#big Yike moment huh?

[vcrses]

The Situationship - Post Credits Scene #12

[Read the fic here first.]

Kinn was in the middle of a meeting with his mother, the Thanachat clan leaders, and about sixteen middle men when he noticed commotion from the corner of his eye. He turned his focus back onto the spreadsheet in front of him, trying to chart exactly where these negotiations would land the Theerapanyakun family and in how much loss, when Big broke out of the circle of bodyguards around them, and stepped towards him.

“Don’t react,” Big said into his ear and Kinn prepared himself for the worst - Kim was dead, Tankhun had been murdered, Porsche had been killed- “Porsche is packing, and his friend’s there to pick him up.”

Kinn carefully loosened the muscle of his jaw. There was a flood of emotions inside him, and he singled out the one he could afford to feel at the moment, relief. 

“What do you want me to do?” Big asked.

Kinn saved the data sheet open on his iPad, and opened a word document, ready to start making notes on the Thanachat family’s demands.

“Let him go,” Kinn said, ignoring the way his gut revolted at the words, the way Big stared at him in disbelief. “We’ve done enough, don’t you think?”

Big stood there frozen for a moment, and Kinn’s mother cleared her throat pointedly. Big startled out of his slump, and with fury written over his features, gritted out, “No, we have not.”

If Kinn felt better, he would stop Big, command him to listen, but as it stood, Kinn’s heart was beating too loudly in his ears and his legs felt numb.

He would deal with it when his body stopped acting out.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hold on i need to get a thought and emotions out. so with Welcome Home, there seems to be a before and an after. obviously, we're in the after. the website is the after. and if it turns out that the story we see, the one where shit hits the fan and the show is practically erased, then... that already happened. whatever horrors we see, we'll know that there is no saving them. there is no happy ending - it happened, and it's tragic. the show is doomed to end and be scrubbed away. if any of the characters are revealed to be dead/gone by the website, then when/if we see them at an earlier point, we'll Know

and there's a special kind of dread and horror in that for us, the audience.

[oracle-of-dream]

Regular Maintenance

Minors DNI

Summary: Your car is been acting up, so badly to the point where you can’t put off going to get it fixed anymore. You’re forced to take your car to the only car shop you can afford and meet the handsome mechanic who’s willing to take a look at your problem.

Warnings: Pet names, Male reader, blowjob, cum swallowing, teasing

Word Count: 2.6k

Sitting on the couch, your stomach groaned and grumbled with hunger. You checked the clock. 10 pm… too early to try and sleep, not that your stomach would let you away way. Finally mustering the strength, you go check out the fridge and the pantry to find nothing to eat. Well, nothing that isn’t a 20-step plan and that was a no-go. Scoping up your phone and opening Ubereats, there somehow were no drivers delivering at this hour.

“Really? It’s not even midnight.” You huffed.

You looked at your car keys hanging on their hook by the garage. You knew it was a risk, but starving wasn’t really an option. You’re parents said they’d take it to the shop for you, but it would take them three days before they’d be able to. Three whole days of not being able to come and go freely was torture. Especially when you were so hungry. You figured, one little drive couldn’t hurt. Just making a run you’ve made several times in your car, and you’re favorite place was right around the corner. You’ve made the drive a hundred times, and could even do it in the dead of night while blindfolded. There’s no way it would be destroyed or something.

You took your keys, opened the garage, and started the car. The dashboard blinked with the service engine light, warning you in a menacing orange hue. Don’t be stupid, just wait… You took a moment to really think if it was worth it. But your stomach reminded you how much you wanted to eat something. Starting at the driveway, you pulled onto the street and everything was smooth. Perfect even. You got to the drive-thru, ordered, paid, and got the food with no issues. But on the way back home. You had to eat, and just a bite couldn’t hurt. You looked away for just a moment to reach in the bag, and when you looked back… a giant pothole was in your path, too close for you to swerve out of the way of. You braced as you felt your car dip and slam into the pavement, your dashboard lit up in anger, and the car slowly came to a stop… You turned the key once, twice, and a third time before realizing what you’d done. You killed your car. It was too late at night to call your parents, they’d bite your head off if you told them you not only went out in the car but then hit the pothole too. You stepped out of your car and lifted the hood, staring hopelessly to see if there was some big sign to help you fix the car enough to get home.

After a few minutes of Google searching and sitting hopelessly next to your car, a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of your car and parked. A man with reddish hair stepped out, you couldn’t see his face very well which put you on guard.

“Hey, you stuck?” The man called.

You put your phone up to your ear like you were on the phone, “yeah, Mom! Thanks so much for coming to me so late, so you’re a few blocks away?” You emphasized the last few words as you walked toward the driver's seat of the car.

The man kept walking closer. “Excuse me, dude,” he jogged to catch you.

You got to the handle and pulled, but the door was locked. You let out an exasperated sigh as you could see your keys in your seat.

“Yikes. Locked out too, huh?” The man was right behind you. “If you want, I can help you.”

You turned to see a man in his early twenties with a leather jacket, a sleeveless white shirt, and black pants. His shirt had black stains on it, and he smelled like gasoline. “You know how to fix cars?”

He nodded. “It’s what I do, fixed her other there myself,” he said pointing at the car we drove. “So you need a hand, or do your parent have you taken care of?”

You awkwardly nodded. “I think they may not be able to fix this, so I’d really owe you if you could help me.”

The man put his hand out. “I’m Eric, you are?”

“Y/n.”

“Got it, so let’s get those keys first and then we can see what this little lady’s issue is.” He rubbed the hood of the car affectionately, like a dog he’d just met.

Eric went back to his car and opened the trunk to pull out a toolbelt and some other stuff. He slung the toolbelt across his body pulled a few pieces out and unlocked the door with ease. He then looked over the front of the car and looked over at the engine and other car guts. 

“It looks like something got knocked out of place. I can push it back in, but there’s some other stuff I wanna take a look at too. It could be dangerous driving it.” Eric put his tools back in his car. “So why don’t we go to my shop, I can get a better look at everything there and I think I have some spare parts that could work here.”

“You said it was dangerous for my car–”

He shook his head, “I’ll have it towed over. You can ride in my car with me. We’ll be in the car the whole time, so you don’t need to worry. I promise I won’t steal her, but I can’t promise about you…” 

You let his last sentence hang in the air as he looked at you for a reaction.

“I’m kidding, I’m sorry, that was a bad one.”

“No, no, it was fine! I just wasn’t expecting it.” 

Eric rubbed his jaw in embarrassment. “You can wait in my car while I call the tow truck if you want. It’ll probably take a few for it to get here.”

You didn’t want to sit in his car alone, but also you didn’t want to just stand there awkwardly. But then you remembered the whole reason you came out there in the first place. You went to your car and pulled out your bag of food. It was a little cold, but your stomach was begging for relief. You sat on the hood of your car while Eric called the tow truck, munching on your food.

Eric wrapped up the call and walked over to you, noticing you eating. “Let me have a bite,” Eric demanded.

You put yourself between him and the food. “Why should I?”

“Because I’m the one who’s helping you. That’s the least you could do… I’m so hungry.”

You begrudgingly handed him the food. Eric held your hand and lifted it to his mouth as he moved down to meet you halfway. His hands were rough and strong, almost squishing your hand in his. He didn’t ask for more after his bite, seemingly satisfied. 

The truck didn’t take long to arrive and hook your car up to the back. Eric got into his car, and you joined him, the smooth leather interior took your breath away. It was so clean and smelled so nice, it didn’t feel like Eric was the one who owned it at all.

It was a short and quiet drive to Eric’s place. You didn’t know what to say, not even thank you felt right at the moment. And every time you tried to muster the courage to speak, Eric would glance in your direction which made you look away shyly. 

The tow truck followed Eric’s car to the shop and your car was placed on a platform so it could be raised and Eric would look at it.

Eric took off his leather jacket, revealing his muscular arms. He worked on the car for maybe thirty minutes, giving you time to look around the place. It was cluttered and small. There were pictures of Eric in front of luxury cars with other people standing next to him, but one picture stuck out to you. It felt like a family photo, even though no one in the picture looked like Eric. It was Eric and nine other men, sitting at a table happily enjoying a night together.

“Find something?” Eric’s voice hummed in your ear, making you jump. He smiled as you turned around to him. He was covered in marks from oil, grease, and probably other stuff that you couldn’t tell.

“Did you finish?”

“Yep. It was a pretty simple fix for someone like me–some real old parts needed to go. So I got those all installed for you. She should be good to go.”

“Thank you so much!” You hugged Eric instinctively. “How much do I owe you for all this?”

Eric chucked. “Don’t worry about it! No charge this time, just promise you’ll come back.”

“Eric, please, I couldn’t just walk out like this. I’m not that kind of person.”

“How about a kiss then?” Eric raised an eyebrow at you.

You felt warm in your face. “I-I don’t know about all that–”

He sighed. “How about your number then?”

“No, I just meant–”

“Wow, no number or kiss? You’re playing hard to get, aren’t you?”

“I’m not–”

Eric stepped forward, making you stop talking. “How about. I take a kiss. And you give me your number?”

You didn’t know how to reply.

Eric let one hand pull you into him by your hair, and the other to cup your face. “One last chance to back off.”

You just close your eyes, feeling the rough skin of Eric’s hand on your face drop away as you feel his soft lips on yours. He moved his hand to the back of your neck, encouraging you to press more into him. You opened your mouth into the kiss, Eric didn’t miss a beat to slide his tongue into the gap and let your tongues finally meet. Gently he guided you backward until your back was against the way. You’re hands felt hot and numb, but still, you let them do whatever they wanted. You felt his neck, his back, his chest, and slowly moved down his torso.

Eric stopped your hands as they reached his belt. He stopped kissing you, letting you collect your breath. “Sorry, I just said a kiss. Anything below the belt requires a second visit.” He winked.

You felt dizzy from the kiss, your body tingled all over. You’d never been so forward with someone, so it was… different. Eric was different. 

“I took my kiss. Now, you wanna give me your number? Again, your choice.”

You fumbled your phone out of your pocket and gave it to him.

“You’re so cute, ya know?” Eric chuckled as he added his number to your phone and texted himself so he had your number. “Text me when you get back home. And don’t feel bad about calling me if you have any more car troubles… Or if you just miss me.”

You nodded, “I will.”

“Good boy. Now get home, it’s late.” Eric kissed you one more time on the cheek as he walked you to your car, opened the door, and sat you down in the driver’s seat.

You turned the key and the engine started with a happy purr. The engine light was gone, and you’d never felt your car start so smoothly before.

“Thank you, Eric.” You said again.

“You’re welcome, babe. Make sure to come to see me again, I’m not really a one-time kind of guy. And if I find out you went to some other garage to get your car looked at, you’ll break my heart.”

You nodded as you reversed out of Eric’s shop. He walked with you and watched you drive away. You could see him staring from your mirror until you turned the corner. Once you got home, you checked your messages.

“Home yet, prince?”

“Yeah. Good guess.”

“I know! I’m just that amazing. But you should sleep now.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I’m almost home now. I’ll be dreaming of you, so do the same and dream of me too, okay?”

“We haven’t even been on a date and we’ve kissed and we’re dreaming of each other?”

“So you will dream of me? You’re so amazing, and such an obedient boy too. I like that.”

You blushed. You could hear his voice teasing your ears as you read his message. “Shut up! I’m going to bed.”

“Good night, y/n. Sweet Angel.”

“Good night, weirdo.”

You stared at his last message. Your heart fluttered, imagining him calling you sweet angel. Your eyelids started feeling heavy. So you put your phone down and finally laid down to sleep. 

When you opened your eyes, you were lying in the back seat of Eric’s car. You could tell it was his from the smell. You sit up and realize you’re not alone. Eric was sitting next to you, your head was just resting on his leg…

“Waiting for me, Angel?” Eric unbuttoned the front button of his pants. His legs spread to make room, a smirk spreading across his lips. 

You crawled over to him. His hand immediately moved to receive you, holding the back of your head as he guided you to his cock that strained against his clothes. You hadn’t even touched him yet…

“I need you, baby. Be a good boy and help me?” He almost sang as he tossed his pants and underwear down. His cock stood proudly, pink and leaking. You lean down and gift him soft kisses around the head. “More…” Eric moaned, his eyes struggling to stay open as he watched his head disappear into your mouth. His legs jerked, threatening to close as the wet warmth around him.

“Jesus, keep going,” he groans as you take more into your mouth. His hips buck as you give him more, licking up the shaft slowly. His head is thrown back into the leather of the seat just as you go for the gold. You open your eyes and look up at him, his eyes sealed shut with his eyebrow scrunched and his forehead slightly wet. His mouth was hung open, breathing hard between grunts and moans. 

You moan in joy around him, making his breath hitch for a moment. 

“Let me drive for sec Angel.” Eric gripped your head in place, gently thrusting into your mouth before building up speed. You start to meet him in time with his thrusts, making his timing stutter and his back arching so much that he starts moving out of his seat. “I’m gonna lose it, you’re gonna suck it right out of me!” His hands move from your head to his neck and the headrest, holding on for dear life as his arms flex. “More! More! I’m right there, so close, sweet boy!”

The climax was enough to make him scream as his cum shot into your mouth, your tongue running wild all over him, swallowing everything he gave you. His legs squirm as you keep sucking, milking him for all he’s worth. “Oh god, please! Please, just–” Eric couldn’t even hold it together to speak.

You started to enjoy his begging, continuing to lick on his overstimulated member. “I’m begging, please!” You finally release him, making his whole body flop down into his seat as he heaved breaths to calm back down.

“I’m gonna get you back for that…” Eric groaned between breaths.

You were exhausted and ended up falling asleep on his bare thigh, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing

When you open your eyes, you’re in your bed again… Your phone is next to you.

“Angel, I had a pretty good dream about us.” Eric texted.

“I had a pretty good one too.”

“Oh? You did dream of me!? What did we do?”

You swallowed, thinking about your dream. “Maybe it would be better if I showed you…”

“Name a place and I’ll meet you there.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You gag into your hand, shaking. You gurgle and shake out your fingers, the motion of the car adding to your sickness. The man beside you growls. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" 

"Eeek, it's so gross," you drag your tongue against the roof your mouth, like a llama about to spit, "it tastes so bad!" 

You give another repulsed noise and shudder. The salty, sticky, sweaty flavour stains your mouth. You feel like you can even smell it. 

"You don't think it tastes gross?" 

"Do you think I taste my own cum?" He snorts. 

"Like I said, the internet--" 

"Maybe you should cut that out and grow up. You might not be knee deep in shit if you did." 

"I-- me. Sir, you're the one--" 

He reaches over and flicks your throat, right in your esophagus, and cough in pain as you fold over. 

"You think your funny? We'll see who's laughing soon enough," he grits as he slaps his hand back on the steering wheel. "Come into my town and.... bullshit... laughing..." 

He rants under his breath as he drives on. You feel the daggers he sends in your direction as he drives. You'd rather he focused on the road because he just blew a red. 

"So... if you're not the mayor..." you begin as you sit up. You see your reflection in the side mirror; yikes.  

"Don't fucking start," he warns and points a finger, hitting the wheel, "I swear you want to die. Don't you?" 

"Mayors don't talk like that so... no," you frown. "Look, Fl-- Lloyd," you enunciate slowly, "you keep saying I should know who you are but I don't, okay?" 

"Are you going to keep talking?" He grumbles. 

"Sorry, sorry," you rub your neck, your throat still throbbing, "I'm... trying." 

"Not hard enough," he sneers, "all you need to know is to shut your mouth and listen. Got it, sweet lips?" 

You nod and cross your arms, "got it." 

He sighs and eases off the gas. You sit forward and crane around. Where the heck are you? You've never been to this end of town. 

"Sit back," he shoves your shoulder so you hit the seat, "can't see through you despite the empty space in your skull." 

You curl your shoulders in and lower your head. Your adrenaline slowly recedes. Oof, that hits hard. Not worse than anything you've been told before but having a moment to think about it, about everything that's happened on the last few hours, it doesn't feel good. 

You languish in the silence and watch the blend of brick and pavement through the car window. This is just another I told you so. Your parents will be all too happy to laugh on your face. And those old friends who kept you around to make themselves feel better. 

He huffs as he slows and rolls up to a large gate, "come on, cheeks, don't get all pouty now. The fun part's not even begun." 

You lean forward to see beyond the gate as it opens at the touch of his phone screen. You can't help but feel awe at the sprawling yard and towering modern mansion. These places only exist on screens. 

"Aw, baby face, you're seeing all sorts of big things today, huh," he scoffs. 

You don't react. He sways dangerous between menacing and mocking. He might not have told you outright who or what he is, but you can guess by his flagrant threats and even more exorbitant wealth. No on is that cocky or that rich through innocent means. 

He rolls through and the gate shuts without prompt. Like a motion sensor or something just as fancy as the rest of this place. You wonder how long it takes the army he no doubt employs for the task to trim and style the lawn. You almost understand why he was so finicky about his coffee. Almost. 

Yet that glimmer of defiance needles in the back of your head. If he's so rich and better than you, why wasn't he hitting some high end place where they infuse their coffee with diamonds or whatever? You suppose he might enjoy feeling like a giant as he walks among the anthills. 

Figuring out this man won't do you any good. Even if you could. None of that matters. You've stepped on his toes and he's not going to let yours go unstomped. 

