#camera pans to the other room where the three of them are frantically trying to put out a fire

[mamaspidershit]

Natasha, in a room with Peter, Yelena and Clint: It’s calm in here. Natasha: It scares me…

[seinfelt]

The Impossible Hallway

George storms into Jerry's apartment and slams the door so hard that the photo next to it falls off the wall.

"Well hello to you too," says Jerry.

"We need to talk about your hallway," says George.

"What about it?"

"It can't exist!"

"And yet," replies Jerry smugly, "it does."

"It does, but it shouldn't."

"What are you talking about?"

Kramer slides so violently into the apartment that he burns two long black streaks into the hardwood floor. He looks down at the smoke and whimpers, "oh mama."

"Kramer, what the hell?" says Jerry. "Look what you did to my floor!"

"Put it on my tab," says Kramer as he strolls over to the fridge and opens it to get himself some orange juice, drinking a long swig directly from the carton.

"I'll add the orange juice too."

"For starters," says George, ignoring Jerry's interaction with Kramer, "just look at your kitchen."

"First it's the hallway, now it's the kitchen. What's wrong with my kitchen?"

"Well for one thing," says Kramer, "your orange juice is expired."

Frowning at him, Jerry grabs the carton and drops it into the garbage with a slight flourish. "Thanks for the update—I'll take it off your tab."

"What tab?" asks Kramer, much to Jerry's exasperation.

George strolls all the way into the kitchen. "Look at where I'm standing and then think about where your hallway would go."

"I'd like to remind you that you never actually have been an architect."

"Humor me."

"The hallway is outside my apartment. The kitchen is inside my apartment."

George holds up a finger. "Come with me."

He walks to the front door, opens it, and stands in the doorway with one foot inside Jerry's apartment and the other out in the hallway. "Stand where I am and you'll see what I see."

"Okay, Confucious."

George steps away and Jerry takes his place.

"Hold on," says Jerry. "That doesn't… what the hell is going on here?"

"See?"

"But how?"

"Black hole," says Kramer.

George and Jerry both turn slowly to look at him.

"Excuse me?" says George.

Kramer makes a popping sound by flicking his finger out of the corner of his mouth. "Black hole!" he repeats, shaking that same finger high up into the air.

"What black hole?"

"The black hole," says Kramer with very deliberate enunciation and a waving gesture, "in my apartment."

"What are you talking about?" asks Jerry.

"I've told you about this!"

"I think I'd remember if you told me you had a black hole in your apartment."

"Oh I'm not sure you would."

Jerry shakes his head. "What's a black hole got to do with any of this?"

"Well you see, Jerry, all particles have to travel along the shortest path through curved space."

Jerry and George share a confused glance.

"…and?" prompts Jerry.

"Well… the black hole is warping space around itself. It's pulled the hallway—" he makes a motion like he's stroking an inner tube around his waist. "And apparently your kitchen, too. Which means… mamacita."

"What?" asks George.

"Oh, this is real bad."

"What's bad?" asks Jerry.

"Would you spit it out?" says George.

"It's getting… bigger," he replies, the last word a barely-perceptible squeak.

"Bigger?"

He nods, his face a mask of frightful agony.

"What does that mean, 'bigger'?" asks Jerry.

"The opposite of small," says George wryly.

"A little help?" shouts Elaine from somewhere out in the hallway.

The three poke their heads out to find her struggling to pull her purse away from the wall.

"It's stuck!" she says. She looks at Kramer. "What do you, got some kind of giant magnet in there or something?"

"Black hole," say the three men in unison. They glance briefly at each other.

"What?"

"Kramer has a black hole," says Jerry.

Elaine frowns skeptically at them. "You can't just have a black hole."

"I beg to differ," says Kramer. "I bought it at a flea market."

"Aw, this is ridiculous," says Jerry.

"Are you… all just gonna… stand there and… watch me struggle?" grunts Elaine between tugs. She raises her foot and brings it toward the wall to try to get some more leverage.

"Oh I wouldn't do—" starts Kramer, but it's too late: Elaine's foot gets stuck to the wall alongside her purse.

"Hey," she says, "I think my foot's stuck too."

"Yeah, that'll happen," says Kramer.

"Will you jackasses do something already?"

George and Jerry look to Kramer, but he just stares dumbly at Elaine, ignorant of their attention. After a moment he notices their stares with a jerky startle.

"What are you looking at me for?" he says.

"It's your black hole!" says Jerry.

George frowns. "How did it 'grow' exactly anyway?"

"What do you think happens to all the stuff I drag in from the street? I only have so much room in my apartment."

"What about—I don't know—throwing it in the garbage?"

"What, and haul it all the way down to the curb in the elevator? I get nasty looks!"

"Yeah, this is much better," says Jerry.

"So what do we do about Elaine?" asks George.

Kramer thinks for a moment, then snaps his fingers. "I got it—we put a second black hole in Jerry's apartment on the other side of the hallway."

"Won't that just rip me in half?" says Elaine.

Kramer shrugs. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Hold on a minute," says George. "How do you get away from it, Kramer? Clearly you're able to leave your apartment."

"I just move faster than light."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, the escape velocity of a black hole is faster than the speed of light. You gotta go at least that fast or you can't get out."

"But you can't go faster than the speed of light," says Elaine.

"Oh, I beg to differ."

"How?"

"Kwisatz Haderach," says Kramer with dramatic enunciation.

"Gesundheit," says Jerry.

"'Quick-shots' what, now?" says Elaine.

Kramer holds up a finger. "The shortening… of the way."

"What way?" asks George.

"Any way."

"Okay," says Jerry, "so how exactly does one shorten a way?"

"Well, you gotta become the Kwisatz Haderach."

"And how exactly do you do that?" asks Elaine, tugging frantically at her leg.

"The sleeper must awaken."

Elaine lets out a primal growl of annoyed frustration. "And how do you do that?"

"You gotta drink the water of life."

"What's the water of… you know what? Forget it. I'd rather stay stuck here forever than continue this idiotic conversation."

"Kramer," says Jerry, "can't you just 'Quiznos hot-rocks' her out of there?"

"Kwisatz Haderach," he says. "Say it with me, Kwis—"

"Kramer!"

He flinches from Jerry's angry interruption and then thinks for a moment. "I can try I guess but who knows where she'll end up."

"It's gotta be better than being stuck to your hallway wall!" says Elaine.

"Okay, well… don't say I didn't warn you." He stands upright, his eyes turning a deep blue. There's a distant rumble and suddenly Elaine fades away from where she's standing and fades in cradled in Kramer's arms. The two stare at each other for a moment.

"Ahem," says Elaine eventually.

Kramer looks at her, puzzled, until she nods her head toward the floor.

"Oh. Yeah," he says, setting her down.

"I still don't get it," says Jerry. "How did a black hole make it so that my kitchen and the hallway were occupying the same space?"

"It didn't," says Kramer. "It just made it appear that way to any… outside observers."

He smiles directly at the camera and winks as the audience breaks into hysterical laughter. He stares for so long that eventually the camera begins to pan away, but he strides toward it, his smile flattening, ducking back into frame as it shifts left and right. Soon the laughter in the audience dies out and transforms into a concerned murmur.

A deep hum begins to emanate almost imperceptibly from your television but grows louder and louder. Something begins to rattle and you realize it's the remote control on the table in front of you. Paralyzed by fear and confusion, you don't even think to reach for it as it lifts up and flies across the room, shattering against the screen, spraying plastic shards throughout the room.

As Kramer stares out at you, his eyes radiating an unearthly but somehow soothing blue glow, you finally motivate your body to rush over and turn off the television, but as you stand up and lunge for the power button, your fingers stretch into impossibly long strands, tapering into what looks like spaghetti. When the tips connect with the glass of the screen you somehow become aware that this same experience is being shared by millions of other people all around the world.

You scream, but the sound gets sucked in by whatever force seems to be pulling in the rest of you.

In all your terror you'd forgotten about the deep hum but it soon becomes deafening, pushing all the thoughts out of your mind. As your face draws closer and closer to those pulsing blue eyes, your inner monologue echoes somewhere inside your head, thinking,

Where does that hallway go to?

Where does that hallway go to?

Where does that hallway go to?

Where does that hallway go to?

Am I right or am I wrong?

My god… what have I done?

[creativeashproductions]

Pregnancy Test Roulette // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: As a college student living with your three best friends is the best and even better when they get along with your long-term boyfriend. However, one of your best friends decides to film a video inspired by another tiktok video. You just had to jinx yourself.

Warnings: Swearing, unplanned pregnancy, allusion to abortion (doesn’t use the actual word), college, and reader has a gender-neutral roommate and best friend named Lu.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: This inspired by a video I watched of someone announcing her pregnancy by taking a test with her friends. They each took one and put in a box to shake and hell exploded with the positive, the actual person was aware before the pregnancy roulette

Masterlist

They say your ’20s are your best years and maybe that comes from being able to bounce back from a night out with your friends. A night that turned your memory into episodic moments you could recall and others you had to guess about. Maybe it’s because you’re in the years where you aren’t under lock and key with your parents but not at the point where you’re expected to have a marriage, kids and mortgage.

It was the sweet spot in life. Now you didn’t drink as much as you did your first year, but you did enjoy the odd glass of wine occasionally—a beer with your older brother or a shot with your best friend. But more often than not you were in bliss nestled into your boyfriend’s side watching an old movie with a bucket of popcorn you had argued over who would make. However, Charlie was in Vancouver filming for Julie and the Phantoms leaving you in your house for the upcoming season. The home you shared with your three college friends to save money but not be stifled in dorms.

“I have an idea!” Sophie spoke, sliding into the living room in her thick socks with duckies on them. Her sudden appearance received both Alice and your attention from the movie Bad Moms playing.

Sophie’s recently dyed blue hair concealing her face from you as she flipped the long strands from her hair. Her bright brown eyes glittering with the same happiness that typically exuded from her.

“What’s this idea?”

“Where’s Lu?” Sophie inquired scanning for them in the room, “Did they have a date?”

“Nah, I’m right here Phee,” Lu announced their presence from the kitchen island going over work emails.

Sophie quickly dragged them from the counter to Alice and you on the couch with a box in her hands. Everyone in the room shared a look as the blue-haired girl went into one of her tangents that could continue indefinitely.

“Phee, calm down. What do you want to do?” Lu questioned whereas Alice had leaned forward to grab a look at the box.

“I think the best question is: what does it have to do with the box of pregnancy tests in your hand?” Alice asked flicking her ocean blue eyes at the girl sheepishly looking at the group, “Do you think you’re pregnant?”

“What! No! I thought it would be hilarious to take a test each and put in the box.” Sophie replied, pursing her lips together with a pleading look in her eyes, “Plus I wanna know how you do it…?”

You sighed with a shake of your head, “You saw this on Tiktok. We’re all damn careful at preventative measures. There’s no harm in taking the test. Hand one over.”

Sophie was quick to hand you a test along with the rest of the group before splitting off to the attached bathroom to your master suite room. You hadn’t even fought for the room when you moved in your sophomore year of college. Lu had been quick to announce that as the only one in a relationship Charlie would be over and they didn’t want a show.

The instructions were straight forward enough you had capped the test brought it the hallway to drop in the box held by Sophie. The camera catching everyone as they did so. Lu followed with their test followed by Alice, and you wandered back to your seat in the living room.

“Is there a reason you made us pee on sticks?” You inquired grabbing one of the decorative pillows Alice had bought. It was mostly Alice’s touch that brought the living room together with her minor in interior design.

“I thought it would be fun.” Sophie simply shrugged joining Lu on their couch, leaving Alice back in her seat.

The movie still paused as per Sophie’s request, so no one forgot about the tests waiting to be revealed. You had no clue why it mattered to not forget about them, as you had said before. Everyone had a pact to keep up on contraceptive, hell there’s a box near the hallway filled with condoms. Everyone just added a few to the box if it was lower than twenty squares.

“Okay.” Lu trailed off, clicking their fingers on the phone in their hands. Their attention is easily taken away from the game Sophie wanted.

Sophie was always jumping on trends on Tiktok, a few even before they became real trends, so this wasn’t anything new. Sophie even had a few viral videos on the app that sometimes took all her attention for a few hours. That being said, you weren’t overly scared about the outcome.

“Ooh, Charamader is calling.” Lu snorted leaning overseeing the cheesy photo of Charlie kissing your cheek. His contact photo in your phone had been taken by Luk as well.

“One moment.” You told Sophie with her wide eyes pointedly staring at the box on the coffee table littered with magazines, “It will be a second!”

Sophie waved you off to the kitchen where you clicked on the green button.

“Hey!” Charlie beamed from the kitchen on the apartment he shared with Owen during filming. His wide eyes crinkled by the grin he wore, “What’s new? How was that exam?”

“I think I did a lot better than I had expected.” You admitted to the Canadian guy brushing the hair away from his face. He had to recut to Luke’s style when filming for the new season happened.

“I told you!” Charlie cheered, flipping his gaze from his phone to the pan he was carefully inspecting, “How lucky am I? My girl is going to graduate with a fancy degree! I’ll be front row when it happens.” 

“Just as I will be right there when you win an Oscar.” You teased your boyfriend as Sophie loudly counted down from the living room. Charlie’s attention was drawn to the trio of your best friends waiting.

“Did I pull you away from something?” Charlie’s brown brows furrowed as he mentally went over the plans you had informed him of.

There wasn’t a single plan he remembered so he relaxed marginally when the fear of missing something faded.

“Sophie’s made us do this video for TikTok. We’re halfway through-“

“Hey Charlie, she’ll call you back. We had pregnancy tests to check!” Sophie interrupted ending the video call with your boyfriend.

Both Charlie and you frantically talking as Sophie ended the call with that bomb and not clarifying further on it. To take it further, the blue-haired beauty pocketed your phone as well to avoid her video being interrupted.

You had no doubt the Canadian actor was freaking the fuck out that you were taking a pregnancy test. If he was spamming your phone, Sophie wasn’t reacting to the vibrating other than to aggressively point over to the couch.

“Just text him,” Sophie grumbled throwing your phone back at you when the line formed between her eyebrows. The frustration of Charlie overcoming her excitement for the video.

“PREGNANCY TEST?” Charlie screamed as soon as you accepted his phone call, “Am I missing something?”

“Sophie wanted to do a video of Alice, Lu, her and I took one. We’re good.” You soothed the ruffled feathers of the male who released a gasp.

“Sophie, you gave me a heart attack. Holy shit, I just about knocked Owen unconscious.” The man in question was speaking, but you couldn’t hear the words he spoke, “What! I thought my girl needed me!”

“I’m Charlie but I won’t if I don’t end the call-“

“We can mute the call.” Charlie interrupted dancing on the balls of his feet with anticipation in his blood even if you had denied being pregnant, “This sounds like-”

“Nice try Gillespie. Y/N will call tomorrow, it’s roomie night.” Lu spoke before ending the call for you just like Sophie had, “AS much as I like the dude, this is getting interesting.”

You simply shared a look with Alice as Sophie expertly stationed the camera to get everyone, Alice was the one to shake the box again. Each of you was given a test to hold with snickers falling from lips. Lu’s hand ran through the recently chopped hair while Alice repositioned her body on the floor.

“Okay…one, two, three.” Sophie calmly spoke before flipping her test around. Everyone followed suit.

“Negative.” You informed the group. Lu was quick to announce the negative in her hand.

Sophie simply shook her head before everyone turned to Alice, “Alice?”

 The brunette pixie-haired girl stared at the test before she lunged for the box, “What’s a positive?”

“Why-“

“The test is positive!” Alice snapped shakily reading the instructions as she gripped the test in her hand. Her lips mouthed the words she read with a speed that greatly impressed you.

Everyone was huddled around her after Sophie had ended the video in pure shock, reading the test that very much said positive. Your lips parted in stunned silence sitting back on your heels just as Sophie did.

“Who’s test is it?!” Sophie exclaimed roughly running her hand over her face, “Holy shit.”

“Not mine.” Lu informed the group with a nervous smile on their face, “The last person I was with was Susan from Statistics.”

That left three people.

“Eliminate the options.” You breathed looking at Alice, “Wasn’t the last guy you were with a few weeks ago? Jas or something from-“

“Jasper from my Mythology course, but that was like four months ago! I’ve been swamped with classes and work.” Alice spoke with a small smile, “He was terrific. I should see if he’d like to grab a- “

“Not the time Alice!” Sophie screeched frantically looking around the room, “Oh my god, what about you?”

Sophie’s eyes came down on you with a pleading look in her eyes at this very sudden twist on her once innocent game. Your mind went over the last few months, but you were blanking at every opportunity.

“I can’t. Shit. I need to call Charlie.” You grumbled tapping the screen of the phone, “Alice, can you go grab a box of tests from the store? We used all of them.”

“-grab as many as possible!” Sophie cried, shaking in her slippers and cosy clothing. This was not how she had expected the night to go.

“I thought it was roomie night.” Charlie spoke as soon as the phone connected, “Something wrong?”

“When was the last night we had sex?” You inquired, leaving the man in Canada to choke on his beer.

In Vancouver sharing a beer with Owen with a film that had interested the pair playing Charlie hadn’t expected your call. Owen barely blinked at the interruption when the movie was fascinating, but he did turn when he heard Charlie choke.

“W-what?” Charlie coughed wiping his chin with the back of his hand, “Is this some weird part of a card game-“

“Charlie, when was the last time we had-“

“Jesus, I stayed the night before we left for the airport two months ago? We had a quickie in the bathroom at the airport as well.” Charlie scrunched his face recalling the lack of time he had been physical with you. His face turning red with Owen’s full attention on the flustered Canadian actor.

“Everything good?” Owen asked his best friend but only received a wave off.

“You sound scared. Is everything okay?” Charlie now demanded while your lips parted to ask if it was possible the condoms you used broke. The frantic breathing of Alice interrupted you, however.

Your e/c eyes found the pixie-haired girl leaned over, catching her breath with the box in her hands. Without thinking, your phone fell from your fingers as you lunged to the box with three tests. Alice had thought ahead and bought a box each for you and Sophie.

“Sophie’s waiting in the living room. Lu’s got her.” Alice softly told you both deaf to the two males on the phone, “I’ll be right here.”

“Thank you, Alice.” You choked marching into the bathroom, “If it’s me…I-“

 “If you’re the one pregnant, then this baby will be blessed if you decide to continue the pregnancy. If you don’t, I’m right here for you. If you’re not pregnant, we can do a couple shots.” Alice squeezed your hands unintentionally, sending Charlie into a frantic moment once more.

Your feet stopped suddenly remembering you hadn’t hung up the phone with Charlie, “Fuck.”

Alice, already reading the situation, tossed your phone to you with a smile as she sat on your bed. With a thankful one sent back, you entered the bathroom with your thumb, clicking the FaceTime button.

“This is the second time!” Charlie exclaimed scanning the background for one of your roommates, “I thought you weren’t pregnant!”

“So did I! Until one of four tests turned out positive, and now I have three more tests I need to pee on!” You exclaimed, “I jinxed us! I literally said how all of us are so good keeping up with preventative measures!”

“Apparently not as well.” Owen spoke, shoving his head over Charlie’s shoulder to see you with his kind smile, “Can you take three slow but deep breaths for me?”

With a few words coaching your breathing, you calmed down enough to mute the call and turn the phone to the ceiling for your privacy. Once the toilet was flushed, tests capped waiting on the counter, and your hands washed, you turned back to the call.

“What’re we gonna do Char?” You sobbed with a deep ache to be in his arms just as he felt the same, “We don’t live together! How can we do this!”

As Owen had led you through the calming breathing, Charlie had dug deep to calm down eternally for you. He found clarity even in the storm of being terrified and somewhat guilty, which he knew was misplaced.

“If you’re pregnant I’ll be there for you. No matter what, I will be there for you. If we keep the baby, we will rock parenting. We have friends and our family.” Charlie soothed you with his pretty hazel eyes glittering at you, “We’ve been together since we were eighteen. We’ve talked about marriage and kids.”

“Should I le-“

“You can stay.” You softly told Owen who squeezed Charlie’s shoulder while you sat in silence with Alice quietly sitting by your side.

Alice’s hand grabbed yours in comfort and support, waiting for the minutes to end and when they did you cried.

Separated in different countries you and Charlie took in the news that there was, in fact, a child on the way. Charlie’s lips parted in glee as he easily read the excitement in your facial expressions amid the fear.

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[trico-cottage]

❀Ghost In Action -BFU Shane x Reader x Ryan (Platonic)-

Pairing: Ryan Bergara x reader (Platonic) Shane Medej x reader (Platonic)

Gn!reader

Warnings: Language, slight innuendo

Word Count: 1,491

"Back to where it all began" Ryan announced to the camera. I stifled a laugh and followed him as he did a dramatic slow walk towards the house. Shane just gave the camera a look and picked up his bag while shaking his head and walking ahead of us.

"We came here as boys, now we return as men.. and woman." Shane added, receiving a look from me as he glanced back at us.

"I'm glad to be back. How's it feel being your first time here Y/N?" Ryan asks, turning to me as I gaze up at the mansion.

"Gotta be honest, not looking very haunted from out here. In fact, it's really just beautiful." I say, turning to face the boys. Shane chuckles and nods. "Yeah, it wasn't very haunted last time we visited, on account of the fact that ghosts aren't real." He adds pointedly.

Ryan rolls his eyes at the tall man and picks up the sleeping bag he had dropped at his feet. Shane and I follow suit and the three of us walk through the doors of the mansion for a dramatic shot.

We all leave our belongings in a room and gather in the living room where the crew is setting up. I pull up a chair while Ryan rustles through his script papers.

After getting the mics and cameras set up, Ryan begins his reading for the history of the house. It was only 3pm, so we had plenty of time to get the narration done before we went hunting for the footage. "This week for the season premier on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we reinvestigate the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California, as a part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?" Ryan recites to the cameras, earning the usual shake of the head from Shane. I smile at the camera and turn back to Ryan as he continues with the history of the house.

"Avid fans of the show may remember that this is the site of our first paranormal investigation ever, and tonight, we return to once again tangle with Sarah Winchester and her cast of ghouls. This time stronger, faster, and more prepared with Y/N on our side. And tonight, we're actually gonna sleep here unlike last time." Ryan narrates as Shane and I make faces and gestors at the camera.

