wishing he might choke on his banana milk too).

“Would you guys mind if I recorded a little bit?” Murmurs of agreement are heard across the table. “Alrightey then,” says Soomin, “This time, none of you boys will be able to escape the camera this time around.” Just as you’d expected, Jimin and Jungkook whine in chorus, vocally expressing their petulance towards Soomin’s ‘vloggering’.

“Hey! For all you know, you two might even bring more subscribers when I put you two as my thumbnail!”

“I’m shy…” Jimin argues as he poorly covers his face with his small ID, yet continues to peek through the small gap between the card and the lanyard.

Soomin rolls her eyes at their childishness and records her food first, praising how surprisingly appetizing the hospital food is. She proceeds to pan the camera towards you as you say hi for the second time today. As Soomin moves onto Jimin, he instantly puts his ID down and waves at the camera sporting a cute smile. “Everyone, this is what ‘camera shy’ looks like nowadays.”

On the other hand, Jungkook, shameless as ever, pretends to not pay any regard to the camera but he decides to chew on his food with much suave, jaw tightening with every bite of the beef. Soomin calls on Jungkook to say hi, to which he responds by introducing himself and punctuating his statement with a flirty wink.

For some reason, you feel your stomach drop at the action, causing you to look away momentarily while Soomin instantaneously switches back to her front camera, “Okay, everyone, let’s just pretend these two weren’t flirting with the camera just now.” Soomin shakes her head at the two, deciding that was enough content about lunch at the hospital cafeteria.

“Shame the camera couldn’t handle it,” Jimin says, pouting as he places a hand over his chest.

“Maybe it was the lady behind the camera that couldn’t,” adds Jungkook who continues to wink, alternating both his eyes before making a weird face.

“Okay Jeon. I think that’s enough winking for today.”

Jungkook wouldn’t stop though and Soomin finally looks at you for help, “Diagnosis: winkitis, ophthalmologist recommends immediate enucleation.”

“Of course! How could I forget? A wink for this young lady over here too.” Jungkook turns to you now but you simply squint your eyes at him as you fake choking on thin air, “I think I might have lost my appetite altogether.”

As the three of you head back to the locker rooms to retrieve your stuff before going to the surgery department, another hospital staff stops briefly on their way to greet Soomin. It’s the third time in ten minutes and you’re starting to think Soomin knows not just ‘someone’ from the hospital. Strangely enough, they all seemed like they came from different departments too. This particular person must be of high authority or someone really famous to have people greet her as often as this.

When you round the corner, at the end of the corridor is a lady in formal attire, sporting the same ID as yours and it’s Soomin who approaches this person this time. As she pulls the person aside, she urges the three of you to go ahead, telling you she’ll catch up in a moment, leaving you sandwiched between Jimin and Jungkook who tower over you easily.

“Jimin, do you happen to know who it is exactly she knows here?”

The blond shakes his head no. “She’s never mentioned anybody in particular...all I know too is that she knows somebody here.”

“Some relatives perhaps? Maybe she’s a family member of a renowned doctor here?”

“How about her Youtube channel? Maybe she’s famous then? How many followers does she have?”

You quickly tap on Youtube on your phone with Jungkook’s prodding, looking up her channel on the app. “It says here she’s got quite the following actually... “ you tilt the screen for them to see, “six thousand followers…”

“That can’t be it. The second one who greeted her was at least in his mid-fifties...Boomers couldn’t have possibly been following...what does she vlog about again? Um… a day in the life of a med student…”

From behind you, you faintly hear a ‘goodbye’ and you clear your throat, alerting the two of Soomin’s return. “What were you guys going on about here?”

Jungkook chuckles, smoothly making up an alibi as he takes your phone in his hands, “Hope you don’t mind us checking out your channel…” Surely enough, your screen was showing a video of Soomin studying for her finals.

“As long as you subscribe, it’s fine with me.” She gives you all a thumbs up. “It’s been a while since I posted anything though...Maybe if we get to the on-call room early, maybe I could film a few shots too! Come on!” Soomin hooks your arm in hers and drags you to the locker rooms, leaving the two boys standing there in the middle of the hallway.

You figure the four of you were the first interns to arrive, as most of the doctors lounging around were either in their scrubs or heading out for lunch. “Soomin,” Jungkook seemingly deep in thought, taps the girl’s shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Remember when you bumped into me on the day of our graduation...you were with someone right? Um...Jung...Ho...I can’t quite remember his name…”

“Oh you mean Jung Hoseok? He’s my cousin.”

As Jungkook opens his mouth to reply, someone calls Soomin from the other side of the room. “Soomin! You’re here!” You spot the surgeons you’ve met during the hospital tour earlier this morning - Dr. Min Yoongi, Dr. Kim Seokjin, and Dr. Kim Namjoon. You all bow promptly as soon as they stand up.

“I didn’t really have that much of a choice,” Soomin grumbles as she gets squished with each of the doctors’ hugs. “Come on! You’re saying that as if Woocheon isn’t any good at all!”

The three of you stand awkwardly in the corner while Soomin and the other doctors mingle with each other. You nudge Jungkook’s elbow, “Hey what’s with Soomin’s cous--?”

“Oh right! These are my friends - ________, Park Jimin, and Jeon Jungkook. We’re all under your care now.” The three doctors call you over, extending their arms out for a handshake, “Ready to lose your social life?” Dr. Min asks, his bright tone contrasting his drift.

“It’s an honor to meet you Dr. Min, Dr. Kim, and Dr. Kim.” You bow curtly. “Oh doctor? It's too much! Call us sunbae instead. Oppa is cool too when we’re not working.” Dr. Seokjin’s handshake lingers a little longer than usual and you feel your cheeks start to heat up. “Besides, I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time.”

Yoongi visibly grimaces at Seokjin’s words, while Namjoon covers his face with his hands, mumbling, “Hyung.... For the love of god, please make sure the patients never ever hear that…”

Namjoon’s reaction elicits laughter from the whole group, but someone’s laugh stands out above all and it’s coming from the other side of the door. Soomin seems to recognize the voice instantly. “He’s here!”

“Soooommmiiiiiinnn!!!” A loud voice echoes throughout the room. He hugs Soomin briefly, and addresses the rest of you. “Wassup bros?” The newcomer gives each of the surgeons a dap in greeting then turns to greet you three.

“The whole gang's here!” He says, rubbing his chin, “Let me guess...Jeon Jungkook, _________, and Park Jimin, right?”

Eyes wide in surprise, you nod slowly. “Soomin here has told me all about you!” Soomin is behind the man, drawing a hand across her throat. “My name’s Jung Hoseok, by the way. Nice to finally meet you all.”

“He’s the next chairman of the Woocheon Medical City,” Seokjin whispers as he winks in your direction. Hoseok elbows him in the ribs. “No I’m not.”

“Ah yes. Correction. Not yet.” Seokjin mumbles, massaging his sides. You, Jimin, and Jungkook look at each other with knowing gazes. So that’s the ‘someone’ Soomin knows.

Woocheon ought to be...interesting.

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #doctors au

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itsmcbeamy · 3 years ago

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Okay, this belongs more to Episode 9′s commentary but it only occurred to me while I was having a break between episodes so I’m writing it now before starting Ep 10.

Regardless of whether you interpret Kotetsu’s feelings towards Barnaby as romantic or platonic, Barnaby being hospitalised in critical condition would be a HUGE TRIGGER for Kotetsu. This should have occurred to me before because it seems obvious but Barnaby in hospital would serve as a massive reminder of another time someone Kotetsu cared about was in hospital (Tomoe) which adds extra emotional weight to what Kotetsu is experiencing right now.

I’m curious as to whether this is something that will be directly addressed or referred to in Episode 10 or beyond.

Without further ado, I’m on to Episode 10:

- Love that Fire Emblem knew Sky High would be going out on patrol and offered to join him. Sky seemed so pleased too. They seem like such a good pair.

- Twins have officially Entered The Chat.

- It just occurred to me that Lunatic is clearly in the opening scene but it’s Ep 10 and he still hasn’t made a single appearance. Kinda weird.

- Why leave the heroes in a state of suspended animation and not just kill them?

- Well, they addressed that Kotetsu’s wife was also in this hospital before she passed and spending a lot of time there would be a reminder of that, I guess?

- Yes! I knew my man Thomas didn't actually not care and would pull through!

- “Inferred, is that even a word?!” I love Subaru.

- Yeah, teleporting makes a lot more sense than invisibility given the speed that twin was getting around during combat.

#tiger & bunny #tiger and bunny #tiger and bunny spoilers #tiger and bunny season 2 #season 2 liveblogging

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paperpocalypse · 4 years ago

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shoulder.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You”: 22. Listening to them while they vent.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,554 words

Warning: Swearing

Griddy’s Doughnuts, eleven past eleven on a muggy summer night, is probably the closest you’ll ever get to the twilight zone. And you kind of like it. The white, circular ceiling lights, the generic posters of steaming pancakes and coffee, the almost-emptiness of the place – it’s so different from the bustle of city life that you feel like you’re suspended in time, existing only to drink milkshakes and eat donuts.

There are two other reasons why you go to Griddy’s, though. For one, your friend Martha. She’s an adult, which your grandmother doesn’t like because you’ve been here for four years and still haven’t made any friends at school, which would be more normal. But you’ve always been better at talking to adults than people your own age, and Martha is so nice that you don’t really care how old she is. Plus, she lets you bring leftover donuts home for free.

Reason two is more like six.

“Five! Hey!”

… Though it seems like tonight, only one of them is stopping by.

(Not that you mind his company at all.)

Martha is still in the bathroom, so you skirt behind the counter, grabbing a napkin as Five walks in and seats himself at the corner barstool.

“Where’re your siblings?” you ask, opening the donut case and grabbing an apple fritter.

Five gives you a closed-lipped smile that’s all business and no pleasure. “Sleeping,” he says. He picks up a butter knife and examines it. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you grab a plate and put the fritter on it, “I saw it on the news. Lincoln Memorial in D.C., right?” Sliding the plate toward Five, you lean your elbows on the counter and crack a grimace. “It … looked pretty bad.”

“I’m talking about what happened afterward. D.C. was fine.” Five puts the knife down in favor of the donut. He stares at it, frown set deep onto his face, and takes a bite.

Judging by what you saw on TV this afternoon, you wouldn’t necessarily say D.C. was fine, but your definition of the word is pretty different from his. Nobody had died, so you guess in that respect it was fine. You knit your brow. “What do you mean, ‘what happened afterward’? Did any of you get hurt?”

He grunts. “Not on the mission. Dad wasn’t happy with how we did things in D.C., so he had us do extra training once we got back. Klaus threw up on the stairs.”

You gape. “… Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine.” Five tears off a chunk of his donut and pops it into his mouth, tasting it carefully. “It happens more often than you think. And anyway, I’m more concerned about …”

He looks over your shoulder, chewing quietly. You lean in just a little closer.

“About …?”

“You mind getting me a cup of that?” he asks, gesturing to the coffee machine behind you.

You follow his gaze, bewildered. “You want caffeine right now?”

“I have work to do after I’m done here.”

That’s probably the vaguest explanation you’ve ever heard. Not that you’re surprised; Five has shared several things about his life with you, but some topics he likes to keep to himself. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll ever completely understand him. You hope so.

In any case, you pour him a mug of coffee.

“Thanks,” Five says when you hand it to him, dipping his fritter into the brew.

You walk around the counter, sitting down next to him. “You’re very welcome. I hope you won’t regret it.”

“I rarely regret anything.” His donut is now half-gone, and you know he means what he says. Exhaling, he looks into his mug and then at you, seeming to contemplate whether he should continue before doing so. “I’m talking about my sister. Vanya.”

Vanya. You search your memories and find her – quiet, doe-eyed, brown hair with bangs. She came in with Five a few months ago, just the two of them, and they didn’t stay for very long. When you had chatted with her, she proved to be very sweet but painfully shy, unused to being out and about. Five had gotten her a plain glazed donut.

“Yeah, she came here with you once.” You tilt your head, eyes narrowing in thought. “She doesn’t have any powers, right?”

Five nods his head once, slowly. “She’s … the black sheep of the family. To put it lightly. Anyway, after dinner today, she showed me this piece she’s been working on for weeks – a violin concerto by Bach.”

“Oh! Good for her.”

“It’s the closest thing she has to a special ability,” he states, not unkindly. “Vanya’s been playing for three years now, and she’s mentioned wanting to play in an orchestra. I figured that since nobody really knows about her, and she’s ordinary, it wouldn’t hurt for her to go out once or twice a week to rehearsals – as long as we had a guard or something to watch her, of course. So I went with her to ask our dad about it.”

You have a feeling how it had gone. “How’d he take it?”

“What do you think?” He smiles tightly, folding his hands. “He said no. It’s too much of a security risk for the academy. And, furthermore, she wouldn’t have time outside of studying and helping out with our training.”

Five grabs his coffee and takes a gulp. You bite your lip, thinking of the small, timid girl that didn’t know how to order a simple donut. What did she do while her siblings were out fighting criminals and doing interviews? Watch them? Stay inside, playing her violin that no one listened to except for Five?

“That sucks,” you murmur, slumping down to rest your chin on your arms. “I’m sorry.”

He puts the mug down with a hard clink. “It’s all bullshit, but what can we do? Vanya just accepted it like she usually does.”

“I wish there was a way to convince your dad.”

“Not unless Allison rumors him. But she wouldn’t do that for Vanya.” Inspecting the last bit of his fritter, Five picks it back up and finishes it in one swallow. “Like I said, black sheep.”

He wipes his hand with a napkin, placing it to the left of his plate before looking over at you, pensive. You stare back, fingers busy with the napkin crushed between them, then give him a small smile. Some of his irritation softens.

“… I’m sorry to interrupt, kids, but it’s almost midnight.”

You jump at Martha’s voice. Holy crap, how long had she been there?

The woman glances down at you, eyes crinkling from a grin as she takes Five’s plate. He looks a little miffed by the interruption. “Don’t worry, I know how customers like their privacy. I just wanted to tell you that I can drive you back, hon,” Martha continues, directing the offer to you. “Though Agnes is going to be late for her shift, so you’ll have to wait about a half hour or so.”

“No need.” Five knocks back the rest of his coffee and stands up, handing her a five-dollar bill. “I’ll walk [Y/n] back.”

“Will you?” She takes a moment to gloss over his uniform. “Well, aren’t you a dear. Would you mind going with him, hon? I don’t want you going back later than you have to.”

Five quirks an eyebrow at you when you turn to him. Your face warms unexpectedly. “I … guess so,” you answer as you leave your seat, suddenly awkward for reasons you can’t explain.

“Then that’s settled. I trust you Umbrella kids can keep your charges safe.”

“Of course.” He straightens his tie, nodding at Martha and you before turning to go.

Martha catches your arm. “Here’s something for the road.” She hands you a small paper bag, speckled with grease. You take it gratefully, about to thank her, but then she leans in and your words die on your tongue when she whispers, “Make sure to take his arm when he offers it, hon.”

Discreetly, she winks at you. Your cheeks burn hotter, much to your horror.

“[Y/n]? Are we going or what?”

“Y-Yeah, coming,” you answer, giving Martha a quick hug over the counter and hurrying over to Five, who’s holding the door open. “Bye, Martha.”