He pulls in along a row of egregiously expensive luxury cars; one for seemingly every day of the week. It wouldn't surprise you. Well, you’re in such a stupefied state, nothing can. 

His seat belt repeals sharply and he swings open the driver's door. You jolt back and look around. Do you get out too? He slams the door and your doubt is quashed as he taps on the window with his knuckles.  

You undo your belt and feel around the door. Where the heck is the handle? These things have to be so sleek and sophisticated that you can never figure anything out. The door opens before you can find the release and you look up sheepishly at Lloyd.  

You get out and step aside as he shut the door with a flick of his wrist. You peer around and twiddle your thumbs. What exactly happens now? 

You stop short as he heads toward the stone steps along the house's facade. You're struck by a startling epiphany. He might be right about you in some ways. How did it take this long to realise?  

You've been abducted. 

He stops at the door and looks back at you, "look, honey bun, I'm getting fucking tired. Stop pussyfooting around and come on." 

"Um, sir, F--Lloyd," you put your hands up, "Mr. Hansen, so, when do I get to go home because this feels kinda... entrapment-y." 

"If I have to drag you," he snaps. 

"Alright, alright," you keep your palms put and scurry forward, "I'm just asking questions. It's been a strange day." 

"Fucking tell me about it," he mutters. "Ah, ah, sweet lips," he puts hisbarm out to block you from the front door, "rule one: beyond these doors, you're naked. That's it. Full access all the time." 

You double take. Full on Three Stooges pantomime. You nearly fall on your ass. 

"Wh-at?" Your voice catches. 

"If I have to keep repeating myself--" he warns. 

"But what if I get cold?" 

"Oh my fucking god," he grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him, "I should fucking break that jaw." 

He claws at your shirt and rips it up your body. You flinch with the force of his rude undressing. You squeak as he untangles your tee then shoves down your sweats, nearly taking your undies with them. He snaps the elastic with his index. 

"Everything, baby girl," he demands and glares at you, crossing his arms. His cheek twitches and his jaw squares. Without the lip fur he might be decent. 

You wiggle free of your pants and step out of them, then your panties. Your bra gives you some trouble as one of the hooks is bent. As you stand naked out in the summer breeze you feel strangle calm. It's kind of freeing. 

You look at him and find him eyeing you up and down; that's a little more oppressive. You make a face. "Shoes off or..." 

"Everything. Fuck, you gotta ruin it with that mouth," he barks and turns to strut through the door, "...drive me fucking insane...for what...pussy?" 

You stare after him and exhale, stepping over the threshold. A lot has happened and you still haven't got your head around it all. Maybe it's better that way.

[dira333]

Hurting together - Aizawa x Reader

mentions of Chronic pain, requested by @alienaiver I hope this is in any way what you've imagined.

“Nervous?” Shouta asks after a full 120 seconds of your leg bouncing without stopping.

“Huh?! Oh, oh, I’m sorry!” You scramble to a halt, arm resting on your leg to keep it in place. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to stop now. But if you wanna talk about it, I heard that helps.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t wanna … I don’t wanna annoy anyone,” you mutter, eyes flickering from left to right.

“Do you wanna hear my story then?” He asks, not because it’s something he likes sharing, but you’re cute and what’s the alternative? Staring at the wall until he gets called in.

“Oh, if you… if you don’t mind?”

He huffs out a breath. “Well, apparently it’s not healthy to break a bone every single week.”

“Oh!” Your eyes grow huge. “Every single week? Wait, is it the same bone.”

“No,” he snorts softly, “At least then I’d have a better story. I’m a pro Hero, I just happen to get into fights.”

“And what’s your Hero Name? Fragile Bone?”

It takes him a second to recognize the joke, snorting loudly when he does. You’re snappy, now that the anxiety fades.

“No, it’s uh… Eraser Head.” He waits a second for you to recognize him, the star-struckness to hit. But it doesn’t. Instead, you cock your head to the side and eye him thoroughly. 

“Interesting,” you say, “I remember an Interview you were forced to give a few years back. Uh, I think there was a streaker at the Sports Festival?”

He laughs. “Good Memory. Yeah, that was one of our students. He didn’t have his Quirk under Control back then.”

“And you’ve got a broken bone now? Or is this just a check-up?”

“Bloodwork.”

“Yikes,” you pull a face, “me too. It’s the worst.”

“It is,” he agrees, dares to ask before he can lose his courage again. “Want me to hold your hand through the process?”

And it’s smooth, smoother than he’s ever been able to - maybe the absence of his friends does benefit his ability to flirt - and he might even get his hopes up for a second there - until your face falls.

“That’s really tempting, you know, but I… uh… my hands are hurting. That’s why I’m here, you know, to figure out why they’re hurting like this. So hand-holding is kinda a no-go.”

“Oh, I understand,” the dejection must be audible in his voice because you reach out for him, though you don’t take hold.

“But if you want,” you offer, voice a little breathless, “you could… uh… put your hand on my shoulder? It might look weird, but-”

“I’ve seen weirder things,” he offers and your smile lights up the room.

-

“Oh, I didn’t know you were coming in together,” Doc Oc greets him and for a moment he is paralyzed, frozen between two different emotions. Surprise, because Doc OC’s obviously familiar with you and he’s got the worst memory when it comes to names. Embarrassment, because it’s usually not the best thing if a Doctor remembers you by name, let alone this one.

“Ah,” you smile, “We met in the waiting room. Bloodwork, you now. It’s easier if it’s done together.”

“That I can agree with. Now, who wants to go first?”

-x-

“Now, I believe you owe me something,” Recovery Girl announces one afternoon, a big smile cutting into her wrinkly face. “What’s her name?”

“Huh?” Shouta had been busy reading through this week's assignment, deciphering the texts. Denki’s Handwriting almost requires a PHD in decoding.

“Doc Oc and I have been friends for quite some time. One would call us even… very close… if you know what I mean. He said you brought in lovely company.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess…” He can’t help but blush at her tone. Too much information.

“Well, are you going to ask her out? You cannot count this as your first date, surely? A fancy Dinner is a must.”

“A fancy Dinner is a must for whom?” Hizashi’s leaning around the door and Shouta groans. Of all people to overhear this.

“Shouta’s girlfriend.”

“Shouta has a girlfriend? Shouta, my man, why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you love me anymore? Your best friend?”

He crawls further into his sleeping bag, closing his eyes. Those assignments can wait, if he can fall in to a coma first, he-

-x-

“So?” Rumi leans against your Desk. “Did he call you?”

“Not yet,” you’re chewing on your lower lip, “But he’s probably busy.”

“Busy my ass,” she snorts angrily. “You’re a catch. If he doesn’t get a groove on you’re gone. He should know that.”

You level your friend - and boss - with a glare. “I’ve been single for a year.”

“Which he doesn’t know,” she sings. “But on another note, have you’ve gotten the results from your bloodwork? You know we only need that so we can get started on your hands-free Desktop.”

“Why do you sound more excited about this than I am?”

“Because you’re afraid of change and I am not. Just think, your hands will finally get to rest!”

“Yay,” you wave them around half-heartedly when your phone pings.

Rumi’s already grabbing it from your desk, always faster than you. “Oh, it’s your guy.” She hands it back. “Not looking.”

“Thank you for respecting my privacy,” you joke and open the short text only to gasp.

“He’s asking me out.”

“Great, so he’s not an idiot. Confirm.”

“No, no, he’s asking me out for a date tonight. You know how bad my legs have been today, I can’t show up with a cane.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you drag out, “the last time I did that there was no second date.”

“And you think he’s that shallow?”

“I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Tell him you can’t tonight because you’re working late. Ask him if he’s able to reschedule for tomorrow or Friday.”

You hesitate, but do as you’re told.

“And now,” she grabs your bag as soon as you put your phone down, “you get your cute ass home and rest. I want you as fit as you can be tomorrow so you can enjoy that date.”

“But work-”

“Work is like my ex - it will always wait for you.”

-x-

“Fuck,” Shouta groans, head on his arms. The pain is strong today.

“You… uh… you good?” He hears a familiar voice from the door. Shit, he forgot about training with Hitoshi.

“Fantastic,” he grinds through his teeth though he does not dare to lift his head. Lunch was decent, but he doesn’t want to taste it again.

“Do you need Recovery Girl?”

“No, I’m going to be fine. Can you get me my painkillers from my bag? I would, but moving-”

“Sure, sure.” He can hear rustling and then a pill is dropped into his outstretched palm.

Slowly, carefully, he drags his arm back to pop it into his mouth, swallows it dry. He’s got loads of practice.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be right as rain.”

“Uh, if you say so.”

-

He’s got a black eye.

He’s got a black eye and a date in about thirty minutes and the painkillers are making him particularly loopy today.

Hitoshi wouldn’t have been able to hit him in the face if his reaction time hadn’t been so slow. He’s lucky no bone is broken.

Something tells him that it would be better to reschedule, but wouldn’t that make him look disinterested when he’s not?

-

“Mew.” 

Shouta turns to the sound, surprised to see a black cat looking up at him. There’s a hedge there, and he bends down to pet the animal. 

“You’re loud, huh?” He comments on the purring, taking a seat on the ground when his knees turn a little wobbly. He really is getting older. 

The cat disappears into the hedge and he holds out a hand, making little sounds to lure her back out.

Just as he can spot the green eyes blinking back at him, a banknote is dropped into his hand.

“Here,” a voice says, “It’s cold out.”

Shouta freezes, only to look up into your face.

“Uh,” he makes, suddenly envious of Kaminari when he cooks his brain. 

“I didn’t mean-” you say just as he exclaims loudly: “There’s a cat.”

“Where?” You ask, peering into the hedge. “I love cats.”

-x-

“This was nice,” you tell him after Dinner, the episode with the Cat now something you can laugh about. “Would you like to do it again sometimes?”

“Yes,” he nods slowly, “I’m sorry if I was a little loopy today. I took… uh, I forgot to take a nap.”

“Ah,” you smile, “You’re getting old too? If I don’t get my usual lunch nap I’m not so nice to be around.”

Shouta laughs. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. You’re very nice to be around.”

“You think so?” You ask, heart skipping a beat when he nods.

“How are your hands?” He looks down at them, “Can I hold them? Or do they still hurt?”

“If you don’t squeeze them I should be fine,” you say, praying that it’s the truth.

It is a little uncomfortable, if you were to tell the truth, but he’s gentle and your heart blooms at the implications.

If only you could put this moment in a jar, keep it for all the days where it’s hard to get up.

 -

“So?” Rumi leans over your desk, grinning wide. “Gimme the scoop.”

“We went out, it was amazing, I don’t know when I’m going to see him again.”

“That’s not the scoop, that’s a short summary. I want every detail. Also, what does it mean you don’t know when you-”

The ringtone of your phone cuts her off. You take a peak only to gasp.

“It’s him. He’s calling.”

“Well, pick up. I’ll come back as soon as you’re finished. And I want all the details.”

-

It’s hard to find time for another date.

Shouta works two fulltime jobs and you’re overwhelmed with just one.

But he calls or texts every day, sending you pics of cats whenever he’s out on patrol.

It’s nice, but it could be nicer.

When he asks what you’re doing and you’re in bed, pain holding you down, you cannot tell him the truth. Because he doesn’t know the truth. And telling him over the phone seems insensitive.

Sometimes he sounds pretty loopy when he calls and you wonder if he’s getting enough sleep. But when you ask him about it he evades the question so masterfully, that you only remember it hours after the call.

“I think I have to come clean,” you tell Rumi one day during lunch, your hands in thick compression gloves to combat the pain. “This season is hitting me hard and I cannot postpone our next date again just because I cannot go anywhere without a cane.”

“I’m sure it’s going to go well. From what you’ve told me about him he seems very nice.”

“Yeah,” you sigh,”so nice I don’t want to lose him.”

-x-

Of all the moments for a migraine to hit, this has to be the worst. 

Okay, maybe the second worst, because he’s not currently fighting someone.

But he’s been pressing his temple against the fridge doors of this Konbini for half an hour now, clearly unsettling the other shoppers, and his painkillers are far, far away in his car’s glove compartment.

Every time he thinks he’s got it now, turning away from the coldness has his lunch rise up in his throat.

“Shouta?” A familiar voice asks and the ice seeps into his veins. It’s you.

“No, I’m not Shouta. You must mistake me for someone else.”

“You’re wearing a nametag. Backward, but you’re wearing it.”

He sighs. “Can you just pretend you’re not seeing me?”

“I could, but why?”

“This is embarrassing.”

“I mistook you for a homeless man, I think we’ve already reached top embarrassment.”

“I’m having a Migraine.”

“See,” he can hear the encouragement in your voice, knows exactly how your mouth curls at the words even if he cannot see it. “That’s very low on the embarrassment list. Do you need a painkiller?”

“Yeah, but they’re in my car.”

“What are you using.”

“I doubt you have that. You can only get it via prescription.”

Shouta names it, hears you chuckle.

“Oh, you bet I got that. One pill is enough, right?”

“Right.” He can hear rustling before a pill is pressed into his hands. He swallows it dry. 

“It will take me a minute to come to my senses.”

“No worry at all. I can stay here with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, but I want to. By the way… the Bloodwork… was that about your Migraine?”

“Yeah,” he swallows around the lump in his throat. “And other stuff.”

“Mhm.” Some more rustling.

“How did you get those pills by the way? You don’t work in a pharmacy, right?”

“Oh, no, I don’t deal drugs if that’s what you’re asking.” You laugh, but it tapes off awkwardly. “I… I suffer from chronic pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

You laugh again, but you don’t sound amused. “Yeah, me too.”

Silence settles between them. Slowly, the pain in his head eases into something manageable and he peels himself away from the cool glass to look at you.

You’re staring at the ground, a cane in your hands. 

“I’m going to be pretty loopy for the rest of the day,” he tells you, lump in his throat, “But do you wanna grab a coffee after this?”

The surprise in your eyes tells you what he’d already assumed. You’re not used to people accepting your condition as something that just is. 

“Might ask you some questions as soon as my head works properly again,” he adds like a threat, “but for now I’d just like to look at you. You’re really pretty.”

“You’re really loopy,” you giggle.

“Mhm, it’s going to get even worse, sugardrop.” His hand finds your elbow, careful to avoid your hands and you knock your head lightly against his shoulder.

You’re probably a weird-looking couple to the outside world, but he’s never cared much about that anyway.

[veethefreeelf]

Hello, I was wondering if I could make a request for jeonghannie 😢😢, how would he react to seeing you breastfeed your baby in front of him? And then he just wants to have sex and suck your tits like the baby 😢😢

Sorry Anon for 2 things. One, I took forever with this request and two, I might have gotten carried away (2.5K words, yikes). Anyway hope you enjoy it ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ Also big thanks to @leejihoonownsmyheart for giving me the courage to post this CHEERS 🥂

You’ve always wondered if you would be a good mother. Not because your childhood was bad, but because you never saw yourself as such a figure in anyone’s life. You were always the baby of all your friend groups and it took you quite some time to consider yourself an actual adult and not just an overgrown kid. 

Now, looking at the little angel in your arms, you find yourself wondering how you could ever have had such a thought. Sure, she just barely came out of you but overall, things have been pretty smooth. You have the instincts down but what you have better than anything else is the person whose eyes are looking at you two with so much adoration that you could just crumble right then and there.

“Well… Are you just going to sit there and stare at us?” you asked teasingly.

“If I could help I would angel, but pretty sure breastfeeding is going to be an ‘only you’ task” he said as he smirked. You smiled at each other and as you continued feeding your little angel you looked back at your relationship with him.

Yoon Jeonghan. Before you met him, you never had been one to settle down. You had been in relationships sure, but nothing that had lasted more than 6 months max. You always ended up realizing the person in front of you just wasn’t your forever person and you had to move on. At one point, you even considered the fact that maybe you just weren’t built for love. Well, romantic love, you knew when it came to your friends and family, you loved fiercely and unconditionally, however, when it came to romantic relationships, things just… fizzled down and you always ended up realizing you had never felt true love before.

But boy did that all change when you met him. You were crazy about him from the very beginning and you tried to keep him away to try and protect your fragile heart. But he was having none of it and kept breaking through your walls with ease and he did it consistently and with purpose, because what you didn’t know was that he had been just as crazy for you as you were for him, since the very beginning. 

Five years later and looking at the little family you two have built, you find it funny how you could have ever had such ridiculous thoughts about yourself and how you could ever have doubted him. 

And, at this moment, after five years of knowing Jeonghan, he still manages to surprise you with the next sentence that comes out of his mouth while staring at his perfect girls. 

“So, baby, when is it my turn?” he asked with such a shit eating grin. You lifted your head and stared at him. His eyes had that familiar spark they usually have when he wants to absolutely wreck you, and he is darting his beautiful orbs between your eyes and your breasts where your baby girl is currently finishing up her meal. 

Once you realize what he means, you start laughing and ask him “Do I look like an open buffet to you, Yoon Jeonghan?”

“Hmm… You do look like a five-course meal, angel” he teases.

“Wow… That was incredibly cheesy even for you, Hannie. Oof… I think you might be losing your spice, baby” you teased.

“Losing my spice, huh? Well, we’ll just see about that later tonight won’t we, angel?” he said as he crossed the room to you.

He kissed you in your temple and held your baby girls’ hand and said “When she’s done with her dinner, I’ll get her to sleep, angel. You can go and do your night time routine, yeah? Look nice and pretty for me, hmm?”