"You guys are lucky you brought me, because I brought snacks." I grinned, holding up a small backpack that crinkled as I let it drop the the floor.

"I'll stop by your room for concessions when Ryan's crying wakes me up then." Shane says while clapping his hands together, earning a glare from Ryan.

Upon nightfall, we head into our investigation. "You think you will talk to any ghosts this time? Maybe make some friends?" I tease Ryan as we head down a windowed corridor. "Shut it pip-squeak." He snaps back, shining his flashlight at me. "I'm literally like 2 inches shorter than you. If anyone here is short, is you, bite-sized bitch." I retort while panning my light over his figure.

"Could you two can it? You are both miniatures, no point in fighting about whose smaller." Shane says as he walks between the two of you. "Yeah? Says the walking fucking tree." I say, poking his back and sticking my tongue out at him. "Wow, real original, Shortcake." He scoffs while ruffling my hair. I reply by acting like I was going to bite him, and he laughs and keeps walking.

As we reach a peculiar set of stairs, Ryan tells a bit about them. "This is one of the stranger additions the the house, a set of stairs that leads to absolutely nowhere." Shane butts in "You know, if you walk up those there stairs, you'll find God!" He mocks in a crazy old man voice as I approach the steps. "Let's test it out and see!" I yell as I start dramatically climbing the stairs.

Once I was up as far as I could go, Ryan comments "Oh go on, you can go further than that!" I roll my eyes and turn around, curling up on the top set, squished against the ceiling. "Happy?!" I yell. "Sure am." Ryan says, laughing at my contorted body.

We continue touring the house, stopping to yell at ghosts and listen to Ryan talk about various facts. We eventually reach another door. "More rooms? I swear this house goes on foreverrrr." I whine. "Nope, this is a door you wouldn't want to go through." Ryan comments while tugging it open.

On the other side is a courtyard and a sheer drop. "That wasn't very well planned." Shane quips. I chuckle at him and Ryan just looks disappointed. I ignore them and carefully point my camera down to get a scary shot of the drop.

As I lean forward a bit, one of the boys nudges my back and I struggle to grab the doorframe. I turn and look at them and glare. "Not funny assholes." I growl as they look at me confused. "What are you talking about?" Ryan asks. "I'm talking about whichever one of you just fucking tried to push me." I hiss back. They give each other a look and I shake my head and turn back to the courtyard.

I crouch down to avoid them pushing me out and point my camera back down to finish the shot. As I'm panning my camera up, I get pushed again. This time I wasn't fast enough to grab the frame and I toppled out to the ground below. The boys shout as they and the crew rush out as fast as they can.

When they reach me in the courtyard, one of the crew members calls an ambulance. "Not.. funny." I grumble as I try pushing myself up. With a pained groan, I let myself fall back to the concrete.

Once the ambulance arrives, both the boys frantically ask them questions. The paramedics push them back, letting them know only family is allowed in the vehicle, and they will have to drive to the hospital. Shane convinces them to let him ride with me under the excuse of him "being my boyfriend". Ryan hops into the car and follows the ambulance to the hospital.

After a couple hours, a nurse entered the waiting room and informed the boys that they could come get me to be discharged. They both jumped up and followed her to my room and were greeted by the doctor.

"They have a concussion, fractured hip, a some scrapes and bruising. We got them all patched up. They'll be perfectly fine with some rest, just keep an eye on them." He says and looks up from his clipboard, directing his attention to Shane. "Try to hold off for a few weeks. Maybe more depending on how long the hip takes to heal." He comments, giving Shane a 'dad look' through his glasses.

Shane almost jumps to defend himself, before remembering telling the paramedics that he was my boyfriend. Instead, he just forces down a blush and nods at the doctor. The doctor just chuckles at him and looks back to his clipboard. "It looks like they are safe to leave. Remember to make sure they don't try to walk on their own and keep an eye on them." He says with a smile.

After getting back to my apartment, the boys helped to settle me in my bed. "So we talked to the producers on the way back, and they said we can schedule some time to go back if we need to, but I think we will have enough footage." Ryan explains while helping to grab some pajamas for me to change into. "And I sorted out your medical leave for you so you don't have to worry. I told them it was my fault."

"Wow, thanks for fessing up and telling them the truth." I said sarcastically as I rolled my eyes. Shane is quick to defend Ryan. "It wasn't his fault. Neither of us even touched you. You must have just fallen yourself." I scoff at him with a glare. "Then I'm gonna need to see that footage because you two are a bunch of lying assholes."

Ryan's eyes widen as he realizes. "OH MY GOD WE CAUGHT A FUCKING GHOST ON CAMERA." He yells causing me to cringe and cover my ears from my headache. "That or they are just clumsy as hell." Shane comments, earning another glare from me.

"Can I just get some sleep and have you assholes leave me be?" I half-joke as I reach for some water. "Nah, we've gotta keep an eye on you. Doctor's orders." Shane says cheekily. I throw my pillow at them and they laugh, bidding me goodnight.

Let's just hope they are liars, and I didn't just get pushed out of a door by a ghost.

[lunnanunna]

Baking Mess

ATEEZ Extra Member AU

Summary: Baking fluff ft. Yunho and Yeosang.

Warnings: none

Taglist: @hyunmijung​ @galacticstxrdust​ @giant-puppy-yunho​ @kimonmars​ @soobinssmile​ @nlost21​ @mythicalamphitrite​

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

Requests are open! Please let me know what you think.

“Seonghwa-hyung’s gonna be so mad,” Yunho giggled as he looked at Yoori.

Said girl, turned to him with wide eyes. “What? Why?” She then scrunched up her nose and let out what the boys called a kitten sneeze (Yoori hated sneezing out loud.) Yunho giggled more, offering her a goofy smile when she looked at him.

“Do you really need me to point out the cloud of flour that just made you sneeze?” he asked, pointing at the now settling powder. Yoori looked around and saw that he was right. Seonghwa was going to be mad.

The flour now settled over an array of trays, pans, bowls, utensils, and ingredients. Yoori had wanted to try to bake Studio Ghibli macaroons, since they were going to have a marathon of the movies. They had voted on three; Kiki’s Delivery Service, My Neighbor Totoro, and Yoori’s favorite, Ponyo.

Looking at the mess one would think that they failed. (Nope.) Yoori may be a chaotic baker, but she was a superb one. The process was never important with her, it was the finishing product, which right now were perfect little Totoros, Chibi-Totoros, and Soot Sprites.

“He’s not home yet, so quickly, start cleaning. I’ll wrap these up and then help,” Yoori told the older.

Yunho made a face, but when Yoori pouted. He smiled, shaking his head and began to pick up any trash. Yoori smiled then made quick work to cover the two platters of macaroons. She handled each with care, tongue poked out in concentration.

She looked up, startled as the sound of a camera shutter. Yeosang stood by the kitchen entrance, looking at his phone and smiling.

“New wallpaper,” he chuckled then walked out into the living room.

“Yah! Kang Yeosang!” Yoori shouted. She didn’t care that he took a picture, but if she was going to be his wallpaper, she wanted to make sure she didn’t look stupid. (Though she wasn’t one to talk seeing as she had a Wooyoung meme face for her wallpaper.)

“Yah! Lee Yoori!” he shouted back, mocking her tone. “Don’t make me tell Hyung about the mess you made,” he said, chuckling.

“You evil man!” Yoori shouted back then grumbled.

Yunho placed a finger on her nose, effectively quieting her, eyes following his finger. “Shush. Ignore him.”

Yoori felt something cold where Yunho had touched her. She looked at the tip of her nose, eyes crossing, and saw white frosting. Looking up at the giant quickly, she furrowed her brows together.

“Ya-ah!” she whined, throwing her head back, looking up at Yunho. He smirked down at her, then lifted his right hand. Yoori’s eyes widened when she saw the frosting on it. She made to move, but he grabbed her with his left arm. He held her close and smeared the frosting on her cheek.

Yoori squealed in laughter, fighting her way out of his hold. She frantically waved at Yeosang who popped his head in to see what was going on. “Yeo, please!” she giggled as Yunho reached for more frosting in one of the bowls and then painted more of her face.

Yeosang looked at her with a blank face, arms folded over his chest. “Am I expected to do something?”

Yoori’s jaw dropped, and Yunho took that opportunity to place more frosting on her. She sputtered at the onslaught, tugging her way out of his hold.

“I thought you’d be my white knight now,” Yoori pouted, then without warning went limp in Yunho’s arms. The dancer grunted at the sudden shift in weight. He was holding her up so she wouldn’t drop to the ground.

“Yah, Yoori! Don’t play dead now,” Yunho groaned, trying to stand her up, but she smiled as she kept limp, legs giving out.

“Stop with the frosting,” she offered, head lolling back to look at Yunho.

“Fine,” he conceded. Yunho reached over and grabbed a napkin, holding it in front of her as if to prove that he’d use it.

Yoori nodded then righted herself. She reached for a bit of frosting and quickly spun around to smear it on his face. Yunho yelped, caught off guard. Yoori giggled, then started to place things in the sink to wash.

Walking by Yeosang, Yoori glared, sticking her tongue out. “No macaroons for you,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Yeosang’s eyes doubled in size at the realization. “No, wait. Yoo, come on. I was only joking.” Yoori smirked, back to the older. None of the boys could resist her baking. She often used it to get her way.

“Yoo?” Yunho asked, almost scared. 

“I got you back. Not as good, but good enough. So you’re fine,” Yoori turned to him and winked. She giggled as he let out a sigh in relief then stuck his tongue out at Yeosang.

“Yoori? Come on, I’m your boyfriend,” Yeosang walked over to her, pouting.

That pout wasn’t going to work on her. “Why didn’t you use the boyfriend card, when I needed you, huh?” Yoori asked, hands on her hips, sending him a playful glare. Yunho snickered, wiping down the table and counters.

“Uh, I-” Yeosang started off, but stopped.

Yoori squeaked when he leaned in and placed a quick peck on her lips. “Forgiven?” he asked, smiling sheepishly.

“Oh come on!” Yunho groaned, covering his eyes with the rag he was holding.

“I-” Yoori began, but trailed off. She gave a tiny nod.

“Good,” Yeosang smiled, then gently pushed her out of the way. She watched as he silently began to wash the dishes. “You dry?” he asked her.

Yoori nodded, finally shaking off her stupor. That was their first kiss. Granted it was a quick, barely there peck, but it was the first time their lips met like that. She tried to fight off the stupid grin that made it’s way onto her face. One peak at Yeosang and Yoori could see him fighting off his own smile.

“Okay, well I’m done here,” Yunho said, rolling his eyes. He placed the dirty rag with the other ones in the corner that were to be washed. As Yunho walked out, he made eye contact with Yoori, holding his fingers to his thumb on both hands then bringing them together. He made a kissy face at her, and Yoori wasted no time in flipping him off.

Yunho cackled as he walked down the hall. “Hyung’s home!” he then yelled out a few seconds later.

Yoori looked at the still somewhat messy kitchen then yelled, “Oppa, I can explain!” Yeosang chuckled next to her, then dashed out of the kitchen just as Seonghwa walked in.

“Oh, Beanie.” 

Yoori gave a sheepish smile, shrugging. “They taste and look good though.”

“I’m sure they do.” Seonghwa smiled softly, shaking his head.

Yoori’s Masterlist

[tired-college-student-writing]

#WaynesAngel

The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy more of this

Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand.

Part 1

Part 4

Part 5 (HERE)

This was a impusle write as I was trapped in a car for over 50 hours in three days. Please do not ask for another chapter. 

_________________________________________

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Why is it weird that I’ve never met a Bat before? It’s not like Damian or the Waynes have ever seen Ladybug or Chat Noir or the Miraculous Team in Paris, and they’ve been in Paris a lot more than I’ve been in Gotham #confusion #AMERICAEXPLAIN

Jason Todd Lives @BestTodd

@FashionInGotham Whomst the Fuck is Ladybug and Chat Noir?? Also, Miraculous Team Sounds like some magical girl anime Cass watches

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd 🖕🏼

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve They’re the Paris superheroes, they showed up almost five years ago to fight the little bitch of a villain, Hawkmoth and his stupid peacock assistant, Mayra.

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve @ FashionInGotham WHAT?! Paris has heroes??

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BestTodd @CainYouBelieve @ FashionInGotham @AFlyingGrayson Oh yeah, I forgot that the mayor was trying to keep it a secret from the rest of the world #MyB But yeah Ladybug and Chat Noir have been there the longest but there’s also Abeille, Viperion, Ryuko, Pegasus, King Monkey, Bunnyx, and Badulf

Chloe raised an eyebrow at her friend as she saw the tweet thread that was quickly going viral, “You realize my dad is going to flip about this.”

“He deserves it,” Adrian pipped up from where he was painstakingly painting Kagami’s nails a deep burgundy.

The other teen heroes hummed in agreement as Chloe huffed.

“Well Yeah, but I was hoping to do it with a little extra flair than a twitter thread.”

Alix snorted as she finished up Kim’s banana yellow toes, drawing a crude smiley face on his big toe with bright blue, “She’s dating the youngest kid of the most influential family in the world and has like 100 million followers. Plus she called Hawkmoth a little bitch and it already has 90k likes. I call that flair.”

It was a surprise when Nathanial had had his freak out during his second battle,  against a Crimson Peacock event no less, and had called her Lady Marinette in front of the other temporary heroes, but had lead to many nights like the one they were having now. Onesies of each other’s heroes’ identities donned as they lounged around Chloe’s room, simply enjoying each other’s company after a long patrol. Chloe and Adrian had demanded they have a spa night, which is why everyone was either giving or receiving mani-pedis while they waited for their face masks to finish. It was nice, to have so much support outside of the masks, especially as they entered their final year in Lychee.  

Marinette rolled her eyes, “It’s only 98 million, Alix, and plus I figured four months after I made this account was long enough to make the slip up seem genuine. We need to catch Hawkmoth soon, or else this entire mess will get a lot more complex.”

They all frowned as they realized the truth behind her words. They were all facing hard decisions if they couldn’t pin the man down, not like they hadn’t already sacrificed so much to continue the battle. Max had already turned down graduating early and a full ride to MIT, citing his desire to graduate with his friends before moving across the globe. Luka had been invited to tour with Jagged, only to politely decline, telling the pouting rockstar that he wanted to do some soul finding first. Kim had given up a summer training camp with the French Olympic team. Alix had given up going on an expedition with her dad and brother, missing out on the chance to explore the dunes of Egypt. Marinette had turned down three internships at this point, one from Audrey Bourgeois, One from Raven Baxter, and lastly and most devastatingly, one from Edna Mode.

They needed to end this, before the overwhelming feeling of their futures slipping right between their fingers got them akumatized.

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

Seeing the demon spawn panic when he realized @FasionInGotham isn’t any safer from maniacs in Paris then she is in Gotham is strangely endearing and vaguely terrifying #whyismyfamilylikethis

Duke of Hazard @DoneWithTheRich

@TJDrake Like you and Barb aren’t frantically searching for anything you can find on the Miraculous Team and these weird-ass butterfly dude.

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich Bugout.com, It’s in French but informative.

Tim Drake Offical @TJDrake

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich @CainYouBelieve How did you find this before Barbs and me????

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@TJDrake @DoneWithTheRich @CainYouBelieve @TJDrake Alfred.

The news swept up the story in an instant and suddenly the whole world was demanding to know what the Parisian Mayor had been thinking and why the Justice League hadn’t been involved.

It wasn’t long until the entire Miraculous Team was seated in front of the Louvre. Countless new agencies from around the world were present, eager to hear the story of the sickeningly young-looking heroes, but the one video that received the most views was the shaky camera videos that were uploaded to Marinette’s Twitter, as they shortened the two-hour-long Press conference into manageable clips that highlighted the most important points.

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

Full Lineup, Damn. Haven’t seen that since the last time we had a Scarlet Moth incident. For those who need context, this is like seeing the entire founding Justice League together to us Parisians.

The clip attached showed A panning shot as they introduced all of the heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir sat in the center of the long table flanked by Vipirion, plucking his lyre absentmindedly, Abeille, glaring down her nose at the reporters, a beaming King Monkey waving excitedly, and an eerie serious Bunnyx sitting as still as a statue to their right, on their left was fierce-looking Ryuko looking ready to slice anyone who got too close, the calculating Pegasus, mumbling under his breath, and lastly the timid Badulf, struggling to keep his red bangs out of his eyes.

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

LMAO RYUKO #DRAGONQUEENSLAY

Don’t question Paris’ Heroes like that, they’re feisty.

The clip showed a British reporter demanding to know why the heroes hadn’t contacted the Justice League previously to gain their assistance in taking down the dangerous threat that was Hawkmoth.

You could Ladybug’s eye twitch at the condescending question, but before she could answer Ryuko leaned forward to the mic situated in front of her with a glint in her eyes.

“I apologize for my English,” She started, “I am not as versed in the language as some of my teammates. To answer your question on why we haven’t had the League’s help is because Green Lantern is a fuck.”

Silence filled the gathering before Chat, King Money and Bunnyx burst into giggles, the rest of the heroes struggling to keep a straight face. The media was staring at them dumbfounded until Ladybug finally leaned forward.

“I’m sorry for the outburst,” She started, lips still trying to twitch upwards, “But as Ryuko said we did ask for help. About five months into our heroship Chat and I received an answer from the League after trying for three months to contact them. The ‘help’ came in the form of Green Lantern coming and assessing the situation. Unfortunately for us, Hawkmoth is smart and when the neon green monstrosity of a hero flew in he laid low instead of attacking when a Leaguer was present. Without an attack and no physical damage present as one of my powers allows me to restore all damage done to Paris or its citizens, He decided we were powered children that were trying to get in the spotlight.”

“Getting lectured on wasting the League’s time and resources before he flew off really put a damper on us asking again,” Chat added in, toxic green eyes narrowed and laser-focused on the reporter, “So we handled it ourselves, gaining our own allies as we needed them. But please continue telling us how the League could have helped sooner if only we had asked for help.”

Clip after clip, ten of them total were uploaded into the thread. Explaining the worst battle the heroes had ever faced, the strength of their enemy, what the villain and his assistance could and would do, the worst attacks, the easiest wins, the ways that Ladybug and Chat chose their allies, but the last two clips seemed to get the largest reaction out of the audience, both at the press conference and the internet.

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Not gonna lie, seeing my tormentors get put on blast by all of the Heroes is very vindictive #IsthatMean? #MaybeSo

“You’ve seemed to have shifted your support away from one local blog, to another over any official news agency,” One of the nicer reporters at the events said, “Is there a particular reason? And why the sudden shift two years ago?”

Chat’s face was strangely pinched, “Oh you mean why we switched from giving exclusives to the LadyBlog to BugOut? It’s quite simple. We go to the news sources we trust to take the information we are willing to give without worrying about ratings as their top priority. We tried going to Nadja Chamack at first, the local news anchor that we all hold a great deal of respect for, but the producers threatened her to get a ‘highly-rated’ interview. It led to her asking questions Ladybug and I thought were counterproductive to the reason we were invited to the interview and was trying to turn us into celebrities instead of allowing us to do the jobs we needed to. It was a similar reason we stopped going to Alya Cesaire, the Ladyblog editor.”

Ladybug took over here, “Miss Cesaire has the ability to be a very good journalist, but as her blog grew in popularity, so did her need for highly viewed content, this caused her to not only start posting more rumors and speculation than anything we’ve ever said but also to stop fact-checking with us things she heard. Even after talking to her about removing the content that was blatantly untrue and was told no due to the high ratings it had received we realized that we simply couldn’t work with her anymore.”

Abeille piped up in a low regal voice that was dripping with venom, “It really didn’t help that when we started interviewing with Aurora Beaureal from BugOut, shortly after my introduction, Miss Cesaire began a smear campaign against her, claiming she was faking her sources and videos publicly on her blog. Luckily we were able to shut that down quickly enough but it didn’t stop Miss. Cesaire from running into battle to distract us, and frankly, harass us for answers even after we told her no. It’s lead to more than one incident where she, other civilians, and even ourselves have been hurt.”

“Either way,” Chat took over again, “We want to support local news sources but only when they are willing to listen to our boundaries and work with us instead of trying to push issues.”

“Does that mean that info we found on the Ladyblog is not to be believed?” Another reporter called out.

“I would take anything after the first post about Lila Rossi with a grain of salt,” Ladybug said, only for King Monkey to snort and lean towards the mic.

“Yeah and if Lila Rossi is mentioned at all in the post just assume everything in that post is fake. Miss. Rossi is a known liar and problem for us.”

“Can you give us an example?”

Ladybug sighed before explaining, “The first time I heard of Miss. Rossi was an interview on the Ladyblog of her claiming to be my best friend. Now I very much value the secrecy I and my team have created for ourselves because it protects our friends and families, but even a lie about knowing me in such a public setting is dangerous because Hawkmoth and Mayra have proven that they aren’t above underhanded tactics to try and get the upper hand in our fights. I went looking for the girl to explain why she can’t say such things for her own safety, only to find her telling a boy that she possessed the Fox Miraculous in a public park. I will admit I called her out in a way that wasn’t very nice but either claim was enough to put her in danger, but both were painting a target on her back and it scared me that someone would do something to impress a boy. After that, she was akumatized for the first time and since then it has gotten even worse despite me apologizing the second I cured the Akuma. Some of her lies are enough to count as Slander if any of the celebrities she lied about knowing saw the posts, but no amount of persuasion seems to get her to stop.”  

Wayne’s Angel @FasioninGotham

Watching their powers without the looming threat of an Akuma/Amok is a blessing. They look so cool! #Love #Miraculous

The clip started with the heroes standing in front of the table, grouped differently than before. Off to one side King Monkey, Viperion and Bunnyx stood, Viperion holding a microphone.

“While we would love to an demonstrate our powers as requested,” He explained, “Our powers are not really good for demonstrations. Mine is known as Second Chance.”

He raised his hand and pulled the slider across his bracelet as he named it, a flash of pale teal light admitting from it, “When activated like I just did, it allows me to return to the point of activation at any time before I detransform in fifteen minutes as many times as I wish with only myself remembering the previous changes I have made.”

Without even acknowledging the startled whispers from the crowd, he handed the microphone to King Monkey, who offered a cheeky smile.