“G’night, you two.”

As the two of you pass by the windows of Griddy’s Doughnuts, you look through and see your friend wave, dishcloth in hand and a beam on her face. Her words run through your mind as you wave back. What a weird piece of advice. People don’t offer their arms anymore, and as you sneak a glance at your companion, you wonder if Five would even be the type to do so.

After a few minutes, you find that he isn’t. But he also doesn’t move away when you walk close enough for your hands to touch, and when you reach up, hesitantly, to grasp his sleeve when a car passes by – continuing to hold it until you reach your apartment – he doesn’t say a word. He says goodnight to you, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it, when the two of you stand at your door, and he makes sure you get in safely.

And for now, that’s perfectly enough.

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

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Little Border Town Pt. 3

Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today?

Part 3: the one with the boat and the beginning of a storm

IT’S BEEN AGESSSS I AM SO SO SORRY I LOVE YALL SO MUCH AND EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER READ THIS THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT

also harry is wearing this fit in this part just no tie?? i think i cant remember

college has been incredibly crazy this year already and i just dont have time to write like i did before i went back. i honestly had this mostly finished and i havent reread so i have no idea what even happens so lmk what you think, i can’t imagine that it will get a lot of notes but if it did id be very happy about that - anyways lots of love and feedback appreciated as always...pls enjoy

Word Count: 6.6k | Warnings: ?? Swearing? idek, more yearning bc slow burn

Catch up here! part 1 | 2 |

“Isn’t the weather not ideal for boat sailing today,” she ponders as her face looks up at the sky. She’s walking into Harry’s store again after running back to her place to grab a jacket and lock up. She placed a notecard in the door’s window that says “closed today, see you tomorrow” with a smiling face as punctuation.

Harry grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had sailing boots on his feet with a smart big-collared printed shirt and marigold trousers. Instead of a belt, he had suspenders that matched the color of his pants and a pearl necklace as his final accessory other than his rings. He must have repainted his nails this morning because they were a light lavender shade that hadn’t been noticeable last night.

“It’s just fine. We’re entering fall and the sun is out today!” He gestures to the sky above them and she nods in agreement that the sun is indeed out. However she wasn’t sure if she’d categorize it as a nice day to go out on the sea still. With the sun there were also many clouds, they were mostly white and fluffy, but she was sure they could turn sinister any moment.

“Ready?” He beams.

“As I’ll ever be.”

On the boat, Y/N felt her stomach churning. Was she giddy or unnerved? Likely, both.

Harry was tying the boat off the dock after helping her onto the deck. It wasn’t a huge boat, not a yacht or anything, but it also wasn’t a tiny sailboat. It had an upper deck where maybe four people - at most - could comfortably be. Then a lower deck, inside a hatch in the upper deck. She couldn’t discern how much space was down there, but she was sure Harry would show her. He was talking through everything he was doing on the boat. Ad nauseum for an extremely nontechnical girl, such as herself.

Still, she sat in the spot he had directed her to next to the closed hatch and watched him move gracefully around the boat. Maneuvering the sails and different parts of the boat was a dance for Harry. Each step, each twist and knot, moved by a song unknown to her. It was beautiful. He was completely in his element, surprisingly. Again, Harry surprised her. She knew he had a boat, but whenever she thought of a jerk with a boat she didn’t think of what she was seeing with her own eyes. It was beautiful - or at least, it would be, if he’d shut his big mouth that was now making her roll her eyes as he made a pun about boats.

“So,” Harry starts finally, finishing up whatever he needed to do to get the boat off the dock and on the path he wanted. They were moving out into open water, she could see the little town, but it was growing smaller by the minute. Her stomach churned again as she looked up at the man she had just trusted to take her out onto the ocean. She grimaced slightly at the thought.

“Do you want to see the inside?” he continued.

She nods eagerly, “Finally!”

He chuckles lightly before opening up the hatch and gesturing for her to go first. She looks at him hesitantly.

“This isn’t a trap right? It’s not going to be all...murder-y down there?” Her voice is pitched higher, she’s almost completely serious.

This time Harry’s laugh comes from his belly, almost doubling over at the word ‘murder-y’. Between laughs, he tries to reassure her. “God no...oh my god.” More laughter, then a deep breath. “The only evil entity on this boat is the diavola I invited on here,” he gestures to her standing in front of him and her eyes narrow. Displeasure washing over her features.

“You’re ridiculous,” her hand swats at his sternum before she turns from him and climbs down to the underdeck area.

When she’s down, she’s surprised with her surroundings and she doesn’t notice Harry follow quickly behind her. It’s neat and stylish. Well, she’s not completely surprised, Harry was very fashionable. But the neatness dissipated all thoughts of the improbable scenario where Harry had lured her on his boat to murder her. It was what she had been freaking out over when she had at first refused to enter.

There was a small daybed at the end of the hall that doubled as a couch, a door to a bathroom, a dining area, a kitchenette, and then the random area they were standing in. It wasn’t super spacious, it was a hallway with things around it, but it was clean and it smelled nice. Everything had a place and they were neatly put in their places. After a moment, she turned at the feeling of Harry’s presence behind her.

He grinned, scanning the areas her eyes had just taken in for the first time. His green eyes were filled with admiration. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, smells like you.” She nods matter of factly.

“Huh?” His head whips to her, sure he hadn’t heard her right.

“The whole place is very you,” she looks away from him and walks down the hall to the daybed and takes a seat, “Styles-ish.”

He follows quickly behind, shaking his head out of his own thoughts.

He mumbles a thanks, not catching the play on words she’d used with his last name. She smiles to herself, pleased. He stands in the doorway, not really wanting to sit beside her. Maybe he didn’t trust himself with being in such close proximity with her anymore. No, not after last night.

Her eyes widen slightly when he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. The sleeves of his button-up had been rolled up when he had been working with the sails. Her lips suddenly are dry and she wets them with her tongue, eyes moving to the fabric of the blanket she’s sat on top of.

“I meant to say,” Harry breaks the silence, obviously not a fan of the quiet. A hand leaves his pose and runs through his hair, rings classically tugging at his curls. He swallows before he speaks again, “Thanks, uh, for stopping me last night. That would’ve been weird…”

He trails off and her eyes go wide again, but now they’re trained on his face. His eyes are downcast now, watching the way light plays off his rings. She tries to make out the sound in his voice, the expression he’s trying to hide with indifference. Her teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth as she thinks, silence once again taking hold of the small, small room. The air is tense, static, unmoving, the complete opposite of the water that rushes just outside the walls of the boat.

She clears her throat and Harry locks eyes with her, “No problem...alcohol and atmosphere, clouds the head. I get it.” She did, but she also hadn’t wanted the gratitude Harry had just placed on her.

“You booze, you lose,” he smiles, straightening up and she looks at him quizzically.

“That’s such an odd phrase.”

“No it’s not!”

“It’s a play on ‘you snooze, you lose’ right?” She leans forward, face looking smugly up at Harry’s offended face.

“Well, yeah,” Harry admits.

“I can’t believe you made that up and got it tattooed,” She states breezily and then stands. She brushes past him to look around the rest of the cabin.

Harry scoffs, not even noticing the way her fingers had brushed over his naked forearm as she passed, too focussed on his indignation. “How’d you know about the tattoo?”

“Naked neighbor? Never closing his shade? Do you seriously need a refresher course already? Seriously, boat boy, I really thought you were smarter than that,” She talks as she snoops around the different parts of the cabin. She pokes at figurines and looks at little photos and paintings. Her head looks over her shoulder and she laughs happily at Harry’s face of irritation. It was so easy to push his buttons.

“Don’t call me boat boy,” he seethes, but she knows he’s not really mad. More like he’s a child who got told no dessert before dinner. A laugh rocks through her body again and bubbles to the surface. It causes Harry to soften, this time there’s no alcohol in his system to account for the feeling he just felt. He mirrors the smile she has. That is until she reaches the kitchenette and finds a rack of CDs sitting beside the sink.

She turns from him and begins to leaf through them, most of them are artists she recognizes. But then she reaches some that are just titled “Demo” with various numbers beside the word. Her fingers nimbly pick out “Demo #1” and turn back to Harry with an inquisitive gaze. His green eyes are bigger than usual, the smile gone from his face.

“These from the boy band days?” She smiles wider as he turns a little red. She crosses closer to him, remembering the sight of a cd player in the main area where the entrance to the cabin was.

“Erm..no.” She flips around again, confused again, but then it dawns on her. “Demos for my solo work.”

“That you put on hold to take over for your Uncle.”

“Great Uncle.” He corrects.

“I know.” She waited a second, where she was about to be quick to play the CD, she now wanted to get Harry’s permission. It might be a little more personal than she had first thought. “Can we listen to this one? You’d technically be taking me up on the request to play for me sometime.”

“Yeah, they’re rough - obviously. So if you could try to not bruise my ego, at least not more than you usually do,” he grins and she looks at him with dead eyes. A smile cracks on her face quickly, still.

“I wouldn’t...this is different,” she struggles to find the right words. She would never make fun of something he cared a lot about, not now. She wasn’t that person, it was odd to think he maybe saw her like that. She shook away the thought and focused on placing the CD in its player correctly.

The first song begins to play, he’s right it is rough, it’s a demo. There’s no backing vocals or beat of any kind. Just a voice and a guitar. And it’s amazing. After the guitar intro, she lets out a breath she had been holding when she hears the voice. His voice. It’s beautiful. And she’s shocked, her eyes flash to Harry. He’s nibbling at his bottom lip, watching her hear it for the first time. His voice from all those years ago.

“Brooklyn saw me empty at the news, there’s no water inside this swimming pool.”

Her eyes light up again at the lyrics and she smiles, finding it melancholic yet slightly funny at the same time. It was interesting, the words, his voice, the meaning. Some bits of information eluded her, but she knew she enjoyed the song.

“And I’ve been praying, I never did before.”

Even as the song moved on from this one lyric, she felt it replaying in her head as she watched the singer in front of her. Years older than he had been when he had written this song. She was filled with questions and paused the CD as the guitar faded out.

“That’s it?” Harry laughs, “Just one song? It was really that horrible?”

“Oh my god, no!” She is emphatic, needing Harry to understand she’s serious. She takes a step closer to his figure. He had traveled closer to her while the song had played. They were almost chest to chest and her hand goes out to touch his forearm. “I really liked it, genuinely. I just needed a moment before the next one.”

“Bracing yourself?”

“Stop, I’m serious. It was beautiful. Your voice is wonderful, Harry.”

His eyes sparkle at the praise, finally believing she’s not taking the piss. Then his eyes dropped from her gaze, “I was a lot younger then, was 21 I think when I recorded this demo.”

“So? A voice like that doesn’t just disappear, dude.” She looks at him with a finality in her expression before dropping the hand that was firmly gripping his tattooed arm and turning back to the CD player.

Harry bites his lip as another one of his early songs plays over the shoddy speakers. His voice repeats “Meet me in the hallway” over the solo guitar. There’s no echo or bass, no count in like the final song was supposed to have. It’s just him and his guitar, before he chose to leave it all behind.

His voice is sadder here, she notices and she visibly winces at “just take the pain away” and “just let me know, I’ll be on the floor” and his repetition of “gotta get better.”

How did this man, who seemed fazed by practically nothing, have so much hurt in him to write both of these songs? Her eyes welled with water, but she blinked them back still staring at the singer before her. He was watching the CD spin in the player as his voice came through the speakers. He was lost in thought, in memory. Maybe she was lucky, these weren’t memories for her, she was only hearing his interpretation of his life. She hadn’t had to live that pain first hand. This time she doesn’t pause before the next song.

The next one seems more produced than the last two. This one starts with drums, a step up from the last two acoustic demos in respect to production. A big crash and then a wailing guitar and an accompanying voice. His voice is stronger here, more sure of himself. And then it changes again, melancholic once again and her heart strings are yanked at again.

“We’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”

The guitar continues that sad tone for a riff and then goes back to strumming beneath his voice. She shifts her eyes to him again and sighs softly, it weighs heavy on her soul that the man next to her has seemingly been through so much heartache. He looks up at “We don’t see what we used to see” and she holds his gaze, brows knit together in confusion and sadness. She pauses this time, finger reaching out without looking.

“This is depressing, please tell me they’re not all sad songs or I might as well have turned on a pet rescue commercial.”

His smile etches on his face, in a small knowing smirk and he crosses into her personal space. She’s about to step back, but he reaches out and softly bats her finger away from the pause/play button. She smiles back, shuffling to lean against the counter beside him. It was unusual for them to be on the same side of the counter, much like last night at the bar.

“There’s six songs on this demo. Three sad, three…” he trails off, looking at her expectantly. She nods. “You gotta learn to be a little less impatient, hmm?”

“Not impatient, just trying to brace myself for more sadness. I thought I had been promised a day of fun,” she grumbles.

“I wasn’t the one who suggested a demo listening party,” his brows raise and she twists her mouth to the side at his smug response.

“True,” she finally concedes with a murmur.

He presses play and a new song comes on that is more upbeat than any of the other’s that have played so far. It also seems to be a bit more produced than the first two. Her hand rests on the countertop and begins to tap, she quirks her brow at the first lyric “she’s got a family in carolina, so far away, but she says I remind her of home.” A girl who likened Harry Styles to the South of the United States, interesting. As she listens to the lyrics, she smirks at the massive crush he must have had to write this song. The “good girl” lyrics bounce around in her mind and her mind drifts back to last night. Would it have felt good? To kiss Harry?

Then, she’s brought out of her reverie with “I met her once and wrote a song about her”. Her eyes widen and look to Harry again inquisitively as his past self muses over how good this girl felt. He wrote about a one night stand? That woman must have been magic. That was all she had to say about that.

“Really?” She asks incredulously, folding her arms over her chest. His gaze flickers at the movement, human nature. He presses pause.

“What?”

“A one night stand earned that?”

He looked at her seriously, like the answer was obvious. She laughs before continuing.

“You’re a simp.”

“I’m sorry?” He sputters at her statement immediately.

She raises her brows as a response now. Nothing else to say.

“She wasn’t a one night stand,” he defends, “She was a blind date...and it had been after a dry spell.”

She starts to laugh, about to give another snarky response, but he adds, “And I was twenty-one.” The numbers specifically enunciated.

“You’re still a simp in my book...but I liked the song. It was catchy, rock vibes in there. I don’t know about her telling you remind her of Carolina - north or south, I don’t see it.”

He eyes her warily, still not happy with her titling him that gen z term that was super popular all over the internet. He took her in and he knew she was only three years younger than him, he was pretty sure, yet she used ‘simp’ and ‘vibes’ like they were lexicon words. He didn’t hate it, it was just different than what he usually heard in the little border town. Italian not having translations for things like that, English was so interesting, internet language was so interesting.

“I-” He starts and stops. “She said it. Was she right? That’s not my place to judge.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N pressed, words dragging out playfully, “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be a reminder of the U.S. South, but okay...simp.”

“I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I’m throwing you overboard and I won’t feel bad about it.”

Her eyes widen and then she smiles, he cracks a smile too. They huddle back around the CD player, ready for the next song. It starts with a strong guitar and drums, again well produced compared to the acoustic earlier ones.