You knew exactly what he meant and you swallowed hard. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased him before but also, who are you kidding? You want this as bad as he does.

Once your baby girl was done, he picked her up to have their own bonding time as he always puts it. Jeonghan is the proudest when it comes to bonding time with his daughter and he takes it very seriously. He always makes sure to be the one to get her to sleep and, on nights where he can’t be present, it always eats away at him and he feels incredibly guilty for missing out on his baby girl’s bedtime.

You go through your night routine (shower, lots of skincare, lots of hair care) and you are now standing in front of your closet wondering what kind of night this will be.

Is it a normal underwear kind of night? Is it a lingerie kind of night? Or maybe a Hannie shirt and nothing underneath kind of night? You choose the latter. From the look in his eyes earlier, this calls for the option that will make him the craziest for you, and he has always said, there’s nothing better in this world than looking at you wearing just his clothes and nothing else. A possessive little thing he is, but in the best of ways.

You go to bed waiting for him but you find yourself so tired that you start to doze off. Later, you wake up to his lips on you. He feels so warm and he is kissing you so delicately, you think you might still be dreaming.

“Sorry, angel. Baby girl took longer than usual to fall asleep. Hmm… I was just going to let you sleep but I got here and you’re in my shirt and smelling so heavenly, I couldn’t help myself” he said as he continued kissing down your neck and climbing on top of you. 

“Hannie…” you moaned.

“Yeah, angel. You want me to continue or you want me to let you sleep? Your choice, baby, but choose now before I go insane” he says leaning his forehead in yours.

“Want you, Hannie. Don’t stop, please” you whispered. 

He sat back on his knees and took his shirt off. You kept staring at him and wondering how you even got this fucking lucky. You’d have to pray to all the gods and the universe tomorrow.

“Angel, you can’t look at me like that. With those innocent eyes when I know that what’s going on behind them is not even close to being innocent”. 

You sit up and start kissing him. Properly, taking your time. It feels like ages ago since you last just sat and kissed like this. Deeply, so profound that you forget everything else around you. You then start kissing down his neck as he starts massaging your breasts. You stop for a bit and he senses your hesitation. 

“What do you think, angel? Is it my turn now?” he asks, looking you in the eyes as he keeps caressing your breast with one hand and holds your face with the other. 

“What… What if it… You know… Comes out?” you asked in such a low voice you almost sounded like a scared child. 

“Angel, you’re my wife. The mother of my child. You are my whole world. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. This is the most natural thing in the world and I want you so fucking bad. I want them” he says while massaging your breasts now with both hands.

“I want them so bad. I’ve tried hinting at it before but I didn’t know if you were ignoring it or if you weren’t getting the hint. But I want all of you. You know how sexy it is that you carried my child? That you brought our baby into this world? Fuck, everytime I think about it, it drives me fucking insane” he says while leaning his forehead in yours.

“Hmm… Mommy kink, Hannie?” you say, now smiling.

“More like a You kink, angel. Everything about You, always” and before you can tease him again about that line, he starts kissing you, taking your (well, his) shirt off of you and, in no time, you are in the position you were in when this all started.

He is kissing down your neck and his fingers are moving closer and closer to where you desperately want him to be. He kisses your chest, just below your collarbones and he starts running his fingers through your folds.

“Fuck… You are so wet, angel… It seems I’m not the only one wanting to try this huh?” he says in such a cocky way. You wish you had the strength to tease him back but you are getting way too desperate for his touch.

“It’s you, Hannie… The way you talk about me… About this… Fuck, please, keep going” you are now whining and getting more and more desperate.

As he starts slowly touching your clit, he moves his mouth and his free hand to your breasts. He quickly latches his mouth on one of your nipples and starts kissing it, devouring it. He’s making such sloppy noises, if it was anyone else in the world you would be so fucking embarrased but he keeps humming and moaning as he suckles and makes out with your tit.

You find yourself getting closer and closer, the fire in your core is igniting fast, too fast for your liking.

“Hannie. Hannie. I’m.. I’m close. Slow.. Slow down, please” you pant, barely making sense. He then pushes one finger… Then a second finger into your pussy and keeps reaching into that one spot inside you that makes your mind go completely blank.

“Shhh, let go, angel. Fuck, I can feel your cunt squeezing around my fingers, you’re dripping on me. Just let go, I got you” he whispers while still latched to your nipple and staring you in the eyes. 

He kept going, getting sloppier, getting louder and staring at you like you are the most precious piece of art. His fingers have set the right pace and he has his thumb circling your clit with just the right pressure. Everything sounds so filthy and it’s what pushes you over the edge with a moan of his name.

He helps you come down from your high and is now kissing you all over your face and whispering “good girl. You were so good for me. I love you so much”. When you are back down on earth, you start kissing him back and you can feel just how hard he is. It must be painful at this point. He’s practically humping you and moaning praises while kissing you. You reach down to palm him through his (still very on) pants and you start massaging his cock.

“Hannie… You’re so hard, baby. Get those clothes off and get inside me. I can’t wait anymore…” you whispered in his ear between kisses.

He groans and quickly strips down. He’s now sitting back on his heels in the bed with you between your legs and he pushes your legs open. As open as they can be and he starts staring at you while running his hand through your leg. He takes his other hand and starts stroking his cock while staring down at you.

“Fuck, angel. One of these days, you’ll kill me. Look at you, all fucked out from me sucking your tit and touching you. I’ve barely started with you and you’re already so wrecked” he keeps stroking himself and staring at you. You lick your lips and start pouting.

“Hannie… You can make yourself come on me any other day, but tonight, please, fuck me. I need you inside of me, so bad” you say in your best innocent voice that you know drives him crazy.

“You sure you’re ready for me, angel? Don’t want to overwhelm you” he says. Then two things run through your mind. One: he looks like he wants to fucking wreck you but he is still giving you the option to stop him since he knows that after the birth of your girl you both have been very careful and well, for lack of a better world, vanilla in bed due to doctor’s orders and some of your fears. And two: you are the luckiest woman alive.

“Please, Hannie. I’m ready, I’m so ready. I need you now. I need everything. I’ll give you everything” you moan while staring back at him so he knows that you fucking mean it.

He leans over you, kisses you deeply, tells you he loves you and starts rubbing the tip of his cock on your pussy. He holds your hand above your head and stares into your eyes as he pushes himself into you, finally. You’re both panting and giggling and kissing, like teenagers. 

At first, he starts slow. Long, well-timed strokes. Holding your hand and your hip in position, making sure your legs stay as open as possible for him.

“Faster, Hannie. I’m not gonna break. Please” you moan. 

“Hmm.. My angel wants to get fucked hard, huh? Seems like my angel is a little slut tonight, isn’t she?” he said as he started speeding up and fucking you harder and harder and you moan louder and louder.

He slaps your thigh. “I need words, slut. Fucking tell me what you want. Tell Hannie what you want”.

“Fuck… Hannie… I‘m a slut tonight. Your slut… Please…” you said, completely and already fucked out of your mind.

“Shit… That’s right… Mine… All fucking mine” he says and groans. He’s getting closer and so are you.

He removes your hand from his and grabs on to your tit while his other hand is now rubbing circles on your clit. He starts sucking on your tit that he overlooked earlier tonight and keeps massaging the other. He starts rubbing your nipple and making out with your other tit and nipple. Again, getting sloppy, making the most obscene sounds. 

He senses you’re close. He knows, he can tell by the way you are moaning, by the look in your eyes and by the way your pussy is squeezing his cock. He’s not going to last much longer either, not like this and he goes in for the kill.

“Is my angel close? I know you are, I can feel it. Fuck… I’m right behind you” he speeds up, latches back on to your nipple and for the final blow, he slightly bites down on it and that’s when everything erupts. You come with a cry of his name. You’re shaking and panting and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so pure and beautiful.

He comes then with a groan and keeps whispering ‘I love you’ over and over again.

You just lay there together, you don’t know for how long. You’re holding him, one hand running through his hair and another running up and down his back. He lifts his head and looks at you. He then surprises you again with what comes out of his mouth.

“I knew you were gonna love that. You’re tits have always been so sensitive, specially your nipples, angel” he starts laughing against your neck.

“I guess it’s an open buffet after all” you said and you both burst into laughter still tangled together.

[ckret2]

At long last, we get to see: this moment.

Chapter 11 of Human Bill Being The Mystery Shack's Hella Depressed Prisoner, featuring: Mabel giving Bill a ✨beautiful makeover✨—and Stan and Ford almost dying from laughter. And thus begins Bill & Mabel's inevitable befriending. Previous chapters here!

####

Every time Mabel had to use the stairs, she paused to look at Bill sitting in his window.

He never seemed to move.

A few days ago, it was creepy. Now, it was just kind of sad.

Last year, after Mabel and Dipper's parents had heard the whole story about their summer, they'd immediately packed the twins off to therapy—which Mabel didn't think was necessary, but whatever, if it made their parents feel better. (It had taken them some time to find a therapist who would engage with their barely-averted-apocalypse story at face value rather than search for the root of these "delusions.") At their current therapist's office, before each appointment, Dipper and Mabel had to fill out checklists that they gathered were to measure whether they'd come down with a case of depression—Please read the following statements and circle the word that shows how often they happen to you. Never, sometimes, often, always.

She'd filled out these things so many times that she could practically recite the list of statements by memory. Nothing feels very fun anymore. I have problems with my appetite. I have trouble sleeping. I have no energy for things. I feel like I don't want to move. Far be it from her to try to diagnose an evil demon monster space triangle who'd tried to murder everybody she knew, but. Well. You know. Sitting curled up in a window seat, day after night after day, barely moving, barely talking, barely eating... Yikes. She could only guess how he'd answer statements like I feel empty and sad or I feel worthless.

In Mabel's mind, there was a piece of paper. On that piece of paper were the faces of everyone currently living in the shack. Herself, Dipper, Waddles, Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, Soos, Abuelita, and Melody as an honorary part-time resident. Next to each of their faces, there was a sticker, reflecting their current overall mood. Right now, everyone had either a happy face or a flat-mouthed neutral face—not bad, but could be better.

As she looked at Bill, she mentally promoted him at last from "entity haunting the attic" to "temporary resident." She added his face to her imaginary paper. And she slapped a big blue crying sticker next to it.

She wouldn't stand for that. Not even from him. Not under her roof.

####

Today, Bill wasn't even in the window. He'd elected to curl up in a corner of the attic, hiding in the shadows with his stolen blanket. The window was probably too hot. Mabel typically used acrylic yarn, and she knew from experience how quickly Sweater Town could turn into Sweaty Town.

For the first time, Mabel sauntered, quite casually, across the invisible barrier separating the rest of the attic from Bill's nest. She offered her winningest smile and her cheerfullest, "Hey, Bill!"

The Thing Beneath The Blanket gave her a look that, she suspected, could probably be described as deeply suspicious. "Shooting Star."

"Yup! Haha! That's—that's me all right! You got me." Mabel laughed. (This was going great so far. This was very natural.) "So, anyway!" She grabbed one of the couch cushions Bill had been using as a bed, dragged it a little closer to the corner, and plopped down. "This is such a weird coincidence, but one time, I got gum stuck in my hair and had to shave it off! I mean, crazy, right?"

"Uh huh." Bill didn't sound impressed. "Second grade." (And Mabel was uncomfortably reminded of the first time she'd ever seen Bill. I know lots of things.) "Hey, since you brought it up, can I ask you something about that little incident?"

"Uh..." This was what you signed up for, Mabel. You volunteered for a conversation with Bill. You've gotta converse. "Sure, I guess."

He leaned forward, triangle face looming above her. "Did getting gum in your hair change your species? Did you still look like yourself when you shaved it off?" The face bobbed as he pantomiming looking her up and down. "You still look human to me! So what's your point."

Okay, so he'd immediately recognized she was trying to establish common ground, aaand he was throwing it in her face. Great start. "Jeez, don't be so mean! I'm trying to tell you I get it. Not... the species part, but the other part. I wanna help!"

Bill scoffed. "Sure you do."

"Really!"

"Why?"

"Because you're all sad and it's making me sad."

Bill, o wise and ancient being that he was, had heard of "empathy" in a conceptual sense. He was aware that it was a thing that happened to some people. He even knew that it was common among humans. But on some level he kinda sorta felt like it only really happened to mindreaders that didn't know how to establish proper psychic boundaries. He laughed in Mabel's face. "No, seriously! What are you getting out of this."

Mabel decided she had no interest in explaining compassion to an alien mass murderer. "Okay, I want Soos's blanket back. I gave it to him, not you."

"Fine. If you want his blanket back, make me one."

"What? No! Those are our Team Zodiac-That-Defeated-You blankets, you don't get one."

"Didn't you make one for everybody else on the wheel? I'm on the wheel, aren't I?" He pointed at his face. "Bam! There I am, right in the middle! Star of the show! If everyone else deserves a blanket, so do I."

"Why do you even want one? It's a symbol to kill you."

"It's got my face on it! It's not that deep." He crossed his legs and propped his chin in his hand, getting more comfortable. "So do I get to pick the colors? I'll take yellow if that's all you got, but if you get me metallic gold I think I can swing you a favor."

"I'm not making you a blanket," Mable said. "I was thinking maybe a wig?"

Bill shuddered. "Pass."

"Aw, come on! I bet I could find you a really cute wig. Summerween's coming up, I could go to the costume store—"

"Don't even think about it." Bill leaned away from Mabel, back into his corner. She was losing him. "Listen. Kid. Do you think I did this by accident?" He pointed vaguely toward his scalp. "Being stuck in a human body? Disgusting. Being a human and secreting fifteen miles of hair out of a hundred thousand of pores? Infinitely worse."

"Wait, wait, fifteen miles?" Mabel had never considered how long a full head of hair laid out end-to-end would be. "How much hair do I have?"

"Huh." Bill tilted his head consideringly. "How dense is your hair?"

"Super dense. I've broken multiple brushes."

"Could be up to fifty miles."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Whoa."

"And you've got fifty thousand miles of blood vessels," Bill added cheerfully. "Anyway, if you want this blanket back? You won't get it with a wig. All I want is to look..." he formed his fingers into a triangle, thumb to thumb and forefinger to forefinger, and held it over the face on the blanket, "... like this. Now, if you're offering to help me get my real body back—"

"Never in a million years."

"Didn't think so!" Bill retreated fully into his corner again, knees pulled back up under the blanket, like an eel hiding in a hole to await its next prey. "But hey, if you've got an offer that's a step up from the blanket, I'm willing to negotiate."

"Huh." Mabel frowned thoughtfully. Something triangly. Something triangly that was better than a blanket, without helping Bill return to full power.

She got to her feet. "Let's put a pin in this conversation and circle back to it later. I'll come back with some proposals for you to review."

Bill laughed. "Okay, business girl! Have your people call my people. You know where to find me."

Mabel leaped down the stairs three at a time, ideas already forming in her head.

####

"Hey, Grunkle Ford!"

Ford was sitting at the former controls of the interdimensional portal, studying some radar readings; but he glanced up with a smile when Mabel ran out of the elevator. "Mabel. What brings you down here?"

She dragged an office chair up beside Ford, plopped down in it, and spun a couple of times. "I need to ask some questions about Bill!"

Ford's smile faltered. "Ah."

"Last summer, when we were burning all your art of him—"

(Ford winced in embarrassment.)

"—you said he could do some kind of magic with pictures of his face? What's all that about?" She stopped spinning. "Do they give him more power? Can he fire lasers out of them, or...?"

"No, nothing like that, thank goodness. Depictions of his face granted him a different kind of power: the power of knowledge. When he was trapped in the Nightmare Realm, he could tap into our world's collective mindscape and see through drawings of himself as if they were cameras. Ironically, plastering images of his face everywhere to symbolically represent an 'all-seeing eye' is what made him so all-seeing in the first place."

Mabel nodded thoughtfully. "Did you know you talk like one of those experts they hire to explain things in history documentaries?" she asked. "You should be on TV. You'd be good at it."

Ford gave her a confused smile. "Er—thank you."

"So, if Bill's already here, making new pictures of his face doesn't do anything?"

He supposed she was wondering about the zodiac blankets she'd spread around town. "Probably not. At a minimum, he'd have to be in the mindscape to be at the right 'angle' to see through the eyes. As he is now, trapped in a human form?" Ford let out a slow, thoughtful sigh. "It's hard to say for sure, without knowing how he got to be this way or what kinds of powers he's still hiding... but based on everything I've seen so far, I doubt they do anything for him."

"And if somebody put a picture of him on his face, it wouldn't do anything at all! Because that's like, his face. He already has eyes there."

Ford chuckled. "I suppose that's true. It would be like he'd grown a third eyeball, that's all." He paused. Put a picture of him on his face? "Why do you ask?"

Too late; she was halfway to the elevator. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford! I'll see you at dinner!" And she was gone.

####

"What's all this?" Bartholomew asked.

Mabel was dumping a bag of costume makeup and cheap convenience store makeup palettes onto her bed. They sparkled in varying hues of tacky gold glitter. "Art project!" She scooped Bartholomew out of his cradle by Dipper's bed, climbed the rickety ladder to the storage loft over their bedroom, and set him down leaning against a box. "You're on guard duty. Stay quiet and if anything goes wrong, get Dipper."