“So my power is called Uproar. It allows me to create a toy-like object that when it comes into contact with someone causes all of their abilities to malfunction.”

He goes to pull his staff from where it was strapped to his back only for Vipirion to stop him. A silent exchange passed between the pair before the taller hero nodded and handed the microphone off to Bunnyx.

“Viperion and I have a similar reason for our powers being hard to show off, only his is a little more versatile,” She started in a voice devoid of any emotion, swinging her pocket watch slightly, “I have the power Burrow. It allows me, and anyone I chose to take with me, access to a pocket dimension where I can travel to any point in time or space that I chose, past, present, or future. While you might see me fight during any battle I can make it to, my power is a last-ditch effort, as I would have to travel back in time to change the past if I do this assume the future is unsavable.”

The hush that falls over the crowd was quickly broken by Ryuko tapping her group’s microphone to draw attention to the opposite side of the stage where she stood with Abeille, Badulf, Pegasus, Chat, and Ladybug.

“I believe it’s best to not dwell on any one of our powers,” She told them, “Our powers are scary and knowing that they can be taken from us at any time and used for nefarious purposes keep all of us up at night, but we ask you to trust us to use them only for good.”

She waited a moment for the crowd o calm down before giving her own explanation, “My ability is known as the Three Dragons, the Water Dragon, the Wind Dragon, and the Lightning Dragon.”

She handed off the microphone to Pegasus, before calling forth the Wind Dragon and bursting into a group of clouds that swiftly blew around the stage before traveling over to the Louvre Pyramid and watching as the heroine reformed at the top, offering a small wave before the call for Water Dragon could be heard and a large dome of water formed over the entire courtyard.

Before she could call for her last form the snake hero grabbed the microphone, “Lightning Dragon is a bad idea, Ryuko.”

The heroine didn’t even question him, instead, vaulting off of the pyramid, the crowed gasped only for her to effortlessly land next to Bunnyx in a crouch, brushing herself off as she rose and turned her gaze to the horse miraculous user, who quickly explained his power before calling forth Voyage.

His cry caused blue light to circle his arm and he sent it towards the top of the still-present water dome, with a controlled flick of his arm.

The heroes didn’t even blink as the crowd filled with cries as the Eiffel Tower fell through the portal, Ladybug’s yoyo whipping out to direct it’s decent, the entire courtyard shaking as the 10k ton structure landed.  

“I’m up next!” Chat called out with a large grin, while the reporters didn’t seem to know if they should pay attention to the moved monument or the hero. His explanation was short since they were many videos of him using it but that didn’t stop the international reporters from screaming as Cataclysm swirled around his hand eating away at the Eiffel Tower, leaving a pile of rust in the crater

“Is-Is this much property damage necessary?”

Abeille shrugged, “No, but once we get to Ladybug, it’ll make more sense. Either way my turn.”

An unpleasant chill went up the world’s spine as she demonstrated how she could freeze all voluntary movement of her target on Chat Noir, who was still as a statue the second her stinger touched him.

Ladybug quickly took the mic and began explaining her powers. The world watched in amazement at her pulling a red and black spotted camera from thin air before she launched it into the air with a cheer of “Miraculous Ladybug!”

Suddenly a glowing swarm of ladybugs formed and tore through the air, covering Chat Noir, releasing from Venom, before healing the crater and rust from nearby, dissolving the water dome in the same instance.

If there hadn’t been so many people present the world wouldn’t have believed that so much damage was just repaired in the span of ten seconds, but staring at the unimpressed Parisians around them the world finally seemed to grasp the reality of the situation.

These children were past what one would even expect from metas, from aliens and superhumans like they had seen around the world already. These were heroes that were harnessing the very forces that made up the universe and fighting them at the same time. Bunnyx wasn’t exaggerating when she mentioned that sometimes there would be apocalyptic endings to their fights.

Instead of letting the knowledge stew Badulf step forwarded, twisting the microphone as he explained his power of illusions for the reporters.

With a short tune on his flute suddenly the group of heroes was gone, All that remained was a Sign thanking them all for coming.  Even after the illusion faded the heroes were nowhere to be found, having used the final demonstration as the perfect cover to sneak away so that no one could follow them.  

Wayne’s Angel @FasionInGotham

I must say I was not expecting such an outpour of love for all of Our heroes but damn am I pleased by it. Ladybug is our big name but the others are honestly way underloved in Paris, especially Chat who’s been there since the beginning. #MiraculousTeam

Quick Poll Who’s your favorite, everyone? Mine’s Chat Noir

Ryuko (19%)

Abeille (12%)

Ladybug (14%)

Bunnyx (8%)

Viperion (12%)

Chat Noir (15%)

Pegasus (5%)

King Monkey (5%)

Badulf (10%)

Call me Cass @CainYouBelieve

@FashionInGotham I like Badulf, he’s the newest correct?

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @CainYouBelieve Yup! He’s only been around for four months, but he’s a pretty great fox!

Tim Drake Official @TJDrake

Fun Fact: I just heard Alfred swear for the first time while watching the press conference and it was to call Hawkmoth and Mayra an arsehole FLOB and his fucking Slag.

Never been more terrified,

Based on the faces around me neither has any of the other Waynes #AlfredisTerrifying

Wayne’s Angel @FashionInGotham

Why am I the go to person for everything Mircualous Team? BugOut.com is a great source if you want more info.

Still Queen Bee @BuzzBuzz

@FashionInGotham Probably cause you're most famous Parsian? Or cause you were a miraculous user once?

Jason Todd Lives@BestTodd

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz IM SORRY?? DID YOU JUST SAY MARIGOLD HAD ONE OF THOSE MAGIC FUCKING GEMS???

Wayne's Angel @FasionInGotham

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz @BestTodd That didn't come up in the conference did it? A few of the old users of miraculous got outed as heros so LB doesn't call on them anymore, but keeps tabs on them since HM and Mayra will try and emotionally malipulate them into getting akumatized. A few of us bonded over it.

Still Queen Bee @BuzzBuzz

@FashionInGotham @BuzzBuzz @BestTodd @FashionInGotham Its common knowledge in Paris, Mari, me and our other friend @NotaModel all had miraculous at one point, but HawkBitch found out so we can't ever use a miraculous again sadly. I had the Bee, Mari had the Mouse and Ari had the Snake

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

Why is Damian staring at a wall and not responding? What broke him? #Help???

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

@AFlyingGrayson Nevermind #HecouldnthaveanormalGF? #HolyShitMari

Wayne's Angel @FasionInGotham

So I can no longer say I've never seen a Bat before, just saw Signal and Red Robin, I think???

Gonna be real tho, I was expecting to see them in Gotham, NOT PARIS #wtf #Whyaretheyhere????

Marinette had barely sent the tweet before her phone was ringing.

"Are you being serious?" Adrian asked, in lieu of a greeting, "At least two of the Batfam is here?"

"Yeah," She whispered a bit numbly, eyes still focused on the roof she had watched them disappear from mere moments ago. It was far enough away that if she had been a normal human she wouldn't have heard them, but she wasn't a normal human, "Hey Adrian, Don't tell the team what I'm about to say, okay?"

"Are you okay, bugaboo?"  

"Questionable," She didn't even bother rebuking the nickname, "I think I might be dating a Bat."

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[lopithecusfanfiction]

The Family We Made

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rating: General Word Count: 2580 Alternate: AO3 Summary: Eddie asks Buck to become Christopher’s guardian if he were to die Warnings: N/A Author's Note: Eddie is a tad bit dense at first when it comes to how Buck reacted when he got buried. This takes place almost immediately after 3x15: Eddie Begins. Please enjoy!

Eddie watches it on the news later once he’s released from the hospital. He watches as he descends the hole, watches as the team scrambles to figure out how to get him out after he’s cut the line, watches as the kid is brought to the surface by Chimney, and watches as the crane comes tumbling down in shaky camera movements because of the news station people being startled. Then he watches as Buck absolutely loses his mind and stumbles to where the hole once was and starts digging with his hands, panic strewn on his face. Eddie watches, fascinated, as Bobby pulls Buck back and, God, watches as Buck sobs in Bobby’s lap.

Eddie plays that one scene over and over again on his phone, not being able to look away. No one told him that Buck had reacted that way and Eddie isn’t exactly sure what it means. He hadn’t seen any of the others try and frantically dig him out. Instead, everyone else was keeping calm, professional. All but Buck.

“Daddy?” Eddie jumps slightly, looking up from his phone. He had it on mute but he still hadn’t heard his son enter the kitchen. “The food is burning.”

“Shit!” Eddie drops his phone onto the counter and turns quickly to the stove, opening it and waving away the smoke. He prays the smoke alarm won’t go off and grabs an oven mitt, pulling the now burnt ham out of the oven. He can hear Christopher laughing at him behind his back. With a small sigh, he deposits the pan in the sink, deciding to deal with it later, and turns to his son. “How about pizza tonight?”

“Yeah!” Christopher whoops enthusiastically.

Once the pizza arrives and the two of them are sat at the table, Eddie watches his son, listening to him tell him about what he and Buck had gotten up to while Eddie was in the hospital. They apparently had gone to the park and Buck had pushed Christopher on the swings for literal hours until Buck dramatically complained about his arms hurting. Christopher then roped Buck into agreeing to push him on the mary-go-round and then they went out for ice cream. Seeing the huge smile on his son’s face as retells his story, makes Eddie smile fondly.

Christopher really loves Buck and Eddie isn’t insecure enough to not admit that Christopher might love Buck almost as much as he loves Eddie. It makes Eddie’s heart feel warm and full but what makes the feeling grow inside him to the point in which Eddie feels like his chest is about to burst with emotions, is the fact that apparently Buck loves Christopher as well. Just the way Christopher talks about everything that Buck has done for him proves that but if there was any doubt at all — there wasn’t, of course — the video from the news station would have blown them away completely.

Buck was so distraught in that video and willing to dig for Eddie with his bare hands. Buck was willing to get him back, risking his own life, just to save Eddie and get him back to Christopher. He knew Eddie couldn’t leave behind his son, that Eddie needs to be here for Christopher and that, to Eddie, proves that Buck loves his son just as much as Eddie does.

It warms Eddie’s heart just with the thought of it, that someone else out there cares about Christopher just as much as he does. But it also makes a cold chill run down his spine because it makes him think. What if something were to happen to Eddie? What if he had died down there? What would happen then? What would happen to Christopher?

That’s why, the next day, Eddie finds himself sitting down with Buck up at the dining table. Buck is on the end, where Bobby usually sits and Eddie sits down on Buck’s right, angling his body towards the younger man. Hen and Chimney are sat on the couch, deep in concentration as they both play a videogame. Bobby is currently in the kitchen, cooking breakfast for everyone, humming some tune that he probably heard on the radio that morning.

Buck is smiling and it makes Eddie’s chest seize up with an emotion he doesn’t know. It makes him smile back, laugh at something Buck casually blurts out, and look away briefly before making eye contact with his best friend again. The same best friend that freaked out when Eddie had been trapped. Eddie shifts in his seat, taking a deep breath, and Buck looks at him with curiosity shining in his eyes.

“Listen, Buck, I’ve been thinking ever since the well incident.” Buck’s smile immediately disappears and his eyes turn down to the table. He cups his hands together where they rest and Eddie is so close to him, he can feel the moment Buck starts bouncing his leg. “It’s nothing bad,” Eddie reassures but it doesn’t seem to calm the man in front of him. “I was just thinking about Christopher and what would have happened to him if I had…” Eddie swallows thickly. “If I had died.”

Buck’s eyes meet his again and there’s a sadness in them that Eddie wants to get rid of. He doesn’t say anything which is surprising to Eddie. Usually, Buck always has something to say. “Usually, in these cases, without his mother now, he would probably go to my parents back in El Paso.” Eddie licks his lips, wills himself to continue. “I don’t think that is a good fit for him.” Buck’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion now, all attention given to what Eddie is saying. “That’s why I’ve given it some thought and, if you’re willing, I would like to name you as the person who would get custody and guardianship over him.”

Eddie can practically hear the stillness in the room. Bobby is staring at them, food forgotten, and the videogame in the background is paused as Hen and Chimney shift to look at them. Buck’s face has gone slack, mouth open in shock, and a red tint starting to form on his cheeks from all the attention. Eddie almost laughs at Buck’s embarrassment because Buck usually craves attention like no other, and he might have done just that if he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable himself with all the eyes on them.

Eddie clears his throat because it’s obvious Buck isn’t going to say anything. “I know that it would be a big responsibility and I’ll understand if you say no but the more I think about it, Buck, you’re the perfect person for the job. Christopher loves you and you love him. You’re great with him, you and I have similar values so I know,” he licks his lips again, knowing he’s word vomiting now due to how uncomfortable he’s feeling. “I know you would raise him right and I know I can trust you with him. I’ve already told you once Buck. I don’t trust anyone else more than I trust you with Christopher. The way you are with him and how frantic you were when trying to dig me out-”

Buck reels back as if he’d been burned and it takes Eddie aback, cutting off his rambling. “You know about that?”

“Y-yeah, I saw it on the news.”

Buck looks like he’s going to be sick and Eddie can do nothing but watch as Buck gets up and walks away, disappearing down the stairs. Eddie looks to one team member to the next, settling on Bobby. “Did I say something wrong?”

Bobby turns the stove off, eggs long forgotten about now, and sighs as he approaches. “We were all worried about you, Eddie.”

Hen appears across from him, sitting down in the opposite chair. “It hit Buck pretty hard. Harder than the rest of us. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea that you might have died down there.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Because he knew I had to get back to Christopher.”

“We all knew that, Eddie,” Bobby says, taking the seat Buck had been in moments before.

“I think it’s a little more than that when it comes to Buck,” Hen says gently.

“Look, I like to give Buck crap all the time about the things he does and his feelings,” Chimney comments, walking over to join them. “But the kid really cares about you, Eddie.”

Eddie looks from Bobby to Hen to Chimney and back again, his brain trying to understand what the three are insinuating. “Wait, are you trying to tell me what I think you’re trying to tell me?” No one answers him but Hen has this sympathetic look on her face that tells Eddie everything. “No. No, Buck doesn’t… he doesn’t love me. He loves Christopher and that’s why…” Eddie trails off, Bobby’s words coming back to mind that they all knew he had Christopher to get back to. But none of them acted the way Buck did. None of them completely threw caution out the window and started digging for Eddie with the bare hands, tears streaking down their faces. None of them broke down sobbing, barely able to contain themselves because they thought he was dead. None of them went off the rails as Buck did.

“Shit,” he swears quietly, getting up from his seat and heading down the stairs to try and find Buck. It doesn’t take him long. Buck is sat on one of the benches in the locker room, facing the lockers. He doesn’t react when Eddie comes to the door, leaning on the frame. “You okay?”

Buck jumps slightly and a hand comes up to wipe at his face. When he turns to look at Eddie, his eyes are red and puffy from crying. “M’fine.”

Eddie smiles at him sadly and walks up to him, straddling the bench next to Buck. “Is this because I asked you to take care of Christopher if I was gone or is it the fact that I would be gone that is upsetting you?”

Buck shrugs, looking away and then back. “Both?”

“Both?” Eddie asks and decides to go with the less heavy question first. “Do you not want to take care of him?”

“No!” Buck says quickly, hands coming up to punctuate the statement. “I would love to, you know that.”

“I do and that’s why I asked. I have to admit,” Eddie says. “I wasn’t expecting this reaction. Excitement and joy and hyperactivity, yeah, but not…” Eddie gestures towards Buck who snorts a wet sounding laugh, hand coming up to rub at his eyes again where more tears have gathered. “Why does it upset you then?”

“I’m not,” he pauses to think then, “I’m not upset as in sad about that. I am overjoyed, Eddie, really I am and-and I’m honored that you would want him to be with me and my answer is yes, you can put me down as who would get him but…” he trails off, biting his bottom lip. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, is that these tears… me crying is kind of combination of happiness and sadness.” Buck shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Is it because you would be upset because I died?” Eddie asks and this is the part of the conversation he doesn’t know if he can have. Is he ready to face the feelings that Buck might have for him? Is he ready to face the feelings he might have for Buck? Eddie wonders if he even has a choice in the matter. It doesn’t really seem like it.

Buck shrugs again. “When you were down there, in the well, trapped and everyone thought you were dead I… I couldn’t even fathom it, Eddie. It felt like… like my whole world had just gotten ripped away from me.” Eddie nods when it looks like Buck is going to stop, encouraging him and letting him know that he is listening. Eddie’s heart is beating frantically in his chest and his palms have started to sweat. Buck swallows audibly. “I didn’t know what I would do without you. I didn’t know what I would tell Christopher, how to tell him, what would happen to him. I didn’t know how Christopher and I were going to go on without you. I felt like…”

“Like you were dying,” Eddie finishes for him when Buck stops, tears rolling down the younger man’s face. Eddie reaches up, without thinking, and rubs them away with his thumbs. “Buck, I know you would have found a way. You would have found a way to tell Christopher, you would have found a way to move on and keep living. And if I put you in my will to have Christopher, then you don’t have to worry about what’s going to happen to him.”

Buck rolls his eyes, pulls away from Eddie’s hand that was still cupping his cheek. “You don’t get it, Eddie, I-”

“No, I get it,” Eddie cuts him off. “I would probably react the same way if it were you down there. Including the parts about Christopher because that kid loves you like you wouldn’t believe. He would be devasted if anything happened to you. Just like if anything happened to me.” Buck sniffles. “And I really do get what you’re trying to say Buck and me telling you this, I don’t know if it’s coming across the same, but it is.” Eddie shrugs. “I’m just… not ready to say the actual words or probably hear them but I do-”

Buck stops him talking by grabbing both of Eddie’s cheeks and kissing him. It’s pretty chaste and Buck’s lips are wet with tears and snot and Eddie should be grossed out, he really, really should be, but he can’t bring it in himself to pull away. Instead, he grabs a hold of Buck’s neck and holds him there, kissing back. Eventually, they do have to pull away and when they do, Buck is looking at him with so much emotion that Eddie pulls him into a comforting hug.

Buck lowers his face down to Eddie’s shoulder and before he knows it, his shirt is getting wet from Buck’s tears. Buck’s shoulders shake as he cries silently and Eddie rubs a hand up and down his back soothingly. He lets Buck cry and release all the emotions he must have been bottling up since the well accident and he holds him close, speaking softly in Spanish to him to try and calm him. It seems to work for the most part and Buck gradually pushes away from him, one hand rubbing his wet eyes vigorously.

Buck eyes Eddie’s shirt. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Eddie stands and gives Buck a smile. “I’m just glad we got that settled.”

Buck stands as well, reaching into his locker to grab a tissue and blows his nose. “Me too and, Eddie, thank you for trusting me with Christopher. It means everything.”

Eddie pats Buck on the back. “I wouldn’t trust him with anyone else.” The smile that lights up Buck’s face is worth every word Eddie just spoke. “Come on. I’m sure Bobby’s finished making breakfast by now and you know how cruel Chimney can get with eating all the food on us.”

Buck laughs as he follows Eddie out of the locker room and up the stairs where everyone is waiting for them.

———————————————————————————————————–

A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it. :)

[let-me-write-shit]

Somebody To You: 8

Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)

New chapter every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday!

WARNING: Mention of situational depression

Word Count: 2,866

A/N: Ok. Here’s the thing. This chapter was MEANT to be about something else....but I got a TAD BIT carried away and...well, here we are. So the super fluffy stuff will be in Friday’s chapter...but this chapter is still really cute :) Hope you like!

Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories

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CHAPTER EIGHT

The thing about Zoey’s situational depression is that it tended to put her into such a deep sleep that oftentimes caused her to oversleep. Usually, when waking up from one of these episodes she became slightly disoriented, which was the case the following morning when she felt herself being shaken awake, and the sharp whispers of her name being repeated made her cognizant of the fact that someone was desperately trying to get her attention. She shot straight up, clutching her sheets over her bare chest to see Nancy, kneeling beside her on the bed and pressing her phone to her chest.

“Wh-What’s wrong?” Zoey stammered, trying to take in her atmosphere.

The early morning sun had just risen, shining softly across the city below. Brett was still fast asleep in the bed beside her, snoring loudly. Loose strands of hair were stuck chaotically on her forehead and cheeks and drool had formed at the corner of her mouth that she quickly wiped away. Nancy looked like she had only recently been woken up, but she paid no mind to Zoey being half-naked, or the fact that there was also a half-naked man in the bed beside her.

“Harry’s on facetime,” Nancy pointed to the phone she held to her chest, “he says he needs to talk to you and it’s really important.”

The expression teetered on the side of concern and Zoey nodded, looking around frantically for something to cover herself while still trying to process what was going on. She could hear the sounds of Harry rustling and breathe through the speaker on Nancy’s phone and increasingly began to worry, wondering what was so important that he needed to Facetime her so early and it couldn’t wait.

“Ok, give me two seconds to put on a shirt and I’ll facetime him from my phone,” Zoey whispered.

Harry must have heard and his muffled voice sounded from Nancy’s phone, “Okay, hurry!” before the ping of the facetime call ended.

Nancy pulled her phone away from her chest to see that Harry was no longer on the screen and looked up at Zoey, whispering a quick apology for waking her up so suddenly, before standing up and quietly leaving the room. 

Zoey slipped out from under the bed covers, instantly cold from the air conditioner, sending shivers down her back and across her stomach. She grabbed her robe that she had draped on the back of her vanity chair, pulling it over her and tying it tightly to her waist before grabbing her phone, seeing several missed facetimes, texts, and calls from Harry. She pressed the ‘return missed facetime’ button, plopping onto her chair. Her reflection popped onto her screen and her eyes widened at just how crazy she looked, wiping the strands of hair away from her face and trying to smooth out the bedhead on the top of her head. 

Her phone panged as Harry quickly answered her call, smiling widely, twitching when he noticed how dazed she looked, “Did I wake you?” he asked.

Zoey shot him a bemused look, whispering back, trying not to wake Brett, “It’s 7:30 in the morning! I’ve only been asleep for four hours.”

Harry winced, “Sorry! But guess where I am.”

Zoey’s eyebrows furrowed, confused by the exchange so far. He hadn’t seemed in trouble at all. He was so desperate for her to call that he had Nancy come and wake her up, yet the conversation so far was nonchalant.