His voice in this is far more shaky, unsure of himself again. “Let me take my medicine, take my medicine, treat you like a gentleman,” comes through the speakers. She shivers and looks at him, her fingers tapping along to the beat. The instruments are strong where his voice is soft, it doesn’t exactly fit, but she likes the lyrics still. When it gets to the pre-chorus, that’s when she knows she loves the song.

“I had a few got drunk on you and now I’m wasted, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (tasted)”

When his voice pitches high for ‘wasted’ she loses it. Her body moves with the instruments and her eyes close and her head wiggles. Harry smiles happily as she dances for the first time to one of his songs. The last word must have been shouted by his bandmates, because she doesn’t hear him say it.

Then the chorus hits and she wonders how it got even better. Her eyes shoot open and she just stares at Harry, her jaw slightly dropped.

“If you got out tonight, I’m going out tonight cause I know you’re persuasive! You got that something and I got me an appetite now I can taste it”

His past self sings of getting dizzy and his voice moans into the mic the demo was recorded on. She’s blown away. It sounds so hot, his voice gaining confidence during the pre-chorus and the chorus to have an all around rockstar sound.

The present Harry just taps his rings together as he watches her, studying her reaction with an even-tempered expression. Why isn’t he screaming like she is on the inside? When it gets to the second verse she’s bracing herself for what’s to come. This song has her pulse racing and blood flowing wildly around her body. She’s buzzing from it.

“The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with him and I’m okay with it”

The electric guitar follows the line up and she thinks she’s going to pass out on this boat right now. Flamboyant Harry. Was this what Marie had been talking about. The wild side of Harry she really had never seen, embodied in one song. She wanted more of it. Still all she got was the Harry on the demo rocking out to his song. She can hear him smiling through the recording, the sad boy from a few songs ago was now feeling euphoric. She just wanted to dance the night away with him.

Then another pre-chorus: “I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (ride it)”

His voice goes high again for ‘like it’ this time and her question of what is to follow is quickly answered with the bandmates screaming ‘ride it’ into the mics they must have had. It’s punctuated with the drums and other instruments. A noise escapes the back of her throat and Harry looks at her both smugly and amused. She rolls her eyes in response, trying to convince Harry that she hadn’t just had images of him singing about how good someone rides him flash in her mind. Even more so with the images of someone, namely her, being the object of his dreams. Doing the things he said he’d dream of. That, that was definitely not what she was thinking about. Definitely not. Her throat was dry and she swallowed hard. Harry’s eyes never left her face. Watching every reaction, gauging it and storing the information elsewhere for the time being.

She sings along to the chorus, trying to focus on the song, it was easy to pick up, but then the damn moans. And then there’s a guitar solo that sounds like sex itself and she’s baffled that this was an unreleased demo, not a famous rock song. Harry in front of her can’t stop himself from tapping his feet at this part, a little dance forming on his body as his eyes finally leave her figure. They close as he feels the music, the memory of his friend playing the riff clear in his mind and how much he had loved it. It builds up again and then there’s a final chorus. She watches him now as he dances in the confined space. His mouth opens to sing along to the “la la la’s”

It ends and goes straight into another upbeat song. It seemed like a complimentary song to the one that had just played.

“I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me, oh Anna!”

His voice sings strong again. Harry before her composed himself again, going back to his watching position. He took in her tapping and smiling to the song. He also mouths the words slightly as it plays, the lyrics clear as the day he finished writing them almost 4 years ago. One of the final ones for this demo.

“Hope you never hear this and know that it’s for you, don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth”

She smirks at him, now, with the earnest lyrics, about to say something, but then notices the change in the guitar. It switches from the epic riff that was going to a more familiar tune, “Faith” by George Michael. She looks at him, a cheesy grin on her face as the voice begins to sing the chorus of that song. Her body begins to dance to it, like an old man doing the twist. She’s not ashamed and Harry loves it and joins her by mirroring the movements.

When the song comes to an end, they’re one large giggling mess. She falls into his arms and he holds her steady, their laughter coming out with freedom.

“Thanks for making me be patient,” She looks up at him, “it was worth it!”

He smiles, backing up slightly, “It’s like I knew what I was talking about.”

“Ok smart guy,” she teases with a silly voice. “I’m assuming whoever Anna is, isn’t actually named Anna then...?”

Harry hums and makes a twitch of his brows, but doesn’t respond. Instead he grabs her hand and she squeaks slightly, he pulls her to the ladder and prompts her to go up. She obliges silently and lands back on the top of the boat now. She looks out and sees the little town to be off in the distances now, shining blue water all around the creamy white boat.

Harry stands behind her now and shuts the hatch easily. She looks at him warily, confused by his silence. He extends his hand to her this time and she takes it. He leads her to the front of his boat. They’re moving, but so slowly you’d barely notice. There’s a loveseat of sorts right at the front and Harry sets her down in it. She smiles at him with caution, still bewildered. He leans against a part of the boat that stands in front of the seat.

“It’s beautiful, right?” He asks.

Her eyes have been looking around her, but they’ve mostly been trained on Harry. She was mesmerized by him now. His music, his boat, his clothes, his everything. She was seeing him in a new light. In a completely brand new way that had her unable to take her eyes off of him.

She nods finally when Harry looks at her expectantly. “It’s amazing,” she breathes.

His smile is the half-sided grin again. Beautiful big teeth on display with a little part of space between them. His dimple pops out and once again her eyes are on his face. She realized going on this boat with Harry might not have been such a good idea.

He folds his arms, her eyes flicker down. Every movement he makes, she doesn’t want to miss it. Even if she also is telling her mind to shake it off, she can’t. It’s like a spell.

“Obviously Anna is a pseudonym,” he says finally, eyes watching where the boat was taking him. She nods in approval. He pauses, watching the little waves, but she knows he has more to say.

“What did you think of the rest of it?” He asks quietly, gaze never going back to her. He knew she’d teased him a little and had danced along to some. She’d looked at him with wide eyes at some lyrics, but he wanted to know what she really thought.

She can tell he’s nervous, but she doesn’t understand why. They were all very good songs, his voice was beautiful, the lyrics were interesting. She didn’t understand his lack of confidence. His first time not exhibiting his usual self-assured - self-absorbed, even - personality. She bites her lip in confusion and his brows knit together, further showing his apprehension. The wrinkles in his forehead show up more prominently and she’s reminded that Harry is 26. He’s a different person now then he was back when he recorded that demo. Maybe there was a reason he kept them on the boat. She felt unsure in her response now.

“They were all great, Harry.” His face softens immediately. “Each one was beautifully written and sung. The ones that were acoustic sounded wonderful as did the ones with your whole band. I’m honored to be someone who got to hear those masterpieces.”

She wanted to tell them they should be famous songs, but she had a feeling that might not have the effect on him that she wanted. He had chosen a little quiet life in the little border town. She didn’t think he would want to hear how his music could have made it big time.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, just about the sounds of the sea. He lets a closed mouth smile twist onto his face, but it feels like he doesn’t fully believe her. She wants to kiss his worry away, but again, she knows it’s not possible. His words from earlier rang in her head. It would make things weird. Yeah, you’re right. Ugh, why had she agreed. She didn’t agree, not at all, not anymore.

“Did you have a favorite?” He stands up straighter with his question.

She laughs slightly, “I liked the second to last one a lot. It was hot.”

“Hot how?” He steps closer, smirking.

She jumps up from her reclined seat, in indignation, “Oh come on, you know it’s hot. Now you’re just looking for me to stroke your ego! It’s obviously about sex.”

“And? You’re the one who’s saying it’s your favorite and blushing.” He arches a brow at her, arms going to his hips and looking at her teasingly.

“Well, you’re the one who was singing about sucking dick and dreaming of how someone rode you.”

“Is that what it’s about?” His voice raises as he purses his lips and raises both of his brows.

She realizes just how worked up he’s gotten her in such a short amount of time. She huffs and turns away from him with a flick of her hand. “You’re infuriating.” Is all she can say. She looks out at the waves now, ignoring Harry even though he’s less than a foot away.

He’s laughing behind her for a little. Then when she doesn’t turn around, he quiets and she’s not quite sure where he’s gone. Then his breath fans over her neck and right shoulder, where her jacket hasn’t managed to cover her. It’s warm and a little minty as the scent travels over the salty sea air. She doesn’t turn or move a muscle for that matter.

A hand reaches out to her shoulder, but still she makes no move to turn. It rests there for a minute and she simply huffs again, letting her shoulders rise and fall dramatically. A single laugh slips from Harry’s mouth.

“C’mon diavola, don’t be like that. S’all in good fun.” His voice is low in her ear, sultry even. It reminds her of his voice in that song once he got into it. His voice sounds like sex in her ear and this time when she sighs it’s not because she’s irritated with him. No, she wants him. The sigh has an undercurrent of that desire and she hopes Harry doesn’t understand that. But otherwise she stays quiet, letting him murmur into her ear with his hand on her shoulder and his chest pressed to her back now. The only witness of this exchange is the ocean before them.

His head leans closer and if she didn’t know any better it felt like he was about to press a kiss to her neck. Instead all she feels is the brush of his mustache, it tickles the shell of her ear and she can’t keep in the giggle. She twists away from the sensation and Harry is grinning at her when she faces him.

His hand still on her shoulder and his body still pressed close to hers. He’s so warm and so close and so shiny new in her eyes, even if he still manages to irritate her. Her eyes flicker up to his as their laughter quiets down. She realizes her own hands have gone to his waist to steady herself and she follows his feet as he backs them up from the edge of the boat that she had brought them too.

It’s quiet again. They’re staring at each other intently. Her eyes are swirling with emotion because she just wants to know what’s going on in the brain of the man before her. She wants to know everything about him, but she knows that’s not how he feels about her. Sure, they’re friends now, but nothing else.

Why did she have to come on this stupid boat and find his stupid amazing music? Why did he have such a stupid amazing face?

These questions and other silly things were racing around her head as she gripped his waist. He didn’t mind her quietness, he found her gaze to be a little unnerving, but he was just glad he had made her laugh. He found that he didn’t enjoy her anger at him as much anymore.

Just as he was about to start another conversation, there was a cloud that drifted over the shining sun. It was her original fear come to life. Harry’s brows furrowed as he looked up at the clouds. They were turning grey. Fast.

“Shit, shit, shit,” He began mumbling and released his hand from her shoulder. He pulled away from her hold and began moving swiftly around the boat. He needed to get them off the water, there was a storm coming.

Her eyes went wide as she noticed the approaching storm as well. Her brows furrowed with worry as she watched Harry begin working on the boat, his only words being curses to himself at first.

Then he enlists her help, asking her to hold onto a specific part of the boat for him after he threw her a life vest and made her put it on. She wore it with great dissatisfaction. He only shrugged as he continued to move nimbly around the boat, turning them around, back to the dock.

The boat moved much swifter into the shore than it had on their way out. The waves were growing choppier by the minute and she would admit she was more than a little scared. Thankfully, Harry knew what he was doing and got them there quickly and safely. Once at the dock, he tied them there and then helped her off the boat. She stood on the dock uncomfortably as the rain started to come down.

“Give me your lifevest!” He gestures from the boat.

She quickly takes it off and flinches when the first bout of thunder sounds from far off. He takes it from her and throws it haphazardly down the hatch along with his own before jumping off the boat himself. He surveys the boat from the dock to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Then he looks at her. She’s wrapped her arms around herself and is ducking her head, looking like she’s attempting to ward off rain but failing miserably.

She looks up at him and he offers a soft smile of reassurance.

“Take my hand!” He shouts slightly over the growing sound of rain and thunder. He wants to get them out of the rain, but he’s also apprehensive to leave his boat to the mercy of the weather. Still, that’s all he can do.

She puts her hand in his and his fingers weave with hers. Then, they’re off racing back to their street in the little border town.

“I should go back to my place!”

“Don’t be silly! France is much too far for you to go in this weather!”

She laughs and grips his hand tighter as he fumbles for his key. His wet hand slipping as the rain droplets soak their clothes and skin. Even though her door is a mere few feet away she allows Harry to pull her into his shop. The warmth and dryness appreciated after running a few blocks in the now torrential downpour. There weren’t storms often in the little border town, but like the old adage said ‘when it rained, it poured’ quite literally. The less she had to travel in the rain the happier she was, even if it was three measly feet.

It also occurred to her that she’d be able to sit out her first storm with someone by her side. And she would admit that didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of storms and being in a new place with a storm she’d never weathered before was daunting. Harry inviting her in was a blessing. She didn’t have to be asked twice.

Once inside the little shop, their wet frames begin to form puddles beneath themselves. Harry sighs and takes off up his rickety stairs. She looks after him in confusion but stays put when he calls a quick “Wait there!”

She shakes a bit of the rain from her and shivers as she listens for Harry’s movements barely audible above the crashing of the rain water. When he returns, her breath catches in her throat, like she just choked on something, yet there’s nothing.

As he walks down the steps, far slower now, his wet hair shakes out around his head forming some ethereal halo. The light from upstairs illuminates him and the darkness outside casts an ominous darkness as he descends.

“Un ange…” She whispers after finally catching her breath.

If he hears her, it doesn’t matter. He’s already beginning to smile widely just from seeing Y/N before him.

He skips the last step and crosses to her swiftly. “Let’s get you dried a little more,” he begins to dote. A matching smile spreads on Y/N’s face out of appreciation. She still can’t manage to fend off the shivering and Harry’s smile falters. His hands leave the towel and trace her exposed skin. Her cheek feels like ice, only slightly warming under his touch.

“You need dry clothes,” he mumbles.

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. He’s so close and so attentive and she wants to ask him to kiss her because they’ve been going back and forth all day, but he’s right she’s freezing. His eyes are so intense though she can’t even maintain eye contact. Instead her gaze flits up to the droplet beginning to swell down one of his rogue strands of hair that flopped over his forehead moments ago.

She doesn’t respond as she watches and Harry begins to worry more. Her eyes seemingly unfocused, her shivering, and her silence. He thumbs over the apple of her cheekbone and finally breaks her reverie. The droplet splashing between them without her as its audience.

“C’mon,” he tugs her hand now to bring her upstairs.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles series #little border town #harry styles one shot #harry styles af #ahghsgjfgkjdfkg #literal keyboard smash #its been so long #and no one is going to read #do y'all even remember me omg

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spnasylum · 4 years ago

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My notes while listening to Misha’s comments on the podcast: (grab a snack!)

In light of the most recent fandom drama I decided to listen to *that* podcast and take notes as I went along about what was actually said and then give my take on it as objectively as possible. This is basically an essay so strap in!

He complains about not getting a trailer on set that’s the same as Jared and Jensen’s. Even though he has one that can accommodate 3 people. This was the first point of discussion inspired by opening up the interview with a brief chat about Misha currently being in his camper van and how he’s sleeping in it even though he’s still home in Bellingham. The whole hour and 26 minutes has an undertone of complaining and ego stroking by all involved.

Says he’s sad he didn’t get to be there for the final days of filming.

Seems a little nervous about if friendships made during the shows run will last now it’s over.

Admits he has no plan in place or anything coming up career wise and he’s unsure of his future. This is where he brings up Walker and The Boys and says if he had shows like that to go to he wouldn’t feel SPN ending was so monumental. It is said with a slight tone of bitterness.