"How do you expect me to get Dipper? I'm a doll. I can't move."

"Come on, Mew-Mew. You think we haven't noticed that you teleport when nobody's looking?"

Bartholomew paused. "Touché."

Mabel rummaged through her art supplies; put tape, glue, and a couple of flattened cardboard boxes on the bed; added all the yellow crayons, markers, and paints she could find; and finally, satisfied, she ran out of the room. "Bill!"

"Still here."

"I've got the perfect solution. I'm giving you..." Mabel posed, hands on her hips. "A makeover!"

Bill waited for the follow up. There was no follow up. "Heh."

"Laugh now, but before I'm finished, I'm gonna make you more beautiful than your wildest dreams!"

"Kid, with all due respect, your idea of 'wild' taps out where my dreams are just getting started."

"Then I'll just have to up my game, won't I?" Mabel held out her hand. "Just give me that blanket, show me that weird bald head of yours, and let me make it into a canvas for high art! Trust me!"

Bill contemplated her extended hand. Did he trust her? In most situations, he considered trust irrelevant. He expected most people to do whatever they thought would benefit themselves the most; sometimes that meant keeping their word, and sometimes it didn't.

On the other hand. Was he really curious to find out where she was going with this? Yes. And the worst thing she could possibly do to him was make him very slightly more ugly than he already was. And playing along would fill his empty afternoon.

"Okay, kid." He reluctantly handed the blanket over. "You haven't given me a bad makeover so far." (He hadn't actually seen her marker mask, but it never hurt to flatter the person about to paint all over you.) He stood and stretched. "Show me what you've got. But if I don't like it, you owe me a blanket."

"Yes!" She grabbed his hand—his whole arm immediately went stiff—and dragged him toward the bedroom. "Welcome to my salon!"

####

Sure enough, just like Ford had said—when Stan checked Bill's attic nest, there was no sign of him.

Stan didn't like that one bit. Where the hell had their prisoner gotten off to?

As Stan approached the attic bedroom, he could hear Mabel talking: "More glitter?! That's crazay! Okay, here goes! I bet you could pull off such a glam rock look." (That explained where the kids were. He'd been starting to wonder.) "Hold still, I'm gonna try something I saw on a Russian supermodel—"

"Kids," Stan called, "do you know where the demon went?" He opened the door. "Poindexter says he can't find him anywhere, and—"

Mabel was kneeling on the floor, surrounded by the widest variety of makeup brushes and palettes Stan had ever seen. Her fingers and sleeve cuffs were coated in gold glitter and paint.

Kneeling in front of her, with his legs splayed awkwardly and his hands on the floor like he wasn't sure how to lower this body down to Mabel's height, was Bill. His face was liberally coated in acrylic gold paint and amateurishly contoured with a mix of craft glitter and golden eyeshadow. One eye was shut—the eyelashes delicately dusted with more gold eyeshadow to help it blend in—while the other was coated in a layer of mascara so thick it was a miracle his lashes didn't glue shut when he blinked.

And to cap off the gilded absurdity, his face was sticking through a hole in the middle of a cardboard triangle helmet, painted sunflower yellow with bricks shakily traced on in marker. Bill looked like the poor kid assigned the part of "the pyramid" in a fourth grade class play about ancient Egypt.

Mabel and Bill stared at Stan.

Stan stared back.

He covered a snort with a cough. "I'll—I'll tell Ford you've got it handled." He slammed the door.

He let out a bellow of laughter.

Mabel put a hand on Bill's shoulder. "He doesn't understand avant-garde fashion. You look like a million dollars."

"I know," Bill said. "All the same—maybe a hat would class things up a little?"

Mabel reached for a sheet of black construction paper. "You're so right."

####

"Well?" Mabel leaned around Bill, trying to see what he looked like in the full-length mirror. "What do you think?"

Bill stared in the mirror. A horrific abomination of flaking paint, cakey makeup, and taped-up cardboard stared back.

He grinned so wide it cracked his face paint. "I think that's the hottest human being in history."

"Yes!" Mabel pumped a fist into the air.

####

Ford said, "Stanley, what is it?"

Stan wheezed until his lungs ran out of air.

Concerned, Ford leaned across the kitchen table, lacing his hands together. "Did you find Bill?"

"M—Mhmm."

"He hasn't hurt Mabel, has he?" Ford asked, flashing back to their conversation earlier. "Or—or Dipper? Anyone?"

Stan bit his lip and shook his head. Tears of laughter pricked the corners of his eyes.

"Did he... put some kind of laughing curse on you?"

Stan shook his head more emphatically. "H—" He couldn't get one syllable out before he had to choke back his laughter again. He pounded on the table.

Grasping at straws and defaulting to the first worst case scenario he could think of, Ford said, "He hasn't found a way back to his true form, has he?"

Stan let out a noise like a balloon that had been untied and unleashed to fly around the room. "I MEAN—"

"Gooood afternoon, gentlemen!" Beaming brightly enough to rival the sun, twirling an umbrella like a cane, Bill strutted in.

Ford clapped one hand on Stan's shoulder, clapped the other over his mouth, and turned away, shoulders shaking. Stan smacked Ford's arm in sympathetic hysteria.

"I see we're all in high spirits today!" With the brazen confidence of an illegitimate prince marching into a throne room to demand his crown, Bill strolled through the kitchen, barely sparing the Stan twins a glance. Mabel followed behind him, grinning from ear to ear. "I wouldn't mind some spirits, myself." He paused in front of the fridge. "Could someone—?"

As the closest person to the fridge, Ford pulled it open, then turned to watch so he could make sure Bill didn't do anything he shouldn't with the food. This required him to look in Bill's direction. He curled his lips into his mouth and bit down. His eyes watered.

"Finally." Bill hungrily surveyed the inner contents of the fridge, grabbed an armload of condiments, a jar of pickles, and a tub of leftover chicken nuggets, and dumped them on the nearest counter. He tried to reach for a bottle of spoiled corn syrup toward the back of the fridge, banged the sides of his cardboard helmet on the fridge's doorframe, and quickly backed off and felt the corners to make sure they weren't too damaged. He had to turn sideways to reach the bottle without hitting the edges of the fridge. One corner of his mask tipped over a bottle of apple juice. Watching this performance very nearly killed the Stans.

"There." Bill triumphantly set the bottle on the counter, grabbed a can of alphabet spaghetti off an open shelf, and asked, "Where do you have the bowls hidden?" He rapped on one of the cabinet doors with his umbrella.

The sight of the umbrella knocked Ford out of some of his hysteria. "Where did you—?" He snatched the umbrella out of Bill's hands. "No weapons."

Bill gave Ford a withering one-eyed look (Ford suspected his other eye was glued shut with paint), then elected to ignore him. "Shooting Star?"

"They're down here!" Mabel opened one of the base cabinets. Bill retrieved a bowl and started filled it with his condiment haul.

"Okay," Stan said, voice strained with suppressed laughter. "Okay, what—what are we looking at?"

"A masterpiece of cosmetic art," Bill said. Mabel's grin widened.

Ford elbowed Stan across the table. "Do you remember the 'living statue' performers on the Glass Shard Beach boardwalk?" he asked. "The ones who'd paint all their skin and clothes gold—?"

"Oh yeah!" Stan let out a bark of laughter. "That's exactly what he looks like!"

In his bowl, Bill had layered mayonnaise, Tabasco sauce, mustard, sour cream, and maple syrup, and carefully stuck in as many chicken nuggets as he could without the mix slopping over the edges. He got Mabel's help to stick it in the microwave, then turned toward the Stans with a smug grin. "So you agree that I look like a work of art."

"No," Stan said, "they looked like idiots, and so do you."

Bill scoffed. "You don't know anything! You look at a human body, and all you see is a human with things stuck on it. I can look at a human body and see a canvas. I've stripped this vessel of its association with humanity and transformed it into an idol of myself."

Mabel loudly cleared her throat.

"Okay, she did most of the work."

Ford seriously considered the artistic merit of Bill's proposed "human body sans humanity as art material" paradigm. After a moment of deliberation, he said, "You have cardboard taped to your face."

Stan slapped the table. "HA!"

Bill opened a can of alphabet spaghetti, slopped half into a glass, filled the rest with incredibly spoiled corn syrup, and then filled the can with corn syrup as well. The mixes bubbled threateningly. The absolute picture of good cheer, Bill announced, "I'm the most beautiful thing any of you have ever seen. It's just too bad your closed little minds can't enjoy the marvel in front of you." He stirred his toxic alphabet spaghetti concoction with a pickle spear.

Stan watched Bill mix his drink in mild alarm. "What in the world are you making?"

Bill held his wrist over the glass and a knife to his wrist. "A Bloody Mary."

Stan's alarm increased. "No you aren't."

"That's your opinion." 

"Where did you get—!" Ford leaned over to snatch the knife out of Bill's hand.

"It was in the fridge, it was sticking out of the leftover casserole!" Bill rolled his eye. "Re-lax! I wasn't pointing it at you." He lifted his drink, nearly poured it into his eye, caught himself at Mabel's shout of alarm, took a sip through the correct hole, then inspected the thick gold lip stain left on the rim. "Huh." He looked at Mabel.

She shrugged. "I could have set the makeup with baby powder, but I thought it might dim some of the sparkle."

"You chose form over function. I respect that." He sipped his drink more carefully.

The microwave went off, Mabel opened the door, and Bill scooped up his condiment-and-nugget stew and both alleged Bloody Marys. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go be handsome somewhere else—"

The corner of his cardboard helmet banged into the kitchen doorway. He dropped one of his drinks, stumbled against the wall, and looked in dismay at his syrup-and-spaghetti-sauce-soaked skirt. He turned to Mabel. "How's my head?"

She grimaced. "We... can fix that with tape."

Bill sighed. "Come on, let's do it before my nuggets get cold."

"Now hold on!" Ford stood up. "Are you going to clean this mess up?"

"No!" Bill was out of the room. Ford could already hear him tripping on the stairs. "You don't trust me with a mop!"

Well. It was true, they didn't trust him with a mop. Sighing, Ford trudged across the room. "I'll get it."

Stan said, "You know, I think I'm glad he looks like an idiot. He's been so mopey the last couple of days, I was almost starting to feel bad for him."

"Thank goodness, you too," Ford muttered. "I was afraid I was going soft."

"Nah, he really was that pathetic," Stan said. "Like a sad show poodle that doesn't understand why it's been shaved in weird shapes."

Ford barked a laugh.

Once the floor was clean, Ford confessed, "I've—actually really worried about that. Going soft, I mean. I'm... afraid that Bill could find a way back into my head."

"Literally or emotionally?"

"Emotionally." Ford paused. "Both, actually—but this time I mean emotionally. The night he burned his hair off, I..." He winced at himself; but he needed to tell Stan. There was no one else he trusted to give him a reality check. Maybe Fiddleford, but... Ford hadn't figured out how to approach him about all this yet.

He put back the mop, to have an excuse to pause and gather his words. "I... brought him something to eat," Ford mumbled. "And, told him I knew what it was like to be trapped in an alien universe, and—that he should take better care of himself, for his own sake—and I don't know why I said that, anything good he does for himself just makes things harder for us, it's not as though I forgot that, but—What? Stanley, why is this funny."

Stan had started laughing; but he cut it off a cough. "Sorry. It's just—do you remember how Mom would go 'Well, I can tell you two are related' any time we did something particularly—you know—twinnish?"

"Don't tell me you've been making sandwiches for Bill."

"Ha! No, but I've given my arch nemesis a pep talk when he was having a mental breakdown. I felt bad for him!"

Ford chuckled. "Really?" He dropped back into his seat. "I didn't know you have an arch nemesis, who's that?"

Stan considered Ford's reaction if he admitted that his nemesis was that ten-year-old with a crush on Mabel, and said, "Ah, he's been out of my hair for ages. So what, is that all you talked about?"

"Somehow it turned into him trying to convince me he'd been planning a welcome party when I fell through the portal."

"Ha! And did you believe him?"

"Absolutely not." Ford paused thoughtfully. "But—part of me wonders whether he believes it himself."

"He seems like the kind of guy to buy his own bull." Stan shrugged. "I don't think you have to worry about him getting in your head. Just don't let him fast-talk you into any decisions and don't buy anything he's selling without telling him you'll think it over for twenty-four hours. And the more he says decide now, the harder you say no. That's how the pros get you, they don't give you room to breathe, let alone think."

Ford was pretty sure Stan was just describing the Mystery Shack's souvenir sales strategy; but he nodded slowly. "I know exactly what you're talking about. When I gave him permission to pilot my body, between the first time he mentioned it was an option and the moment I agreed to it... well, I was asleep at the time, so I can't be sure how long it took—but I'd guess it was less than fifteen minutes. In retrospect, I couldn't believe that I'd agreed so thoughtlessly. But I suppose that's exactly what he wanted." No room to breathe was a good way to describe it. Never mind being nose-to-nose with somebody trying to pressure you into a sale—how do you take a step back to get a little space from somebody who's already inside your head?

"Did he make it sound like a limited-time-only deal? You know—'buy now while the price is low, you'll regret missing this offer'? But with more mystical woo-woo phrasing, I mean."

"Not exactly, but..." Ford tried to remember back that far, grasping for the details of the conversation—the real conversation, not the heady, excited version he'd summarized in his journal. "At the time, I'd been worried about falling behind schedule on the portal's construction. He wouldn't have had to introduce an element of tension—it was already there. All he had to do was exploit it." He shook his head. Falling behind schedule. What schedule—the one he, himself had made? He was sure Bill had encouraged him to finish as fast as possible, too.

"There, you see? You got swindled by a professional swindler," Stan said. "What's important is that you know what he is now, and you know his tricks. He won't get you the same way twice. I'm not worried about you."

There were a couple of odd thuds from upstairs, accompanied by a yelp from Bill. That wasn't odd; he'd proven to be remarkably clumsy in a human body. At any given time it was possible to tell where he was by the random bangs, and if he hadn't made a noise in the last five minutes it meant he was curled up safely in his window seat.

What was odd was hearing Mabel's voice: "Careful, careful—! Augh. ... I'll get another sheet of cardboard, we'll replace that!"

Stan and Ford looked warily toward the stairs. Stan muttered, "Mabel, on the other hand..."

Ford nodded. "I'll keep an eye on her."

####

(If you've read this far, I'd really appreciate hearing from you! Things you liked, things you're looking forward to, jokes, thoughts, even typo corrections. Thanks!)

[freedomfireflies]

iFall for Harry pt. 5

Summary: Harry's got a proposition.

And you're not sure you're ready for it.

Word Count: 1.3k (SHE'S A BABY, I KNOW, BUT I GOTTA SET UP THE BIG STUFF)

(Previous parts to this series are down below at the end!)

So…what’s the appropriate, normal, non-creepy amount of time to wait after fucking your fist to the sound of somebody’s voice over the phone before texting them?

You grin to yourself when you see the text message slide down on your screen, your lip between your teeth as you click on his name.

Well, considering you could have a heart attack and keel over at any moment, I’d say the sooner the better.

How did I know you’d say that?

Cause I’m just so gosh darn charming.

Oh, is that what you are?

You seemed to think so when you were begging me to let you come.

…I wasn’t begging, I was just asking…really…nicely.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

I sleep a lot better after that phone call.

Yeah?

Yeah. Except for the fact that I wake up hard as a fucking rock and leaking into my boxers, but…whatever.

Yum. I mean…yikes. Sounds painful. 

 Careful, Cheese Girl. Or I might just call you again.

And what would be so bad about that?

Well, for one, I quite literally don’t think there’s any fucking come left in my body.

…I don’t know if I needed to hear that.

Why? Have you fallen in love?

Oh, is that what this strange feeling in my chest is? Love? Huh, I thought it was heartburn.

Aww, are you saying your heart burns for me?

I’m saying you’re lucky your number isn’t blocked.

You’d never block me. You think about me too much.

Who says I think about you?

Do you?

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes glued to the screen as you contemplate a response.

You could lie to him. After all, he wouldn’t know the difference.

But…it would be a lie.

You do think about him. Far more than you care to admit.

The only problem…is that you don’t want to think about him.

After all, what would telling him even do? It’s not like anything could ever happen outside of the occasional phone sex.

You don’t even know the man.

But…what if you want to?

Yeah, I do. When it’s late at night and I can’t sleep.

A solid minute passes before he finally sends his response.

What did I just say? Are you trying to fucking kill me?

If you can survive a heart attack, you can survive this.

I would never survive you.

You’re not sure if this is meant to be a compliment or an insult…but your heart flutters, nonetheless.

Oops, sorry. Bad time? Are you in another meeting?

Nah. Out by the pool. 

That sounds nice. It’s fucking freezing here.

And where is here...exactly? If you don’t mind my asking.

Again, you hesitate. He could be a catfish…or a stalker…or just a fucking creep.

Or maybe he’s just curious. Maybe he wants to get to know you. And it’s not like you’d be telling him your exact address. Just…maybe a vague description of where you are in the country.

I’m guessing Los Angeles from your area code. 

And I only know that because I also have a Los Angeles area code. 

Which you can probably tell, so I don’t know why I said it.

And now I’m rambling, and you aren’t responding, and I think I freaked you out.

As the texts continue to roll in, you have to smirk, slightly relieved by how adorably flustered he is.

You can almost hear each response in his voice.

That sexy fucking voice.