“What is going on?” she hushed again, “I thought you were hurt or something. You made it seem like it was super important.”

“Why are you whispering?” he asked, just as Brett stirred in the bed behind her. Zoey flinched, looking behind her and pausing, avoiding any sudden movement so as not to wake him up even more, which caused Harry to call out, “What are you doing?”

Wordlessly, she stood and tiptoed over to her closet door, flicking the light on and softly closing the door behind her. Her bedroom might have been small, but at least she had a semi-decent walk-in-closet. With a grunt, she sat cross-legged in the back corner, leaning up against a row of dresses that hung down to the ground, and tightening her robe that had loosened from bending down.

“Are you in your closet?” Harry chuckled.

“Yes,” Zoey confessed, rubbing her eyebrow.

She watched as Harry’s laugh slowly turned into realization and he asked, “Oh, shit. Is Brett there?”

She felt her cheeks begin to flush and again said, “Yes.” It was Harry’s turn to be embarrassed, mouth forming an ‘o’ and looking just beyond the phone. She shook it off and remembered his question, “Didn’t you say you were in Philly today?”

Harry’s eyes glinted in excitement, “Yeah! I got up early so I decided to do a bit of sightseeing. Guess where I am.”

“The museum?” she yawned, shrugging.

He turned the camera screen around to show a familiar tree-lined street with a few cars parked along the side of the road, slowly panning to a yellow cape cod house with a small front porch, and a dark wooden door. An assortment of bushes and flower blossoms lined the front and surrounded a lantern post on the right side of the walkway, while a weeping cherry blossom tree sat on the left.

Zoey gasped, sitting upright, “Is that my house?”

Harry spun the camera back around to face him, smiling, “I also saw your school you mentioned. It’s so big!”

“How the hell did you remember my address? What the hell?”

He laughed, “Think anyone’s home?”

“My sister’s car was in the driveway, so probably.”

“Should I go knock on the door and say hi?”

Zoey laughed at the thought of her sister seeing Harry Styles on her front step, “You might give her a heart attack. She’s so shy.”

“Does she even know we’re friends.”

“I mentioned it in passing, but I don’t think she really believed me.”

Harry took his keys out of the ignition and pushed open his door, stepping out. She clasped her hands over her mouth, anxiety coursing through her body as his camera was panned down towards his feet, watching him casually saunter up her parent’s walkway, something she never thought she’d see. He flipped his phone around so that Zoey could somewhat see what he was doing, though at a very unflattering angle that, if she tried, she could probably see up his nose.

Harry knocked on the door lightly, his heart beating a little faster than normal. Honestly, he was nervous. It was understandable. He was by himself, knocking on a stranger’s door, about to meet the little sister of a friend he just made. A minute had passed and no one had come to the door yet. He held the phone up to his face to see Zoey, her puffy eyes were starting to settle as she had become more awake.

“No one’s answering,” he told her.

She smiled, “Want me to text her?”

Just as he was going to respond, he heard the click of the door being unlocked and he dropped his phone to his side as a freckle-faced girl with long, dark brown hair framing her face answered. Her hazel-green eyes were wide in shock. If he looked hard enough, he could see Zoey in her. The bright, round eyes, the arch of their eyebrows, plump lips, but the bottom lip slightly larger than the top, even their nose was the same, small at the bridge and slightly turned up at the end.

“Hello,” Harry smiled, kindly, trying not to laugh at her expression.

“H-Hello?” She stuttered, flickering between him and scanning the area to see if anyone else was with him.

“My name’s Harry. You’re Katie, right?”

“Yeah? How do you-why are you here?” she shook her head, confused.

“Well, I was in the neighborhood and I thought I’d stop by. I actually have a friend that wants to say hi.” 

He held his phone up for Katie who’s mouth dropped when she saw her sister and the two girls let out a small screech.

“Zoey, what the hell?” she exclaimed, sounding exactly like her sister did earlier.

“This was all his idea, I had no clue he was planning on going there,” Zoey immediately defended herself.

“What the heck is happening right now?” Katie clasped her hands on her cheeks and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as she reminded him so much of Zoey right now. “Do you want to come in?” she offered, widening the door.

“Yeah, that’d be lovely, thank you,” Harry grinned.

He followed her inside and waited by the landing as she closed the door. He noticed the hallway lined with pictures of the two girls growing up and his lip twitched upwards, his heart softening as he recognized his new friend from the childlike eyes in the frames. For some reason he could never quite picture Zoey as a little kid, running around and playing in sandboxes, but here was the proof right in front of him.

Katie led Harry towards their living room where the television was on and The Office was running, a half-eaten bowl of cereal was sitting on the coffee table, and a laptop was opened, but the screen was black, probably having gone to sleep mode. The two took a seat on the couch and Harry held his phone up so they could continue talking to Zoey.

“I don’t even know what to say right now,” Katie blushed, grinning, “How do two even know each other.”

“Through her roommates,” Harry informed her.

“I tried getting rid of him, but he just won’t leave me alone,” Zoey joked.

“I’m like an annoying fly. You can’t get rid of me,” Harry smirked, making the girls laugh.

“You haven’t been responding to my texts!” Katie uttered towards her sister.

Zoey frowned, “I know, I’m sorry.”

Harry turned to Katie, smiling, “It’s okay, she’s been ignoring me, too.”

The three of them continued talking and Harry had Katie tell him embarrassing stories of the two of them growing up. She was nice and could see why Zoey found it difficult to be away from her sister. Seeing them interact was special. He knew just how important family was to her because he felt the same. Their bond reminded him of his own bond with his older sister. They could pick on each other, then praise each other in the same sentence.

“So, Katie, do you have any plans tonight?” Harry asked.

“I have work in an hour, but I get off at 6. Why?”

“Well, Zoey told me that you were a fan. So, I have two spare tickets to my show tonight for you and a friend, if you’d like.”

“Are you serious?” Katie squealed, clasping her hands over her mouth.

Zoey awed, “That’s so nice!”

“Thank you,” Katie grinned.

There was an indistinct knocking through the phone and both Katie and Harry watched to see Zoey’s attention shoot up and look past the screen. A deep, Australian voice laughed, “What are you doing in here.”

Zoey sheepishly smiled, pulling her phone down so that just her chin and neck were visible and she hushed, “Sorry, just on the phone with my sister. I’ll be right there.”

He knew it shouldn’t have bothered him, but why couldn’t she also say that she was on the phone with him, too? Her whole situation with Brett didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t because he didn’t like Brett, because he was a nice person and he didn’t have anything against him. It’s just that Zoey was always so defensive when Brett was brought up into conversation. If you like him, that’s fine. But you don’t have to hide it, especially from your friend. And if you didn’t like him, why keep sleeping with him? It just made no sense to Harry. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. She could do what she wanted. And he had no room to talk. After all, he still had to figure out what he wanted to do about Rory.

Things hadn’t improved with Aurora since their last serious conversation. They still texted semi-frequently and would occasionally flirt, but there was definitely a lack of interest on her side. She did warn him of this, though. How she wanted to give him the distance to figure out what he wanted. And he was trying, honestly, but he just had so much on his plate that the stress of figuring out what he wanted the future of his relationship with Rory to look like was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. Still, he worried that he would take too long to decide and ruin his chances altogether.

Not wanting Zoey to feel uncomfortable, Harry said, “Well, listen, Katie and I are going to talk about the plan for tonight and I’ll call you later. You better answer.”

“No promises,” Zoey grinned, waving them goodbye and hanging up.

Harry slipped his phone into his back pocket and turned to look at Katie, who had a clear expression of confusion and concern on her face. Her gaze was towards the floor for a few seconds, and when she looked up, Harry could almost hear the words that came out of her mouth before she spoke.

“Who was that?”

“Zoey didn’t tell you about Brett?” He asked. When Katie shook her head no, Harry bit his bottom lip in thought. Obviously she didn’t tell her about Brett for a reason, and he didn’t want to be the one to say anything in case there was a reason for hiding it. So very carefully he said, “He’s just a coworker. He hangs out with Zoey and her roommates a lot.” Katie nodded, looking down again. He couldn’t tell if she believed him or not, so he changed the subject, “So, she’s been avoiding you, too, huh?”

Katie looked up, almost frowning, and nodded, “Yeah, but I get it. She’s been having a hard time lately.”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, she told me about Jess. I figured she’s just missing her or something.”

 “Well, yeah. But it’s Jess’s birthday on Tuesday. It’ll have been a year since she’s died.”

Harry’s eyes widened and his mouth fell, “That’s on Tuesday?” Katie nodded her head and he sighed, “I know that Jess died in June, but I didn’t know the date. That makes so much sense. Usually, she tells me everything but now she’s barely answering my texts. I feel bad that I didn’t realize.”

Katie blew a puff of air before cracking a smile, “Sorry, this is just so weird. You’re in my house and talking about how you and my sister tell each other everything? I feel like I’m hallucinating.”

The two of them talked for another hour or so, mostly casual chats and polite conversation starters, him asking her what she does for work and what her hobbies were before Harry had to leave. He was sure to give Katie his number so that she could let him know when she got to the venue and planned to see her and her friend when he got off stage, he wanted to make sure he took care of Zoey’s little sister, or else he was sure that Zoey would beat him to a pulp. 

The drive back to his hotel was mostly silent. He was so deep in his thoughts that he forgot to turn the stereo on. Why hadn’t Zoey just said something to him? She knows he would have been there for her. He felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. He should have. She wasn’t just avoiding him. Both Rory and Nancy have reached out to him about how distant she’s been with them, too. He figured it had something to do with Jess, but obviously he couldn’t tell them that. They still didn’t know about Jess. Still, they asked him if he knew what was bothering her or if he’d reached out to her. He should have been more assertive about it. Right? Or did she want space? 

His hands began to clam up, gripping the steering wheel tighter. He didn’t know what to do. The feeling of helplessness was infuriating. Zoey’s always been very forthcoming about her emotions, but this was such a fragile topic. He remembered being in this situation and having the need to be around people, but not wanting to talk. Maybe that’s why Brett was there.

He thought harder. It was three days until Tuesday.  And to make matters worse, he knew that she didn’t work on Tuesdays. A whole day of nothing to distract her. A whole day of nothing but being trapped in her own mind. Unless she had someone to talk to. He was off from Tuesday to Thursday. He definitely couldn’t fly there, he’s flown out way too much already and his management and tour team was pissed enough as it was. Plus, he was meant to go to the studio on those days to start writing for his new album. But he could call. Or facetime. Or ...something? 

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@thurhomish​ ,

[penniesforthestorm]

“I’ve never seen such beautiful horses!”-- Justified Season Three, Episode One: “The Gunfighter”

On the internet, no one knows when you take an unintentional month-long hiatus... (Everything’s fine, by the way; I was just busy.) But I’m back and ready to dive into another season of murder, mayhem, and wisecracking shenanigans. Recaps and notes for Seasons One and Two are tagged ‘#did you miss my heart on purpose’, and I’ll follow the usual procedure here: first and final episodes of the season will get individual entries, and everything in between will be grouped in threes. I’ll confess right off the bat, having seen the show in its entirety, the 3rd season is my favorite, so I’m looking forward to it-- as always, comments, questions, and conspiracies are welcome!

“The Gunfighter” picks up with the aftermath of the S2 finale, “Bloody Harlan”: Raylan Givens (Timothy Olyphant) is in the hospital, being treated for the bullet wound he received in the firefight outside Mags Bennett’s house. Deputy Chief Art Mullen (Nick Searcy) reassures the frantic Winona Hawkins (Natalie Zea) that Raylan will pull through, and, as she attempts to thank him, he waves her down the hall. Three weeks later, Raylan is on his feet again, but still recovering-- after a dissatisfying round of target practice, Art recommends another week of light duty, and, on his way out the door, informs Raylan, “Crowder’s here.”

There are, of course, two conversations happening during the following scene: as Raylan casually mentions that all of Mags Bennett’s marijuana drying sheds have been cleaned out and searched, and oh, by the way, there’s a chunk of Bennett money missing, he’s trying to suss out Boyd Crowder’s potential involvement. (Raylan describes the amount as “somewhere in excess of... ten dollars”. Boyd jokes that, with that kind of money, he’d run off to Mexico. Raylan responds with a more pointed joke: “I don’t think you’d like it. There’s a lot of Mexicans down there.”) Boyd (Walton Goggins) also has an agenda, though we don’t see the full import until the final moments of the episode. As Raylan’s departing, Boyd brings up Dickie Bennett, claiming that a bargain was made: Boyd would let Dickie go with Raylan to save Loretta McCready, and Raylan would leave Dickie at Boyd’s disposal. This inflames Raylan’s self-righteousness, and he takes a swing at Boyd. The camera switches to Art Mullen, on the phone in his office, who looks over his shoulder just in time to see Boyd and Raylan crash through one of the glass panels of the interview room. (Art’s reaction is priceless--something along the lines of you kids don’t make me have to come over there...) The other marshals swarm in to haul Boyd off to jail.

The next scene finds us in the Frankfort office of Emmitt Arnett, last seen agreeing to Gary Hawkins’ land-development scheme. He’s meeting with a stranger (later named as Robert Quarles, played by Neal McDonough)-- an imposing man in an expensive pinstriped suit, all the more menacing for his enthusiastic cheerfulness, expounding on the beauty of the Kentucky countryside. Arnett sits him down, and his pretty secretary Yvette brings in the coffee with her signature gimmick-- offering a “lil’ kick” of bourbon. Quarles refuses, and as he watches Yvette leave, lectures Arnett, telling him, “You’ve lost her respect.” Furthermore, he notes, “Detroit is concerned”-- Arnett’s land holdings have lost value, and Quarles has been sent to collect on a loan: $250,000, to be exact. Arnett tells him the money will be there tomorrow, and, as Quarles leaves, he turns his attention to the other stranger in the room: a lean, dark-haired man in a grungy leather jacket. “You said you were looking for work,” Arnett remarks.

Back in Harlan, we discover what’s happened to at least some of Mags Bennett’s marijuana-- it’s sitting in garbage bags, piled up in Arlo Givens’ parlor and tool shed. Arlo (Raymond J. Barry) and Devil (Kevin Rankin) have called Hot Rod Dunham, to give him the right of first refusal. As Hot Rod and his boys inspect the product, Ava arrives, and Devil brags about the arrangement, claiming to be acting on Boyd’s behalf and more or less shoving Ava aside. Things go south quickly-- Hot Rod informs them that the plants are rotting and attracting vermin, and refuses to take them, and Devil gets snotty. Ava is able to intervene and send Hot Rod on his way, sarcastically noting to Devil and Arlo, “Did that go about like you expected?”

The major business of the episode centers around the wolfish stranger in Arnett’s office-- a.k.a. federal fugitive Fletcher “The Ice Pick” Nix (Desmond Harrington). We find out how he got the moniker in a tense burglary scene-- he ends a standoff over a suitcase full of expensive watches by stabbing his adversary in the hand with the titular weapon and shooting him in the head. Over at the Marshals’ Office, Deputy Tim tells Raylan that he thinks Nix might be linked to Wynn Duffy. Raylan reluctantly agrees to accompany Tim on a fact-finding mission to Duffy’s motor home, where Duffy gives a revealing non-answer to a direct question about Nix, and dismisses them by mentioning his urgent schedule of “watching women’s tennis”. Duffy calls Arnett, warning him that the Feds are on the scent, and sure enough, an oblivious Raylan encounters Nix in the elevator on the way to Arnett’s office. Arnett isn’t there, but Yvette is, and Raylan takes her for a drink at the Sheraton, where she coyly ‘reveals’ that Nix and Arnett will be meeting later that night. As the marshals prepare an ambush, Raylan confides to Art that he suspects Yvette’s information was not on the level.

Meanwhile, Ava has visited Boyd in jail, where he informs her that he’s being transferred to the state facility, and she asks what to do about the weed. Boyd tells her to burn it (Boyd’s disregard for anything to do with marijuana will come up again, much later down the line). As Ava prepares supper for Arlo and Devil, she relays Boyd’s orders, and once again, Devil gets lippy. Ava, carefully setting down a sizzling pan of greens, sweetly advises him that her patience is about to run out. “What’re you gonna do? Spit in our food?” he sneers, as Arlo cackles in the background. (I don’t know how Rankin managed such a beautifully bitchy facial expression, but boy, it’s effective.) Without a second of hesitation, Ava whacks him with the pan, sending him sprawling over backward with a bloody nose. (Don’t hit people with cast-iron pans unless you really, really mean it.)

Raylan’s suspicion of Yvette turns out to be well-founded-- the marshals’ attempt to ambush Nix and Arnett is a bust, though Deputy Rachel Brooks manages to tackle one of the decoys. Raylan drives Winona back to his motel room, and the two of them discuss baby names. (Raylan suggests “Felix”, Winona jokingly supplies “Jiffy Pop” and/or “Palmolive”). They have an unexpected visitor-- Fletcher Nix, who, in his marble-mouthed drawl, introduces himself as “the one with the gun”. Of course, Raylan is also armed, but Nix persuades him to take off his holster and sit down. He tries another round of his favorite game, but Raylan is prepared-- he grabs the tablecloth and pulls Nix’s pistol toward him before Nix has time to get the ice pick ready. (I’m a little sorry Nix didn’t get to stick around; Harrington’s weird charisma fits right into the show’s goon menagerie...) Back in Frankfort, Quarles gives Wynn Duffy quite an introduction: he shoots Arnett and Yvette with a pistol rigged up his sleeve, Travis Bickle-style. Duffy looks genuinely unnerved.

And finally, we get some hint of what Boyd was up to during his seemingly unprovoked spat with Raylan: as he’s led down the hall of the state prison, he passes by two characters with whom he has unfinished business--Dickie Bennett and Dewey Crowe. They appear to have taken quite a shine to each other-- Dewey has been describing the relative pros and cons of getting tattoos in various places, espousing it as one more way to pass the time. Boyd makes no verbal greeting, but the look in his eyes as he marches into his cell speaks volumes--after all, he’s more or less on his home turf now. Stay tuned...

[lostparker]

read at 8.57pm p.p oneshot

Pairing: peter parker x best friend!reader

Summary: when you send Peter a message containing something you’d wanted to tell him for months you’re scared it’s made your friendship fall apart.

Warnings: some curse words and a lot of fluff.

Words: 1.8k

A/N: IT’S HERE!!! thank you to everyone who got excited when I posted this teaser a few days ago. i hope you like it cause I still don’t know… is this cute? I can’t tell if this is cute but I was feeling fluffy after getting stuck writing angst for so long… I hope you guys enjoy it. feedback as always is appreciated.

Peter Parker is typing…

…

…

…

You threw your phone on your bed and it was just your luck that it landed face up displaying those three little dots that haunted you as he typed. You couldn’t believe you’d just done what you did. Shit. Did you really just do that? I mean, yes, yes you did just do that. But should you have? Absolutely not.

You paced the room, running your hands through your already disheveled hair. You stopped, at your bed and stared down at your phone. The bubbles indicating Peter was typing had disappeared and to make matters worse there was no new message from him. Just your message  which now displayed a heartbreaking timestamp

read at 8.57pm

shit.

You closed your eyes holding back the tears that were already forming and threatening to spill. You breathed out an unsteady breath you’d been holding in, feeling numb on your feet. Your heartfelt heavy and your veins felt like they were filled with nothing but regret. You’d really screwed it up and you had no one to blame but yourself. You shouldn’t have said anything, things had been fine the way they were.

You looked down at your stupid mistake message. The one you’d debated sending for months and now wished you’d decided not to. Peter was your best friend. Had been since the two of you were paired up in chem class and now you’d gone and ruined the best thing in your life all for some impulsively sent message. The words had been running around your head for months and you wish you’d kept them there. In your head. God, you were such a fool.

You knew Peter knew you loved him, but you also knew that he knew about it in a platonic context. The one issue was you wanted more than platonic. You wanted those jolts of electricity you got when the two of you touched to mean more than friendship. You wanted him to know that when he smiled in the way that made his eyes crinkle that your heart stopped. You just never thought you’d be dumb enough to actually make the move that might tell him those things.

Oh how wrong you were.

Your eyes remained fixed on your now read message. Those seven words that you’d typed so quickly now felt like too many. They now loomed over your head. You could hear them in your head, running on an endless loop. A bitter reminder of what you hoped could turn into something sweet.

Y : I think I’m in love with you…

You flopped down on your bed, face buried into the pillows underneath you.  You wanted to do nothing more than to scream, to cry, or better yet to disappear completely. You’d just told him you had feelings for him and you’d come to the conclusion that his lack of response clearly meant that he didn’t feel the same (otherwise he wouldn’t have left you on read… right?). Therefore, causing you to think that you’d messed up your friendship for good.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid

Your mind flashed with images of him ignoring you when you saw him on Monday. Or worse trying to find a way to let you down in the middle of the crowded hallway. You saw images of you alone at lunch, ostracised to a table by yourself. Images of everyone laughing at you behind your back about how stupid you were to think that Peter Parker might like you back. Tears spilled onto the pillow you were lying on, forming salty puddles beneath your cheeks.

An out of breath Peter arrived at your window thirty-seven minutes after your initial message. But, you didn’t hear the squeak of the window being pushed open or the soft thud of Peter landing on your carpeted floor because you’d been too wrapped up in your own world of pre-decided heartbreak. You’d been facing the wall didn’t see the way he looked at you, curled up on the bed sobbing. He noticed your phone, and he cocked his head to the side. When he squinted he saw that it was still unlocked and your unanswered confession of love still open.

He hadn’t meant to get you into this state by not answering your message it’s just there were some conversations that needed to happen in person, not over the phone.  And this one? This was one of those conversations. Yeah, this was one of the ones where he needed to see your face. This was one of those conversations that he’d dreamed about since he’d first sat next to you in class. One of those conversations he was sure would never ever happen in a million years.

Oh, how wrong he’d been.

He stepped forward gingerly, his head still tilted at an angle. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder in the hopes of not scaring you since he figured you hadn’t heard him come in. Nevertheless, you still jumped. You wiped your tears away frantically trying to hide the obvious. However the second your eyes landed on Peter they surfaced again.