Side note: the hosts Alaina and Malik seem to be fine with running with the narrative that Misha was part of the show it’s entire 15 year run. Misha clears this up eventually by saying he joined in season 4.

Misha says that he realized about six years ago that SPN could run as “we” wanted it to, implying he has any say in keeping the show going or not. He asserts that he would have been on the show up until the very end in any case. But he didn’t feel that way the first few years he was on the show. So that makes me think something or someone involved gave him the feeling he could be confident in being in the cast for however long SPN aired. Maybe this was after Sera left? Maybe this was when he agreed to a significant pay cut and demotion? Either way it seems he felt SPN = job security.

Misha doubts he’ll have the feeling of job security again.

Says from around age 11 he wanted to be a politician.

Says he saw “successful, untalented” actors and decided “I can do that”. He realized that was naive and it’s actually not easy to be that successful and by the time he got his career going he was basically just in it for the fame it’s not anything he took seriously.

We find out his wife did a doctorate in gender history... for some reason.

That Marilyn Monroe was some sort of baseline for him about creating a public persona (🤷🏽‍♀️) except for getting cosmetic surgery he points out.

Talk about how he got started. Acting classes, improve groups. Moving between Chicago, DC and LA.

Discussion about the differences and similarities between Hollywood and Washington.

States he got a consultant to help him cultivate a fan base and image to connect with an audience after getting on SPN. Admits that was a double edged sword because an anonymous public start thinking that they really know you and things start getting weird.

Mentions trying to find a balancing act of being authentic and having a private life but still keeping your fans.

He admits that the fan base he grew for himself by seeming accessible has caused him to attract people who don’t have any boundaries. This is when he claims the “dialing it back” in regard to how much he shares and mentions his kids specifically as something he doesn’t feel comfortable with putting out there. Uses the word “unhinged” to describe them.

Malik mentions “crazy fans” who seem to know too much about you and finding out where you are etc. Using the example of fans turning up at an airport wanting autographs and you wondering how they even knew you’d be there and what flight you taking. He asks Misha to share experiences about his own crazy fans.

This is when Misha uses the example about having fans who think that when he tweets something out he’s communicating with them personally.

Alaina then says that in the Supernatural fandom people fight each other to protect Jared, Jensen and Misha and it’s “very bizarre”. She volunteered that people think Misha secretly hates Jared and that it’s not true. Not sure why she decided to direct the conversation to a place that would cause drama and give Misha a chance to play victim.

And then...

That’s when he claims that he was public enemy number one with super fans of the show because he’s taking attention away from Jared and Jensen.

That’s when he brings up the alleged organized attack to take down his Facebook account. He says they reported him for... *pauses... claims to not know what. But that whatever it was “Facebook bought it and took it down”. Facebook deleted/deactivated his account but he eventually got it back.

Side note: Facebook (like all social media) have always been bias when it comes to people with leftist views and let them have free reign on the platform. So he must have done something that they would decide to suspend him. I don’t think J2 fans can be blamed for the content he posts and if it violated any ToS. As we know he can post some inappropriate things on social media.

He then brings up the allegations of him taking money out of his organization. Stating it’s “categorically untrue” is all he brings forward as evidence to the contrary.

Side note: I don’t know why then that there’s no receipts or transparency. Why is his mother a beneficiary, why do people who mention he owns Stands get blocked, why set everything up in Delaware and have your for profit and so called non profit interests so entangled etc etc) I guess fans are just supposed to have faith and take his word for it.

He says that ALL of them (Jared, Jensen and himself) have people who hate them in the fandom. But overall the fandom is lovely and supportive of the cast and each other. Makes an attempt at stating there’s no kind of competition or animosity between he and Jared. I think this is like the 3rd or 4th time in the interview either he or Alaina bring up Jared but keep the focus on how Misha is the one facing “character assassination.”

Finally says that all of them have nasty things done to them and they all have had to consult security because of threats to their families etc, doesn’t specify which faction of the fandom that’s coming from. Mentions people filing police reports in the fandom but doesn’t say regarding who or what. Alaina reacts like it’s the first time hearing of this happening. Misha just goes “yeah!” Then they move on to talking about living situations.

Apparently Alaina and Misha were neighbors in LA but didn’t take advantage of that. She doesn’t live in LA anyone, wants a new adventure.

Misha mentions Bellingham is another thing about his future he’s unsure about and how his kids flourished there.

Brings up not being present with his kids even when he’s home because of work and side projects and that the one thing he’s enjoying right now it spending time with them. That he used to operate from a place of guilt because his kids felt like they only have one parent. He and Malik briefly spoke on how their careers have negatively affected their love lives.

Misha says he’s not really involved with Random Acts or running it anymore. (Ummm... what)

He and Alaina discuss Haiti and Nicaragua for a while.

Says he may try to get into directing. Says he likes having creative control. Mentions he likes doing his art installations.

Admits that getting a bit of success made him very entitled and wanting of special treatment. But claims he’s trying to keep that in check (where?) and he’s just like everyone else (well duh!). But he “trades on his celebrity” to get stuff and it makes him feel dirty (I think everyone with any kind of following does that though so nbd)

Talk of how TV/film is more diverse in telling minority stories these days.

Was asked by Malik if he has any kind of chip on his shoulder career wise and Misha says the chip on his shoulder is being bored. But says he needs to work on being more engaged.

He then abruptly wants to end the interview. Saying he has to pick up his kids. Malik wants another question. He asks how Misha has been hurt or healed by his career.

Misha then brings up the movie Karla. Again admitting to becoming more like Paul psychologically irl. But says knowing he has that type of evil in him somewhere (and says that we all have that in us) made him more empathetic to the human condition.

They then say their goodbyes. End of interview.

——

My takeaway. The worst thing he can think to say the people who don’t like him in the fandom did was trolling to get his Facebook deactivated? Also that people can see the suspicious nature of his businesses? It would be really easy to settle that with actually being transparent about the finances, which they aren’t and not having close family as benefactors though. Also, I can only speak for myself. But I never hated him. I actually loved Castiel (before his character was there just to be there in recent seasons and Cass wasn’t Cass anymore. I think Misha’s need to pander to shippers/stay on the show was a great disservice to Castiel and his arc) I was a huge Misha fan, and participated in RA and Gish a lot. I absolutely adored Misha, I led myself to believe he was the most amazing person in the world, obviously that’s the reaction he wanted to cultivate from us. Unfortunately I learned too much, experienced first hand and heard too much to be able to keep cheerleading for him. I feel bad for the people still under the spell of feeling like it’s their job to keep being defensive and unreasonably loyal to someone who you can’t and don’t really know and only have a superficial “relationship” with. Seeing the ever more unhealthy and toxic lengths people feel they need to go to to prop up his ego etc. The constant investment emotionally and financially that goes into it and the “sunk cost” if you let reality in makes it hard to let go I guess. Even he knows that what he’s done to gain and maintain relevance has attracted what he called multiple times an unhinged fan base he has to try and balance without losing his influence. I think he maybe had or has good intentions but his fame hungry drive and narcissistic personality traits win out in the end. The Heller’s seem to have, as always, taken what was said and blown it out of proportion, twisted things and created their own narrative. I do see them using key words from the interview a lot suddenly though to bully for him. So, I guess the dog whistle to the sycophants worked out. I hope that a time comes where they can have a more healthy relationship with the media and public figures they choose to gravitate towards. We can all get over zealous with things but there’s lines that shouldn’t be crossed. For some that seems sadly unlikely. I hope that Misha does indeed one day get himself in check as he calls it and I can feel comfortable to support him again. But so long as he’s being enabled and not held accountable again that seems sadly unlikely. Even though I do occasionally find myself being drawn in by the facade again a little and quickly retreating because the issues remain the same. There is a problematic dynamic in the Supernatural fandom for sure. That’s why for a long time I opted out and just watched the show separately from fandom. It’s why when I found out it was ending I had this odd sense of relief I wasn’t expecting to feel and it made me sad. I hope that now the show has aired its finale we can all reflect on things, hopefully be more self aware and objective and most importantly honest about what really has gone down and why. When things started turning sour there have been plenty of times it could have been nipped in the bud yet wasn’t. People who used this silly yet special show in selfish ways, times when walking away would have been better than sticking around trying to make things and people into something never intended to be, giving into tribalism while claiming we’re a family... for that I think we all hold a little piece of responsibility.

You can listen to it yourself on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0m07her5JUf0JGGtDVohtJ?si=c-RdyZzFQmSzffgNzZhkQg

#anti misha #anti misha collins #misha collins #supernatural #fandom #anti destihellers #strap in its a long one again #opinion #trying to be objective #alaina huffman #malik yoba #anti minions #misha #collins

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sasa-gay-yo · 4 years ago

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Just Us (Chapter Four: Pretend)

← Chapter Three

Levi had accustomed himself to come at one on the Saturday he had off. He would walk in and order black tea, knowing I would give him the complete opposite. When the rush of people was over, he would take the cloth from my hands, commenting on how soap adds to dryness, and clean the table tops to his liking. I never understood why it took him one pass, but when I did it, he would complain over and over again. Secretly, he must want to clean. Maybe it’s his idea of normalcy. Being able to clean up inside the walls when it was hard to do the same on the outside. It gave him a sense of being in control that he didn’t have over there, so I let him clean while I swept.

Then, we would close the windows, lock up shop, and he would take the entrance in the back of the café up to the apartment so no one would suspect anything. It felt weird having to sneak around doing no wrong, but Levi was the master of it and insisted. We would sit across from each other, tea in hand, and just talk about anything. The topics included the best water source in the walls, the gossip that plagued Trost, and how many kicks it takes to knock out all of someone’s teeth. While certain topics about the Scouts or the current expedition would come up, they were short and never really taken care of. He never asked for my time in the underground or the details about me gaining ownership of the café. It was a good game of pretend for the time being, but it got me thinking about what we were pretending to be. As we sat there, in my home, sipping tea, what was this “normal” that Levi was playing out? If he wasn’t Captain and I wasn’t civilian, then what characters were we? And at what point will this game morph into reality… if it for me hasn’t already.

We’ve met three times more after we started the game. Twice after expeditions and once on a random day in the middle of a blizzard. The Scouts were preparing to go out for an expedition, but it was suspended for the day until the weather had cleared up.

I never went to see Levi off. I’d listen to their shouts from the comfort of my café, but never went to see them leave the town square. I think that’s when the game we were playing would break. Seeing Levi and Captain Levi leaving and me as the civilian, hoping he’d return. I would only go meet them on their way back and we could pretend again once I saw his face and knew he was alive. It was dangerous, like I had said before. Deep down Levi had to know that too.

Now, we were in the last month of the year, and the Scouts were off on a shortened expedition so they could spend the end of the year festival with their families. I didn’t have any idea what Levi would do then. We never had the opportunity to meet for more than one night a month. Would that change?

“What the hell are you thinking about so hard? A new recipe?” I turned to Jonas who was sitting next to me. We were going over what extra I was going to order for the holidays. People desperately wanted fresh bread and pastries, and I had to include fruit in them as tradition states. I would be busy the week before the festival time, so I would have to close up for a few days and hope that my profit for the holidays would outweigh that of which I lost. It usually did and I had most of my savings because of the year-end. Last year, I had enough saved to even go out and enjoy the festivities they put on in Trost.

“I’m doing math in my head, hold on. If it takes four berries per pastry and twelve a batch and I plan to make twelve batches that's...I wrote it down, that's like, round up, six-hundred. And you said you can guarantee there to be twenty plus in each box, so I’ll have to buy… thirty boxes! That’s so much money!” I whined on the table and Jonas wrote down the number on the form. At least I would get a friends and family discount.

“I think people will want more than you have anyways. I mean, this is the time of year you usually have a line outside of the café.” He put a hand on my back and I sat up again.

“It’s just I hate spending money every year on a business gamble. Especially when I have to get gifts for people too. With the increased prices, I’ll have to dig into reserves and I have yet to buy just regular working items in the capital. That's another five or six days off.” I put my head in my hands again. Too much to think about.

“I could go to the capital with you this time. It would be easier since I know a lot of the merchants there.” I shook my head no.

“I don’t just get supplies at the capital. Sometimes I go to get my hair cut, other times I shop for a whole day for gifts. It’s really boring, and besides you have to deliver things. I know the volume of orders is also a lot during this time.” He nodded and looked dejected that I rejected his offer, which made me smirk. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what June said to me… and I’ve noticed it too. The hand bandages, bringing in extra stuff from Reeve’s, showing up right when Levi does and talking for an hour. He may not be that smart, but the common sense he has is astounding.

“Well, if you don’t let me go to the capital with you, then you have to go to the year-end-”

“The Scouts are back! Only two casualties!” I cut off Jonas from whatever he was going on about and walked out the café door with the other customers. The two casualties remark got them on their feet, excited, but any talk of casualties got my stomach turning. It would never be Levi, but there was always an off chance.

This time, lots of people gathered around the streets, probably even some visitors to see their child return from the Scouts. It was always something that happened during this time of year. A long vacation meant that the families could finally be together and rejoice about another year alive. It made me think about the families that had those hopes devastated. This year-end would be different for them.

The Scouts turned the corner with less than before, but not because of death. People had gotten off the convoy when they had seen their family. Some people would not get off and ride to either lodgings in Trost or the HQ. Levi was one of those people. If I had known about the way the Scouts do year-end, I would have invited him to come and stay in my apartment and not have to ride back and forth from outside Trost. Even if I did that, for threat of rumors, he probably wouldn’t have gotten off at the café.

I saw him by Erwin, all near the end this time so that the others could leave the line undisturbed. We locked eyes and he nodded once before staring ahead again. I smiled and turned back around, entering the warmth of the café. Jonas followed looking back and forth between me and the Captain on his horse. If anyone had suspicions about Levi, it was him and the older women who seemed to always show up at one on Saturday. This time, I had no idea when he would show up to the café, as he was much more freer than usual.

“Is Captain Levi going to buy some pastries for his Scout comrades?” It was probably jealousy that made him act so hostile. I wish he would just act normal in these situations.

“I hope so. That’s a lot of pastries to buy. I might even force him to for how many cups of my tea he drinks.” That wasn’t a lie. I would need to buy peppermint tea in the capital by how much we’ve both drank in the past 2 months. Who knew three nights could ruin my supply of tea? And I was worried about the Garrison.

“He pays for all of them, right?” I nodded and signed the order form. Jonas was just trying to find one crack in Levi’s personality. Something to make it easy to hate him more.

“Every third cup is free though. Maybe I’ll eliminate that policy just for him.” I wanted to get Jonas to laugh, but I guess when talking about Levi that was impossible.

“Since this is such a large order, you have to put fifteen percent down. Company policy.” I reached into the bag that held some of my money and sadly dished it out. Why must this world run on a monetary system?

“Well, I’m off. The bar down the road has a lot of wine to order. I’ll see you in a few days, yeah? You’re planning to go to the festival, right?” I nodded and stood up, walking him out.

“Of course! I have to give you your gift, too. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you’re going to like what I planned.” He smiled and raised one hand in the air to wave goodbye as he walked through the crowd. In all honesty, I had no idea what I was going to buy him or anyone. I just went to the capital and hoped the items at the marketplace spoke to me.