Easy, Gramps. I lived in Los Angeles for a few years, but I’m in New York now.

Ah, the Big Apple. Nice. I like New York, but you’re right, it’s fucking freezing.

Do you come a lot? To New York I mean.

Uh huh. Sure, you did. And yes. To both.

Very nice. Any particular reason?

Well, sometimes it’s because I'm remembering that phone call. But other times it’s because I’m dreaming about that phone call. Either way, I’m just always thinking about you.

Your stomach flips.

I meant any particular reason you come to New York so often, you twat.

Oh, right. Yeah, I do a lot of business there. Or business-related things.

I see.

Suddenly, the chat goes quiet. Far too quiet, and as the minutes begin to tick by…you feel a strange tingle begin to crawl its way up the back of your throat.

And then—

“…hello?”

“Hi.” Harry. His voice. Breathless and seemingly rattled. “Sorry. I just…I figured if I didn’t call, I’d never say it? And I wanted to hear your reaction instead of just staring at those goddamn bubbles until I shit myself.”

A little surprised, you stand up from your desk and begin to pace toward the kitchen. “No, it’s fine. Are you…okay?”

“I’m…no. Yes, no. I’m fine.”

“…yes, no?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he repeats. “Sorry. I’m…shit. This isn’t going how I wanted it to.”

Your eyebrows raise. 

“I…so, here’s the thing,” he tries again. “There’s a thing. And I know we…don’t know each other, so we don’t really do things…but there’s a thing. That maybe…could be a thing. Like, an us thing.”

“…Harry?”

“…yeah?”

“You’re rambling again.”

You hear him exhale a laugh before there’s a bit of noise and he clears his throat. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m…I do that. When I’m nervous.”

“I see. And why are you nervous?”

“’Cause of…the thing.”

“Ah.” You nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you. “Well…why don’t you tell me what this thing is.”

“Right.” More noise. “So…the thing. I’m…gonna be in New York this week.”

He goes quiet then, as if giving you time to process what he’s saying.

What he’s implying.

“Oh,” you breathe, the realization weighing heavy on your chest. 

“Yeah.” Another beat. “Look, I don’t…I’m not expecting us to meet. I don’t…that’s weird, I know. But…fuck, honestly? All I keep thinking about…is asking you. And I know it’s fucking weird. I know that but I had to ask you. ’Cause it would drive me nuts if I didn’t.”

A long stretch of silence passes between you as your mind begins to work overtime to create any sort of response.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he adds after a moment, almost sounding embarrassed. “Or at all. I don’t…I really don’t expect anything, but…I’ll be in the city on Friday. And…if you do want to meet…I’ll be at Ellen’s Stardust Diner. At twelve. You could…I don’t know, peek in? See if I look…worth your time? I don’t know. I’m…shit, sorry. I thought this would go better.”

“No, I—” Your eyes squeeze shut. “I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

“Really?” He clears his throat again. “Fuck, sorry. I’m cool. Uh…really. Interesting. Okay, got it. Good to know.”

You smile to yourself as you lean against your kitchen island. “Oh yeah, you are so cool.”

“The coolest—hey, look, I’ve…I’ve gotta go,” he sighs, and for some reason, you feel your heart sink. “I know I keep doing that, and I swear I didn’t mean to drop this on you and then disappear, I’ve just…I’ve…”

“More meetings?” you guess, and you hear him take another breath.

“Yeah. S’always more fucking meetings, and more fucking shit I’m apparently doing wrong.” 

Your expression softens. “I see. Well…good luck.”

“Thanks.” A beat. “So…you’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“’Cause you can tell me if I’m just too attractive for you to actually meet. I’ll believe you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would.”

“Good,” he chuckles. “Okay, I really do have to go now.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting for you to hang up.”

“Honestly, it might be easier if you hang up first. I don’t really think I have the strength to hang up on you.”

There he fucking goes again. 

You tug your lip between your teeth. “Bye, Harry.”

“Yeah…bye, Cheese Girl. Maybe see you Friday.”

You grin.

“Yeah. Maybe see you Friday.”

Next part! ~ iFall for Harry pt. 6

Previous parts:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 4*

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[notcaycepollard]

took my adhd meds and spent two hours diligently doing the wrong thing (reading the comments in ao3 bookmarks of my fic) here are some of my favourites:

a worryingly domestic character study

five fics in a row bookmarked by the same user all with the comment BRO

well hello there new hyperfixation

Twink Bucky getting on

Seb like “well shit I never say no to playing a role of a sad gay twink, i guess”

the Narrative.

Multi organism steve [I’m sorry bookmarker I know you meant multi orgasm because that is in fact the fic but this is making me laugh so much]

yes its just porn but the characterization is, really really remarkably good

bro when will it be my chance to have what they have 💔💔💔

fucking and fisting him into oblivion but make it cute

low key heartbreaking

VERY RELATABLE.

CHEWING ROCKS !! EATING DRYWALL !!!!! i’m sittin here CHEESIN

sambucky is so good because I like enemies to lovers but also big beefy men being lovers [me too, bookmarker, me too]

the BALLS on this mf for his FIRST INSTINCT to be WAXPLAY

the repression was not repressing

steves genetically engineered super-soldier-ness vs Sam with a Gun. 0:2

good for them

Maybe the real Soviet sex drugs were the friend(s) we made along the way.

sam and bucky in their get along t-shirt, except the t-shirt is in fact a luxury wine cabin

"dude. you moved in. you met my family. we discussed getting a cat" "IDK MAN I THOUGHT IT WAS SOME KIND OF INTRICATE RITUALS BRO SHIT"

I have a type and that type is "looks like he'd like it if you slapped him in the face during sex"

NO REYLO [this fic] ONE REYLO

art museums art museums art museums!

Get printed. Get tattooed.

Ain’t queer if we don’t touch, Bucky says, moments before fisting him

this hurt me in ways i didn't know i could be hurt

This author is like a masterclass in how to write karmically-satisfying villain porn.

Yikes [the correct response to this fic]

do threesomes fix your toxic friendships this fic posits: maybe

love to read about a guy ruining everything in his life

When noncayce is "back on their bullshit" it is the very best bullshit

this fic literally changed me. I think my cells have mutated

guess ill die huh

guess ill die pt 2

Absolutely filthy but in a sweet way.

(I can’t post the simply-complimentary comments because I would die of embarrassment but what a nice two hours to accidentally spend)

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 2

link to first post

Masterpost

(the one where Peter Parker wakes up post-snap in a LoA lazarus experiment)

It was New York City. Peter thanked his blessings and the transportation gods. He didn't wait for the train to stop because he was kind of afraid that it wouldn't and he'd get carried somewhere else.

If he'd been a regular teen, it would have been like, super dangerous to jump off of the top of a moving train and land on cement. Peter rolled like he'd been taught and came up safe. He shook his wrists a little as he straightened and tried to figure out where he was exactly.

Okay. Operation solo hero was a go. Here he was, in NYC. He didn't have any help. But he was Spiderman. Peter tried not to feel discouraged about losing all his tech, his friends, and his mentors. He could remake his web shooters and a suit. He needed access to materials, but he could do it. His first formula had been made in a school lab. 

'But I wasn't homeless and undocumented then.' 

Oof, that felt bad. 

'Can I even keep my name? I can't exactly go to Midtown and tell them to make Peter Parker plural.' 

Yikes. That was a whole lot of yikes.

Well. One problem at a time, right? He needed to get himself into a more stable position for survival first. Now that he knew where he was, he could change his strategy from calling for help to becoming self-sufficient. 

He wasn't exactly sure what to do. The first thing that came to mind was that he needed more clothes. Even if he had liked this outfit, he definitely needed more than one set. This was gross. And honestly? He was kinda cold. And he was increasingly uncomfortable about not wearing underwear.

'I don't have any money and I can't borrow some. I can't steal from anyone. What can I do?' 

Peter racked his brains. Go through the donation bins for a thrift store? That seemed wrong. But … stores throw things away. 

'Department stores get new things all the time. They must be throwing away old clothes. If I check their dumpsters, I bet I'll find something.' 

With a plan in mind, Peter made his way to the closest big store he knew about. Even though he was stranded, at least he was in his city. New York City was way more comforting than Metropolis had been. He navigated by memory to a store he knew called- 

Huh. The store was where he thought it would be, but it had a different name. Peter quietly read it aloud, wondering if this place would have the same bland, safe fashion as where he'd meant to go.

Well. There was only one way to find out, and it wasn't by going inside. They were locked up for the night anyway.

He found the dumpsters. Peter braced himself for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

He didn't feel good about this. He didn't. Not morally- if it had been thrown away, it didn't belong to anyone– but looking at the outside of a dumpster really hammered in the desperation he was in. He was poor. He had nothing and he had no one.

Peter shook that off. "That's not true," he told himself. Hearing a human voice, even his own, helped a bit. "I have a great sense of humor and a positive outlook." 

Still, uh, he was ready for a lifestyle that included underwear. He carefully lifted the lid and rested it against the wall so that it didn't make any noise. Then he hopped up onto the rim and squinted into the bin.

There were big plastic bags full of fabric. His first impulse was to tear them open and look, but he refrained. It would make a mess for the garbage workers. Instead he painstakingly untied the string at the top and opened a bag. Then he pulled clothes out one piece at a time and examined them. 

His heart fell. He'd been right. These were all perfectly good, unused clothes with the tags still on them, so he could even sort by size. But someone had taken scissors to them all before throwing them out. Peter held up a t shirt and squinted at it. It wasn't that bad, really. They hadn't been super thorough. This one had kind of a snip through the middle. 

…it wasn't like he didn't know how to sew.  He'd done lots of repairs that way, and even made a Halloween costume one year. 

If he just stitched that up it would be kinda obviously repaired. That was okay, but Peter dug around until he found another T shirt in a different color. It was hard to tell in the darkness but he was pretty sure it was blue. It had a similar cut. 

"Okay," he planned aloud. "I cut them fully apart, even out the edge, and then sew them together so it looks like being bi colored is a fashion decision." 

He dug around for a couple more shirts, trying to get four different colors that in the daylight he could hopefully mix and match. Then he shoved everything back in that bag and tied it up. He hung his haul over the edge of the dumpster and started opening bags on a hunt for jeans. A pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants was basically all the wardrobe a teenaged boy needed, anyway.

It took four bags until he found some, and they were too big. But the next bag under that had his size range. These had been snipped too, but Peter huffed a laugh. So what? Lots of jeans had tears in them as a style choice. He dug out two pairs and wiggled into them one after the other to check the fit. It was a relief to have his legs covered. They were kinda long but he was expecting a growth spurt any day now, so that was great. He was pretty sure one was black and one was blue, so that was a good variety.

He wanted underwear and socks. Maybe a heavier coat, if they had one. He searched and searched and came up with nothing. He did find a shoulder-strapped canvas bag that had probably been returned- there was a subtle stain on the inside. Peter would have preferred a backpack, but he shoved the clothes inside the bag anyway. This was a lot better than just walking around holding a handful of fabric. He put the little bag from the guy’s locker inside of it. He still hadn't even looked at what was in it.

Still. He stared mournfully at the clothes. No underwear, really? He was willing to compromise on socks, but underwear and shoes that fit were a big deal. 

"I guess they don't need to seasonally change those so much." Peter sighed to himself. "Wait- no. That can't be right. For socks maybe but shoes? They must throw out a ton of shoes." 

Just not today, apparently. 

Disappointed, he closed the dumpster back up and adjusted his haul over his shoulder. He left without looking back. He was already churning through possible solutions for his outstanding problems. Socks, shoes, underwear, and a sewing kit so that he could use his changes of shirts. 

'Fancy hotels have those little repair kits as part of the free goodies.'

Oh, man. Peter steeled himself for social embarrassment. He was going to have to wander in and out of hotel lobbies by himself, take a repair kit, and leave. 

'Maybe they'll think I'm a guest,' he thought hopefully. 'I don't look that bad. I look kinda like I'm going to school or traveling light.' 

Oh. That was an idea. 

'Lots of hotels have free breakfasts. I could just walk in, eat, and leave. Even if the desk staff thinks I'm probably not a guest, they probably won't say anything.'

It seemed kinda wrong. But it was a buffet. Leftovers were going to get thrown away. And he only had to wait until the morning.

Peter tabled the idea for later. It was going to depend on just how hungry he got. He was already really hungry, if he was honest about it. Whatever bodily numbness he'd gotten from the green jello stank tank had worn off.

'I'm going to get too hungry to manage before too long even if I have a huge breakfast every day. I’m used to running on a lot of calories. What would happen to my ability to be Spiderman if I can’t eat enough?'

He shoved the realistic part of him down and tried not to feel discouraged by his demanding metabolism. 

Focus. The first thing was fixing the clothes. 

'No,' grumbled a mental voice he knew he should recognize. It was coming through a fog of distortion. Shelter is first, Spiderman. Shelter, water, food, and then supplies like clothes.' 

He frowned and rubbed at his temples. He didn't know how to solve that problem. It seemed more practical to address the problems that he knew how to fix first. 

Well. A hotel buffet would probably have drinks as well, but they wouldn't be open for a while. He didn't know what time it was but it was actually night. 

At least he had a tentative plan for it. 

Peter steeled himself for embarrassment and started looking for hotels. The first one he found was too fancy- the amenities weren't placed in the lobby. He walked in and his attention was immediately caught by the soft golden gleam of a bell on the reception desk. It was under a strategic light.

'This one won't be good for breakfast either, there's nowhere for a buffet,' Peter noted. Thankfully, no one was waiting at the desk. He walked back out and realized that would probably be the case for most places at this time of night. 

He felt better going into the next hotel. This one had amenities out, but not a sewing kit. Peter took a toothbrush, two of the packets of wash products, and a cheap razor. Maybe this would be the time his facial hair started to come in and he'd need to shave. 

'I really need a wash,' he noted, not for the first time. 'So bad.' 

The green stuff didn't smell …too bad when dry. It definitely didn't smell as sour as it had tasted. But his skin itched and his hair was crunchy. 

The third hotel was the winner. He had the idea to look for a cheaper hotel aimed at business class travelers. It had free wifi, what was definitely going to be a breakfast buffet from 5:00 am, and it had the sewing kit that he needed. Peter took one gratefully, wondered if it would have enough string, and then took a second kit just in case. 

Okay. Next priority was getting clean. That would double up with getting water- now that he'd thought about it, Peter was thirsty enough to drink shower water from the faucet. 

He looked for a gym. He found a fashionable 24 hour one and dismissed it. Entrance was clearly only by key cards there. He needed someplace older. At least this was his city. He could guess the general area that would have what he wanted. Peter walked around until he found one and wiggled his way up to the third floor, heaved open a window, and went in search of a shower. 

"Good thing I grabbed this," Peter said, stripping all of his clothes and palming one of the tear-open packets of individual soap and shampoo. There was absolutely nothing in the shower in terms of amenities. Gym patrons probably brought their own stuff. 

He took the longest shower of his life, wished he had a washcloth or two, and ended up using both packets of soap to get his body clean enough. Then he hauled his clothes in, all of them, and washed them as best as he could using what was left of the shampoo. He wrung them all out and then put on his new jeans, totally damp. It didn't feel great on his skin. But at least it was clean. For now, he put on one of the black t-shirts. He'd apparently managed to grab two in black, one in red, and one in blue. This t-shirt had a v- shaped cut on the stomach, but he pulled the brown jacket over and zipped it up enough that it didn't show. It was all damp and very weird, but they'd dry quickly on him since he was moving around, right?

When he looked at himself in the mirror, Peter looked like himself. Sure, he was damp and messy haired. But he was clean! He shot himself a thumbs up. 

He left the rest of the clothes hanging to dry and wandered the gym. It was eerie but also really interesting. He'd never spent much time in an actual gym. 

That might be a cool hobby to take up. If nothing else, he could maybe find some classes. 

Oh! A clock. Peter squinted at it in the dark. It was 3:42 AM. It wasn't actually that long until the hotel breakfast bar opened, then. He'd been walking around all night.

'I need a way to tell time on my own. There's not that many clocks in public.'

The first thing that he came back to when he thought of his problems was money. Money, money, money. He needed it. And he needed ID- did the ID come before the money, or the other way around? He needed tech to be Spiderman and to live in general– man, it was weird to be without a phone– so, how? 

His first thought was to go to school and use the laptops there. But he wasn't a student. That would probably freak people out- or worse, draw attention to him. Was it more illegal to exist without documentation, or to be a minor who wasn't in school? 

Peter shuddered. Yeah, no high schools. 

But a public library? That had potential. The computers were always pretty old but they were free to use. 

That was most of an itinerary for the day, then, he realized. It made him feel better to have a plan. He was going to wait a while for his clothes to dry (should he point the blow dryer at them?), and shove them in his bag. He'd go back to the business hotel for breakfast and probably more soap, then go to the library. 

'I need to eat a lot at that buffet.' 

His stomach rumbled in agreement. Oh man, this was kinda bad. He had no idea how to get another meal today. 

Well. He could look into it when he was at the library. 

He ended up turning the blow dryer on his clothes to get them dry. They didn't seem any dryer than they'd been when he wrung them out. That made for a tense hour of pointing the little machine while his arm got tired and he kept jumping at sounds that might be someone coming to open up the gym. 

Stupid, Peter chastised himself. Of course a couple hours in a humid room wasn't enough to dry anything. They'd get moldy first. 