You were already embarrassed about the message you’d sent, now he was seeing you crying about it. It was safe to say you’d surpassed embarrassed and gone straight to humiliated. He was the last person you expected to see tonight, even if you’d messaged him. You’d just got it into your head that you’d fucked everything up. If only you knew how wrong you were.

“P… Pet…Peter…?” You stuttered, trying your best to make it look like you hadn’t just been sobbing into your pillow over him, despite the fact he’d definitely seen that you had. There was no hiding the obvious. You had no idea how long he’d been standing there but you knew he wasn’t an idiot and wouldn’t be fooled easily if you tried to come up with an excuse for your tears.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He whispered, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite discern. He couldn’t bear how vulnerable you looked. How scared you looked that he was going to reject you. He would never do that. Not when the same thoughts had been floating around in his mind for months. He knew you were probably second-guessing everything that had said in your message and he wished you weren’t.

He stepped towards you, hoping you wouldn’t step back and he reached out to take your hands in his. He let out a shaky sigh, feeling nervous in your company for the first time (okay not the first, but the first time he was willing to admit) since the very first day you’d met. You were both young. Inexperienced in giving your hearts to someone, being so open with another person. Scared of falling. He was scared to admit that he’d already done both of those things with you. Now he knew for sure you’d done exactly the same thing.

Peter took a second to look at you, really look at you. You were cast in this golden glow from fairy lights you had flickering above your bed and he knew it was his new favourite picture. If he could screenshot real life this would be one of those moments he’d want to cherish forever. Since he couldn’t do that he took a mental picture and framed it in his mind.

His eyes followed the contours of your face. A face he’d grown so accustomed to. Grown to love with his whole heart. He traced the curve of your lips, the same ones he sometimes fell asleep dreaming about. His eyes darted across yours, the same ones that gave him butterflies when they looked at him. The ones that sparkled like nobody else’s when you spoke to him.

There was only one thing he wanted to do. One thing he knew would make all you uncertainty disappear. One thing that would confirm things for the both of you. One thing that would banish doubt and only leave room for certainty. One thing that would tether your hearts together with an invisible piece of string. His mind was practically screaming at him to do it.

Kiss her.

Kiss her you idiot.

Just do it already, she likes you too.

Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.

He removed one of his hands from yours, placing it delicately on your cheek. His thumb trailed mindlessly over it, brushing away the remaining straggling stray tears left behind. Before you could ask him what he was doing he pulled you forward slightly and pressed his lips softly onto yours. The soft gasp that came from your mouth was muffled into his.

Peter felt the two of you fit together so perfectly and when you didn’t pull away he removed his other hand from yours and put it around your waist, pulling your body flush against his. Your arms went around his neck, locking into place in his chocolate curls. The world around the two of you felt like it melted away and all you could focus on was the rhythm of your hearts, stammering in sync.

Peter’s hopeless romantic brain told him that if it had been a movie this would have been the moment the love song played and the camera panned around the two of you in slow motion. This would have been the moment the audience had been waiting for. Instead, it had been the two of you waiting. God, why had you waited so long?

All of your fear melted away into the kiss. Despite your earlier dismay you almost wished you’d told him sooner. Especially since this is what you’d been missing out on by keeping your secret to yourself. Every sense of insecurity that you’d done the wrong thing disappeared out the window Peter had left open. You’d said all you needed to say in that text message and he was replying by saying nothing at all. He was replying with his lips that tasted like peppermint.

Or so you thought.

Peter removed his hand from your waist and pulled out his phone. You cocked your head to the side, confusion spreading across your face. He glanced up at your now unsure eyes once before his fingers danced along his keyboard. You heard the ‘ping’ of your phone from where it lay, still discarded face up on your bed.

You stepped away from him, reaching to pick it up. He was standing less than a foot away from you, could he not tell you what was on his mind in person? Those thoughts dispersed and you felt your heart flutter when you read his message, a bashful smile forming on your lips as he stepped back closer to you pulling you into his lips again. Your phone dropping back onto the bed. Once again face up, just this time it was finally displaying a response.

P: I think I’m in love with you too.

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[doom-dreaming]

“Dear Digital Diary”

I finally finished it! So this is my fic for @shanblackwood - as part of a trade (that beautiful bloody monstery boy from a while back). It got much longer than I was expecting, so most of it is under the cut. There’s a lot of pining, a little bit of smut, and copious amounts of fluff. (I hope it’s everything you wanted!!)

(Read it on Ao3 here!)

- - - - - - - - - -

“Oh fuck, we’re gonna have to retake that—” He grins briefly at the camera, all sharp white teeth and sparkling eyes, before ducking his head, laughing.

Your heart skips a beat. You rewind. Pause. It feels like that smile is for you. Like those pale blue eyes are looking directly into yours. You take a screenshot. It joins the other thousands in the folder labeled ‘outtakes.’ You think it sounded innocuous enough.

Not that either of them ever go through your files—you’re one of the few people they trust. They have no reason not to. You’re just the video editor, after all. They’re the faces on the screen. They’re the voices on the radio. You’re not much more than a useful tool to them.

You press play. “—have to retake that—” A few keystrokes, a few clicks, remove the clip from the rest of the recording. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ the screen prompts.

Keystroke. >SAVE  Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

“How do you always manage to fuck these up?” Tyreen sounds incredulous, but not angry. She punches Troy’s arm and he jumps away with an exaggerated yelp, then smiles. It’s equal parts dazzling and dangerous.

Your heart does a little flip as you play it back in slow motion. >SAVE

The next one is Tyreen’s. She mispronounces a word. “What’s that about me fucking up?” Troy teases, repeating her slip-up in a mocking tone. “Shut it, asshole.” Again, not angry. Playful. He sticks out his tongue at her. Laughs through a grin.

You cut the footage. ‘>DELETE or SAVE?’ Your hand hovers over the keys. >DELETE Click. You attempt to distract yourself with the rest of the video. Anything to keep from thinking about that slick pink tongue on your neck, between your lips...between your thighs.

Three hours later, you pause with your cursor over the power menu. Instead, you nudge it toward the little trash icon. Click. Click. ‘RESTORE TO “outtakes”? >YES   NO’ Click.

- - - - - - - - - -

It’s late. Your work had been easy, for the most part. Just fixing pacing, sound and color correction, little things. The twins had stayed professional—well, as professional as they could be, which wasn’t saying much. But they’d gotten their point across with minimal mistakes.

All except for the few minutes before the cameras started rolling when Troy had decided to sing. You’d never heard it before—the song—but you rewound and replayed it so many times that you knew the words by the time you finally forced yourself to move on. After cutting and saving the clip, of course.

He hadn’t been trying to put on a show. He hadn’t even been particularly loud—you had to adjust the volume and bump down the ambient noise to even make out most of it—he was just...singing for the sake of it. Fixing his hair, his eyeliner… ...singing. The usual frantic beat of your heart had settled into a gentle flutter—not the typical reaction when you saw him.

And now you’re leaned back in your chair, watching it again. His eyes are unfocused, distant, but not troubled. He seems calm. Content. That cloying warmth is wrapping itself around your heart again. You find yourself wishing you could touch him. You want to reach through the screen and run your hand through his hair. Trace his jawline. Kiss him. You want to feel him murmuring those lyrics against your lips, humming into your mouth—

You shove your chair away from your desk. Run your hands through your hair. Sigh and close your eyes and shake your head. You can’t do this. You absolutely can’t let yourself feel this. Sooner or later, it’ll start affecting your work, and if you give anything less than what the twins expect—if you’re not useful anymore—

You stand. Close the video. Turn off your monitor. Go to bed. But not even sleep lets you escape from visions of his hands on your body, his mouth on your neck, his whispered words in your ear.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake the next morning to the insistent ‘ping’ of your ECHOcomm. More work. Well, that’s a good sign.

Your breath stops—no, it feels more like it’s punched out of you—when you see the name of the sender. That single, simple, four-letter name. Troy. Troy Calypso. You hate the way your fingers shake as you open the message. It’s semi-formal, all business, a simple request for more editing. He’s attached several files. More work, you reassure yourself. Just more work.

Still, it takes you the better part of an hour to finally sit down at your computer. But you do, armed with shitty coffee and a very fragile grasp on your willpower. Six videos. DOWNLOAD ALL? >YES   NO Click. You try not to watch the progress bar.

Why in the hell do you feel like this? Sure, you’d always had a tiny crush on Troy—but so did a lot of people. They’d be stupid not to, you think. He’s tall and toned and dangerous and confident...and those eyes... You sip at your coffee, grimacing against the half-burnt aftertaste. This crush is getting out of hand, that’s your problem. And it’d come completely out of left field, too. Day one was, ‘oh, he’s cute,’ and now… Well, now you were here. Working yourself into a frenzy over the sight of his goddamn name.

A chime sounds, announcing the download’s completion. You gulp down the rest of the coffee, crush the flimsy cup in your hand, and start clicking. You recognize the setup from the thumbnails alone. New gun reveals. Some of the tension drains from your body. These are something you can handle. Granted, they’re more candid than the usual broadcasts, but they’re still not as personal as you’d been expecting. You fight back the wave of disappointment, rationalizing it away. Telling yourself it’s for the best.

“Hey, ECHOnet, it’s your favorite twin, with another shipment of kickass guns! Tyreen had something “super important” to do—” You smile as he claws the quotation marks into the air. “—so you get me all to yourselves…” He winks. Your heart flips. “Okay! So let’s jump right in—” He makes a face. Cocks an eyebrow. “Jump? Dive? Feels like I need something better than “let’s get started”—” More air quotes. “That just sounds lame.” He sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Your voice makes anything sound good,” you murmur to the screen. He sits in silence for a minute, chewing on his bottom lip, looking lost. The urge to reach out and touch him comes back, even stronger than before. And then the vulnerability is gone, replaced by the cocky, carefully-crafted mask of charisma and confidence that everyone else assumes is normal. “Okay! So let’s break down these new guns! First up, we have…”

Pause. Rewind. Click, click, click. >SAVE Play.

The rest of the video goes more smoothly, as do the next three. Not much to cut, even less to keep for yourself. You continue to fight back the disappointment. Two left. Just two more and you can distract yourself for (hopefully) the rest of the day—

The fifth video catches you off guard. It’s...not a gun haul. It’s not set up in a studio. It’s dark, but there’s enough ambient light to make out shapes. It looks like it’s been filmed from a personal recorder and…

Troy’s face slides into the frame and he’s grinning, looking happier—and more devious—than you’ve ever seen. “Ty’s asleep…” It pans away, toward a vague shape across the dark room, before flipping back to Troy. You realize he’s the one filming it. “...and, uh...the new skag puppies are harmless right now, so…thought I’d play a little prank on her…” He creeps closer, quieter than you would’ve assumed, keeping the camera trained on the bed where Tyreen’s sleeping, clinging to a pillow and… You adjust the volume. ...yeah, she’s definitely snoring.

An odd feeling washes over you. For the first time, you feel as though you’re intruding into something you shouldn’t be seeing. The twins, your gods, are so...human. Granted, you’re smarter and saner than the majority of your peers—you know about sirens and relics and everything that could feasibly give them the illusion of divinity, but this still feels nigh-sacrilegious. He couldn’t have meant to send this…could he? You watch it anyway.

He holds up some sort of treat, then makes a show of placing it on the bed. After a few minutes, both the bed and Tyreen are practically covered and he’s retreating to the doorway, stifling involuntary laughter behind his free hand. You find yourself smiling along with him. “...gonna go release the hounds,” he announces as soon as he’s a safe distance down the hall, although the giggle that follows completely negates any sense of drama. Your stomach curls around itself in a funny twist.

The camera shakes horribly as he jogs across the compound, but you’re glad you don’t speed through it. “Goin’ to see the babies,” he sing-songs to himself once the skag pens start to come into focus. You swear your heart almost explodes. How the fuck is he...like this? Does anyone else see this, aside from Tyreen? Do they know their god is so...sweet?

He whistles as he approaches. The reaction is immediate. A litter of skag pups bowls out of the nearest den, tripping over each other and their own legs, yipping and growling. The camera dips—you assume Troy's kneeling. “Hey, killers...heh, yeah, hey…” He's laughing, scratching at their heads, letting them snap at his fingers. “Oh! You’re gettin’ big, Pepper. Yeah, not really the baby anymore, huh? Wanna go play with Ty? Yeah?” There’s a lower growl, somewhere offscreen. “Easy, big girl… I promise I’ll bring ‘em back.” With that reassurance, he opens the gate.

The remaining three minutes of footage go exactly as expected, in a flurry of hungry skag pups, laughter, cursing, and a few death threats from Tyreen. You watch, awestruck. They’re so playful, so normal. Again, so human. Innocent, almost. The video ends with a mad scramble for the recorder, from which Tyreen emerges victorious. The screen zaps to black, cutting her stream of half-sincere verbal abuse off mid-sentence.

You stare at the replay symbol, vaguely aware of your reflection in the monitor. They wouldn’t know if you kept a copy...would they? Click. Click. Click-click. You name the duplicate something inconspicuous. Not that they’ll go looking for it. ...but just in case.

Steeling yourself, though you’re not sure exactly what for, you click on the last video. The name doesn’t give anything away, none of them do—they’re all titled by filming date—and you can’t make anything out from the thumbnail, but you’re expecting another haul. Surely the personal recording was included by mistake— ...it’s some sort of reaction video. Troy’s own computer screen is the focus. His webcam feed is in the upper right corner.

“Probably gonna regret this…” he mutters. “But what the hell. Okay! The “horny for Troy” chat is officially open!” You pause. Rewind. No...you'd definitely heard him right the first time. “I want you to know you're all sluts.” He shoots a saccharine grin at his webcam. You feel the faintest twinge of guilt. “First question, here we go. ‘Starting with the obvious’—ooh, watch that confidence, fucker—’dom or sub?’ Okay, listen—” The smirk on his lips betrays his dramatic sigh. “These collars?” He yanks on the metal loop with one finger. “Not just for the aesthetic. But truthfully, I can do both. Next question.”

You fidget, acutely aware of how hot everything feels. Your head. Your hands. Your thighs. It's as if half the blood in your body rushed north and the other half rushed south. It's fluid, fiery, desperate. You toss your headphones onto the desk. Push your chair back. Rake your fingers through your hair.

You imagine they're his. Gripping your head as he kisses you, forcing his tongue between your lips, claiming you, marking you. You're mine, he'd growl. The words would rattle through your ribs, filling you up, making you believe them. And in that moment, they’d be true. Just you. Just him—

NO. You have to control yourself. It's not professional, it's not right. Whether or not he meant to send this doesn't matter. It doesn’t justify…

You glance back at the screen. You wish you hadn’t, because your fleeting fit of common sense dissipates as soon as you see the blush on Troy’s face. It’s deep red, beautiful against his skin, splashed across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He’s laughing about something, reaching back to rub at his neck, looking down, long eyelashes fluttering almost shyly—

CLICK. That’s all it takes. A single, swift, definitive motion. The window closes. Your flustered reflection stares back at you. Your heavy pulse taunts you. Your arousal mocks you.

You ignore all of it. With more self-control than you've been able to manage recently, you load the edited videos onto a new drive. You'll deliver them yourself. Maybe that will keep the fantasies at bay for a while. Maybe.

- - - - - - - - - -

You find him in the antechamber of the throne room. Not the most private place, but maybe that's for the best. It was always funny to you, how your reactions mellowed when you were actually, physically close to him. It was a blessing, you supposed. You doubted you'd have a job if you turned into an incoherent, fumbling mess whenever you looked at him.

“You could have just sent them back,” he mutters, plucking the microdrives from your hands. “But whatever. Thanks.”

You nod, though he probably misses it as he turns to look back through the door to the throne room. Tyreen is readying for a hearing. You chew your lip, unsure how to broach the subject really on your mind. To hell with it. “Did you mean to send—?”

“Shit.” His focus returns to you. “You got more than the gun hauls, huh?”

“...yeah. I didn't do anything to them.” It isn't a lie. The original videos are still intact.

“But...you watched them?” One eyebrow quirks. He doesn't seem angry.

You nod. And take a risk. “They were kind of endearing.” You keep your completely unprofessional reactions to yourself.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Don’t hear that a lot.”

“Troy!” Tyreen’s voice barks from the throne room. It cuts into the air between the two of you. “C’mon!”

He rolls his eyes and pockets the microdrives. “Thanks again. Wish I could stick around to hear more of your compliments, but…” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Godhood calls.”

His bootsteps fade, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and deceptively-calm heartbeat.

- - - - - - - - - -

The rest of the day is uneventful, you busy yourself with software updates and routine server maintenance. It’s easy, menial work, but it’s enough to keep your thoughts from wandering too far in any direction. Maybe you’d been right, maybe seeing Troy in person had been enough to take the edge off—

Your ECHO pings again and you nearly jump out of your skin. Meet me in Studio B. Troy. You read it again. And again. And once more to be sure. And then you obey.

Your heartbeat isn’t so calm this time. What does he want? Had you made a mistake? Said something wrong?

The studio is dim when you arrive, just a few low lights flicked on behind the booth. Troy’s waiting, his feet kicked up on the mixing desk, fiddling with his ECHO. The door creaks as you enter. You cringe.

“That was fast.”

“An order’s an order.”

He watches you for a long moment, then hums. “I’m not blind, you know.”

“I—” What? You know that, what is he—?

“Or stupid.” He stands, faster and more fluidly than you’re anticipating. In a second, he’s right in front of you. “I know exactly how you feel when you’re around me.” His voice has dropped to a whisper and your stubborn, stupid, misbehaving heart— “I hear the way your pulse skyrockets when you think about what you want me to do to you.”

You blink. Swallow. Is this actually happening? Warm, human fingers press under your chin, tilting your head, forcing you to look at him. There’s mischief dancing behind his pale eyes.

“Stop trying to hide it.”

“I—is that an order?”

His razor-sharp grin is enough of an answer. And then it happens. Those coy lips are pressed to yours. That hot, pink tongue that had invaded so many of your wet dreams is now invading your mouth. He’s gripping the back of your neck. Tugging at your hair. Moaning and growling and laughing—and the sounds are bouncing around your ribcage.

The surrealism of it all flips an interesting switch in your mind. In all your daydreams, every fantasy, you’d assumed you’d be paralyzed with shock in a situation like this. Frozen in awe and disbelief. Pliable and soft in his hands. Instead? You go wild.

All your actions blur into a haze of sensations. His teeth on your neck, biting deep, drawing blood. Your hands running over the sleek lines of muscle that define his body. The jagged tearing of cloth as something is ripped off. His knee between your legs. The world spinning as you’re lifted and pushed onto your back. You hardly notice the jabs of the knobs and switches on the instrument panel beneath you—your legs are wrapped around his hips and you’re clinging to him with all the strength you can muster.

Frantic, desperate fingers tug at your belt, slide inside you, curl forward. Stars bloom behind your eyes. You moan. He growls. Panted, breathless exclamations ricochet between you. Names are chanted, recited like prayers.

You’re wide open and ready for him by the time he thrusts up into you. Quick, needy. You move with him effortlessly, rocking up to meet his hips, digging your fingers into his back. All you can do is feel. Feel his body, feel his lips, feel his breath whispering over your neck as he leans down, pushing deeper. And finally—

It breaks. Tension releases. Heavy breaths mingle with sighs and feather-soft kisses. Bliss.

- - - - - - - - - -

You wake up groggy. Sore. Not naked, but you may as well have been because you know this feeling. You’d definitely had a good, thorough fucking. There isn’t enough fog in your brain to make you forget who’d done it, either. He knew how you felt and he’d… God damn, had he done something about it. You swear you can still feel the echoes of your orgasm throbbing between your legs and you wonder how long ago—

A brisk knock at the door nearly kills the mood. You scramble from your bed, praying that none of the...evidence...of your rendezvous would be apparent to whoever— It’s Troy. Heat blossoms in your face.

There’s a lazy, satisfied smirk on his lips. “Sleep okay?”

Fuck it. “Would’ve been better with you.” You don’t even attempt to maintain a normal pulse rate anymore.

His eyebrows arch. His smirk grows wider, showing teeth. The faintest hint of crimson colors his cheekbones. “Is that an invitation?”

You shrug. Keep cool! “If you want.”

He nods. Bites his lip. “I’ll, uh...keep that in mind. But, here, in the meantime…” He pulls a microdrive from his pocket and holds it out to you. “It’s not work, it’s…you’ll see.”

You take it, letting your fingers brush his palm. You don’t miss the way his blush spreads. Still so goddamn cute.

“I’ve gotta go, but...watch that tonight. Tell me what you think.”

“An order?”

He winks.

- - - - - - - - - -

You settle into your chair and load the microdrive. One file. Click-click.

You recognize the setup immediately. It’s Studio B. And there’s Troy. You’re fully expecting what comes next, but you still groan when you hear the door creak open and you step into view of the camera. Of course he’d filmed it. You’re not surprised in the least.

It’s...comforting, though, how you can allow yourself to watch this without trying to school your emotions. He’d made this for you. He’d given you what you wanted. He knew. You don’t stop—you don’t have to stop—yourself from curling up in your chair, biting your knuckles, blushing, and… ...yes, you’ll admit it—touching yourself while you watch.

The two of you look good from this angle. You don’t remember pushing his coat off, but there it goes, crumpling to the floor, revealing his bare back as he lifts you onto the table. From here, you can see his cybernetic spinal support, glowing with dim red light when he dips down to grind against you. You want to touch it. You’re surprised you didn’t. Maybe next time...

For once, the fantasy of there even being a “next time” fills you with warm hope. Unless you’ve been reading him wrong, he seems...interested. It makes you giddy. It makes you feel as though all of your initial reactions are justified. Now that you know he’s reciprocating.

You feel like you’re dreaming, watching all of this play out on the screen. Those are your hands scratching red lines down his shoulder blades. Your limbs tangled with his, wrapped around him. Your body moving perfectly, fluidly, rhythmically beneath his. Your voice panting out his name like an absolution.

And his voice doing the same with yours.

You stay there, curled in your chair, one hand trailing idly over your thighs, long after the last of your cries have faded. After he cradled you to his chest and helped you back to your feet. After the video ended.

It’s all real, you know that, but it feels like it shouldn’t be. He hadn’t even really known who you were until yesterday. Had he? You guess it doesn’t really matter. You’re both getting what you want, but… ...deep down, you’re hoping it’s not that shallow.