“Do you have something for me planned too?” I jumped and almost slammed the door on him. Levi was leaning against the outside wall, one leg up, like he always did. I just wasn’t expecting him to come today or this quickly. My heart started beating fast again.

“I thought you’d be going to HQ.” I looked him up and down. He was in black slacks and white shirt, his regular, everyday outfit. That was a quick change. I tried to tell him that he still stuck out because we don’t dress like that, but he refused. Even his clothes had to have crisp, clean folds and edges that made them stand out.

“Erwin thought it would be nice to have the Scouts without families to board together in town for the festival. So we wouldn’t have to go back and forth.” Convenient.

“That’s cute. Is it also because Mitras doesn’t want to send in any MPs, so they put you all in charge for the district you’re closest to?” He smirked for a second then dropped it.

“How did you guess that?” I smiled and moved out of the way so he could walk into the café.

“It happened last year too. I forgot you weren’t there yet. The old ladies aren’t here to oogle at you, so you’re going to have to deal with no female attention.” He followed me behind the counter where he leans against to watch me bake or make coffee when he’s too bored of the window. With the news of the Scouts and families reuniting, the café was now empty. Levi would allow himself to play the normal game again.

“I think I’ll be fine.” He stood there, watching me make puff pastry for what felt like forever. Even if it was comfortable to have his eyes on me, sometimes when I knew he wanted to say something, it was annoying.

“If you’re so interested in how to fold puff pastry, I can show you tonight.”

“O-Oh… Um, I can’t stay tonight. We have an officer’s meeting to plan all of the expeditions for next year.” Oh. That’s a first. Why did it make me so sad that he said he couldn’t stay? I’m not used to it. We’ve only done it four times.

“I’ll be going to the capital tomorrow. I guess we’ll both have to wait a few days to finish our conversation on what color to repaint the walls of the Scout HQ.” He switched sides of the counter so he was leaning on the one I was working on. When he did this, it meant he wanted to know I understood something. Very Captain of him.

“Capital? By yourself? At this time of year?” I nodded and pushed aside a finished puff pastry sheet.

“I always do. I have to get a lot of things for the festival. I also buy gifts, so if you want to have an amazing gift like Jonas, I have to go.” That made him blink and I’d never seen that look before. He seemed dumbfounded with the idea I was going to travel there myself.

“You’re actually buying me a gift?” Oh, so it wasn't the trip. It was the fact someone was going to get him a gift. I’m sure he’s had someone give him gifts before; his fellow officers or friends or someone.

“Of course I am. I’d consider you important enough to get a gift for.” The reddening of his face didn’t go unnoticed. Another win for me. I’ve made it my mission to get him to show emotion on a daily basis so I wouldn’t have to guess what he was thinking. So far I’ve gotten one smile, three instances of blush, and one small laugh.

This is what I meant by pretending to be normal. If he wasn’t a Captain right now, and Captain Levi would never blush, then who was he? What person was he playing that would stand right next to me and blush? Who am I playing to have the right to elicit this type of reaction from him? Right now, I wasn’t playing. When I talk about paint and not about how curious I am about Levi’s time in the underground, that's pretending. How far does Levi take it?

“I guess I’ll have to buy you a gift at the capital too.” I stopped folding dough. My heart picked up speed again.

“Huh?”

“Well, you can’t go on your own to the capital. Someone who’s capable of defending you from the Underground pickpocketers has to go with. I know how they work too. Plus, I have to get gifts for people. It’s just convenient that you happen to be going tomorrow.” I raised an eyebrow and remembered how easily I had denied Jonas. Was it real me or pretend me that didn’t want to deny Levi of escorting me to the capital? It all seemed like a fairytale; being escorted by a handsome, capable male. Short, but capable. Who was I to deny myself of that?

“I’ll think about it. I might leave you if you show up though. You don’t even know what time I’m going,” He pointed to the door, one hand still in the pocket of his damn slacks.

“Assuming that the sign you put on the door is correct, you’re closing tomorrow at noon. If I come at noon, I’ll catch you just in time for you to deny me.” He seemed to be in a good mood today if he was making jokes like that. Levi’s conversation depended on how that last expedition went it seems. Once he came back and barely talked to me. At that point I prepped dough while he sat on my couch staring hard at the wall. The other time he came back, he was his normal self. Not talking much in the morning, but then talking about all the ways he’d remodel the Scout HQ if they had the money at night. No matter what mood, he wouldn’t talk to me about the expeditions. The line he wouldn’t cross, I’m assuming.

The next day the café was extra busy as everyone wanted to get their orders in before I closed early. There were bulk orders for parties, the buying of heavy amounts of bread, and regular coffee sales. When noon came around, I was proud to say I was legitimately out of bread and only had a few pastries. I decided to take those along on the ferry ride.

I went upstairs using the back way, going to grab my bag and the amounts of money I put aside. Last night, I made sure I calculated four or five times, allotting only a few extra amounts of change if I went over budget. During year-end, I had to be very strict with my spending if I didn’t want to go in the negative like Mr. Flynn had taught me.

“Eva.” I stopped walking up the stairs and saw the person sitting on my steps. Was it bad that I felt disappointed that it wasn’t Levi? He said he was going to come at noon.

“Jonas. What can I do for you? I gotta run soon to buy a ticket to the ferry.” He smiled and held up two pieces of paper. Oh gods.

“I bought them already. Like it or not, I’m coming with you.” That unsettled me, because I had subconsciously accepted Levi’s offer. Jonas might be a bit heartbroken if I say that.

“Uh, Jonas, you should go return those tickets so you don’t waste your money. If you do it an hour before the ferry, they give you a full refund.” I tried to push past him to get to get into my house, but he held his hands up. This was getting frustrating. He wouldn’t even let me get into my own house.

“You shouldn’t be going alone at this time, Eva. You remember what happened last year, you got robbed!” I rolled my eyes and tried to push past him again, but it didn’t work because I wasn’t a six foot tall man who lifts heavy boxes everyday.

“They tried to take my money, but it was an empty bag, Jonas. I’m not stupid enough to be carrying things around like that. If anyone knows how pickpockets work, Jonas, I’m one of them. Please, can I get into my house.” He stepped up one more step and held his arms out wide like he was doing something heroic. I couldn’t tell him that I wasn’t going alone, so he’d just have to trust me on this one.

“Do I have to kick you off these stairs?” Jonas froze and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. I had to lean over so I could see where the harsh voice came from. Curiously enough, he was standing there in my opened door. How the hell did he get into my apartment? Did I not lock it this morning? His voice was the harshest I’ve ever heard it.

“What are you doing here?” Jonas snapped his head back and almost hit mine. This was the first time Jonas had probably said a full sentence to Levi that wasn’t full of stutters.

Levi’s eyes were scary too. Meeting them, I could see his unfaltering glare towards Jonas. Chills. It didn’t help that he was looking down at us the whole time.

“I’m here to escort Miss. Flynn to the capital so she can fill out a personal order for the Scouts.” It was a good lie that even I wouldn’t have been able to think of. He even used my last name which made it sound more legitimate. The only thing that might have been against us were those damn black slacks.

“Is that true?” Jonas whipped his head back around and again almost hit me. I gave him an annoyed look before scratching the back of my head.

“Yes, it’s true. Now, if you’ll let me by, I need to get my bag.” He looked defeated when I walked by him and I honestly didn’t think it was this serious. Maybe he had something planned but now Levi had come by and ruined it. Money was wasted on those tickets.

Without a word, I walked into the door past Levi and he slammed it behind me. I didn’t think he’d do that and thought it a bit rude to Jonas, but we didn’t have time for apologies. I’d give him a free cookie when I got back. The ferry was going to leave in about an hour and it takes twenty minutes to walk, not even mentioning the lines.

“Do you have money to buy a ticket to the ferry? I didn’t budget two people.” He put on a tan winter coat before shaking his head no. It was a nice coat with the wings of freedom on the back and a fur lining in the hood. It mimicked that of their capes, but these were definitely for winter. It looked nice and warm.

“We’re taking horses.” I dropped my bag and turned quickly to him.

“Huh?! I don’t even know how to ride a horse!” He let out a huff in laughter and slung his bag over his shoulder. I hated horses.

“It’s not hard. Besides, your horse is tied to mine. All you have to do is sit.” Oh, yeah, sit on an animal running at top speed. Of course the soldier is making it sound so easy. I’m even in a skirt, how is that going to work?

“I’d rather buy you the extra ticket.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a horse.” He sounded… annoyed? Tough. I wasn’t going to tell him he was right though.

“I’m just more comfortable going on the ferry. It’s what I always do.” I put on my coat and he opened the door slightly, probably checking to see if Jonas was still there.

“Your boy seemed extra confident today. He even glared at me from less than 5 feet away. Usually he stands by your counter and does it. You should tell him I’m proud.” I rolled my eyes and headed out the door. My boy. What kind of…

“Are we still trying to get on the ferry or have you snapped out of your delusion that it's better than horseback?” I shook my head and put my hands in my pockets. I couldn’t risk them getting any dryer in this weather. Hopefully, he had some spare gloves.

“You can take the horse. I’ll meet you in a few days.” He groaned but kept walking next to me.

“If we take the horses we’ll get there early in the morning tomorrow. It would reduce it down to a three day trip instead of a six day one. You’d lose less money that way.”

“I have enough money. Even more now that the Scouts want to order some pastries from me.” It was supposed to be a jab at him, but he didn’t falter at all.

“Erwin said he wants something sweet. I’m assuming something with fruit too. I don’t know what these people like, so I’ll just order the most common thing I can.” I stopped walking and he went a few steps ahead of me before turning around.

“You were… Y-you were serious about the order?” He nodded.

“At the meeting yesterday, I volunteered to get desserts for the officer’s year-end party they always have. You’re the best in Trost, aren’t you?”

Somehow that got me on his damn horse.

Chapter Five →

Chapter Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x oc #levi x oc #levi x reader #shingeki no kyoujin levi #aot #aot levi #captain levi #levi heichou #shingeki no kyojin #original #snk

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witcherslittledove · 4 years ago

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All Tied Up

Joey Batey/Henry Cavill RPF - Also on AO3

Rating: E

Summary: All of the things Joey had expected from his first day back on set, he hadn't expected to spend the morning in a harness and chained up. And he really hadn't expected Henry to be staring at him like that. It was going to be a hard day.

CW: Light spoilers for Blood of Elves, bondage, references to torture (for Jaskier not Joey), exhibitionism, masturbation, hand jobs, frottage, multiple orgasms

Thanks to @jaskiertheflowertwink for being my beta!

__________

Joey tugged at the cuffs of Jaskier’s doublet, it felt strange to be back on set after so many months away, trapped in his flat with Madeleine. Luckily, Jaskier was an easy character to settle into, almost like a second skin. The bard was eager to come out and play, taking the edge off of Joey’s anxiety. With Jaskier, he almost forgot how much he fucking hated other people. Still, not even Jaskier could save him from first day nerves, and Lauren hadn’t started his shoot off easy. Joey was diving straight into a torture scene, and he would be spending the majority of the day hung up from the ceiling in ropes and shackles, waiting for darling Anya to come and save him. It wouldn’t be real of course, there would be harnesses and all sorts of wires to make sure he wasn’t injured, but it wouldn’t be comfortable. The harness was already bulking out his costume, and chafing the insides of his thighs.

And after the mess of the pandemic, Joey wasn’t sure how he felt about losing control and being trapped for the afternoon. It unnerved him. He wanted to be free, and thought of the shackles around his wrists just… nope.

“Hey?” Henry came up from behind him, a hand squeezing his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m fine,” Joey mumbled, staring up at the set. “First day back and all. It’s like being back at school.”

“You’ll be fine, Joey. You’re an incredible actor and I couldn’t ask for a better bard,” Henry reassured him, his voice low and gravelly in Joey’s ear. It was unreasonably hot. Honestly, Joey knew that Henry was fucking Superman but did he really have to be so godlike, and on top of that he was a complete dork.

Perhaps Joey could invite him to a D&D game once they were done shooting season two. Would that be too weird? It was probably too weird. They were just colleagues. Christ, Joey hadn’t even seen Henry since they’d finished promoting the show the year before. He really needed to get a grip, and ignore Jaskier’s voice in the back of his head. They were not best friends, and Henry would not want to play a shitty Dungeons and Dragons game with him.

Okay. Not shitty. His games were pretty fucking brilliant, but Henry would be too busy with his PC games, and his War Hammer and whatever cooler nerd stuff that he got up to in between his work outs and eating far too many chicken breasts and smoothies.

Jesus Christ, he missed Madeleine.

He didn’t say any of that aloud, no, that was for the safety of his own thoughts, racing at a million miles per hour. Instead, he channeled Jaskier and laughed, hiding his anxiety behind the more confident mask that had fooled millions of people into loving him. “Now, now, witcher,” he teased. “We both know you don’t mean that, what was it you said? If life could give me one blessing.”

“Oh fuck that, we’ve both read the books,” Henry groused, rolling his eyes.

His very, very blue eyes. He was in full make-up except for the yellow contacts and it was just weird to see Henry’s eyes looking back at him from Geralt’s face. It was confusing. Were they Henry and Joey right now? Or Geralt and Jaskier?

Perhaps a weird blend of the two.

And it was only the first fucking day.

Joey chuckled, “Yeah, talking of which, why are you here, Henry? I don’t recall Geralt being Jaskier’s Prince Charming in this scene.”

Henry shrugged. “It’s your first day, I wanted to see how you are.”

Joey swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry, and he flicked his fringe from his eyes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wanted to run his hands through his hair but the poor hair and make-up team would have his balls in a vice if he tried. It was bad enough that he kept pulling at his costume, but luckily he seemed to have made fidgeting into a characteristic for Jaskier. He grinned, settling back into the character more than ever. “So, you came to see me all tied up?”

Henry, the bastard, winked. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Joey squeaked, feeling his cheeks heat up beneath the make-up. He tried to laugh it off but holy fucking cock balls… was Henry actually flirting with him? And about bondage of all things. Fuck. He was not going to survive the day, not if Henry was watching him.

No. It was going to be fine. He was an actor, a professional. He wasn’t going to get hard on set just because his unfairly attractive co-star was watching him. The harness was uncomfortable. He’d probably be in pain and there would be an entire crew watching him. There was absolutely no reason to get hard.

So… naturally… he got hard.

Getting into the rigging was awkward and possibly the least sexy thing he had ever done in his entire life, which was really saying something. The shackles around his wrist didn’t hurt at first but his arms became tired quickly. He opted to stay in the rigging as much as he could between takes though. It was better for continuity and, well, if he was being truly honest with himself, he was enjoying the way Henry looked at him. It was intense, not dissimilar to how Geralt looked at Yennefer whenever she entered the room, but this time that burning desire wasn’t directed at Anya, it was directed at him… and Henry wasn’t acting.

It was all incredibly distracting, but having Henry there made him completely forget about his previous anxiety of being tied up for the morning. Something about the other actor’s presence was grounding and Joey trusted Henry not to let him get hurt, more than he trusted the crew, which was completely stupid and probably the result from some teenage crush. He was lucky that he only flubbed his lines a couple of times, and by the time Yennefer flew into the room, he was aching and desperate to return to his trailer.