He got them dry enough to fold up and put in his canvas bag, and then he went out by the same window that he'd come in. 

'I hope they don't start locking that. If I don't have a place to stay soon, I'm gonna really need these showers.'

It didn't take him long to get back to the business hotel. It was somewhere between 5 and 6, which meant that the buffet was fully out but not busy. Peter walked in and beelined to the food, trying desperately to look like he belonged.  

Nutritionally, it was pretty good considering the circumstances. Peter grabbed an apple and a banana from the fruit bowl and got a glass of milk as well as orange juice. He wasn't going to get scurvy, at least! 

Glass containers had a selection of baked goods that honestly all just looked okay. He picked out a couple of plain rolls and then something that had walnuts in it. For protein, his options were some queasy looking sausages and a tray of scarily yellow scrambled eggs. He took a generous portion of both and finally started eating.

Whoa. As soon as he'd had a few bites, it was like the dial turned up on his hunger. Peter ate at record speed and caught himself looking back at the buffet.

No one was looking. There was only one other person in the buffet area, a young woman staring grimly into a cup of coffee and using her phone. The receptionist wasn't paying attention at all.

Peter felt worse, somehow, about going back for seconds than he had about coming here in the first place. But he was too hungry for shame. He grabbed two bagels and toasted them at the same time and stuffed his pockets with cream cheese packets. 

'I could take a bit of this with me. A roll or two and maybe a banana? Ugh, it's weird, but the cream cheese has protein in it…' 

He put another couple of packets in his pocket. No one was going to count and realize he was taking two of them out the door. 

While he waited for the bagels to toast he refilled his drinks and added a coffee and an apple juice. He felt ridiculous with four drinks, so he drained the milk and put the empty cup in the clean up bin. 

He filled a second plate of sausages and scrambled eggs (they weren't that bad) and piled the bagels on it as soon as they popped up. 

Once he'd eaten his second serving, Peter felt a lot more human. 

He also felt exhausted. Like, he was beyond tired. 

'I didn't sleep at all so that figures. And I don't have any idea where I can sleep today. So… maybe one more coffee while I wait for the food to give me energy I can use?'

He couldn't quite stand the idea of gulping down all that liquid right then. It seemed like a good time to see what was in the little bag he'd gotten from the probably evil scientist's locker.

'The guy worked somewhere that stores human bodies in rancid green jello. If he's not an evil scientist, it's only because he's an evil janitor or receptionist or something.'

That… It wasn't ideal but it made him feel a little better and a little braver. 

The instant he unzipped the little bag, Peter realized that the guy basically had his whole life in the bag. That included a phone, which was either turned off or dead.

"Whoops," he muttered. He considered turning it on but paused. Would that be safe? He might need it. But what if someone realized it had been stolen and tracked it?

He left it alone for now and looked at the wallet.

The first thing was a Metro City transit card. Peter looked at it and put it back in place. There were a couple more cards- credit or debit, an expired gift card, membership cards to three different pizza places and a gym, and an ID. Peter glanced around guiltily to be sure no one was looking before he checked the name and photo.

Richard DeWitt was blonde, apparently 5ft 10 inches, and 170 lbs. He had a lopsided smile and dead eyes in his photo. Brown eyes. 

DeWitt was 37- no, Peter corrected internally. He grimaced. He was 5 years in the past, so DeWitt was only 32. One of the ID cards was for work, which was a goldmine. Or it could have been, if the company name had been written instead of the initialism LOA.

Better than nothing, at least. He memorized the letters and logo.

The debit and credit cards were no good to him. Peter made a mental note to destroy them later, so that no one else could pull them out of the garbage and use them later. 

He paused for a long moment over the cash. He felt like a spotlight was about to shine down on him and an announcer would call him a thief. But he counted it: 87 dollars. That wasn’t Tony Stark money, but there were a lot of problems it could solve for him.

'The money isn't the same as back home.'

His eye caught on the one dollar bills. He picked them out of the pile to look at them more closely, like an inspection was going to make them change.

Assuming DeWitt didn't have fake currency on him, the US dollar was different.

Peter stopped. He belatedly processed that.

There was no way in a million years that the picture on the dollar had changed in the last five years. It had always been the same guy. 

But here it was, unmistakably a US dollar with a man Peter didn't know printed in the center.

That changed things. 

'I"m not on my earth, unless this is a hallucination. Where else could I be!?' 

He would like to stop having paradigm changing realizations, any day now. 

The only thing that kept him from having a total nervous breakdown was that he was in public. Sort of. There was no one directly looking at him, but that would probably change if he went into the fetal position and started wheezing.

This was bad. This was really, really, bad, actually. 

He needed to go back to the drawing board. For all he knew, there was no Peter Parker here, no Tony Stark, no one he could go to for help.

And the people who had kidnapped him-

Oh, hell. They could be anybody for all he knew. Heck, what if that was a government thing? If they didn’t even have the same presidents, he couldn’t assume this was the same country, in a sense.

‘I need to look into that, as soon as possible. What if I’ve got the universe equivalent of like, HYDRA or something looking for me? That would be a bad surprise.’

He had the address of that building, at least, and the name of an employee. That was something to go off of. 

Peter forced himself to exhale long and slow. He picked up his mess. He didn’t finish going through the guy’s wallet but he didn’t have the nerves for it right now. He stuffed it back into his satchel and left with a nod at the desk clerk. 

He needed information, and that meant the library was even more urgent. It was the only way he knew to access the internet.

The walk wasn’t too bad. His nerves were a knot in his throat as Peter crossed morning traffic on what had to be a weekday, but his memory of NYC didn’t lead him wrong. He bounded up the stone steps to a big library two at a time, shot a queasy smile at the man behind the desk, and ducked his head as he walked in and did a little tour of the place.

There were three floors. The first floor had a dedicated computer lab for students, and long desk with four computers for public use. Near it there was a little table with pitchers of coffee, water, and paper cups with a sign encouraging free usage. There was also a reading corner, a collection of tables for quiet group projects, and rows of media like DVDs. Wow, so old. Peter marveled at that on his way up the stairs. There was a huge papier-maché wolf on the stairwell for unknown reasons. He patted it on the head as he passed. 

The second floor had that intense library smell to it and a lot of signs strictly enforcing absolute quiet. He craned to see tall rows upon rows with labels like science and law, as well as a sign for reserved meeting rooms and bathrooms. The third floor was apparently mostly for group collaboration. Each table had a sign begging people not to bring in outside food and to leave their drinks on the table. Peter glanced over to the only table that had someone at it already, spied her huge coffee cup, and suppressed a snort. He didn’t see anything, but he could smell bacon and eggs. His stomach twisted into a knot.

Still, she didn’t seem to be causing any terrible destruction with her breakfast sandwich. He noted that she had four different colored highlighters next to her notebook, but tore his attention away before he felt like a creeper.

Okay. He had the lay of the land. It made him feel weirdly better. This library was now his base of operations, the center for his information gathering campaign and the subsequent plan… construction …campaign?

He’d workshop a name later. For now, he jogged back down a floor and went to the modern history section. He just read titles for a while, trying to paint a picture of what shared history he could confirm.

He saw lots of familiar country names referenced, and a few of the names that cropped up were familiar as well. The eerie feeling that he wasn’t home just got stronger, though, because there was no reference to half the modern wars and much less on WW1 and 2 than he'd expected. They were shelved in with books about the Justice League. 

Justice League?

There was a whole lot of scholarship on that, whatever it was. Maybe it was like the U.N., Peter guessed. He flipped open a book and flipped pages randomly, scanning for words that stuck out. Ah, nope, there’s a reference to the U.N. So, this was a different thing entirely.

Okay, well. That gave him a starting point of something to look up. 

He went back to the first floor and started a session on one of the public use computers. He had to write the time and his name on a check in sheet. He started to write ‘Peter’ out of force of habit and scrawled to a stop after writing the Pe.

For all he knew, that could be a bad idea. He shouldn’t leave any record that actually led back to him. 

‘...So what else starts with Pe?’

It took him an embarrassingly long time to come up with Peyton. He wrote that down, exhausted and relieved, and then realized he needed a last name too. Oh, heck. He wrote a random letter -K- and then searched his brain for a plausible sounding last name. He came up with Kensington and then sat down, idly wondering if that was actually a name or just like, a place in the U.K. or what.

‘...I only thought of that because it ended in ‘ton’ like Peyton,’ he had the delayed realization. ‘It sounds kinda cheesy together. Fakey.’

Okay. Realistically, no one was ever going to look at that register. So it was fine that he wasn’t good at lying on his feet. He probably needed to sit down and come up with a couple of fake names to use in future.

Well. Maybe he didn’t have to be that creative. He opened a window and searched ‘Tony Stark.’ His heart fell as he scrolled through the results.

Tony Stark didn't exist here.

There had been people with that name, don’t get him wrong. But they weren’t Mr. Stark. There was no Mr. Stark in this universe. He tried looking up current billionaires instead, just in case Mr. Stark had a different name. He flipped through their photos with a sinking heart. That guy was too bald, Mr. Stark would never have a mustache that silly, Mr. Stark wasn't that jacked, no, no, no. 

He tried other names- Happy Hogan, Jamese Rhodey, Virginia Potts (he initially forgot that her name wasn’t really Pepper and ended up on a site for kitchen goods).

The result? No result, more like. Not great.

He tried celebrities. Musicians, actors, philosophers, everyone he could think of. Weirdly, lots of them popped up.

The difference seemed to be around 1940. Historical names came up the way that he would expect them to. But anyone who was modern just didn’t.

Out of extremely morbid curiousity, he googled Anne Frank. He found a semi successful novelist in her 90s who lived in Prague.

Peter put his face in his hands. Okay. Okay, he knew approximately when the universes or whatever had diverged. That was wild.

His hands were shaking. He got up, realized he didn’t have a reason to stand, and then went to pour himself a paper cup of the complimentary water so he didn’t feel like a crazy person. 

This was a whole different world. He couldn't assume that his background knowledge was helpful. 

That made him feel so safe and secure. Thanks, universe. 

[daisybianca]

INSTAGRAM AU

Daniel Ricciardo

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris and 445.092 others

yourusername our favorite uncle <3 their bond is so strong that they sometimes get confused and accidentally call him daddy🤣

view all 2.982 comments

dannyricfp I've never seen an uncle being that hot to be honest bruh.

user72927 it's the curly hair for me.

dannyric3fanpage it's basically EVERYTHING for me. I swear to God this man is going to be the death of me.

danielricciardo I'm hot, I know.

landonorris why do people create fan pages of you? yikes man, that sucks.

danielricciardo as I said before, I'm hot.

danielricciardo so you're mad now that some 8 year old calls me daddy🤨

yourusername no I don't mind actually.

danielricciardo 🧢

user82929 I'd sell my parents to a bazaar if only they adopted me💀

user88190 AHAHA. FOR REAL. I believe that they would make SUCH good parents. My babies are authentic parents material.

landonorris @ yourusername @ danielricciardo I want to become an uncle.

danielricciardo so, you want us to have sex.

landonorris yes. please, film the process so we can be blessed with an original tutorial from a real goat 🐐🙏

yourusername oh shut up both of you😂

danielricciardo why, babe? basically EVERYONE has sex (Lando, I won't criticize. your comment because this will evolve into an online fist fight.)

yourusername no, not everyone. we don't.😔

danielricciardo 🤡keep telling yourself that shit, (y/n)🤡

liked by charlesleclerc, yourusername and 972.082 others

danielricciardo attended the tattoo artist this morning with a lady I bumped into just moments before the scheduled appointment.

view all 5.726 comments

yourusername so I go by 'a lady I bumped into just moments before the schedule appointment' now??? I love my brand-new nickname🥰

danielricciardo I love you, a lady I bumped into just moments before the schedule appointment.

landonorris not funny.

user72828 STOP INTERRUPTING THEIR MOMENT. go buy some ice-cream, damn.

user62829 it's their best era and I'm SO here for it.

user12927 YES. YES. YES.

user72829 to have a Danny Ric in your life🥰

maxverstappen1 yes, extremely tiring, I know.

danielricciardo oh, you're still alive.

maxverstappen1 unfortunately, you happened to be very unlucky, buddy.

liked by danielricciardo, lewishamilton and 879.028 others

yourusername damn, I don't have much to say about his human being. he's extraordinary and uniquely beautiful in his own way.🥺 happy birthday, my boy. keep making this cruel world and our lives a better and a safest place. I love you so much (even though you're sleeping and snoring like a baby pig, right next to me at the moment)❤️

lewishamilton wishing this big guy a very happy and blessing birthday🙏

user82929 awww, babyyy.

user9292 HAPPY BDAY DANNY RIC. WE ADORE YOU.

user02729 ADORE isn't enough to describe how much I love this man.

maxverstappen1 happy birthday, sleeping beauty. as (y/n) said, keep making the world a louder, bolder, tiring, better place💗

danielricciardo not sleeping anymore. thanks but I know you love me deep down.💕🙏

danielricciardo thank you, baby❤️💕 (not thankful for screaming and singing the bday song next to my ear to wake me up, though.)

user62881 AHAHHAHA. They're the DEFINITION of a powerful couple. Iconic.

yourusername my voice is angelic to say, at least. you SHOULD be thankful for that, as well.

landonorris yayyy. one year closer to becoming a dilf. congrats on your accomplishment, Daniel👏

danielricciardo ran out of birthday wishes and decided to search it up on pinterest, huh?

user62677 AHAHHA. leave our baby Lando alone pls😔

landonorris I'm not a big fan of pinterest, so no, I chose Google instead. But at least I try to be creative, you know.

[hexedwinchester]

Supernatural S04E20 The Rapture

Lol, why was Castiel's possession of Jimmy Novak so overdramatically done?

Sam using Demon blood right out of the flash! Yikes! That bad, huh honey?

and it's confirmed, Dean got the blue toothbrush from the two pack. I'm guessing being the big brother, he always called dibs

so Dean decided to put the blame of Jimmy getting away on Sam because?? I mean shouldn't it be on both??

The fact that Anna points out that Sam seems different I'm guessing the intake of demon blood does show on the surface. Remember how angels can see the true faces of demons? What if Sam's consumption has led to that?

Anna: Sam, you seem different.

Sam chuckles: me? I don't know. Maybe a haircut

Sweetheart, you haven't had a haircut since pilot, wtf are you talking about? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Interesting, Jimmy says Cas chose him because there's something special about him, something in his blood. The only other cas possession I've seen is that fair lady in the episode with that Ishim angel in Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets. Is it possible Jimmy is a direct descendant of her?

it's so sad to see Sam spewing the 'you don't get to have a family if you are a hunter' speech when once he wanted to start his own so badly

when did Claire say yes to Cas? I'm assuming she had to since angels can't possess without consent

that exact moment when Dean sees Sam drinking demon blood!!! 😍😍

yup it's confirmed, even for Cas and his vessel, it's a bloodline thing

i love how Sam stays out of Cas Dean drama 🤣

The fact Sam expects Dean to hit him is a very clear sign of someone who is abusive. Note that, apart from this his behaviour is unpredictable. Sam expects him to get mad, hit him but instead he acts calm, shows he is not a threat. He doesn't wanna control Sam's actions but it's far from the truth because when Bobby calls, you can see in the background that the panic room is already set up to take Sam a prisoner. I bet he called Bobby beforehand and got it set up. You can see the bed is made, a bucket is added. When they reach Bobby's, Sam is completely unaware of what's going to happen. He is trusting. He thinks Dean is disappointed but that's it. The shock on his face is genuine just before they lock him up. I'm telling ya, Dean is abusive

[randomgentlefolk]

CPC CHAPTER 167

YO PROPS TO WITCH!!!

Hm, I wonder how Leelathae writes in her diary? I mean, does she write them in just dialogue, or narrative, or what? Either she is writes in dialogue, or she described the witch pretty well for Gwen to recognize who the witch is.

I mean, I didn't expect these ingredients, but sure. Does this imply there's a cemetery near The Pastel Kingdom? Cause Leelathae isn't allowed to be far from home, right? And I doubt she would ask someone to get dirt from cemetery for her...

I wonder what Leelathae plan was? Cause she didn't get the chance to execute it since her portrait was stolen by Leland. Or maybe she did execute it while in the Plaid Kingdom?

I agree with the witch so much. The painters fr did Leelathae dirty 💀

THE WITCH WASN'T LYING. SHE DOES LOOK COOL AF. LIKE. BRO?? HOW AM I NOT SUPPOSED TO FALL IN LOVE.

Huh. How does the ingredient turn into a paint-like liquid?? None of the ingredients are liquid based. Maybe the dirt?

This whole spell thing is sick man. It's so dang cool!! I wonder if anyone notices Leelathae sparkling?? I mean, one of the maids has got to notice right?

Also I've never knew there's tea inside snickerdoodles (chai is tea, right?). Well, it's not like I've ever tried snickerdoodles, but last time I read the recipe, I don't remember tea being in the recipe. But that was years ago so it might just be my memory.

Well, the mystery of the portrait is finally solved! And yet there's another mystery.. what writing did Leelathae put behind her portrait? Yes, the diary is one of them, but there are other things too. Like those brown and green papers. I'm guessing it's a message toward her kids?

Ohh, that's why!! Leelathae was glowy because of the spell!