- - - - - - - - - -

He finds you in the morning. You’re back in the server room, allowing your thoughts to sort themselves out. At least… ...that was the plan. Until you hear his voice.

“So...what’d ya think?”

You don’t look at him at first. Your hands work with swift, practiced motions, tying a bundle of wires together. You’re not ashamed of the way your heart skips anymore, but what are you supposed to say to something like that? “Kinky,” you manage to joke.

He sighs, but there’s a hint of a laugh at the end of it. “And here I was expecting some quality constructive criticism.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t work.”

“You know what I mean.”

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. There’s nothing to lean on; his hands are fiddling awkwardly. He’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He seems expectant.

You finally look up, meeting his eyes. Your heart is racing, as usual. Not with anxiety or anticipation. With newfound hope. With affection. A smirk tugs at your lips. “Maybe a better angle next time? Not that the one you chose was bad…”

And then he does it. He ducks his head, laughing, exactly the same way he’d done in countless videos, in hundreds of cut and saved clips. That same scarlet blush adorns his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. And you fall in love all over again.

- - - - - - - - - - @corpseyb0nes @afterthedreamer @mischiefsilvertongue @marigold-magpie @tricerathotss @vanderlinde-exe @ayilachan @zipp0flare @luxury-of-insanity @nikyri-reaper @argentineanweaboo @vanillabuttercreamm @anni000001 @imchaoticnerd 

[dolantmego]

94 and 95 with gray plsssss ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: Alright. This is way too long and this the first ask that I have ever done. So hi doll! Thanks for sending in! I hope this is what you were looking for? Sorry it took so long I got carried away. Also this is the first like SMUT SMUT I’ve done so hello hi. Who knew I’d be doing all these things for Gray first? Lord above.

Warnings: Smut? Language? TERRIBLE WRITING????

94. “Saddle up doll.”

95. “Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? ‘Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.”

“Grayson you look like an idiot.” You giggle at Ethan’s words and nod in agreement, giving your boyfriend another once over. He’d forced the two of you to sit in the living room while he went to grab the surprise he’d been planning for the next video. The camera panned between Ethan and Grayson, who had deflated slightly.

“We’re going to the rodeo!” Gray imitates pulling guns out of side holsters and makes small noises while jumping from side to side. The whole ensemble–hat, chaps, boots, belt buckle, the hilarity of it all–struck you all at once. You couldn’t contain your laughter at this point and you start cackling.

“GRAY. THAT IS THE DUMBEST IDEA I HAVE EVER–” Ethan starts.

“ETHAN ITS PERFECT WE GET TO WEAR–”

“GET TO? GRAYSON YOU LOOK LIKE–”

“DON’T BE MEAN BRO ITS FOR FUN!”

“I’M NOT DOING THIS”

You slump back in your chair and listen to the boys argue. It was always funny, when one boy had an idea to do something stupid, the other hated it. And they would go back and forth and back and forth. But as always, lo and behold, a few hours later and the twins were decked out in the most ridiculous rodeo garb you’d ever seen.

Thank god you had chosen to be in the background for this video, because you were able to dawn something a bit more normal. I.e. jean shorts, boots, and a button up. The boys on the other hand–or Grayson rather–had gone all out. Huge belt buckles, colorful boots, chaps with fringe. They really looked dumb, cute, but dumb. But that was half the fun of hanging out with the two of them, they made life interesting.

It took all day to get footage of the boys running around and trying crazy stuff. You just thanked god that the bull had been mechanical. Seeing Grayson on a huge animal like that would have given you a heart attack. Not that both of them didn’t try to get on a real bull. As well as fail miserably on the mechanical one. You had been the one who had made it the longest atop the machine.

“What can I say gentlemen? I know how to ride.” You wink at Grayson, who had been secretly foaming at the mouth for you all day, but after that wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. He pulls your hips against him by your belt loops, and wow were you just now noticing how sexy he actually looks in that hat. Ethan groans in annoyance, and grumbles about definitely NOT putting any of that in the video.

The final activity for the day was the one you were most looking forward to, going horseback riding. Luckily not at the rodeo since the boys weren’t into sticking around for the nightlife part of the experience. Which made sense since they a. Didn’t drink and b. Couldn’t drink. Not that you were complaining. The whole day had been fun, but the crowds of people, animals, and food had started to really unsettle your nerves. So a quiet horseback ride with your boyfriend after the camera shuts off was going to be the highlight of your day.

Both boys had lost the chaps by the time you got to the horse ranch. Grayson’s had ripped on his thighs and Ethan declared that if Grayson didn’t have to wear them than neither did he. So you looked like a relatively more normal crew. Or as normal as three teenagers dressed in rodeo outfits with an entire camera crew surrounding them screaming “PEACE” could possibly look.

As soon as the cameras are down Ethan hops off the horse and hands over the reigns to you. Your eyes go wide at being face to face with the prospect of getting on the giant creature. Had horses always been this big?

“Saddle up doll!” Ethan says chipperly. Usually the nickname makes you feel better–much to Gray’s annoyance–but not this time. You look back and forth between him and the horse, slightly panicked. “Y/N you haven’t shut up about this all day and now you’re not even gonna get on it?” Ethan huffs and tries to force you up onto the horse, but you can’t do it. It’s too big. You’re exhausted. This animal looks terrifying up close. No thanks.

“Maybe another time guys. I don’t think…” You trail off and look up to Grayson–still wearing the jeans, button up, and hat–and the air in your lungs evaporates. The sun is setting behind him and he looks tan and perfect on top of his horse. And he’s staring down at you with heat in his eyes.

“Just ride with me.” He says, holding a hand out to you to join him on his horse. You walk over slowly and take his hand, Ethan disappears to return the other horse to the stables. Grayson helps pull you up behind him and your arms instantly wrap tight around his waist. “ Come on mama. I gotcha.” He assures before flicking the reins so the horse moves toward one of the trails.

Once you get used to riding the horse it is actually really nice. The trail leads back through a wooded area, the sun is slowly setting, and being pressed up against Gray like you are right now? Well you couldn’t really complain. This would fuel your cowboy fantasies for the rest of your life. So much so that you’re flat against his back as you can be, peppering kisses on his shoulders, running a hand up his thigh when you can, and digging your small fingers into his waist.

Grayson stops the horse in front of an overlook and slides off the horse easily. He turns around and holds his hand out to you and you swear you almost swoon. How did he look so hot like this? The goofball persona now gone, and now he was just Gray. Gray dressed as a cowboy, but just Gray. Being himself and knocking you off your feet.

“Ma’am.” He says in a gravelly voice, as he pulls you down off the horse, pressing you against him as he slides you down his body. You turn bright red when you can feel how hard he is through his jeans. This boy could go from goofball to, well, daddy, in two seconds flat and it always shook you to your core. He lets you go once you reach the ground, and tips his hat to you dramatically.

“Why thank you…sir.” You return the small playful language and give him a slow once over and suck your lip in between your teeth. He was sweaty and he looked like every girl’s fantasy. You whimper slightly, and that? That is what does it.

“Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip?” He growls, wrapping an arm around your waist and jerking you to him. He’d felt you press closer to him on the horse. Felt the bounce you had behind him. Your hands had drifted down to rub his thighs more than once. This boy is turned on and beyond ready to be inside of you. “Cause if you did we’re having sex. Right now.” And before you can even open your mouth to say anything his hand is in your hair, pulling it back roughly and he is capturing your lips with his own.

You moan into the kiss and that gives him the access he needs to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He tastes like the mint gum you gave him on the drive over, and vaguely of the cotton candy you’d shared at the fairgrounds. He tugs on your hair harder and his fingers dig into your hips. He loves it when you make the little sounds that you do, the pants and whimpers of want. You pull back to breathe and Grayson immediately moves to your neck, digging his fingers into your hips at bruising point now.

“Gray,” You pant, trying to get his attention, he hums into your neck, “Gray please.” He pulls back and takes your hand to pull you back from where the horses are to a tree on the edge of the trail. His tall frame traps you against the tree and his arms, his endless gorgeous arms, trap you between them.

“Don’t worry mama I’ll give you what you want.” He grins cockily and lifts you against his waist and the tree, you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist, a panicked look on your face. He chuckles again and runs his nose down your cheek lovingly, “Where’s my brave girl?” He rocks his hips against yours slowly. Enough so you’re eliciting those little whimpers again. “You looked so sexy up on that bull today. I couldn’t stop thinking about you bouncing like that on my cock.” He bites your neck and sucks the skin there hard enough to make you cry out. “But after that little stunt you pulled rubbing up on me on the horse?” He tisks and flicks his tongue before shoving you against the tree harder, “I just wanna see you take it.”

And with that he’s balancing you on the tree and unzipping your jeans and slipping them down your legs. You’re out on a random horseback trail bare from the waist down. And you’re begging him for it. He groans at the sight of you and you reach forward to help him unzip his pants enough to get his cock out.

Despite the fact that you’re dripping and Gray is beyond the need to be inside you, he still reaches forward to drag his fingers through your heat, swirling around in your wetness almost languidly. His fingers brush your clit each go around and you start squirming against him and the tree, needing more friction than he’s giving you. He chuckles and leads forward to get right next to your ear.

“Look at you Y/N. Squirming around from just my fingertips. You look like such a slut for me right now. You want it so bad you’ll let me fuck you against a tree, mama?” You nod frantically at his question and he nips your ear, “You know better than that mama. Use your words yeah?” He slips one finger inside of you and growls when you tighten around him, his cock gets impossibly harder.

“P-please Gray. Please I need you.” You whine, you actually whine form him. Nothing else has your focus at this moment expect doing anything you have to, to get this man inside of you. His finger feels good, but it’s not enough. Even when he adds a second finger and curls them inside you, you only whimper more. “It’s not enough please please I want to cum. I need you Gray.”

That seems to satisfy his needs to hear you beg because the next thing you know he is pushing into you hard and fast. Two fingers wasn’t enough to stretch you open for him and his pace is relentless. You’re sure his groans and your screams echo through the trees, and the nail marks in his back will definitely bruise tomorrow. But the way he feels inside of you makes you feel so full and tight, its got your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Rub that clit for me mama. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.” He groans, knowing he isn’t going to last for much longer. You reach down with the free hand that’s not wrapped around his neck and rub your finger over the hard bundle of nerves, your body tightens as that familiar feeling starts to wash over you. “Fuck Y/N you’re so tight. Cum for me baby. Come on.”

“I want you to fill me so bad Gray. So bad.” You whimper, and his pace quickens, he loved it when you begged for him to cum in you. You rub faster on your clit and finally hit that spot that has you practically milking Gray’s cock while you scream your release. He can’t take the sight of you coming undone for him like that and joins you, latching his mouth to your neck as his cock twitches inside you and fills you up like you love.

After a few moments of nothing but heavy breathing, grayson easily lets you down and you wobble on your legs slightly. He chuckles and wraps an arm around your waist before kissing your sweaty forehead.

“You’re so good for me.” He grins against your skin, and you smile back tiredly. “You’re a mess right now though.” You scoff in mock offense and shove him slightly. He grins and pats down your hair a bit before you smack him off so he doesn’t make it worse.

Gray, ever your sexy goofball.

[homespork-review]

Homespork Act 2: The Racism of the Conductor’s Baton (Part 5)

TIER: Meanwhile, minutes in the future, a new character wanders about the desert wasteland. A PEREGRINE MENDICANT.

CHEL: This character resembles WV, except plain white in colour and noticeably taller, also wrapped in rags and pushing what appears to be a shopping trolley full of mailboxes.

WV heads for the passageway outside, the door to the bunker slamming shut behind him and glowing with a touchscreen; interacting with that causes the antechamber to spin around and a door to open into a new room, containing more computers. One of the two screens depicts Earth, while the other shows four spirographs orbiting around a fifth spirograph, with one set of two dots (one large, one small) next to the centre and another set of dots outside the orbit range. Looks familiar? A smaller screen below shows coordinates and times.

The room also contains a meter stick, which WV considers combining with his knife (really a strip of rusty metal) and a strip of rag to form a spear, but he hasn’t got his knife with him, and a bizarre contraption which looks like a ray gun pointing at a circular platform. When WV presses the big blue button on the console, the machine is proved to be an APPEARIFYER, which produces a pumpkin apparently out of thin air. Closer examination proves it to have taken the pumpkin from the coordinates entered on the console; there is a symbol carved on the pumpkin in the shape of what appears to be a pointy-eared animal’s face.

WV experiments a bit more with the machine, successfully summoning his knife back and using it to cut open the pumpkin (we are spared the apparently gruesome sight of him devouring the innards messily). The spirograph switch is immovable without a key. WV is also able to rescue the firefly from within the amber chunk, and this being a cartoon the firefly is miraculously alive and very happy about this! Awww.

TIER: The APPEARIFYER seems to be capable of grabbing thing from anywhere and anywhen, as long as doing so doesn't create a time paradox of all things. Attempting to do so causes the machine to activate a failsafe that turns whatever someone tried to get into a pile of paradox slime.

CHEL: With seconds to spare and dramatic music playing, WV appearifies the grate over the entrance to provide himself with an exit route, then scrambles around cramming all his cans and equipment into the hollow pumpkin, much to the consternation of the firefly, now named Serenity (of course). Frantically, he rushes up the ladder towards outside and safety… only to slip and fall back down at the last second, cans landing all over him, cutting to a scene reading “PSYCHE?” The next page states simply “UNPSYCHE”, the text beneath declaring a failure of the rare and highly dangerous 5X CLIFFHANGER COMBO, and we lead into another animation.

WV makes it to the top of the ladder just as the countdown finishes. Fortunately, the explosion doesn’t kill him; instead, it turns out to be the starting of rocket engines which propel the entire bunker into the air, setting it flying westward. Cut to John’s suburb, noted to be A CONTINENT WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST (BUT NOT MANY), where a meteor plummets to Earth, destroying all life and construction around it. Wind fills up the crater with soil again and a large white tree sprouts in its centre over a time period then revealed to be the years between its destruction and WV’s arrival.

Meanwhile, Peregrine Mendicant pushes their cart full of mailboxes along in the desert, oblivious to the bunker which is heading right overhead. WV observes, and the camera pans out to show PM’s outside another bunker with the same green house symbol on it. AN OCEAN WESTWARD AND YEARS IN THE PAST, but not “not many” this time, a spirograph opens up in space, shooting out a meteor, which crashes beside an active volcano. Millennia pass; the volcano dies, the crater fills up with greenery, and a tall building of green stone with a frog statue on the top is erected by unseen beings. As water levels rise, the building is covered almost completely and the volcano becomes an ocean island. Pterosaurs fly past, so we can presume the building was not made by humans.

Cut to Rose, cornered by the fire, frantically hitting and screaming at the generator until a flaming tree falls, shattering the generator and forcing Rose to leap to safety - or not safety, as the fire is still surrounding her. Mom Lalonde observes from the window of the house and presses a button on a keypad, opening up a secret passage in the mausoleum, leading downwards.

In a mysterious purple tower, Dad Egbert is handcuffed and hurried along by two imps, until he breaks free of the cuffs and attacks with cake and shaving cream. (If you pay close attention, you'll discover the cuffs were the trick ones from John's chest, according to another reader - I never did notice.) Atop another tower, this one Dave’s apartment building, Dave faces down Bro and Cal under a bright orange sky, and we finally see Bro Strider in non-silhouette. He bears a striking resemblance to the photo of the GameBro writer, right down to the popped collar. I don’t know if he’s actually supposed to be said writer, though.

Finally, WV’s flying bunker comes to a gentle stop in the middle of another desert, and he finds himself at the foot of a third tower, this one the remains of the frog-topped building, the ocean now long dry. The animation ends, and the curtains close on Act 2.

Now this is how to get across a lot of information fast! Much better. Very little text needed (in fact, what is there might not be strictly necessary, though it’s useful for immediately parsing what’s shown), no messing about. It’s a sharp improvement over sylladex shenanigans.

Okay, what do you guys think of Act 2? What does it do better than Act 1, or worse? Do you think it’s doing a good job of storytelling?

TIER: The pacing has improved.

CHEL: Technically speaking there are more instances of GET ON WITH IT (five to Act 1’s three), but this act is also longer and some of those instances were unnecessary single pages and not endless faffing about like in Act 1, so yes, that’s getting better. I think Hussie now knows better where his plot is going, and I don’t know if he originally did in the early stages of Act 1, so he’s better able to stick to a route to the goal.

FAILURE ARTIST: It is interesting seeing Rose’s and Dave’s home situation in light of later developments. I don’t think Hussie intended any deep commentary on child abuse when he wrote those scenes. I think it was edgy humor.

I hadn’t paid much attention to Rose’s FAQ or Sassacre’s book and I am disappointed by the racism in the excerpts. Worse, I know Hussie reuses the ethnic wedding metaphor later.

But on a positive note, the walkabout game is a cool new use of the medium.

BRIGHT: There’s a lot more meat to this act. More things happen, we get introduced to some of the background characters and find out more about how the game is set up. We also have more characterisation, which is a definite plus.

CHEL: So, for our hypothetical rewrite, removing the racism is obvious. “Edgy” humour was in at the time of writing, but even with that excuse, this is icky. It doesn’t really have the self-awareness of the awfulness of, say, Something Positive, it’s just a guy saying offensive things and it’s not quite clear how aware he is that they’re offensive.

Also obvious is removing the redundancy. I’d also add in a better reaction for John learning that Earth is doomed. I considered possibly moving that part of the reveal to a later point when it could be explored a bit more, but it does work nicely as a wham line with little info given yet. Also, figure out what the fuck we should be going for with Rose’s and Dave’s parental figures and stick to it. I could certainly see it being possible to lull the reader into falsely thinking of awful situations as funny in context and slowly revealing ways it fucked the kids up as we go, but in HS it’s handled clumsily, and there’s far too much going on already for an idea like that to have space to do it justice, I think. Oh, also, if John’s dream sequence was necessary, I’d have had it with him being knocked out, not just randomly deciding to nap while still surrounded by monsters. That was just kind of weird, especially since his friend is still in danger at that point.

Anything else you all can think of, readers? I don’t think we have any huge holes in the plot yet or anything. It’s certainly still much better than most of the works sporked here, but we'd appreciate it if you point out anything we missed.

COUNTS ALL THE LUCK: 0 ARE YOU TRYING TO BE FUNNY?: 6 CALL CPA PLEASE: 2 CLOCKWORK PROBLEMATYKKS: 6 GET ON WITH IT!: 8 GORE GALORE: 0 HOW NOT TO WRITE A WEBCOMIC: 13 HURRY UP AND DO NOTHING: 3 IN HATE WITH MY CREATION: 0 RELATIONSHIP GOALS?: 0 SEND THEM TO THE SLAMMER: 0 SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS: 0 WHAT IS HAPPENING??: 1 WHITE SBURB POSTMODERNISM: 6 TOTAL: 45

[ilcaeryx]

Tenacity: Chapter 7 - Ghostwriter [Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader]

SUMMARY: Your husband is on sick-leave, but the world cannot seem to stop bringing the hero out of him.

TAGS: Shinsou Hitoshi/Reader, family, comfort

COMMENT: 4971 words... almost 5k. Bruh.

A lone TV broadcasted fresh news into the empty living room, the steady-voiced news anchor preaching to no one in particular.

"Now for the daily news," he announced, clasping his hands above the desk and leaning towards the camera. "Today around three in the afternoon a man in his early twenties committed mass murder at Hikage elderly care facility. Fifteen deaths have been confirmed together with twenty-three injured. The perpetrator is currently on the run."

Change of scenery: a short clip is shown. There's a cascade of powder and debris avalanching down the hill where the entire facility previously stood. Perhaps half the building is now remaining. Like a calzone pizza someone has taken a bite off, the interior is exposed and there are staff members of public service dipping in and out of vision. Cameraman pans down the hill to show the chaos outside, specifically zooming into the heroes Uravity and Cementoss dashing towards the incoming debris.

"The police and hero associations involved plead with the public to stay clear of public spaces and crowds. The perpetrator is highly unstable and dangerous. Do not attempt to parlay with him."

In the front seat, you were preaching to someone in particular. Your feet on the dashboard, eating your confidence through a bag of potato chips and complaining to the driver, who thankfully didn't need to focus because of this massive traffic rubberneck. At this point, though, you suspected he was merely indulging you. He was looking forward, eyelids drooping and back straight against the car seat. With this somewhat forlorn expression he focused on something above the car in front of you, you noticed as you followed his gaze.

"And you know what, Hitoshi? I'm not letting her win, so I'm not going to stop doing that," you cut your complaints short and offered him your bag, "though I will stop ranting. Thank you for coming to my talk."

Hitoshi accepted. He pulled down the sunscreen above his head but you enjoyed the summer sun straight up burning your skin. Admittedly, you didn't have much of a choice considering that you were wearing a comfortable tank top and shorts that covered little. Your husband was better off, wearing khakis and a T-shirt, yet his forearms and cheeks were already coloured a faint red.

"Do you want something to drink? Seems like we'll be here for a while." You patted the space below your seat, searching.

"Sure. I think there's been an accident up ahead."

He stretched his right hand towards the radio. A second faster, you fished up the water bottle and smacked it into his palm. You gave him a knowing look.

That's a no-no.

Being on sick-leave meant leaving your job behind, even if your job physically was in front of you. Much like other aspects of concurrent culture, being unaware basically meant being left behind but this time it was serious. He couldn't take much more. And nevertheless, without his staunch refusal to take a vacation, you're certain he would've had deep guilt about it.

Fucking hero culture.

"Right."

Fathers carrying their young children. Couples rushing, hands interlocked. Elderly people clutching their bags. All of them rushing past your car, moving towards where the rubberneck presumably started. There were shouts accompanying this early stage of chaos around you, uncoherent shrieks distress.

Fear struck you imminently, your body shrinking as the visceral sounds continued. You folded your legs beneath the dashboard and let the plastic bags down through the empty space between your seat and the door.

Your fingers felt clumsy and numb when you reached and clutched Hitoshi's hand, barely aware of the pressure he enforced on the steering wheel. The tip of his fingers and nails paled visibly.

All the noise outside made thinking hard, much less rational thinking. As such you looked at Hitoshi for support.