He’d never been so grateful for Jaskier’s baggy clothes.

“Ah, umm, Lauren?” he stammered, rubbing his wrists. They were sore, and he really needed to stretch out his arms, maybe have a nap too. Fuck, he was really out of shape. Lockdown had really been a curse. “Can we take a breather?” he asked, scratching the back of his neck and giving the showrunner a sheepish smile. “I umm.. I need a break.”

“Oh yeah, sure. You’ve done brilliant work today, Joey. Let’s take a half hour everyone!”

Joey all but ran back to his trailer, shuffling awkwardly as he tried to hide his erection as best he could. Occasionally he stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back so that if anyone saw him then they would think he just needed to recover from the physical exertion of being strung up like a puppet for most of the morning. He was sure that he looked like a state, his doublet was torn and bloody and his shirt barely covering his torso. The makeup team had had far too much fun spraying him with fake blood and dirt. He hadn’t been allowed to shave for a couple of days and heavy film makeup was caked on his face, making him seem bloodied and bruised. His lips itched from where they had been made to look split…

And everyone was staring at him.

Fuck.

He supposed he was usually the one that wasn’t covered in shit. The worst he’d had was the djinn wound from season one, but normally he was all bright doublets and smiles. Sometimes a little bit mucky, but nothing like this.

And Jesus Christ, he really needed a wank.

Why on god’s earth had Henry been staring at him like that? Did the bastard know how it affected him? He probably knew. Fuck, cocking shit balls! He was in trouble. Joey was still trying to break into the industry, if fucking Superman lodged a sexual harassment complaint against him then he was done for. He’d never work again…

But then again, Henry hadn’t been looking at him like he was angry. No, he’d been looking at him like he wanted to eat Joey alive, get down on his knees and get his mouth around Joey’s cock whilst he’d still been suspended in the rigging, the shackles caught around his wrists, unable to move…

“Fucking cock!” Joey slammed through the door to his trailer, fiddling with the fastenings of Jaskier’s trousers as soon as he was inside. His cock was already leaking in his boxers, throbbing and desperate for relief. He bit back a moan as he thumbed the slit, collecting the precum on his fingers and sliding it down the length of his cock. Waves of pleasure washed over him, and he closed his eyes, picturing Henry’s blue eyes, dark and wanting, his pretty pink lips stretched around Joey’s cock.

He barely managed to stumble to the bed, his legs shaking, head already spinning. It wasn’t going to take him long, he’d been far too keyed up all morning, and with Henry at the forefront of his mind, he was tumbling towards his orgasm faster than he would have liked. Joey moaned, biting his lip as he stroked his cock, the memories of the day fuelling his fantasies. It felt so fucking good and soon he felt a familiar tug at his core.

“Joey, are you alright?”

“Shit!” Joey gasped as he came all over his hand, but the pleasure seeped from his body, leaving him feeling hollow and dissatisfied, “For fuck’s sake, Henry! Fucking knock!”

Henry was staring back at him, blue eyes, silver hair, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and looking like a fucking god. The bastard smirked and crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow. Joey had a sinking feeling in his chest.

“You- you did knock?”

Henry chuckled, his low gravelly laugh that sent shivers down Joey’s spine. There was a reason he spent much of their time on set trying to make Henry laugh. It was a gorgeous and beautiful sound, and Joey was completely addicted. He would quite happily spend the rest of his life trying to make Henry laugh… although that made him sound a lot more infatuated than he actually was, right?

They were just friends.

And Henry was a very attractive friend, friend? Co-star? Fuck!

“I am so sorry, Henry,” Joey whined, pulling a pillow in front of his face to try and hide his embarrassment but Henry wasn’t having any of it. He sat down next to Joey on the bed, gently pulling the pillow from his hands.

“Don’t apologise,” he said hoarsely, “I shouldn’t have walked in. I heard you moaning. It wasn’t exactly a hard jump to make… pun intended.”

Despite himself, Joey snorted and whacked Henry on the arm with his clean hand. “You arse!”

“What?”

“I’m actually dying of embarrassment and you’re making dick jokes!”

Henry smirked. “Sorry, I thought you’d be up to it.”

“Fuck off!”

“Oh come now, Joey.. it’s just a joke.”

Joey whined. “I hate you.”

And then Henry was suddenly in his space, so close that he could feel the warm tingle of the other actor’s breath on his cheeks. Lips brushed against his ear, and despite already cumming, he felt heat prickle over his skin and he mouth was dry. “I don’t think you do,” Henry whispered, his voice dropping to a low base, not dissimilar to the accent he used for Geralt.

Joey took a shaky breath, very aware that his cock was still on display, covered in his spend, already twitching, trying to get hard again. “What- What are you doing, Henry?”

“Tell me to stop, Joey, I’ll leave and we never have to talk about it,” Henry breathed, pressing a kiss to Joey’s neck, nosing along his jaw.

“I-I… no. Don’t stop…”

“Seeing you today, chained up, Christ, Joey. It was so fucking hot, and then you were hard. I bet you could hardly resist cumming in your pants like a fucking teenager, and with everyone watching you,” Henry growled in his ear, the actors fingers now stroking along Joey’s thighs, higher, creeping closer to his slowly hardening cock. Joey whined, pressing his head into Henry’s shoulder, “but I think you like that, don’t you Joey?”

His cheeks flushed red, burning hot right up to his ears. “Fuck off.”

“Or was it just me watching you?”

“Hnnng.”

“Can I touch you?” Henry asked, his voice sounding almost as wrecked as Joey felt, “We don’t have long but, god, I’ve been wanting to touch you since you walked into the reading room that first day all those years ago.”

“Wh-what?”

“You seemed so shy, then you started reading and you just melted into Jaskier’s character. It was fucking amazing. You’re amazing.”

Joey whimpered. “Henry, please.”

And then Henry’s hand finally wrapped around his cock. The effect was instantaneous. Joey keened, bucking into Henry’s hand as his second orgasm began to build, his poor cock already sensitive but he was craving more, he wanted to feel that overwhelming pleasure that had been so cruelly stolen from him. Henry covered Joey’s hand with his own, gathering a mess of sticky white fluid and then continued to stroke down the length of Joey’s cock.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Hmm.. uh huh.. Yup,” Joey stammered, lost to his pleasure, his head feeling hazy, almost floaty, but he didn’t need anymore words as Henry’s lips crashed against his. Moans and grunts and gasps were muffled by the kiss, and Henry shifted on the bed so he was sitting over Joey, one of Joey’s legs pressed against his clothed cock.

If Joey had any more sense left in him, he might have offered to get Henry off at the same time, but he was too far gone, babbling nonsense in between kisses, curses, moans, wordless cries. Henry seemed more than happy to thrust against his leg, grunting as he moved to suck kisses onto Joey’s neck.

“Henry, god! Oh fuck!” Joey keened, his back arching off the bed. “I-I… fuck!”

His eyes squeezed shut as he came, sparks flying across his vision and his head rolled back onto the pillow. His energy seemed to drain as the waves of pleasure took over his body, Henry’s hand stroking him through his orgasm, still rutting against his leg until he came with a strangled moan. Henry collapsed on top of Joey, breathing heavily, silver strands of hair getting in Joey’s mouth and eyes.

“Urgh, get off me,” he groaned. “Heavy and you have so much fucking hair!”

“Blame Sapkowski,” Henry grumbled but rolled over, lying next to him on the bed.

They both stared up at the ceiling, panting as they tried to catch their breaths. It should have felt weird, fucking his apparently not straight co-star in the middle of takes… but, well, it sort of just felt right?

Joey laughed, turning to face Henry. “Make-up are gonna kill us.”

“Costume too,” the other actor groaned.

“And Lauren if we don’t get back…”

“Yeah.”

Their eyes met and it was no use. They both reached for each other, their lips meeting once more in a feverish kiss. It wouldn’t hurt if they were a little late… right?

#joey batey/henry cavill #joey/henry #the witcher rpf #rpf

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readingaccountability · 4 years ago

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snow crash - neal stephenson

my playlist (because of The Way That I Am)

final thoughts:

okay, im going to be honest right out of the gate- i cant decide whether this is a book id recommend or not. it was really fun for the most part, but personally there was a lot more exposition than id like. the early portions of the novel have exposition which feels completely fair, mostly things relating to worldbuilding. stephenson creates his own vision of future america, and some places online referred to it as cyberpunk, and some as post-cyberpunk. id be more in the latter camp, mostly due to the way he plays with tropes, leaving the reader unsure of which will be subverted and which wont.

the use of language was really fun, and i enjoyed the worldbuilding a lot. his vision of a futuristic capitalistic earth feels surreal in its immediacy and recognizability. the back jacket blurb ends with "a future america so bizarre, so outrageous, you'll recognize it immediately." which, yeah. a texan info-tech magnate? two competing corporations owning the highway system? suburban city-states? this was another enjoyable thing- everything was colorfully named, and names treated totally normally, which kind of poked fun at how we have everyday things named very ludicrously and for the most part we are totally blind to it.

one aspect i really enjoyed was that the author often doesn't make certain things clear to the audience, until he does, and then it becomes necessary to reassess the entire story and setting. this goes to underscore the theme of the importance of information and the ways we take it in and perceive the world based upon it. for example, we don't learn that y.t. is fifteen until maybe 75 pages in, at which point a lot makes sense in retrospect. the same thing occurs in the worldbuilding, as suddenly a detail is given in passing and the reader must incorporate it into the setting, which by default we assume to be similar in many ways to our idea of america. it keeps the reader on their toes as well as furthering the worldbuilding. for the most part, the tech stuff didnt feel outdated to me, despite being a future projected out from '92.

however, aspects of the book are definitely very 1992. id put these into two camps: the first, being that the book does at different times use slurs. the main character is black and asian, the n word is used a few times by racist side-character/antagonist types, as are a few other racial slurs. there was also the occasional usage of the r slur, within the narrative prose itself, rather than usage as an insult within dialogue.

the protagonist, who is named, unfortunately, hiro protagonist, is a great character and felt very fleshed out to me, though at times he reminded me more of dirk strider than normally would be ideal. (its obvious that stephenson and andrew hussie are of a similar type of writer, and play with similar tropes, lmao.) hiro is a man of many worlds. he seems to shift between them easily, though never fully existing in any of them. this is reflected in his background, both in his biracial identity and in having been raised on a myriad of army bases. this is layered further in his fluidity in interacting with both reality and the metaverse, yet remaining slightly, consistently aloof. fascinatingly the first moment i sensed this drop was when we meet juanita- aka where his real and meta realities coincide. the description of them as the adam and eve of the metaverse is both insanely romantic and thematically key (good god i wish we had more than like, two conversations between them). juanita designed the facial component to metaverse avatars, doing the majority of this work when the two were together, and hiro can see echoes of both their facial tics in the face of every avatar in the metaverse. in a way, by having done this work juanita is positioned by the narrative as one of the gods of this digital realm. she is also hiro's call to action, being aware of the coming trouble and alerting him to it, as well as connecting him to the informational database he needs to prepare.

y.t., the secondary protagonist, fucking ruled. i loved that she was just a fifteen year old punkass kid whose mom doesnt know how crazy this part time job is. y.t. being worried about her mom was a great thread throughout, and a really good balance to how obviously independent y.t. is. i do wish there had been a chance to explain more about her background (she has a dad who left who is mentioned in a throwaway sentence, and a boyfriend who is mentioned near the beginning but never again.) i really enjoyed how obviously hyperaware y.t. was at all times about her own place within the insanities of the setting, while also consistently writing her as a teen maybe in way too deep who thinks about things in typically teenage ways. but like, that wasn't ever held against her? the narrative meets her where she is. it was honestly awesome. HOWEVER,

i absolutely hated the raven and y.t. scenes. how creepy!!! he basically statutory rapes her!!! we know hes at least late 20s early 30s, because hes the same age as hiro. if this sort of content is upsetting to read for you, i definitely do NOT recommend this book. (if you want to avoid reading these bits: ch 47 y.t. meets raven, ch 50 they are in a bar eating, ch 52 things happen that result in y.t.'s anti-assault device activating- she did not activate it on purpose, but forgot it was there- and raven is knocked out.)

please PLEASE dont take any of the following analysis as like, trying to be apologetic towards this scenes. because again they were awful and hard to get through and really gross. but im also cognizant that the author was obviously trying to convey something by making the choice, like the way it was written is obviously not condoning this sort of thing.

i think maybe what stephenson was trying to get at with that, was that we see hiro internally negate any potential for anything untoward with y.t. basically immediately, since he kind of senses that she might have a small crush on him (though this doesnt last more than a fleeting moment, especially from her perspective). vs raven, whose 'poor impulse control' warning tattoo eventually elicits a sarcastic remark from hiro after he finds out raven and y.t. were "a thing". i really dont think hiro knew how far it went? like it was just suuuper weird, but i figured it was meant narratively to 1. execute the chekovs gun of y.t.'s anti-assault device, 2. contrast hiro and raven (especially considering the bike-racing argument where theyre telling the story together, which is supposed to parallel them, while contrasting the differences in how they ended up?), and 3. just to get raven unconscious, i guess. but good god it was weird and i hated every second of it, why couldnt the device have like, activated way earlier?? gah. fucking upsetting. moving past that!

honestly i was really frustrated by how little screentime juanita got, because the way she was introduced was so fucking interesting and then shes mostly off doing her own thing. the bits of explanation she gives at the end about what she was up to on the raft are so sparse and im like damn, can we get a little bit of her pov in here? please? that would have ruled. additionally, shes supposed to be hiros love interest, but we see so little of them interacting outside her intro scenes. a huge portion of why hiro is getting into the sumerian mythology is literally framed as something that will help him understand juanita, but we dont get to see him talk to her about it barely at all.

the supporting characters were quite fun, i particularly liked the librarian. big surprise, i liked the overly literal ai information-dispensor, lmfao. watching him and hiro interact reminded me SO hard of geordi laforge having honest to god conversations with the computer where he tries to coax information out of it, aka one of my favorite little aspects of tng.

and lastly, the major plot themes themselves. i adore the way stephenson approached action, it was very entertaining. usually i cant really visualize action scenes written out, but his use of language was really really effective and engaging. the plot itself was absolutely fascinating, though i found the premise pretty contrived. which isnt bad in itself, i was fully suspending my disbelief until the last hundred pages or so. which for a 550+ page book, isnt too bad.

i did like the approach of linking the ancient to the modern, that is always really neat. and i think ultimately stephenson did it in an interesting way, not how i would have done it, but definitely interesting! creating these ideas about information infrastructures, and there being words that can access those and be used to control people, was wild. not sure if i agree about the equating of religion to a virus, though he did specifically establish that it was more the approach to religion, than religion itself. (maybe if juanita had been more goddamn present in the narrative that could have been elaborated on a little more. literally her perspective would have been perfect in balancing that out!!)

ultimately what did me in was the very very very long winded MONOLOGUE where hiro re-explained the whole premise, in ways that didnt really neatly organize into a cohesive argument. a lot of the scenes where hiro talks to the librarian, which are interspersed throughout the book, are really exposition heavy, because stephenson is rooting his ideas in historical concepts that need to be explained to both hiro and the audience. and i thought all that was fine, because it was a conversation where hiro was grappling with the information, and he was figuring it out along with the reader, and most importantly it was a conversation between him and the librarian computer program.

howeverrr later on we get a full rehash of all that, where hiro makes clear some stuff that was just implied for the reader, and hes literally just telling these important men whats up in this big long monologue. utterly worthless. i kept reading it and going YEAH, we KNOW, we know this we know this. and the important men barely interjected. it added basically nothing to our understanding of the situation, other than reframing it. but everything added was already an implicit thing, and didnt really need to be said again.

the resolution to the book was stellar, the last 30-40 pages, once hiro is onto the raft, were great. ultimately after reading and giving some time to digest it, i think it was a solidly great book with a few big drawbacks near the end, but which dont carry through and sully the ending.