BRUH SO WAS IT LIKE, A MISUNDERSTANDING THIS WHOLE TIME?? I did kinda predict it in my really old post, but I was joking T_T

Something's kinda bothering me about what Leelathae said in her 3rd wish. Why is she only talking about her daughters? What about Jamie? Or is there a hidden meaning that I am not getting here? If someone would enlighten me, that would be nice.

Aw. It's actually pretty sweet when you think about how they didn't even know how to speak to each other at first, but they still fell in love with each other <3

Oh. Oohhh....okay. This doesn't justify what Leland is doing right now, but it sure give a big reason for it. Yikes. Damn. That must've hurt.

Okay okay, let me just remember the past episodes to realize all the causes here.

Leland's parents died due to tragic carriage accident (didn't a carriage accident happen more than once? Tho I can't remember to who besides Leland's parents)

His best friend, Jack, didn't arrive to Leland's parents' funeral, which is the moment he needed him the most (not Jack's fault though, since he was literally stranded in an island)

Leland obviously has a little crush on Jack, which is why it hurts him when he found out Jack brought Leelathae to Pastel Kingdom (again, not Jack's fault). I think this is where he jealousy starts, the point where Leland thinks he has to be better at every love things than Jack.

He overheard Jack saying he didn't need him, which is probably the nail in the coffin for Leland. I mean that monologue Leland has? That's kinda internal mental breakdown right there. (I gotta say, this scenario is kindaaa similar to Gwen overhearing Frederick calls her ugly. I wouldn't say it's the exact same thing of course. It's just the overhearing that makes it similar)

So! Looking at these 4 reasons, it is highly likely that Leland has some problems (no shit sherlock). HEAR ME OUT. I don't know what it is yet. I was thinking of abandonment issues, but I have yet to read much about it, so i'm not sure yet.

HAH! Glad Leelathae decided to haunt his dreams tho!

OH SHIT OH SHIT. NAH LELAND NAHHHH. HE BETTER NOT. ....well at the time i'm writing this the next episode is already out so.. guess we're gonna find out...IN THE NEXT REVIEW!!

Yeah I haven't read the episode yet lol. I bet it's gonna be chaotic though.

That's it for now, until next time.

Mono out! (But still in to hear your thoughts)

[matrixxsystem]

Terrapin Soup Part 8 (2/2)

Usagi peeked out looking both ways before approaching, he looked into one of the crates lined around the side of the building and pulled out some rope, tying up the guy after Leo got off him, "Good work, I just realized I hadn't really seen you in action till now. We should spar together more often." "Yeah? You should spar with me and my brothers too, we really go all out. But first, how do you wanna deal with this Toad guy? I know quickly and quietly above the rest but like, any solid plan?" Usagi glanced to Leos sword for a moment, "How many portals can you make at once?" "The more I make the smaller they get, there was that time I made like.. Five? While fighting Shredder, and like ten or so when I was in the Battle Nexus with pops- But I can connect quite a few as long as I can see em, why?" "If you make the walls portals he can't escape. It'll make things much easier if he's in a box." "Oh hey that's pretty smart! Okay so we open the doors and get in, I portal the walls and you can do ya thang with him." "Are you ready though? You we're very apprehensive about knowing what I do when we started dating, I don't want to make you uncomfortable if things get a little.. Messy." "That's really sweet of you, but I promise I'll be fine okay? Besides, you said it yourself, if I'm ever gonna do this kinda thing on my own I should get over any weird feelings I have about it now before it becomes a problem." The both gave a nod, Usagi carefully sliding one of the doors back, closing it behind them when he and Leo we're inside. There wasn't much light, it was a mess inside of broken wood pillars and bits of glass and dirt that had been mostly swept towards to walls. There was a mound of sacks making some kind of make shift bed towards the back where their target sat, fiddling with a small wad of cash. He didn't even bother to look up as he spoke, "What'd I tell yuhs 'bout disterbin' me before the ride ets here huh-?" "Yeah.. See, about that.. How about instead of a get away ride, we just take you to a whole new place?" "It's called hell. And there's a special seat there just for you." Leo looked over at Usagi as he pulled his sword back out. "That was so cool wait- I'm so using that line with the next villain I fight that was incredible-!" "Not the time love." "Oh! Right- Right sorry-" He spun his odachi letting his portals coat the walls, thankfully he'd been getting much batter at controlling and maintaining his portals so he was confident they wouldn't let him down tonight. The toad perked up hearing the different voices, glaring at the two as he got up standing to his full height which.. To be honestly after fighting such big yokai and monsters his what, six and a half feet tall? It wasn't exactly impressive. Leo stood back and gave a glance to Usagi and winked, "Go get em baby~" Usagi rolled his eyes and took a step forward. "What is this?! Do you even know who I am!? I run this goddamn town! I own this goddamn town!" "Mm.. Yeah I don't think so. What do you think Sagi? Does he own this town?" Usagi glanced between the two, "Well I think you both talk too much in these moments for one. But I also think this mucus covered dirt bag should learn his place. You hurt my teacher, unfairly I might add. Now fight. Your life depends on it." Leo blushed a little, having a quarter life crisis suddenly when he realized Usagi's threatening tone was more the enough to make the blood rush to his face. Yikes.. He didn't even notice in the few moments he was contemplating his existence the Usagi had quickly taken control of the situation, his sword pressed against some kind of gun the toad had. It clearly wasn't doing much in close range, and with no where to go it was a pretty quick fight. 

Leo wondered for a moment as he watched the back and forth why it'd been so hard for Hyo to get to him, though from what he knew there were a lot more underlings fighting for him, they were in a much more open space, and there were other people, possibly innocent people he had to fight around and not cause damage to the buildings around them too.. The yokai was already pretty beat up on top of that so he'd done most of the work for them actually.. But by the time he'd managed to process that all Usagi had the toad pinned to the ground at his mercy. There was something he couldn't quite hear but Usagi looked pissed off by his words, despite the toads wide eyes and scared demeaner Usagi didn't even consider the yokai's last words. Leos portals vanished as he stepped closer wanting to make sense of the situation but before he could there was a dark flash of red that exploded onto them. Usagi's sword now in the center of his torso, not too far from where it started much closer to his neck. Leo's eyes widened as he felt the warmth coating his hands and plastron, dripping down to the floor.  "Hm.." Usagi pulled his sword out and swung it away from them, one fluid motion getting the blood off before re-sheathing the weapon. "That was a lot more blood then I thought there'd be..." "Usagi- That is not the thing to be worried about right now!"

 "Ah, right right. Are you okay? No cuts or scrapes? I can't wait to tell Hyo you helped me tonight, I know he doesn't seem like it but I think he's taken a liking to you now that he's gotten used to you coming around-"

"Babe-" He motioned to grab Usagi's shoulders but stopped seeing the blood on his hands, Usagi noticed too and perked up a bit, as if realizing he was in fact worried about the wrong thing. Except he didn't quite catch what Leo was worried about fully. "Oh- Goodness I didn't even bring a towel or anything with us! Are you able to get us to my house quick before we go? We should really get cleaned up before heading back, I'm sure your father will be upset if we tracked blood all over-" Leo sighed a bit and rolled his eyes, "I can but, seriously are we just going to leave this mess here- I-I mean.. I just... Are you sure it was the right thing to do..?" Usagi tilted his head a little, confused as to why he's even question it, but he'd humor him since he was new to this side of things. "Leo, I'm going to tell you something, and it's very important. I don't want to upset you, and you were very brave for coming with me. But this is what bad people deserve, the kind of bad that doesn't stop for 'no' or 'wait' and I know you haven't been here to see the things him and his gang have done, but this was a mercy. If I'd really done it Hyo's way I would have made him suffer the way he made this town suffer. Understand that I feel nothing for what I did, and if you have an issue with it, we'll talk it out after this is all settled. Okay? This warehouse isn't owned by anyone, so once were out I was just gonna break it down and push it off into the river to be washed away. No traces."  Leo took a moment, he knew Usagi was right, he didn't deserve to go on, and in a cell he could just break free from or be broken out of.. It was too risky to just let him go. But there was blood on his hands, so much blood literally staining his hands now. And though it filled the room with a scent that made his nose twitch and his stomach growl it also made his mind twist itself into knots trying to justify murdering someone who couldn't fight back in the moment, which is something him and his brothers swore against when they were young, to help but not hurt. But.. This was the exception, it had to be. Usagi was right..

He was always right.

Leo reopened a portal back to Usagi's house right outside the building, watching as Usagi cut the pillars holding the place together, and as he stepped outside holding a decently sized bag, which telling from the sickeningly sweet scent coming off it held the remains of the toad, he stepped to the portal. The building crumbled before them, falling into it self with only a small puff of dust rising in its place. Usagi let Leo go first, and came through behind him. They were right in the kitchen, "I'll be right back alright? You go upstairs and use the shower, take anything from my room if you need okay? I've got a few comfy sweaters that might fit since it's getting cold out." Leo nodded, still a bit unsure why he felt so.. Out of it? Before he could turn to leave Usagi pulled him back again, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for coming with me today. Maybe when it get around to uh.. Making him dinner you could join me? I've been told it tastes just like chicken, I mean since you helped I uh.. I'd like to share it with you."  Fuck he was cute.. Even covered in blood and dragging a body towards the freezer in his basement, he was fucking adorable... Maybe Leo was crazy. But he was fine with that.

He smiled a little and pulled Usagi back before he could pull away fully and kissed him, god that smell was making him hungry.. "Are you asking me out on a date~? Sounds gay, I'm in~ You take care of whatever you need to okay? I'll get a quick shower and text my brothers and tell them we'll be back soon, get an update on how your teachers holdin' up. Then we'll head back and maybe if he ends up staying the night you could too..? I may not have any toad or tortoise but Mikey's got a pizza coming with your name on it" He chuckled a little and nodded, "Sounds like a plan~ I'll be up in a bit." Leo smiled a bit and headed upstairs, quickly so he wouldn't have to sit and watch his boyfriend drag a dismembered body down the stairs. Even though he wasn't as upset as he thought he'd be over it, it was nice that even when his love life could be summed up to a few movie titles, horror movies specifically, it still felt like some romantic dream to him. He wasn't actually focused on the body, but rather the glimpse he caught of Usagi's toned arms pushing and pulling, the little smile he had when Leo spoke, and the way he made sure to thank Leo for his help and not overwhelm him with those more morbid things. It was sweet of him to take that much care and consideration into it.. Yeah.. Psychological defect wouldn't even begin to describe Leo and his unnatural calmness to being an accessory to murder. Whelp at least he's happy.

Part 9.1 Part 1

TS Master Post

[beetlesau]

SoulBox

Chapta FOUR

WOOOOOOW a new chapter? yikes. it's just as much as my depression riddled brain could get out in one go. It's not readable on my life yall. but I figure something is better than nothing. So a big appreciation to the folks that can read this and make something out of it for themselves.

"Oh no," you swore under your breath before putting on your best smile, "Oh hey guys! Uh, I was just leaving--"

"Oh, that's to bad-" Kirishima started, awkwardly.

"What's your rush, Smokes? Can't hang out?" Bakugo sat across from you, leaving Kirishima to find and pull up his chair.

"With you? No. I mean, I --- What the hell are you doing!?" you watched as the rude sob now across from you started eating the food that sat at the table.

"What? You said you were just leaving. You gonna leave all this uneaten food here? What a fuckin waste, and this sauce is delicious!" he snorted as if what he was doing was completely justified.

As bad (and annoyed) as it made you feel, he did have a point. Suppose it would be a shame to waste it. 

"I just... well it was supposed to be for my date. I was going to meet my Soulmate today but he had something come up last second." 

Saying out loud had a whole new wave of disappointment hit you.

Kirishima had an uncomfortable laugh at this looking to Bakugo, trying to follow his lead or at least get a grasp on why he bothered to come in here if not as your Soulmate. He was an ass a lot of the time, but never cruel.

"Uh, well that sucks... I wonder, uh what happened to him? Bakugo? Any.. uh, ideas? What is THAT guy thinking, huh?"

Bakugo looked Kiri dead in the eye, face deadpan, "How the hell would I know? Go grab us some drinks. "

Kirishima slowly left to do his mental gymnastics, and frankly, he was glad to leave the scene. He had no idea what lead Bakugo wanted him to follow at the moment. Needless to say, he'd never needed to be a wingman, especially not in a soulmate situation. Uh, a soulmate that didn't know he was the soulmate... and didn't want her to know? Oh god. Okay, he decided to take his time with the drinks. 

"Oh, no you don't have to do that Kiri, Kiri!--- aaand he's gone..." You were now left alone with the one person in the world you were sure you did not want to be here with right now. You look over and find that he's staring daggers at you. Quickly looking away, you clear your throat and pick at the uneaten food in front of you. 

"What's with that necklace?" he speaks harshly for such an uncomplicated question. 

You grabbed your trinket as if to shield it from his prying eye. 

"What do you mean what's with it? It's just a necklace I guess." Ugh, this wasn't a conversation you wanted to have with your biggest bully. 

"Bullshit. I've seen you wearing that thing back from U.A. Who keeps a cheap thing like that, that long?"

You'd always worn it, but it was perpetually hidden away under work clothes and a hero uniform. You had indeed worn it all through your time in school as well. But it wasn't something you would have expected him to remember, the man who couldn't be bothered to even remember half his own classmates' names. You thought about it for a moment, wondering if he had decided to be your enemy even back then. It would make sense, this obsession he had with making you miserable. 

It almost made you proud, to think that a top hero like him found you to be a threat, even back in high school.

"The necklace itself was just something from my toys as a kid. It has meaning to me, but less so than what I keep inside it."

You straightened up. You know what, you were glad to talk about such a keepsake, from your soulmate. A token of how your relationship with him had started to where it was now. It helped quell the pain of him not being able to show up for your first meeting. You held the locket tighter in your grasp. 

"What's in it?"

"If you must know, it's the first thing that was ever sent through my soulbox."

"Which was?"

He couldn't remember the first thing he'd ever sent you. Or even anything of significance. It made his stomach turn, a feeling he didn't like. He remembers the first thing you sent him. An All-Might keychain. It had appeared in his shorts pocket one day. He still had it in his childhood bedroom at his parent's house. 

"A.. it was a wrapper."

"What? What's that? A wrapper to what?"

He stared at you in confusion. Wracking his brain for what he sent you.

"A gum wrapper." you huffed.

Bakugo slumped forward and his brows came further together, awkwardly you'd almost ask if he was okay before he snapped back in a rage.

"TRASH!? YOU KEPT THAT TRASH IN YOUR LOCKET!?!?!" He was, as usual attracting attention with his booming voice and lack of regard for others' ears. He put his head in his hands and groaned loudly.

"What is your problem?! Stop yelling! You just think everything is stupid! IT'S NOT TRASH." As much as you fought the instinct, you raised your voice to match his, he just... he just did this to you. You couldn't help it. He was a piss-poor influence. 

You knew he wouldn't understand.

"IT IS STUPID. SO FUCKING STUPID. IF I HAD WANTED TO SEND SOMETHING TO MY SOULMATE THINKING THEY WOULD KEEP IT FOREVER I SURE AS FUCK WOULDN'T BE SENDING TRASH, WHAT A TRASH GARBAGE THING TO SEND TO SOMEONE, I-- I-- HE FUCKING SUCKS--." he leaned back hard into the back of his stool, his expression now far away. You could see the small flare in his nostrils.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HIM! YOU'RE SUCH A PAIN IN THE ASS, YOU KNOW THAT, BAKUGO? THIS WRAPPER IS A SYMBOL OF OUR GROWTH TOGETHER--"

"TRAAAASH!"

"NO YOU!"

Bakugo tried to reach across the small round table and take your hands off the necklace, but you were fast on your feet, using your quirk to fade just out of reach. 

"Stop! Stop! It's mine! God, leave me alone! Work on your damn relationship if this is such trash! Go get your soulmate some flowers you shithead asshole! Stop trying to mess with my life! I never did anything but exsist and you've been nothing but a thorn in my side!"

"FUCK YOU!"

"No, FUCK YOOOU!"

Bakugo stands and throws the plate of half-eaten food on the ground before his palms start to spark. He didn't know why he was doing this. He was angry at himself, he was angry at you for putting up with his shit as someone in the same hero occupation. He was mad and relieved you didn't give up on him as a soulmate. You could have destroyed your connection to him and found another one. A better one. But here you were, defending his garbage not even realizing he was the one that sent it to you. 

He had no idea how to make things better between you and this was his response. To throw a fist at the problems. 

The exchange was cut short as Kirishima came running back, putting himself between the two of you.

"Hey, what's going on I was gone for like a half minute! Did you tell her??" he looked between the two of you, trying to read your faces for answers. Yeah, he assumed Bakugo might have told you he was your soulmate, and maybe it would be received negatively.... but... damn. 

"Shit-hair. We're leaving, let's go." Bakugo straightened up, pulled out his wallet, and tossed enough bills on the table to pay for your meal that now littered the floor as well a hefty tip for the trouble.

"Tell me what?" you were still heaving and full of adrenaline, still ready to fight. You asked the question on auto-pilot, not caring to hear any more from the blonde.

"Shut it, Shithair. I didn't come to tell her shit." he turned to leave, patrons of the bar parting like a biblical sea as he made his way to the exit. 

"Oh, uh. Sorry. I should probably go with him, try and calm him down. He's just going through some things right now, soulmate stuff and all that. 