"Get out of the car." It was a monotone order, one without malice or aggressivity. There was no explanation, nor did you have a follow-up plan, yet you obeyed. Integrating it as your sole objective, you let go of his hand and opened the car door cautiously, peering out for incoming humans.

Behind you, the driver's door slammed shut. By the time you got out Hitoshi was already striding to your side, his eyes scanning behind you. His hand shot up to your waist, his palm warm and solid against you. Ever lightly, Hitoshi buffered you in the direction of the horde, silently begging you to listen to your instincts. You wanted to, but you also wanted him with you - and by his concentrated stare and squared shoulders, you knew you would never convince him to.

Momentarily, the two of you locked eyes and you thought you could control yourself enough to stay with him.

A strange warping sound hollowed whatever conviction existed out of you, leaving a void desiring safety.

The primal demand to survive was staggeringly powerful and you did not understand how Hitoshi could resist it.

"Y/N, head up the road to the heroes," he said, overexaggeratedly articulating his words. His bared canines and wild hair confused you; how could he look like a panther ready to kill its prey while sounding like an audio book storyteller? "I can't focus while you're here - I need you safe. Now go!"

He half-shouted that last part, imploring whatever self-preservation you had to keep you safe. So it did, because you ran all the way up to the temporary encampment for wounded civilians. You escaped from danger only to plunge into chaos.

Without back-up and without gear, Hitoshi left you alone to face the rampanging villain, alone.

That's when you knew you would have to try harder or the hero world would consume all of your husband.

"That's a nasty Quirk you've got there," Hitoshi spat out, wiping blood off his cheek. He involuntarily winced when the back of his hand came into contact with the gushing wound, tingling pain following. A warm trail brushed down his chin and neck, soaking into the hem of his T-shirt. It wasn't too deep a wound, all things considered.

Overall, it wasn't just the combination of a disturbed villain and high-powered Quirk - the situation itself was beyond fucked up; two heroes had their limbs removed (for lack of a better word) and several civilians were strewn about, pinned down between cars or otherwise immobilized. He couldn't accurately discern the dead from the living, not with the swirling smoke billowing around the cars. Had this occurred back in the day, this would have been filed as a terrorist attack by the League of Villains.

"If you're not going to talk then at least look at me, dickhead," he said, switching his weight to the front of his feet.

And so the villain did.

The hero encampment was an absolute mess. When you first arrived you had attempted to help out, but your offer was declined. You passed by several heroes, quietly greeting those you recognized. Some gave you an encouraging smile, others barely registered you as a living being. Rapidly you had settled into sitting by some teenage girls, absorbing the atmosphere until your soul started to hurt.

At one point the endless cries droning on in the background merged from dozen different voices… to five… to losing complete meaning. Passively observing the frantic movements of humans around you, everything was rather meaningless. Whenever an ambulance arrived to retrieve a patient, they left behind a shaken and upset family to listen to the fading sirens. The worst was that as heroes removed cars from the highway for availability reasons and as the wounded were sent away, the suffering never dipped below a certain threshold. More and more people amassed, grieving and aiding each other in an intimate organic hivemind of humanity. Misery truly loved company.

This is how it remained for hours.

You had a vague idea of what was going on. Snippets of comments were travelling throughout camp. As apathetic as you felt, there was nothing else to do but listen to the speculation and information with those around. Eventually, word spread that the villain had been subdued.

Until you heard from a hero acquaintance that Hitoshi was alive and well, no tidbit eased your fear. When you heard 'Hitoshi' in the same sentence as alive, dizziness overwhelmed you. Once you knew he would return, you retired to a less populated corner and passed out.

Maybe a few minutes or an hour later, you came to with a powerful headache crowning your skull. It made your vision float uncomfortably when you sat up at too fast, so you leaned towards a crate. You were completely out of breath despite having done nothing rigorous.

Even later after you had awakened, Hitoshi found you. Your husband looked incredibly roughed up; his vacation clothes had left him defenseless, his knees and face skinned and cut. As he approached he walked unevenly, avoiding straining his left leg with his weight.

If you stood up, you knew you were going to faint. Thus you stayed down and he joined you with a pained groan, though he did seem pleased to see you. In his own way, of course. The alert expression he had donned that noon was worn out, resetting to its normal resting bitch face. His untamed hair was partly flat against his skin, sticky with sweat, and partly roughed around like bed-hair. He repeatedly pushed his hair away from his face but it returned all the same, tangling in front of his eyes. He was so tired…

"Are you hurting?" you asked, pointing at the white bandage on his cheek.

Hitoshi laid down on the grass beside you, bracing himself on his elbows. Until he reached out for you, you didn't make a move at him. Something finally clicked in you as you nestled against his side, letting him guide you against him. It almost felt wrong, holding your usually touch-averse husband in this suffocated place where so many were without their loved ones.

"The medics patched me up well enough. Getting away with these kind of injuries against someone like that is a reward in itself - some people weren't as lucky. And you listened to me, for once. I expected you to talk back when I told you to run."

You glanced up at him, squinting in the sunlight.

"Well," you started and blinked dumbly, not sure of how to phrase your rebuttal. Right now you had poor recollection of these last few hours, though you could remember being unable to control yourself. "I thought that just this once, you probably knew what you were doing. Also, why are you insinuating I never listen to you?"

You heard him shake his head lightly.

"It's less not listening and more reckless behaviour, to be perfectly honest."

Again, his words swam inside your head without giving you a clear and definite feeling or thought. You curled your leg over his while trying to ignore the clamor around you.

"I want to answer 'Wait until I get used to this and I'll talk back all the time', but I don't want to go through this again, Hitoshi."

He inclined his head to look at you, frowning softly. While he did seem to want to answer, he dejectedly caressed your shoulder with his thumb. Through the thick fog inside your head, you reasoned that he too wished for this to never happen again. Wouldn't that be amazing? An alternative lifestyle, or rather the one that the majority of the population lived by, where you didn't fear that your spouse would die on the job or accidentally reveal where their loved ones live to villains.

This, along with the exhaustion and hunger, made it hard to convey what you were thinking, so you just sighed. "I want to go home."

"I'll get someone to pick us up, but there's something I need to tell you."

Upon returning home, the puffiness of your eyes had abated and the pulsing ache behind your head matched the one in your chest. As soon as the car stopped, you released yourself from the belt and thanked the driver with a gravelly voice. You hurried into your apartment, keys shaking in your hand. With Hitoshi right behind you, you entered your home to soft mumbling from the living room.

Both of you froze, until you recognized a voice actor's famous drawl.

"We left the TV on," Hitoshi said quietly, gently pushing you aside and striding into the living room with squared shoulders. You followed him inside when you heard him hum discontently, flipping through the channels. The TV flashed and it conveniently showed the news detailing today's attack. As much as you didn't want to know about it and for Hitoshi to further stress himself up, the rule about no news could not be enforced when family members were involved. It seemed like no matter how much you wanted to shield him from the world, life would find a way to screw specifically with the two of you.

"I can't believe he's done this," you said, feeling your soul evaporate from your body as the camera crew showed the remnants of the elder care facility from a distance. It seemed that all the inhabitants and staff had been evacuated. You wondered if they were still waiting for transport into the city hospitals by the hero encampment where you had stayed. Your car was still left on the road together with those of many others. An overview of the road flicked up, cars pushed to the sidelines for transportation.

"He doesn't exactly fit the usual profile," Hitoshi said.

You shouldn't indulge him, you really shouldn't…

"The usual profile being..?"

"A person in a vulnerable position. Money, work, problems with people… People don't turn into villains for no reason, I think. There's got to be something more guiding them, just like there is for those of us on the lawful side of society."

"Ah. I guess that is true."

It wasn't unthinkable that your brother had been influenced into committing a crime; he was a successful businessman with a throng of acquaintances, a few loyal friends and some noteworthy enemies. Much like Hitoshi, he regarded his vocational duties with serious respect, more than you would tolerate considering that all he made was money for his bosses. Someone out for his position could've done something to him, with the consequences being these.

Your baby brother in this position… You felt sick to your stomach. Was it because of the destruction? Because he never showed signs of weakness or whatever the fuck made him do this? Or did he perhaps just never reveal that part of himself to you?

That couldn't be true though. You two were so close.

"Can we go see him?" you asked, uncertain of how police protocol worked. On the way home, you had listened to the local radio comment about the attack and there seemed to be a high death count. That would probably affect whether or not you could see your brother.

Hitoshi stared blindly into the TV and said, "Will you face him even after everything he's done?"

It equally dumbfounded and conflicted you, it really did. 'Eighteen deaths' said the updated sign beneath the news anchor, increasing the death toll by three since this afternoon. On one hand, he was your brother - of course you'd back him up. That's what your initial instincts said. On the other hand, this visceral, unknown side scared you. The middle ground was curious, morbidly so.

"I saw your brother do some heroes in," Hitoshi said, his lips barely moving. "He ripped their arms and legs into oblivion. If he hadn't been confused after seeing me, I would have ended up like that too."

Slowly, you crept up to Hitoshi and attached yourself to his arm, feeling his muscle tense up. He had all the reason to be stressed. You wouldn't let him go in any case, not after today. You probably lost your brother after this ordeal and you refused to lose your husband, too. With your body chilled, as if submerged in ice cold water, you said, "I want to. I want to believe this wasn't his doing. It doesn't seem likely, though… If he is stuck behind bars I don't want to live without knowing why."

"Right. You talk to him, get to know his motives and hope that the people surrounding you have the tact to not ask you about it."

"Whatever I do, I will lose, then."

Since the villain's identity wasn't broadcasted the rest of your family and friends remained ignorant, aside from your brother's family and your parents. Your sister-in-law was inconsolable, you heard from your mother when you spoke on the phone. On the verge of tears around your parents, somewhat controlled around her children. Because your brother had young children she was keeping it together, but only barely. The entire family was camped out at your parents' place and the only reason you didn't go was because Hitoshi had been credited for suppressing the villain.

While your sister-in-law supposedly didn't mind, you and Hitoshi agreed that it'd be a bad idea to show up. All you could do was hope that your nephews weren't told, as they adored Hitoshi and vice versa.

During the night, you were unable to sleep. Hitoshi stayed holed up in your bedroom attempting to sleep while you straight up didn't bother trying. Before he left you by the kitchen table with a glass of juice and your laptop you promised him you wouldn't keep reading the news or comments on social media. With a quick kiss he bid you goodnight.

Throughout your misery there was a tiny speck of appreciation for him caring about your mental well-being. You could keep yourself off the internet and play games or whatever tickled your fancy at 2:20AM, but you couldn't stop ruminating.

At this point, you felt like a conspiracy theorist and you were convinced that Hitoshi would deadpan you for this idea.

Honestly, you thought and finished your second cup of coffee, as long as it gets me through this I don't mind going a bit batshit.

Your head was massively pulsating and it felt like you were going crazy with everything. Everything was going to hell and nothing made sense.

How long would this go on?

At precisely 4:13AM you stumbled into your shared bedroom.

Boy, did you have a revelation for your husband.

You crawled over your side of the bed to him, who laid sleeping on his side. He awoke before you could touch him with your shaky hands, looking awfully alert and aware for someone with permanent dark bags under his eyes. Hitoshi blinked against the hall lights until he focused on you, frowning.

"I don't think my brother did this out of his own volition," you said as steadily as you could, because you 100% needed him on your side right now.

He stared blankly at you, lips spread slightly. Turning around beneath the covers, he rotated until he could face you properly.

"You know my brother. He wouldn't do this out of his own volition, Hitoshi. Why would someone with a good career and family go on a killing spree? This has to be a mistake."

Heavy subject to breach his sleep with, you understood. Gripping the sheets, you begged him with your eyes to hear you out.

"So you think he's been coerced into this?" he said after some contemplation.

"Yes! Why would he do this otherwise?"

He didn't answer for a while and you started feeling defensive, so you evaded his gaze.

"Not everyone's motives are understandable," he finally said, using his forearm to keep his hair away from his face. "Everyone does whatever they want, regardless of the people around them or whatever they were born with. All I know is that he didn't have to kill humans."

That sounded very different from what he preached earlier to you. If people did what they want and the circumstances were irrelevant, why was the profile he spoke about so important? Fucking meaningless, all of it. You let air escape through your teeth, more like the determined hiss from a rattlesnake than a sigh. All you could try was to convince your silvertongue husband to believe you.

"Hitoshi..!"

You looked at him and got taken aback by his expression, one of profound sadness.

"Baby, I need you to listen to me," his voice like liquid. "There's nothing we can do right now. We just have to wait for justice to work things out."

"You need to hear me out."

"Right. I'll do that later. Now, lay down and get some shuteye."

Too tired to decipher whether he used his Quirk on you or not, you blacked out doused in disappointment.

Turns out your proposition wasn't positively received by Hitoshi. He seemed pensive about your words but you could tell that he didn't place much weight on them. Indeed, he disagreed strongly that your brother had been forced or otherwise influenced into this. When pressed for reasons, he continued that people could be blackmailed into financial shenanigans to cover them up, but downright murder was out of the question. That would obviously raise hell and was the opposite of being clandestine. His sources were his own experiences.

The one thing he had no clear answer to was whether his brainwashing could overwrite instructions from other similar Quirks. Seeing him doubt and scratch his head over it gave you some relief. This was your sole consolation.

It wasn't like you forced Hitoshi back to his workplace, but he was adamant on following this up. At least that was a place safer than anywhere else, considering how many pro heroes and side kicks that were in the vicinity. You could just hope that they wouldn't rope him into doing work. If they did, you'd personally show up at the office and leave with your husband and someone's bloody nuts.

While he was away you visited your family, gathered your thoughts and returned home with some of your mom's homecooked food. Everyone was in agreement; something strange was going on with your brother.

When thinking about it, you thought that he must've been pretty damn out of it to not recognize Hitoshi. Hitoshi didn't recognize him because of his get-up, but your brother should have recognized him. Why would he answer out of anger instead of being shocked or confused? Like Hitoshi had said before, if your brother had reacted out of instinct instead of having gotten confused, Hitoshi would've limped away with a missing limb or worse. As much as it terrified you that those people died because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time, you were secretly relieved that he arrived at the right time. However, the rest of the world didn't see it like that.

The news were always droning in the background while you were at home, because if your husband was at work you would also allow yourself to stay up to date with the news. They claimed that the villain most likely could've been neutralized had the heroes reacted faster or some other idiotic attack. You hated the worship that surrounded the heroes because it placed an insurmountable amount of pressure on a relatively small amount of people. The consequences? Overwork, survivor's guilt, high burnout and suicide rates, among many.

Hitoshi had updated you in a dry tone after his prolonged visit to his office. Word spread like hellfire when it came to mass murder and this was no different. With your heart rippling with fear, you listened to him explain that your brother had not been the only villain and that the heroes were currently tracking down the last two. There aren't words to describe the relief that shone through your body, the mere presence of hope aggressively raising your solemn mood. It could still mean that your brother had collaborated, yet you felt that you were right in assuming he was coerced. Your newfound hope fuelled you and you couldn't wait until you could tell your parents.

After your talk you gloomily realized that you shouldn't have let Hitoshi go in the first place, because his co-worker called him back into the office, saying that the cops were there. Was him being away really worth the information? Perhaps he had been right in saying that knowing everything about the case wasn't worth it.

Shinsou Hitoshi was accustomed to people gossiping about him. For some reason, people were very interested in his Quirk, the dark bags under his eyes and his ties to UA. When he returned to his office for the second time that day, his people had a newfound fixation with the fact that his brother-in-law had committed a severe crime. Indeed, he hung out behind a corner and overheard his assistants talk about it. His coffee tasted badly, regardless of how much milk he put in it.

"You're the last person I would expect to be here," His manager's voice rang out behind him. Hitoshi actually jumped, almost spilling his cup. His assistants ceased talking. "Yet it cannot be helped. Did you hear from..?"

"Yes," he said in a monotone voice and peeked across his shoulder, pokerface on. "I heard that the police came here to talk?"

His manager tightened his tie and gave him a tired look. "They're waiting for you."

"I won't keep them waiting further, then." Without further ado, he set off towards his office room, walking briskly past his assistants. If someone could spontaneously explode, they probably would've done it by now.

Hitoshi felt guilty for his manager. Sato would be working overtime to highlight his subjugation of the villain and quench whatever rumors were spreading. Unfortunately the rest of his team participated in that... A little support from his team wouldn't be bad. The public was ruthless in their criticism and he wanted nothing more than go back to his wife. His sick-leave was cut short by your personal tragedy that extended into becoming his personal win and tragedy. Usually when he successfully dealt with villains, he and his team would be thinking about ways to capitalize on it. This time around he would want it buried ASAP, both for his sake and yours.

Although it wouldn't stop after this little talk with the police, he started to seriously consider sick-leave a positive thing. He could certainly use a break from this madness.

"So the police came to question you?" You sat cross-legged on the sofa, spine hunched over and eyes set in shadows. It wasn't the 'seductive kind of deeply-set eyes' he allegedly had but 'I'm tired of everything eyes'. The way your body language had shot from lethargic to alarmed after he announced that he had news made him clench his fists in hopelessness. It was something he had encountered before when dealing with civilians in denial about the deaths of their friends or relatives. Or rather, it was a human quality. Damn if he hadn't thought about his brother-in-law being forced into this by someone with a Quirk like his.

"Yes," he said, leaning back onto his armchair. "It was pretty standard. They asked questions about what happened, his Quirk and how he acted. I'll skip the details…"

He trailed off, staring off into nothingness as he structured his thoughts quickly. "I kept thinking about what you said before… about my Quirk overwriting other Quirks. I told them I thought that your brother seemed off and not entirely there, just like it is with Brainwashing."

"So it's not impossible?"

That was a hard question he didn't have a factual answer to. If Brainwashing could be undone by hurting the subject, other suggestion-like Quirks could have other conditions for release. The two other villains had, much like the League of Villains members in the past, unregistered Quirks and it'd take a few days to completely figure them out. Until then, this would only be speculation.

"Probably not," he said reluctantly.

Your face relaxed, your shadows becoming less intensive somehow. Hitoshi was content yet uneasy. This was the closest he'd ever come to letting another person influence his observations. Courts experienced problems with witnesses showing bias or remembering things wrong, which could prove important for either incarceration or for the villain to regain their freedom. It surprised him how you could influence him to that extent. No one was immune, but still…

He regarded you seriously, clasping a hand behind his neck. While he was happy that you were relieved by the small chance for your brother to have been coerced, he understood the feeling of wanting to prove everyone wrong and wished you hadn't influenced his thinking.

But that was also why he liked you. Someone who could show him other ways to think. Who didn't like to be put in their place ever so often?

"I don't know how it'll turn out with your brother. I don't want to promise you anything," he said.

You wiggled your head loosely to the sides and hummed. Not quite content, then.

Hitoshi used his upper body strength to lift himself off the armchair and struggled over to you, left leg flaring up in pain. It disappeared once he sat down beside you and you let out an unwilling laugh when he laid down across your lap, his head leaning against your thigh. Your hands combed through his unruly hair and he groaned when you liberated his tangled ends.

This girl…

When it came to you, he simply didn’t know when to stop.

How far would the two of you get with your words and his voice?

If you liked this, give it a reblog or like! I’ll be releasing more soon.

Link to Masterlist

[unfortunatelysirius]

! DEAR BROTHER, HOW I HATE THEE /// BUCKY BARNES x READER

╰❂╮ prompt ╰❂╮ You’re Tony Stark’s secretary, and also his sister, but there’s this one thing you can’t let him find out: your crush on the newest addition to the Avengers team, James Buchanan Barnes. ╰❂╮ author’s note ╰❂╮ I’m finally getting around to trying out new fandoms. Hope you guys like this; if you do, pls tell me, because I feel like it’s garbage and I’m sorry if it sucks D: Love you guys btw! Send some positivity my way pls, I’m going through some shitty times with rlly toxic people and it’s a struggle to get out of friendships with people you’ve known since childhood. AS ANOTHER SIDE NOTE, if you want tagged in future Avengers imagines, shoot me a message or just comment bc yoooo, I’ll totally do it. And rememberrrr, my inbox is open! And I’m always looking for fresh ideas for my imagines :))) ╰❂╮ warnings ╰❂╮ Swearing, Fluff ╰❂╮ word count ╰❂╮ 3869

   If there was one thing you absolutely hated about your brother—not counting his oversized ego—it’d be his habit of meddling in your affairs. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hide secrets from Anthony Stark. It just didn’t work that way, especially with all the security cameras and the blabber-mouthed Avengers that littered the Tower.

         But there was this one secret that, if gotten out, and if exposed to the male members of the team, you’d probably move to Alaska.

         You had the biggest, fattest, most obviously obvious crush on the Avengers’ new recruit, Bucky Barnes.

         Truth be told, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t be enduring the phases of a crush. You didn’t want to be infatuated with someone who probably cared more for succulents than they did for you. The butterflies, the stomach cramps, the anxiety, the sweaty palms; you were certain Bucky noticed your behavior around him, and he probably found it uncomfortable, and it most certainly made him avoid you, but what were you supposed to do? Stay rooted in your office all day? That was not a plan you felt obligated to disclose—especially not to your crazy-ass brother. If it was up to Tony, he would have locked you in your office by now; if he ever caught you, his puny little sister, attempting to join in on field combat again, he’d probably have a heart attack. And Pepper would have your head.

         Well, maybe not. Pepper liked you. But that was liable to change if you killed her boyfriend. And Tony would turn you into Rapunzel if you kept trying to be a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent when you were a freakin’ secretary.

         That’s one reason why you couldn’t share your latest fancy with your brother. With all the history of Bucky being the Winter Soldier, and you always getting into trouble that’d always wind up with you sustaining some sort of injury, he’d worry himself into early sickness. You told Tony everything, only starting with the trend of raw honesty after Tony revealed that he had cameras out in the hall from your room and basically knew everything you’d ever done wrong, but this was just something he’d try and sabotage in any possible way he could.

         However, that didn’t mean you couldn’t tell other people. It just had to be outside of hearing range for the Tower. That’s what had you and Wanda Maximoff at a café around the corner from Stark Tower. A populated place that was nowhere near Tony and his rampant, exaggerative mind.