#bookblr #book tag #snow crash #neal stephenson #reading progress update #book review #cyberpunk #post-cyberpunk #god this is long #kind of ended up being book report esque... elementary school vibes. i fucking love it ngl #original post #playlist series

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n8thegr8 · 4 years ago

Text

Heroes Never Falter

“No, please don't leave me!"

These words echoed in Izuku Midoriya's dorm room at approximately 2:56 AM. He sat up in his bed and stared into his dark room. His breathing was deep but fast. His heart felt like it was going to break. Was he having a heart attack? No, it can't be since his left arm wasn't numb. Although he has heard that different people show different signs of cardiac arrest.

"Ow," he said, holding his head in pain. His blood pressure must have been skyrocketing, he felt so tense. Every inch of his body was pumped full of adrenaline. He clutched his chest.

"Okay, okay, just breathe. Just breathe." Izuku closed his eyes and imagined a leaf floating in front of him. To control his breathing, he must breathe so that the leaf stays in this imaginary box, it's helped him in the past.

But Izuku started to breathe faster and faster; it wasn't working. It wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? His lungs started to spasm as he began hyperventilating, the leaf flying in the air, wildly out of control.

"Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh God," Izuku whispered, his body shook.

"Midoriya?" a voice suddenly rang out to Izuku's ears.

The boy let out a muted scream as he was pulled back into reality.

"Midoriya, mon ami?"

Aoyama? What was he doing awake at this hour?

"Midoriya, are you okay?" Yuga said, his voice slightly muffled from beyond Izuku's door.

No no no not now, Izuku thought. He didn't want to answer; he didn't want to deal with anyone right now. He can't let anybody see him like this.

"Izuku, I'm coming in, okay?" The doorknob started to rattle.

"No!" Izuku cried. Suddenly the rattling doorknob stopped.

"Izuku? Are you alright?" said Yuga.

Izuku gulped. "Y-yeah, Yuga. I just had a nightmare."

There was silence at the other end of the door for a moment. "Mon Dieu! Do you want to talk about it?" Yuga exclaimed.

Izuku sighed a breath of relief, he didn't have to talk to him for any longer. "No, it's okay, Yuga. Thanks."

"Well, if you need anything, just tell me, okay?"

"Thanks, Yuga."

"You'll never amount to anything, you quirkless piece of trash."

Izuku's face went pale as snow. He started to tremble again. Did he really just hear that? How did he know? "Wh-what did you say?" Izuku stammered in disbelief.

"I said bonne nuit! It means 'good night,'" Yuga said.

"Oh… yeah. Good night Yuga. See you in class tomorrow…" Izuku waited until he heard Yuga walk away until he sank back down in his bed. He felt as if a rock has been chained to his back and that a demon was sitting in his chest. His breathing once again became quick and shallow. His vision? Blurry as tears formed. Did I really hear that? Izuku thought, Did… did Yuga actually say that?

He felt himself become heavy as if he was sinking deeper into his bed, he felt that all of the memorabilia in his room was watching him. Judging him. He wept. He felt so lost. He felt so scared.

He reached to his bedside table, found his phone, and turned it on. The light blinding him for just a moment. This was a nightly occurrence for him. Every night he'd been feeling anxious and scared and had been having the worst nightmares. So he would turn on his phone and play a voice message from a few months ago.

"Hey, Deku!" It was Ochaco's voice. "I just wanna say that I miss you so much, and I can't wait to see you when you get back from your training on I-Island. It's been weird without you around! Class isn't as cheery as it was when you're around. Even Bakugo's become more irritable than when you are here!" She laughed. "When you come back, let's go to the gardens, okay? I miss going there with you. Say hi to Melissa for me! I love you so much."

This was the only thing that can calm Izuku down. The voice of his girlfriend, Ochaco Uraraka. He opened his messages and saw the last text he received that night.

<3Uravity<3: Good night babe! I'll see you in the morning. I love you <3

Izuku's breathing slowed down, and his heart rate mellowed. He was finally calm. At least, calm enough to try to go back to sleep. He lay back down and put his phone by his head. He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Izuku focused on his breathing, another suggestion from Hound Dog. He inhaled and exhaled. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. She's lying. Exhale. She's lying, she hates you. Inhale. Why would she ever love a worthless piece of trash like you? Exhale. Once she finds you out, it's over. It wasn't working. They'll all find out, and you'll be alone. Izuku pleaded it to stop. Just like you deserve. It was just a small voice in the back of his head, it wouldn't shut up. Why is this voice bothering him so much? He knew that none of what it's saying was true, but… was it? For the second time tonight, he started to cry. Small, weak, sobs escaped his throat.

Izuku felt a great chill throughout his body. Which was peculiar since it was in the middle of May. He opened his eyes, and he couldn't believe what he saw: his room was encased in ice. Izuku sat up in his bed. He felt the cold pierce his skin, even though he was covered with a blanket. Even though the room was dark, he could see his reflection, and sitting there was not him. It was him, but it also wasn't. Staring back at him was a warped reflection of himself. Eyes? Bloodshot and sunken. Skin? Emaciated and wounded. Body shape? Anorexic.

"We are alone." It actually spoke. "We don't deserve anyone. We are quirkless. We are a thief. We are loveless. We are not a hero."

Deku closed his eyes and covered his ears. This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.

"And we need us."

Izuku's eyes shot open and observed that his room was back to normal. No more ice. Just his regular room. He was shivering. Not from being cold. However, he was shivering from fear. He lied back down and wept.

"Does… anyone really like me?" he cried softly to himself. He went through his phone again and played Ochaco's voicemail once more. Darkness eventually overcame him, and he was whisked away to the dream world, where more terrors awaited him.

The grandfather clock in the common area of the dorm rooms struck eight times, light shone through the windows in between the blinds, the smell of breakfast was in the air, it was apparent that Class 3-A was getting ready for class. Rikido Sato and Katsuki Bakugo were on breakfast duty this Monday morning, and they were cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

"God damn it! Those pancakes aren't nearly done, you dumbass!" screamed Katsuki, stirring the pancake batter with the burning ferocity of ten suns.

"Don't you go telling me how to cook, you phenomenal douchebag!" yelled Rikido, flipping pancakes on four pans while also cooking the bacon.

"You see this egg?!" Katsuki screamed as he cracked an egg in his hand open. "This is gonna be your head when we're in hero training today!"

Rikido flipped a pancake on its uncooked side and violently pressed down on it with his spatula. "And this'll be you when I flatten you like a pancake, you maniac!"

"Guys, guys, calm down jeez!" whined a tired Ochaco Uraraka as she entered the kitchen with Momo Yayarouzo. The gravity girl's eyes were half-closed, and her hair was disheveled. She was not ready for the day ahead. The creation girl, however, was fully awake, her hair done to perfection, and she was ready to take on whatever the day was ready to throw at her. The pair took their seats at the table, Ochaco throwing her upper body onto the table in exhaustion, making a decently loud noise. "Ow," she groaned.

"It is much too early for you two to be yelling," Momo stated, with her hand holding her forehead. "Can you two just keep your animosity towards each other bottled until hero training, please? I'm getting a headache."

Kachaan felt a surge of anger well through his body. "Well, maybe if you didn't pair me up with this actual idiot! You wouldn't be havin' a damn headache!"

"How does Kirishima do it?! Actually, how?!" Rikido screamed to the Heavens as he put more finished pancakes into the pancake pile.

"They aren't finished!"

"Bite me, asshole!"

Two plastic forks were sent flying through the air, barely missing Katsuki's and Rikido's faces, and stuck themselves into the wooden cabinets. The two turned to look at the table, and they were met with a very pissed off Ochaco Uraraka, arm outstretched, and a face that screamed, "Shut up." The two stared in horror at the girl for a moment, then looked at each other, sneered, and went back to cooking. Ochaco gave a small "humph" and sat back down, returning to her exhausted sprawl position on the table.

There was an awkward silence in the air. Until Katsuki spoke up.

"Round Face, where's your boy toy? He should be back from training by now."

Ochaco got out of her tired position and sat up straight. "I don't actually know. He didn't even text me good morning today..." she said as she looked down solemnly.

Katsuki heard this disservice to his ears and snarled, "Absolutely disgusting." He started to stir the pancake batter even more violently now.

Ochaco sighed and pushed herself up from her chair and stood. "I'm gonna go check on him."

"No!"

Everyone's gaze turned to Rikido as his arm was outstretched towards Ochaco. "S-send Bakugo instead! He knows Midoryia pretty well, right?!"

Everyone in the room looked at him like he was an alien from Mars.

Ochaco blinked. "Um… but Sato… I don't thi-"

"Please!" exclaimed Rikido, tears flowing from his eyes and a knot in his throat.

Ochaco's eyes widened in understanding and nodded. "Yeah, Bakugo, go check up on Deku. I'll take over kitchen duties."

"Hell no, you won't," said Katsuki, "Unless you want a shitty breakfa- hey!" Before he knew it, Katsuki was suspended precariously in the air. "Put me down, you Deku-lovin' bitch!"

Ochaco walked up to the floating boy, grabbed his leg, turned to face Rikido, and cheerfully said, "I'll be right back!" Ochaco dragged Katsuki through the air into the common room with the hotheaded boy cursing her with every name in the book.

"God damned, Round Face," Katsuki mumbled as he stormed his way up the stairs, "It's her job to be his frickin'- forget it." Katsuki eventually found himself before the door of the one and only Izuku Midoriya. He took in a deep breath. "The things I do for this damn class." He pulled his arm back and slammed on the door. "Deku! Get your ass outta bed it's almost breakfast!" he exclaimed.

No response.

"Deku, you're gonna be late for class if you don't get up!"

Again no response. Katsuki's blood pressure skyrocketed to inhuman levels. "Damn it, Deku! Open the-!"

The door flung open, and Izuku appeared where the door once was.

"Jesus, finally. What took… you… Deku, you look like utter shit."

An apt description if there ever was one. Izuku looked entirely different than what he normally did. Instead of his bright green and cheery eyes were dark and reddish in tint. Heavy bags haunted under his eyes. His hair was even more disheveled than it usually is. But what struck Katsuki the most was Izuku's skin: it was pale white.

"Hey, Kachaan," he said weakly.

Katsuki's eyes widened in shock. He's known this kid for years, much to his dismay, but nonetheless. He knows what Izuku Midoriya was all about. This person standing in front of him was all wrong.

"Deku… what the hell?" he said flabbergasted.

Izuku bit his lip and directed his gaze to the ground, "I uh… I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Yeah, no shit…" Katsuki shook his head. "A-anyway, you gotta come downstairs, uh," he stammered. "Round Face is worried."

Suddenly life sprung forward to Izuku's appearance. "Oh my God, I totally forgot to text her good morning!" he cried, starting a muttering swarm.

Katsuki stared at him in disbelief, shook his head, and started to walk back the way he came. "Absolutely disgusting."

Izuku snapped out of his muttering state and witnessed Katsuki walking down the hall. He started to run towards him. "Kachaan wait," said Izuku as he caught up to him. "I uh, need to ask you a question."

Katsuki sneered. "What is it? It better not be dumb."

Izuku looked sheepishly down towards the ground. "Um… do you think that the class is gonna… find out that I was quirkless?"

Katsuki stopped in his tracks and shot Izuku a look, screaming: "Are you serious?"

Izuku winced. "I..ImeanIguessthey' regonnafindouteventuallycuzofShigarakiandtheLeagueofVillainsbutIdo n'tknowKachaan I' vejustbeenreallyworriedyouknowhowquirklesspeopleareviewednowadaysImeanit'swrongit' sreallywrongIfelttheworstofitbackingrammarschoolandIguessI' mnotashamedofbeingquirklessbutIdon'tknow I' vebeenhavingthesenightmareslatelyaboutpeopleleavingmeand-"

"Zip it. They're not gonna care," Katsuki sighed, putting his hand on Izuku's shoulder. "Listen, Deku, I know it's a riot coming from me, but it doesn't matter. If the truth of One for All comes out to the class, who cares? They already like you enough as is. I don't know why, but they do. You being quirkless once won't matter to them. It doesn't matter to me anymore, so why should it matter to them?" He took his arm off of Izuku's shoulder and started to walk again. "That was a really dumb question, by the way."

Katsuki's words were as if a sword slashed at Izuku's soul. The opposite of what the words were meant to do to him, but par for the course for Katsuki.

Anymore? Izuku thought.

All of those words, but that is what he focused on. He sighed, and he noticed that he could see his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, the hallway began to freeze with ice. It was crawling towards him as if it was alive.

"Jesus, Deku, keep moving!"

Izuku jumped at the sudden voice of his classmate and looked behind towards the hallway. The ice was no longer there. "Oh! Right…" And thus he walked to the kitchen area to greet his classmates, eat breakfast, get a good morning kiss from Ochaco, and start his day.

"Deku, on your six!"

Uravity's voice pierced Deku's ears as he turned around and gasped as he saw Ground Zero hurtling towards him. "Die!" he yelled.

Deku sidestepped to his left, the heat of the ensued explosion just barely singed his costume. "Damn it!" Ground Zero yelled.

Okay, he's going to follow up with a- Gah!

A sickening pop was heard and felt by Deku. His left arm burning as it flailed around uselessly. He flew and crashed into a nearby building, leaving a crater in the wall. "Ow." he groaned. Deku could hear Sugar Man and Ground Zero arguing in the distance.

"He was mine, dumbass!"

"Why did I have to be on your team?!"

"God, you're so damn useless!"

Dumbass?

Useless?

A chill ran up and down his body.

"Deku!" Uravity exclaimed, "Are you okay?!" She got on her knees and grabbed Deku's waist, activating her Zero Gravity.

Deku?

Deku came to his senses and realized that he was floating in mid-air, he sighed. "Thanks, Uravity."

"Oh, thank goodness."

She let the boy down and back on his feet, deactivating her quirk in the process. He faltered to stand up straight. He clutched his dislocated arm in pain.

"Deku, your arm, do you-?" she asked worryingly.

He sighed, "No, it's okay. I just gotta…" He closed his eyes and concentrated, suddenly his quirk, Black Whip, shot out of his back and wrapped itself around his shoulder and arm. With a sudden movement, the arm moved up, and a pop was heard yet again. He cried in pain but for just a brief period. He took in a sharp breath. "I'm gonna be okay." He gave her a weak smile.