"HE still has a soulmate? That's a joke, right? How many got stuck with him and tossed their Soulbox to get away?" You didn't mean that. You would never say something like that. You believed everyone deserved the happiness of genuine love. Even people that sucked major wang like him. Ugh, god he just made you so angry. 

Even Kirishima looked hurt by your words. 

"He's never changed soulmates. They've known each other from the beginning. He really loves her. You should try and get to know him. I know, I know how difficult that sounds. But please, just trust me, okay? I'll see you at work." He gave you a caring side hug, holding on just a bit too long, before pursuing his best friend. 

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

"He's never changed soulmates. He's ... passionate. He's an asshole." you faltered nervously, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you mindlessly made informational flyer copies at the work printer. "Nope. No. Nice thoughts. What do we have in common? Our hero uniforms were made by the same company. That's a fun fact. Yeah. He can create smoke as a byproduct of his quirk, same as me! Holy crap this is impossible."

"What the hell are you mumbling about?" a gruff voice pulled you back to earth. 

"AH! ShIt! You scared me, Bakugo! Don't sneak up on people like that, asshole." you scolded as you worked to get your heart rate back under control. 

"Scared you? Are you twelve? I didn't sneak up on you, it's a public space dumbass." He sounded tired. 

"Well, that's. Shut up." you turned back to your printings, face turning red. You felt embarrassed, almost worried he would know you were thinking of him if you looked at him. "Sorry." Stay casual. "Anyway," Stay nice. "Kirishima tells me you still have the same Soulmate since the start."

He grunts.

Okay.

"Me too!"

Awkward silence.

"Welp! Good talk, see you later!"

You turn to get away from him as fast as possible but are stopped by a firm hand on your shoulder. 

"huh?" 

Bakugo points to a shred of paper that caught on the sole of your shoe.

"Oh, thanks." 

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

"What's this?"

"The hells it look like, dumbass? It's coffee."

"Okay... but why are you trying to hand me your coffee? I'm not your maid."

"IT'S NOT MY FUC---oh my god. It's not my coffee. I got it for you, you shit brain. I can't have you passing out during this patrol like last time."

"What? I didn't pass out! Wh-Where, how do you even know what kind I like?" you took the cup, taking a sniff you could tell it had all the things in it that you loved.

"Shithair." was all he said before he walked off. 

"Hmm." you took another inhale of the rich aroma. "I don't remember telling Kiri my order." you sip and the coffee goes down smoothly. You shrug, not really caring now.

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

It'd been two weeks since your Soulmate stood you up.

Since then, talk between the two of you had come to a slow trickle, if not a halt altogether. He assured you that something important had come up and that he would talk to you as soon as he could. You knew he was a hero, even if you didn't know which one. You admittedly searched the hero network for any heroes that might be on any classified missions. Anything that would correlate to the radio silence. 

What took you by surprise, was how you were filling your time until you heard from him again. 

Bakugo was a pill, that was for sure. But you took Kirishima's advice and tried to get to know the man under the mask. You'd started slowly at first. 

Things had shifted around awkwardly after that night you both nearly tore down the bar in a fight. And you were still struggling not to say something mean every time he met your eye. But after two weeks of trying, Actually trying, you learned to admire plenty about him. 

You wouldn't call yourself friends. God no. But he was indeed becoming more tolerable. 

You noticed he stopped competing with you so much. Maybe it was the fact that you were both on the same team for once. Well, you were both heroes and you could have argued that you had always been on the same team but maybe he needed the physical image of you greeting him good morning for things to finally cement into his head. 

Hell, this morning he even asked questions about you that you didn't ever think would come from his mouth. 

"What do you like about your soulmate?" He asked during one of his breaks. He was sitting at a client chair across from your desk, something he'd been doing often. He'd pulled up a stool to prop his feet on, finally coming to the conclusion you would NEVER willingly allow his boots to touch your desktop ever again. 

"What?" you looked up, hardly registering the question. 

"Jesus, nevermind." he huffed, a shorter fuse for repeating himself as usual. 

"What do I like about them? Like, like?" you sat, dumbfounded. 

"What the hell is so hard about that question, yes!?"

"Sorry, I just, I'm not used to you asking those types of things! Uh, I guess, I like how he pushes me to be the best I can be. He's the reason I wanted to become a hero in the first place. I really don't think I'd be where I am today without him." you said thoughtfully, a small smile playing on your face. 

"So, like me?" he stated. 

"What? What do you mean, 'like you'? He's not like you at all?" you were confused, that was for sure.

"What the hell, that's exactly like me? I push you all the time!" he scoffed. 

"Uh, yeah, but you're an asshole? Nothing you've ever said to me has been to make me better! You berate and put me down, always telling me I'm not as good as you nor will I ever be? Like, I don't know, you've changed a little now, but are you seriously thinking you helped me improve in any way!?"

"That's not true." Bakugo looks straight ahead, contemplating his next words, or maybe mulling over the words you'd said to him, before popping up from his chair and leaving your desk without another word. 

"Hey! Where are you going? Hello, Bakugo?? Okay... whatever." you shake your head and continue your paperwork.

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

"So what about you? What do you like about your soulmate?" 

You and Bakugo are on a patrol through the less-than-crowded streets one day, and you decide to ask him about his soulmate. You'd been curious for a long time but it never seemed like a topic the blonde would openly talk about. To your surprise though, he answered straight away.

"I like... no I love that I know she is the one. I used to have this fear. This fear that destiny was wrong about us, me and her because I fell in love with someone before I met her. I never told her that before. But the day we met was the day that all changed. I figured out that Destiny bullshit really knows what it's doing."

"Holy shit."

"What." he looked at you, almost expectant, though you wouldn't notice. 

"That's... that's incredible. How romantic. I really hope when I meet my soulmate that something like that happens. That has been my literal fantasy since I was a child, Bakugo!" you swooned at the romance of his words. You had no idea he had it in him to feel that way about anyone. It made you feel warm and though you wouldn't say it, a bit jealous. 

"Not gonna happen." he states simply, a smirk plain as day on his face.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Obviously I have the best soulmate 'cause I wouldn't settle for fucking less. It's too bad when you meet yours that it'll never amount to that same feeling. Sucks to suck, but yours is probably a fuckin loser."

"Bakugo! Stop! That's so fucking rude." you push his shoulder to no avail, as he snickers at your weak attempt.  

"You've got a damn mouth on you, you know that?"

"I swear you are the worst influence on me. I never used to cuss like this till I was forced to be around you!" you cried.

"I dunno seems like an improvement to me, maybe your soulmate will like you better now. And you can have me to thank for that."

"Stooop!"

As the two of you were playing, you hadn't noticed Bakugo had veered off the usual patrol route, landing you two in front of a diner. When you finally realized you patted your stomach, noticing you were getting rather hungry. 

"Oh man, we must have taken a wrong turn. I've never been here before? It looks good. I'll have to remember this spot for later, I'm starving." you read the diner sign before turning to get back on the path, but Bakugo stopped you.

"Well why don't we just get something to eat here now? I don't want you complaining the rest of patrol."

"Oh... but what about--"

"Shut up, loser. It's the slowest day ever, and who's gonna do anything stupid knowing I'm out here to kick their ass if they try anything?"

"Good point." you shook your head and laughed at just how full of himself he could be, but you could finally see the light-hearted guy under the hard exterior. Or maybe you were just too hungry to argue. 

"Woah, look at this! This burger is huge AND it comes with fries. I'm going to die that looks so good. What are you gonna get, Bakugo?" you looked up from your menu to his crimson eyes looking over you. He lagged a moment, not bothering to search his menu. 

"Yeah, probably that. Sounds good to me."

You beamed up a smile at him. This was nice, you thought. It was almost like a date but with a semi-sort of a friend. Well, you felt, for the first time EVER, that you and Bakugo could for once get along. Maybe you could be friends. 

"So what's with your soulmate?" he asks you.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"What does he do? Where does he live? What kind of loser hobbies does he have?"

"Oh! He's a hero, like us! Uh, well I think he lives in this city actually. Or it seemed like it when we were supposed to meet up for the first time that one day. We always stayed really minimal with giving information about ourselves, but I know he likes to be outdoors. I know he's gone hiking and camping with his friends over the years. He seems close with them even though I don't know anything about them at all."

"And you never worry he's actually seeing some girl when he says hes doing those things?"

"What! No! Never. He would never do that. I may not know him, but I know him. I trust him with my heart and life. And someday when we meet-" You took a deep contented sigh. "It'll be magical."

"Jesus you're a sap. This guy is probably some huge nerd. Never been outside a day in his life."

"Shhhh! Shut up, you're such an ass!" you laughed and swatted at Bakugo. "I'm gonna order a milkshake too, do you want one?"

"Are you serious? And have to go to the gym for twelve hours straight just to work it off? No thanks, that shit'll kill you."

"Ooooh wow, what a buzzkill. Are you telling me you don't eat any desserts at all or do you just have a major thing against milkshakes?"

"No I don't have a sweet tooth really. I like spicy as shit food, though."

"Oh for real?! So does my soulmate! Maybe he doesn't like sweets either, I'll have to ask him sometime."

"So you don't REALLY know much about this guy, do you?" Bakugo's face contorted into something unreadable. 

"I know what really matters. But I'm not worried about the small stuff, no." you stated matter of factly.

"So if this guy was four foot tall with a gross mole on his face, you're telling me you wouldn't care?"

"Haha! No! I'm not that shallow what the heck."

"I don't buy it. What if he wasn't really a hero. Or if he was, he's not even on the charts, he's so bad? Could you really live with him knowing you were better than him at something he encouraged you to become?"

"Oooh, that's a really neat question. Hm. No I think he's probably a great hero. But if he wasn't... hm. That would be okay. I will love him no matter what. What about you, though?"

"What about me?"

"Well what about your soulmate? You're already the best, so how do you feel about her not being 'the best' like you, as you so put it?"

"I don't care."

"No?"

"Hell no. She's the best there is, even if the charts don't reflect it the way they should. I've always pushed her to be better anyway, she's pushed me to be the best too. I'm where I am because of her and heroes like her."

"Awwwweee! That is actually the cutest thing I've ever heard you say, literally EVER."

"Shut up."

"Nope! So who is she? Will you tell me?? What's her quirk? Do I know her?"

"Hell no." 

"Awe man, why noooot?" you pout.

"It wouldn't be safe to tell you right now."

Your eyes grow wide in wonder. 

"Oh man!! So she's like an undercover hero? Holy crap that is so cool. Wow. Okay well I won't push it but I really hope I get to meet her one day!"

"Yeah yeah. Enough about that. Let's talk about the fact that your soulmate could end up being a huge loser. Let's talk about the fact that your soulmate could end up being DEKU?"

"YUCK!" you covered your mouth with a gasp. "Oh, nooo, no I didn't mean it that waaaay. Medoriya is a really nice guy, I mean I dunno he---"

"AHAHAHAHAH NO NO, PLEASE. STOP THERE. That's fucking funny, don't ruin it." Bakugo barked out a laugh and grinned ear to ear. It looked rather handsome on him, though you could never admit it in a million years.

"Stop laughing! No it's not funny, it was so mean. I just mean he's not my type."

"Oh yeah? And what is your type, then? Cause you don't even know who your soulmate is, so that is some slippery slope you're on."

"I... that's true. Well, I know my soulmate IS my type. Whatever that may be. Look this is embarassing and I'd rather not talk about it!"

"Does your type have multiple arms?"

"Mm, likely not. But it would be okay!"

"Does he have an abusive father, formerly the number one hero?"

"Oooh, low blow. But no, I've always found Todoroki to be a bit dense. Besides he's already married to his soulmate! Not him." you giggled at the game. 

"Does your type... get hard under stress?"

"Awwwwe Kirishima is a cutie. But no. ... And please don't say things like that! Your jokes are terrible."

"That box dye shithead is not cute, he's annoying."

"Not true! Hmm. Maybe he IS my type! How do we know for sure HE isn't my soulmate? Oh my gosh! Call him, get him on the phone, haha." you were just playing around, but you noticed the way Bakugo's jaw clenched.

"No. Forget it. He's not your fuckin soulmate. He's an idiot. You are not."

"Well, see? Oposites attract! This could be one of those situations--"

"It's not. Anyway, eat your damn food before it gets cold, no one likes gross cold fries."

"Awe, someone doesn't like when I tease his fwends?" 

"Something like that. Eat."

"Alright, alright. Fine." You finally look at the plate that was placed before you forever ago, dipping your fries in a saucer of ketchup. You took a long pause, realizing how much you were enjoying this time with Bakugo.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I would guess that my soulmate is a lot like you, now that I think about it. He used to be really standoffish and mean, you know? But once I got to know him, I found out he was really funny and caring." you laughed, enjoying the food and company. 

"Haha, maybe you're my type after all, Bakugo!" you were only joking. And so engrossed now in your meal you didn't notice the way Bakugo's face turned so red, you would have thought he'd eaten something too spicy, even for him.

[nyxnightshade1332]

Expectations When Expecting

Chapter 8

Chapter 9:

She and Grim walked to their designated area, pushing around a cart that contained a broom, a mop, some rags, and several other cleaning supplies. The school was beautiful, but it was also big, so she was thankful for the task not taking place in a different area.

"Wow, so this is Main Street, huh? This is incredible! I didn't get to see it much yesterday." Grim cried out in awe, looking around with childish joy.

"Yeah, it is. This resembles some sort of University campus rather than a high school one. These kids sure have it easy." She remarked playfully before grabbing the broom. "Grab a rag, Grim. You're wiping the plates on the statues down so we can polish."

"Yeah, yeah." Grim paused before grabbing a rag, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Despite not having any thumbs, Grim still managed to grip onto the piece of cloth, running over to the statue and looking up. "Geez. Hench human, What's the deal with these seven statues? All their faces look pretty scary." She watched as he approached the first one.

"Like, this lady here looks like she's got some reeeal anger management issues." He pointed to a very tall, regal looking woman who carried a heart-shaped scepter.

Yuu narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly before giggling. "Yeah, you're right! She does look like she gets angry a lot." She saw Grim smirk before she attempted to go back to sweeping.

Until she heard a snort from behind her and she whipped her head around to look. A strange ginger haired boy looked back at her, carrying himself with the air of a trickster.

"You don't know the Queen of Hearts?" He asked, seemingly friendly. She clutched her broom closer to her chest, raising a brow.

"Not really... no." She stated, distrusting. She saw Grim put the rag down and run towards the new boy.

"Queen of Hearts? Is she some kinda big deal?" The cat monster asked. Yuu watched the ginger begin to formulate an idea as he began to explain.

"I mean... yeah. She was a queen who lived in a maze-like garden of roses long, long ago. She was a strict woman who prized order above all." The boy described a woman obsessed with things going her way, a terrifying tyrant who would kill if something was even slightly off. Yuu slowed her sweeping, pausing to look at Ace.

"That's just... Yikes." She shuddered while she continued to push the dust on main street to the outer edges.

"That's seriously messed up!" Grim yowled.

"Pretty cool, right? I'm a big fan." The boy gushed. "I mean, who would bother to obey a queen that was kind all the time?"

"Yeah, true. A leader needs to be strong." Grim agreed.

Yuu paused for a moment, wrinkling her nose. "You scare me sometimes, Grim." She deadpanned. "Now keep working or I'll limit your lunch." She attempted to adopt the power that mothers tended to have.

"Yeah, fine." Grim stated dismissively, still in awe of the student that was distracting them. "Puttin' that aside... Who're you, now?" He asked the ginger haired boy.

The boy, in turn, gave an amused cackle before bowing playfully. "Name's Ace. I'm a first year student here, as of... today! Pleased to meetcha!"

"I'm Grim! I'm a prodigy who's plannin' to be, like, the greatest mage who ever lived." Grim hopped up to one of the statues' pedestals, returning a wonky looking bow. He then gestured to Yuu dismissively. "That there's my far less interesting hench-human." This little shi- Yuu's mouth opened, a look of offense marring her facial features.

"Yuu. My family calls me Yuu or Pita. Other people just call me Yuu." She introduced herself, nodding at Ace.

"'Yuu?' Huh. Name's got an odd ring to it." He stated, something in his eyes unsettling the young, pregnant woman.

"Just so you know, I'm not anyone's hench-anything. As a matter of fact," She began, glaring at Grim, who simply ignored her. "I am the one in charge of the cat-gremlin." The way Grim snapped his neck to look at her was almost comical as his eyes lidded and his little mouth opened indignantly.

"Hmph! Rude." Grim grumbled before returning all his attention to Ace. Yuu rolled her eyes, zoning out as she allowed the familiar feel of sweeping take her away from the current suspicious conversations.

With Grace, she gathered any dust and dirt, remembering her past fiance, and how they'd met. She had been tasked to help another guy with sweeping after a Senior prank gone wrong when they were Sophomores. It was stupid, but she'd been glad the two had been placed together. She forced down the pang in her heart.

Focus on the conversation. I can't let them see me cry. She thought to herself, zoning back in. She looked at Ace's demeanor change, as if he were gearing up for something. He explained the story behind the statue of the horned woman to a very animated Grim.

"Ooh. a dragon! What all monsters yearn to be!" Grim bounced excitedly like a toddler.

"Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel." The malicious intent was sudden, but not surprising. Yuu prepared to hit both of them, clutching the broom in both hands. This... this is gonna be a long day. 

Chapter 10