         “Oh my gosh, Wanda,” you groaned into the table, barely managing to thank the waitress as she deposited your and Wanda’s coffees and blueberry muffins in between the two of you. You peeked up, giving Wanda your best I’m-dying eyes, fit with half-slanted eyelids and creased corners. “He’s just so handsome… I can’t be normal around him. Like, how do you be normal around cute boys?”

         Wanda pursed her lips. She had taken a dainty sip of her mocha latte through your rant, and was only just putting it down when you turned your pleading gaze to her. “Well,” she said slowly, “I do not think I am the best person to approach with this information. Neither Natasha. Do you have any secretary friends you can talk to about this?”

         Your eyes turned withering. You regarded your coffee and muffin as irrelevant, pausing only for a moment to take in the delectable blueberries bursting out of the muffin-skin, before you raised your head to its full height. “You and Natasha are the only people I talk to,” you said. You sounded whiney, but you were freaking out about this, so honestly, you didn’t care. You jutted out your bottom lip, thinking a pout could win her over, and evoke from her advice. “Please?”

         A pause. Then Wanda finally sighed. “If you really want a relationship out of this, then you should approach him with your feelings,” she told you. “Feelings are no good when they stay just that: feelings.”

         “That’s true,” you said. You took a bite out of your muffin, nearly turning into goo at the scrumptious taste. “He’s just so… stoic. And he hardly smiles, or laughs. Sometimes I don’t know if he wants to kill me, feels nothing for me, or finds me likable. I mean, I hope it’s the latter, but let’s face it; the only person he truly likes in that tower is Steve, and on rare occasions, he even enjoys Natasha’s company. I’m just… a background nuisance.”

         “No, you are not.” Wanda shook her head at you. She took her hands from her coffee cup, moving them out so she could place them on your own hands. She gave you a stern, motherly look. “You must get to know him better. Try your hand at being his friend, and then, see where the road takes you. You will do nothing for yourself if you continue to mope.”

         You nodded frantically. “Yeah, yeah—that’s a great idea—but, wait…” You sighed. “What do I do about Tony?”

         Wanda rolled her eyes. “Pay him no mind,” she said, pulling away a hand to wave it dismissively in the air. “You’re a grown woman. He does not own you. Unless you are a product of Stark Industries, and you are no human, but a robot in disguise. Are you?”

         “No…”

         “There you have it, then. Talk to Bucky, and see where he stands.” She leaned back in the booth seat, taking a long sip of her coffee. You proceeded to do the same.

         Maybe she was right… You did need to start getting to know Bucky better. And you needed to stop letting Tony influence and dictate your life. After all, Bucky was only a man, and if he was as truly stoic as you thought he was, then your feelings would be one-sided and Tony would get his wish: you, single forever, an eternal bachelorette.

         -

         You were making breakfast in the kitchen Tony had on the Avengers floor (as well as the floor you stayed in, when you weren’t at your apartment in the city), clad in Hello Kitty pajamas, when you had your first encounter of the week with Bucky. You were humming to an old 80’s song, stirring pasta, and there came a deep, throaty chuckle, then his husky voice as he said, “Is that Billie Jean?”

         You jumped, a sharp squeak leaving you. A flush lit you up from head to toe, and if it wasn’t Bucky—if it was another Avenger, someone you were comfortable enough around to be yourself—you might have broken into a fit of, “Oh my god, oh my god”’s. However, just your luck, it was Bucky who graced you with his presence, seeing you in your pajamas, watching you as you jammed out to imaginary Michael Jackson records. This was downright embarrassing.

         You slowly turned to look at him. You fought back the even redder shade of blush that was struggling its way up your throat, choosing (from a multitude of other embarrassing ways to act around Bucky) to smile nervously and teeter-tot on your heels. If the symptoms of your crush were going to burn you alive, you might as well smile through the death and destruction. Bucky began to look expectant when you merely stood there and smiled at him, which made you remember you hadn’t yet replied to him. “Oh, u-um, yeah!” you said, through such a high pitch, that you internally face-palmed. Way to give yourself away, dumbass. “I was just…”

         “Dancing?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. A smirk was beginning to twitch at his lips, fighting to make its debut appearance. “That’s a bit of a safety hazard when cooking, doll.”

         Doll? Did he just call me doll? That deep-red shade you were trying to fight off your face… You were now a goner to your body’s dysfunctions. You flushed deeply, and your smile turned into a clumsy line that revealed just how much strength you had in the face of a handsome, well-mannered man, meaning zero. “There’s a reason why Tony keeps me locked up in the office all day,” you said, with an unsure laugh. “He says I make a habit of hurting myself when I’m alone. Apparently, I’m a trouble magnet!”

         Bucky’s eyebrows raised, and he no longer tried hiding his smirk. He looked amused. “Clearly,” he murmured.

         “Well, uh—” You stopped talking. You really didn’t know where you were heading with that. The curious look on his face, though, made you take a deep breath and say, “Shouldn’t you be at training?”

         Bucky’s eyes turned wide, and his smirk disappeared. He put a nervous hand on his neck, scratching at it—like this was a question he really didn’t want to answer. “Well, uh—” he parroted, looking just as jumpy as you had felt when you, too, had uttered the words. “I just wanted—I, well… I thought you might want some company.”

         You blinked. You hadn’t expected that. “Well… I could always use someone to talk to while I cook.” Your expression considerably brighter, you turned back to your pasta—which had almost burned while you were busy talking to Bucky.

         A loud scrapping sound told you Bucky had sat down, and the prickling sensation on your neck told you that he was staring. After about three minutes of you moving the pasta off the burner and putting together a marinara sauce, you decided to say something. You said over your shoulder, “So, you like Michael Jackson?”

         Bucky said, “Yes.” A simple answer.  

         “I do too,” you replied, a smile on your face as you put the marinara sauce in a pan to heat. You turned to him. “Would you want to eat with me?” At the startled expression on his face, you backtracked, a sense of panic welling up in you— “Wait, uh—only if you want to—”

         “Sure,” said Bucky, reverting you back to your normal, albeit fidgety, state. “Pasta’s nice.”

         “Oh.” You blinked. You weren’t expecting that answer. “Okay, cool!” The raised eyebrow he shot you at the amount of pent-up excitement in your tone made you feel a tad bit abashed, but what did that matter—you were having dinner with James Buchanan Barnes.

         You couldn’t stop smiling all throughout dinner, so distracted by your conversations with Bucky (and the astonishing fact that he was smiling and laughing with you, two elements of a human’s behavioral personality, which he apparently lacked, that caused you to think he disliked you) that you forgot one teeny, tiny detail about Stark Tower…

         -

         Tony cornered you the next morning, nearly sloshing your coffee all down your shirt in his haste to get to you. “You couldn’t have picked a worse person to deflower you, huh?”

         You stopped walking. What the hell? “Did you really just say ‘deflower’? What are you—fifty?”        

         “Better than being in my 90s,” Tony said snidely, an obvious reference you weren’t automatically getting, before grabbing your arm. He ignored your look of annoyance and pulled you to in front of him. “That tin-armed hand-me-down is still in the works about becoming normal, Y/N/N. One little snap, and you could be killed. You understand that?”

         “What—are you talking about Bucky?” At Tony’s deadpan expression, you had to let out a sigh; of course he saw. Of course! He had cameras in every stinkin’ crevice of this damned Tower. “Tony… there’s nothing going on between us.” Well, you wished there was, but he didn’t need to know that. “And besides, Bucky is a person. Stop talking about him like he isn’t.”

         Tony rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. “Bucky is a person… He’s got you brainwashed, or infatuated, because all I see is a man who murdered our damn parents, Y/N.”

         You pushed him off of you. “That wasn’t him,” you snapped. “He wasn’t in control of himself. If you want to blame anyone, blame Hydra. Stop being a dickhead about it.”

         Tony’s eyes darkened. He went to say something, but he must have thought better of it because he merely shook his head, then briskly walked back down the hallway. When you got to your office, you couldn’t help the long, angry screech that left you in the safety of your personal four walls; if there was anyone who could frustrate you most in this world, it was your brother.

         -

         Taking long and well-thought measures to avoid someone usually resulted in you avoiding other people, too. Which included all of the Avengers. It wasn’t that much of a surprise when a knock on your office door sounded before Natasha was waltzing right in, a look of pure anger on her face.

         “Why are you avoiding us?” she said brusquely, barely paying your deer-in-headlights expression any attention as she plopped down on the meeting chair placed in front of your desk.

         “I’m avoiding Tony.”

         Natasha breathed out a scoff, then began to laugh. “He lives here, Y/N. How exactly did you think you were going to avoid him? Avoid us?”

         She had got you there. Your expression fell into a thin line teetering on the edge of shame, barely concealing your embarrassment. “I know… but he—”

         Natasha threw up a dismissive hand. “Whatever he did to you, it can’t be bad enough a reason for you to avoid everyone and lock yourself up in this tiny little prison you call an ‘office.’” She snorted. “Barnes is worried.”

         You were beginning to look away, not able to meet Natasha’s eyes while she was busy chastising you, but her final words caught your attention. You immediately turned to look at her. “Wait—what?”

         There was that meddling look that Tony was always giving you. Befit with a raised brow and hollowed-out cheeks, Natasha smirked. “Barnes. He’s worried about you. He’s the one who asked me to come check on you. He said Tony probably locked you up to keep you out of trouble.”

         Wow. I didn’t think Bucky cared enough to do that. Maybe there was a lot of things you didn’t know about Bucky. You pursed your lips, then said—“You can tell him I’m fine.”

         Natasha got this look on her face, before she was tilting her face towards the door leading to your office. “Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

         Before you could ask what she meant by that, the door to your office was pushing open, and Bucky stuck his head out from between the frame. His frown seemed bashful, and he didn’t meet your gaze head-on. “Hey, doll. Can I come in?”

         Doll. Again. You ignored Natasha’s knowing stare when you replied, “Oh, y-yeah—of course.”

         “Guess I’ll be off,” Natasha said loudly, rising from the office chair. She sent you a wink. “I’ll get Tony to lay off with the brotherly love.” She smirked.

         You waved her off awkwardly, biting hard on your lip as she passed Bucky and shot him a wicked, cheeky grin. Bucky mumbled a few choice words, shoving at her shoulder; he certainly seemed embarrassed by whatever implications were in her expression.

         When Bucky was out of the door’s range, and Natasha’s clacking heels were no longer heard above the ventilation, the two of you sat in a still, awkward silence. You were twiddling with your fingers, and Bucky was staring at his feet, both of you too introverted and shy to really speak the first words. However, in the midst of your frantic thoughts (Oh God, what do I say, what do I do, is he mad at me? Did I do something wrong?) you didn’t notice Bucky look up from his boots, or see him sink into the same chair that Natasha had only been occupying moments before. He looked at you for a long moment, and only when the hair-raising feeling that accompanied people’s centered gazes intensified did you finally look up.

         “Oh,” you said dumbly. “Hi.”

         Bucky’s lips twitched. The barest hint of a smile crawled onto his lips. “Hi.”

         You didn’t know what to say. Neither did Bucky, it seemed. This was extremely awkward, and you wondered why Natasha had to leave when she knew the two of you were the quietest members of the Tower; conversations were difficult to uphold when Bucky was silent most of the time and simplistic in his rare answers, and you always stopped before you could begin when it came to speaking.

         However, you must have misjudged Bucky for being defiant in his silence. He slowly crossed his arms, continuing to stare into your eyes, before saying, “Did Tony do something?”

         Your mouth fell agape before you were gathering your senses. Don’t be such an open book, idiot. “He said some things I didn’t like,” you said finally. “So we’re not on speaking terms, at the moment.”

         Bucky’s face brightened, then dulled. Like he was wanting a different answer. Like he knew exactly what you were talking about. “Ah,” he said. “Does the word ‘deflower’ really bother you that much?”

         Oh, shit. Did he—? “Wait.” Your reply was slow, calculated. “Did you overhear our conversation?”

         Bucky nodded.

         You sighed. Well, he must think I’m obsessed with him or something, defending him like I’m his girlfriend. “Tony’s… an asshole. I’m sorry he said the things he did.” There, that sounded friendly enough. You didn’t want to come off as a fangirl.

         Bucky just shook his head, looking determined. And like he didn’t really care about Tony, and his wonderful way with words. Bucky leaned forward, propping his crossed arms on your desk. He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and close enough that your gaze immediately flickered towards his lips. “You said there’s nothing going on between us… What if I said there is something?”

         This conversation was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. Your jaw fell open again, eyes going wide with shock. “W-What?”

         Bucky stared at you. He seemed less confident now, with your expression of bewilderment so blatant. He started leaning back into his chair. “I’m sorry—was that too forward?”

         Now, you were dubious. Why wasn’t he referencing all the fangirl moments you’d have around him? Was he just oblivious? Since it appeared like he was embarrassed, for lack of a better word, you began to push forward in your seat; you latched a hand around his flesh arm. “N-No!” you shouted, before quieting, a blush on your face. “No… I just didn’t expect you to think that way about me, is all.”

         Bucky was the one to look dubious now. “I thought I was obvious about it.”

         “No, if anyone was obvious, it was me.” You laughed and shook your head. “Always giggling around you, and stuttering. And don’t get me started on the blushing. It’s like you’ve turned me into a schoolgirl again.”

         Bucky’s handsome face lit up with a smile. Not a smirk—a smile. It made your stomach do flips. “I guess I just didn’t think someone like you would like someone like me. I’m surprised… I even came up here. I was actually going to your office to ask you out on a date when… you and your brother talked, but when you said there was nothing going on, I just thought… And then you were avoiding Stark, which made me think maybe, you were lying, and maybe his words made you more angry than I thought.”

         That was the most Bucky had ever said to you. Maybe even around anyone in this Tower, including Steve—which made you feel smug inside. You smiled at him, and reached out a hand to lay gently on his jaw. “Well, you’re here now,” you told him softly.

         He smiled back at you. “Yeah. I am.” He cupped the back of your neck with his human hand and pulled you into a swooping kiss.

         You were shocked—completely shocked—by the amount of butterflies that lit up in your belly at the sensation of Bucky’s lips on yours. You thought the movies and books were lying when they said kissing was like a Fourth of July show. He tasted like coffee—black, no creamer and no sugar, the same way you liked your own coffee—and he smelled even more heavenly, making you nestle closer as the grip tightened on the hair at your nape. His lips grew harder against your own, moving passionately (as though both were pieces to the same puzzle) and it made you feel light, like you were airborne, the way he tasted and felt.

         So caught in this amazing feeling, you didn’t hear the door open. But you did hear the outraged noises that left whoever it was that barged in.

         “What the hell, Y/N?! Does this look like nothing to you?” your brother yelped, seeming completely bewildered by the sight of you and Bucky locked in a kiss.

         You pulled away, wracked with a sense of smugness at the deprived sound that left Bucky’s throat. You gave him a soft smile before moving your chair sideways to take a peek at the door. Tony was there, mouth fully popped open, pointing a finger between you and Bucky, like he was in utter disbelief; you were sure in that empty brain of his, he was praying for this to be nothing but a vicious nightmare, his greatest worries coming true.

         How sad it’d be when he woke up tomorrow morning to find that this was a reality, a reality not going anywhere anytime soon.

          You left your hand on top of Bucky’s as you said, “You know, Tony, it’s kind of rude to barge into a room without knocking first.”

         Tony spluttered, and gaped, raising an angry finger. Similar to how he acted when you called him a dickhead. “I’ll have you know—”

         “You own this place, you can do anything you want, you’re the great Tony Stark—blah, blah, blah.” You caught the amused smirk on Bucky’s face. And a startled look. He was probably confused about your banter with Tony; you could be talkative to people you really cared about, but the shyness came out in front of strangers and groups. You threw Tony a frown. “Listen, Tony—I get that you think you have some sort of sibling protection rules you live religiously by, but let’s be a little bit more lenient about my dating life… Okay? Okay. Now please—get out and go gossip to the Avengers about me. I know you really want to.”

         An outraged look appeared on Tony’s face. “Don’t think this is over!” he said angrily, before he was sweeping out of your office; there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he was heading to the Avengers to mope and ask for advice on how to sabotage your relationship.

         You sighed, looking back at Bucky. He was already looking at you, and he was smirking. “Dating, huh?” he said, sounding pleased.

         You swatted at him playfully; now that you knew he didn’t hate you, it was much easier to be comfortable with him. “Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

         And he did.

[littlesmartart]

queer eye au where eponine, joly and bossuet nominate their friend grantaire because he’s an awesome guy but he’s just stopped caring about himself and needs some help getting out of his funk. enjolras is food and wine, combeferre is culture, courfeyrac is fashion, jehan is grooming, and feuilly is design...

courf nearly ends up in tears when he goes through R’s wardrobe. it’s all hoodies and old ratty graphic tees and baggy jeans with holes in, and everything is covered in paint - including courf after a few minutes.

enjolras: I JUST FOUND A BAG OF HUMAN TEETH. R: oh that’s for an art project! enjolras: [gayfear.jpeg]

jehan: so what’s your usual haircare routine? :) R: uhh... I shower and then like... put my beanie on? jehan: what do you use to wash your hair? R: ...soap? jehan: ... R: ...should... should I not be using soap?

they’re officially there to help R fix himself up for his first big art exhibition at the end of the week but combeferre figures out in like 0.3 seconds that R’s biggest problem is his perception of his own self-worth, which is so low that he doesn’t think he deserves to be living well. combeferre starts bringing up the idea of therapy and although R is reluctant they have a heart-to-heart about ferre’s own experiences with it.

feuilly, surveying the house: I’m gonna need some bleach. and maybe a flamethrower.

enjolras goes through R’s kitchen cupboards and finds nothing but kraft singles, stale cereal, and alcohol - but it turns out that R is actually very knowledgeable about wine and a very pleasantly surprised enjolras winds up having a long conversation with him about it.

courf: you can keep five graphic tees and whichever hoodie has the least paint on it, but the jeans... the jeans HAVE to go.

[jehan walks into R’s bathroom] [jehan immediately exits R’s bathroom] [gayfear.jpeg]

[camera cuts to feuilly lifting up a couch cushion] [feuilly retches and drops it quickly] feuilly: okay so that’s for the flamethrower pile

combeferre takes R to a gym and signs him up with personal trainer musichetta, whose goal is to help R get back into the boxing and dancing he once loved.

enjolras takes R food shopping and shows him how to buy decent ingredients on a small budget. R actually knows quite a bit about food, and used to be really into cooking before his mental health got worse, and enjolras gives R a very sweet pep talk about how cooking is meant to be fun and can build him up rather than draining him and promises to help him with it. the camera lingers on them smiling at each other.

whilst feuilly is fixing up a chair, the camera catches bahorel, one of his team, running across the back of the shot, and there’s a wolf-whistle from somewhere. the next shot is feuilly looking deeply exasperated, saying “and now for the heavy lifting section”. next shot is feuilly back to fixing the chair, whilst bahorel stands behind him, inexplicably shirtless, passing him nails, looking very pleased with himself.

[R emerges from changing room cubicle in a tight-fitted shirt looking sheepish] courf, choking on his mocha frappe with cream and rainbow sprinkles: holy shit you have muscles! look at those MUSCLES where were you HIDING those??? you’re freakin’ jacked oh my god

R returns from the shopping trip with a lot of plaid, some well fitted button-ups, two excellent bomber jackets, several pairs of jeans that make his ass look fantastic, a new beanie, and a confused but pleased smile.

combeferre meets up with eponine, joly and bossuet, who tell him all about how much they love R but how it breaks their hearts that he doesn’t think he’s worth that love. combeferre suggests them making him a little book of all these things to present to him after the art show.

jehan cuts R’s hair shorter on the sides and back and neatens up his scraggly beard into Hollywood Stubble (because in every episode that magically makes men look 500x more attractive), and teaches him a low effort haircare/styling routine.

feuilly fixes up R’s little house with loads of extra storage, new kitchen counters, a proper bed rather than a crappy mattress on the floor, new couches to invite all his friends over, and loads of artwork from artists that inspire him all over the walls. he also turns the tiny spare room that had been used to store canvases into a gorgeous studio/workshop. R cries.

courf and jehan reveal R’s new appearance. there’s a lot of delighted shrieking. the camera lingers on enjolras’ wide eyes and dropped jaw. he’s gone kind of red and doesn’t say much whilst the other gush about how great R looks. courf and jehan high five.

enjolras teaches R how to make some cool finger food for the exhibition, and it winds up with them playfully nudging each other with their shoulders whilst they chop veggies. camera pans to feuilly, watching them with eyes wide, then he notices the camera and frantically gestures for it to pan back to them. enjolras is throwing peanuts for R to catch in his mouth and it’s sickeningly cute.

on the final day R is acting weird and combeferre assumes it’s nerves about the show so takes him outside for a pep talk. halfway through R notices enjolras through the window and is completely distracted. combeferre looks at the camera, raises his eyebrows, and mouths oh no.

when they leave, jehan mentions the hair styling products he left, courf recommends the bomber jacket with the new shoes they chose, feuilly tells him about a company in town who make bespoke frames out of driftwood, for his future works, combeferre hugs him then gives him a long meaningful look that clearly says you know what to do. enjolras says goodbye last, sadly reminding him that he needs to buy the guac ingredients for the dips he’s creating that night. The camera cuts away to show the two of them talking in the background of the shot, too quiet to hear - courf, jehan and feuilly are all clinging to each other in the foreground pulling excited faces, and combeferre is trying to herd them out of the door. enjolras is subdued but thoughtful in the car on the way back and combeferre makes him sit next to him up front, because the other three can’t stop grinning at each other.

[everyone in the loft with their drinks and dessert] courf, holding the remote: allllriiiiiiiight, everyone ready to- enjolras, way too quickly: yES

the art show goes amazingly well, the art is stunning, and everyone loves the food. R’s favourite artist turns up (the other four yell and freak out, combeferre looks smug), and at the end eponine, joly and bossuet take R aside and gavroche brings him the book of love. R cries and hugs them all.

[final shot of the video has R winking directly at the camera] [courf, jehan, feuilly and combeferre scream] [enjolras looks simultaneously mortified and delighted and attempts to melt into the couch] [the others all pile on top of him, yelling]

QUEERPILOGUE: when everything is done with the show, enjolras and grantaire go on a bunch of distinctly off-camera dates and decide to get together. the final shot of the episode is a photo of them grinning and holding hands.