She looked at him doubtfully. "D...Izuku, I think you should take a break for today," she suggested. Deku didn't like what she meant when she called him by his first name. The only time she called him "Izuku" was when she was romantic, angry, or worried about him.

She was definitely worried about him, and he hated it when she was. He looked her in the eyes and took a deep sigh. "No, no, I'm okay. I just didn't notice Sato behind me," he said, his gaze slowly lowering to the ground, "I should've, though." His fists clenched tightly.

"Izuku," she said, taking Deku's hand, "What did we talk about hypotheticals in battle?"

Deku sighed once again, and he directed his gaze towards his partner. "To stop dwelling on things that already happened before I get punched in the face?"

She gave him a bright smile. "Exactly, now come on. Let's crack some heads."

Deku gave a smile back. "Alright," he said softly.

Uravity leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek. Deku's cheeks erupted in flames. It's been a year with her, and he's still not used to that. "Love ya," he said.

Uravity gave him a wink and turned towards the battle. "We're all going to find out eventually, and you'll truly be alone."

Deku's entire body stopped as he heard this. His heart started to pound. "Wh-what?" he stuttered.

Uravity turned around and faced him with a confused look. "I said I love you too… Hon, are you okay?" It happened again. He heard something different. Deku thought about Uravity's question for a moment. Was he okay? Was this a side effect of One for All? Was he having hallucinations? What was happening to him?

Deku swallowed a large lump in his throat. "Y-yeah. Let's finish this." He nodded to Uravity, and she, albeit hesitantly, nodded back. The pair ran out of the storefront and ran right back into the battle, ready to face their opponents.

She's right, you know. They will all find out that you're worthless.

Deku kept running.

She's also lying. She doesn't love you. Why would anyone love you?

Deku kept running.

Kachaan was right. You're worthless. You lied.

Deku started to slow down. His vision started to become blurry.

Everybody pretends to like you. They pity you. When they find out you were quirkless, they will all leave you.

His breath started to quicken. The sounds of the world were drowned out from the high pitched ringing in his ears.

You're a thief. One for All isn't your own. It will never be. All Might is ashamed of you.

He tripped, his face hitting the ground hard. He could barely make out somebody calling out his name.

You're worthless. You're quirkless. You're loveless. You're trash. You should die. You should die you should die you should die you should die you should die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die -

Deku screamed.

"Izuku!" Uravity cried.

Sugar Man and Ground Zero stopped their arguing after hearing Deku's scream, and both turned to face the boy.

"What the fu-?!" Ground Zero's question was suddenly cut off when Deku suddenly sprinted off further into the fake city.

Uravity cried out Deku's name once again, but he couldn't hear her. He ran. Faster than he ever has. Deku found a small bunker, built right after the USJ attack as a precaution to keep students safe if the League of Villains ever came back. Deku entered the bunker, closed the door behind him, and barred the door with a steel pipe, twisting it like a pretzel to ensure no one can get in. Deku faced the door, and he started to walk backward, tears running down his face, and his eyes puffy and red. He found a corner and sat down, curling into a ball and closing his eyes. He sobbed loudly. He couldn't believe he just did that. Why did that happen?

"Why… did I do that?" he whispered to himself.

"Because we are worthless."

A sheer cold ran through Izuku's body. He opened his eyes, and to his shock, the entire bunker was frozen in ice. He looked to his left and yet again in the ice's reflection was himself, a twisted dark version of himself. It was sitting in the same position.

Izuku shuddered. "What do you want with me?"

The reflection spoke. "For us to understand. We are worthless." Mirror Deku stood up, slowly and painfully. "Everything good in our life is a farce. We want us to understand this. We will never amount to anything."

Deku closed his eyes in horror. "Are you One for All?" He kept his eyes closed for a while until he opened them to see his dark reflection closer to the ice wall dividing them.

"No… We are us, Izuku," the reflection droned. "Nobody loves us. Not even us. Why should we be loved? We are weak."

"Shut up!" Izuku cried, "I earned this! I earned On-"

The reflection slammed on the ice wall, shaking the entire bunker. "No! We do not deserve anything! We do not deserve her love. We do not deserve his praise. We do not deserve their friendship. We are a horrible person! We do not deserve to be a hero. We are quirkless. We are worthless. We are-!"

"Izuku?"

Ochaco's voice cut through the cold air like a flaming sword. "Izuku, can you hear me?"

"Do not answer her, Izuku. She is tricking us," the reflection said, "She is laughing at us, Izuku. She hates you."

"Izuku? Honey?" Ochaco said on the other side of the door, "If you can hear me, please say something."

"Don't do it."

Izuku closed his eyes and swallowed a big lump in his throat. "I… I can hear you, Ochaco."

"No! She is trying to embarrass us!" the reflection cried.

A muffled sigh is heard from the other side of the door. "Oh, thank God. Izuku, can you open the door for me? We can't help you if you don't open the door."

Izuku let out a small cry. "I-I can't. T-there's s-so m-much i-ice," he stammered, "There's ice e-everywhere."

"We will never let us leave this bunker."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Okay, Izuku, what are you doing right now?" asked Ochaco.

"I… I'm in the corner. I'm on the ground," Izuku answered weakly.

A deep breath was heard on the other side of the door. "Okay, Izuku? I need you to listen to me. We can't open the door, you barred it too tight. I know you're surrounded by ice, but I need you to be strong right now, can you do that for me?"

"Do not listen to her! She hates us! She hates us! She hates us!" the reflection ranted.

Izuku covered his ears and closed his eyes, trying to block out the reflections ramblings, he didn't want this. He didn't want to be what this reflection of himself thought he was. Izuku opened his eyes and put his hands on the icy cold floor. "O...okay. I think I can do that," he said wearily.

"No!" the reflection cried. Izuku ignored his dark self and slowly but steadily rose to his feet.

"I'm standing up," said Izuku.

"Okay, Izuku, can you walk?"

Izuku's breathing started to quicken and become more shallow. "I think... I think I can," he whispered, "Ochaco, there's so much ice."

"I know, baby, I know," Ochaco reassured, "Just take it one step at a time, okay?"

Izuku took in a deep breath and tried moving forward, but his legs wouldn't move. "I-I can't do it!"

"Give up."

"No! You can do this, Izuku. I believe in you," she said. Another moment of silence fell upon the pair. "Izuku, okay, remember that really old American Christmas special from the pre-quirk era that you love?"

"She is trying to humiliate us!"

"Yeah, I do."

"Remember that song that you used to sing with your mom from it?" asked Ochaco.

Izuku started to sob as he remembered him and his mom singing while watching it every Christmas morning. "I do," he cried softly.

"We're going to sing it to help you, okay?" said Ochaco, "We're going to get you out of this."

"No!"

"Okay," said Izuku.

"On three, okay? One… two… three…"

Izuku started to walk forward, incrementally. "Put one step in front of the other," the couple sang, "And you'll be walking across the floor." Izuku's steps slowly quickened in pace. The memories of Christmas' past flashed in front of him, the many years spent alone with his mother, some with his father, giving Ochaco the All Might charm, and finally the last Christmas he spent with her. Warmth flushed through him as he kept moving forward. The pair kept singing, and Izuku kept moving. He could see his reflection yelling at him, but he couldn't hear him. He found himself at the door, he made it. He did it. All he needed to do was open the door. He reached to grab the steel bar.

"No! We will not let us do this!" the reflection screamed. Before Izuku's eyes rose, a new giant wall of ice, separating him from the door.

"No!" Izuku yelled.

"Izuku?! What happened?!" Ochaco cried.

"I can't get to the door! It's blocked by ice!"

"We will stay here! They hate us! We are safe here!"

"Ochaco, I can't… I can't… I'm useless, I can't."

A third moment of silence fell.

"Izuku, yes, you can," Ochaco pleaded, "You can do anything."

"No…, no, I can't," Izuku sobbed, "I'm worthless."

"No, you aren't! You're a hero, Izuku!" she cried.

"We are worthless."

Izuku kept on sobbing, he felt so helpless.

"Deku, listen to me. Do you remember why I call you that?"

Izuku hesitated to answer. "Because you thought it was cute?"

"What a frivolous reason."

"No, Deku, I call you that because it sounds like the name of a hero. A hero whose entire personality yells, 'I can do it!'" she said, "Do you remember that?"

"Do not listen to her!"

"Yeah, I do…" he whispered.

"You are that hero, Deku. You can do anything. You can break this ice."

"Stop it!"

"You are the Deku who can do anything!" Ochaco cried.

Izuku faced the ice wall. His reflection staring right back at him. "We will doom us."

"Shut up." Izuku cocked back his arm, balled his hand into a fist, and closed his eyes, and concentrated. Green lightning coursed through his body, and power within him swelled. He threw his fist forward, and it collided with the ice wall, putting a crack in it.

"They hate us!"

"Is that all you have to say?!" yelled Izuku as he threw another punch, damaging the wall even further. He had to admit he was shaking in his boots. He didn't know if he could do this, but he had to try.

"They will find out, and they will leave us!"

Izuku yelled as he punched the wall, yet again, pain from the impact coursed through his knuckles. His reflection stood in the ice wall. Even more emaciated than before, the skin even more dead, and his eyes even redder, a gruesome sight for Izuku.

"We will never leave us."

Izuku hesitated. "I know. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "But I don't care." He let out a cry and punched the ice wall, breaking it into a million pieces. When he opened his eyes, all of the ice was gone. As if it was never there in the first place. He walked to the door, looked back to the inside of the bunker, took a deep breath, and undid the bar. "I'm coming out, okay?"

Izuku would've lied if he said he wasn't immediately embarrassed when he walked out, and he saw all of his classmates look at him with concerned faces. A worried Ochaco throwing her arms around him as he emerged. Mr. Aizawa gave the order: Izuku must take the rest of the day off. He tried to suggest otherwise, but Mr. Aizawa quickly shot him down. Ochaco volunteered to walk him back to the dorms and to stay with him for the rest of the day.

The walk towards the dorms was a quiet one, not quiet born from awkwardness, but quiet born from worry. Every time Izuku spared a glance at her, he saw a different emotion paint her face. Worry. Fear. Sadness. Angst. Every time he saw a new emotion, another sword pierced his heart. He hated this. He hated making her worry like this. It's all his fault. If only he was stronger.

Eventually, the pair arrived at Izuku's room.

"I'm gonna go change into some clothes from my room, okay?" Ochaco said, holding Izuku's hands together. "I promise I will be right back."

Izuku nodded weakly. "Okay." Ochaco smiled and gave him a small kiss on the forehead. She then walked out of the room. Izuku closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He got up, got dressed in more comfortable clothes, his "t-shirt" shirt, and shorts, and sat on his bed. He sat there, and he waited for Ochaco to come back.

She's not coming back.

That voice came back.

She'll never come back. She hates you.

He held his head. "Not again. Not again, please."

"Hey, I'm back."

The thoughts disappeared as quickly as they showed up. There standing was Ochaco in her normal casual wear, a t-shirt, and shorts. She motioned him to scoot over and make room for her on the bed. He obliged, and she sat down.

Ochaco sighed. "Izuku… we need to talk."

This is it. She hates you.

Izuku hung his head in shame. "I… I know."

"Is something bothering you? Something is. I can tell. Don't lie to me, okay?"

"Okay…" he whispered, "I've…. I've been having these nightmares and… hallucinations lately..." He brought his head back up to look at her in the eyes. He told her Everything. The ice. The reflection. What the reflection has been saying. His auditory hallucinations. Everything. It wasn't easy. He didn't tell her in a muttering mess. He told her in short bursts of information. As if there was a battle in his head every time he spoke.

"He told me I was a horrible person. That… you don't love me and… everyone will find out and leave me."

Ochaco tilted her head in confusion. "Find out what, hon?"

Izuku froze. Oh, God. This is it. She was going to leave him. He can't back out. He has to tell her. It was going to come out eventually. His eyes started to blur as tears were forming. Ochaco saw the waterworks flooding and immediately pulled Izuku in a hug.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell m-"

He held her tight. "No. No. I have to say it." He started to hyperventilate. "Ochaco I…" His throat started to swell.

"Just breathe, sweetie," Ochaco shushed, "It's okay."

It took every ounce of bravery in Izuku's soul to say what he said, but he did it. "Ochaco, I was born quirkless and… my quirk isn't mine." He broke. His vision was completely blurred by his tears. He sobbed on her shoulder, probably soaked her shirt in the process. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Training for a year with All Might? Child's play. Fighting terrifying villains? A daily routine. Confessing his true nature to the girl he loves? Like trying to push a boulder uphill. She knows. She knows. His brain was rushing through every possible outcome. Every outcome was her walking out the door. He braced for her response. But all he found was her grip becoming tighter.

"Oh, Izuku," she choked, "I'm so proud of you."

What? Izuku thought. He broke the hug ever so slightly to look at Ochaco's face, who was also sobbing.

"That must've been so hard for you to say, huh?" she sobbed.

Izuku gave her a confused look. "You're… you're not mad at me?"

"Why would I?" she said, wiping away her own tears, "It doesn't change what I think of you." Her accent started to show. "You're still the amazin' Deku I love."

Izuku was so confused. This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to yell at him, call him worthless, say she never loved him, and walk out the door to tell everyone else.

"Ochaco…. I…. I don't know," he stammered, "I can't believe that. I-I don't…"

"You can't believe anybody because you keep thinking of the worst possible scenarios." She put her hand on his cheek, lifting her pinky, so she doesn't accidentally activate her quirk. "Izuku, if you can't believe anyone, please try to believe in what I am going to say right now," she said, "I have the deepest and most sincere love and admiration for you. I didn't know it then, but since day one, these feelings were there. That love and admiration have to come from somewhere, right? You had to do something to make me just… be over the moon for you, right? Izuku, what makes me love you is that you're you. I love every single bit of you. Your flaws. Your strengths. Everything. Even your muttering. It doesn't matter to me if you were quirkless. It doesn't change the fact that you're Deku. The hero who can do anything. You're the Deku who's gonna be the number one hero one day, and…. you're the Deku who I want to spend the rest of my life with. So please… please. If you can believe in anything. Believe that I believe in you."

"Ochaco…" At this point, Izuku's room was flooded with both of their tears. This was the hardest he's ever cried. Instead of coldness, warmth flowed through his blood, coursing through his body—the warmth of love. "I love you so much," he said as he hugged her tightly.

"I love you too, Izuku," she wept and hugged him back just as tight. The two spent the rest of the day crying, hugging, and talking. When night fell, Izuku's face went beat red when he timidly asked Ochaco to spend the night with him.

"I-I d-don't wanna be alone t-tonight," he stammered. He saw Ochaco's face turn even redder than his.

"Y-yeah. Of course," she said.

Eventually, Izuku and Ochaco fell asleep in the same bed, at first, it was awkward, and the two kept blushing and apologizing for the lack of space between them. However, they found themselves whisked away to the realm of dreams, holding each other close in the waking world. For the first time in weeks, Izuku Midoriya didn't have any nightmares. Because tonight, he believed and knew that he was loved, and nothing in the world could change that.

#IzuOcha #izuku x Ochako #my hero academia #angst #angst with a happy ending #comfort #Scary imagery #mental health #hallucinations #love #bakugou katsuki #momo yaoyozoru #sato rikido #established relationship

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