#closes eyes and hits posts like defusing a bomb

[estinininininen]

*takes deep breath* first fanfiction posted online in nearly twenty years. Final Fantasy IV, i dunno how many words, probably around 2000? unbeta'd. just after the sealed cavern debacle. Cursing and referenced violence. Edge POV, but it's actually about Cecil, Kain, and Rydia:

-

Kain's betrayal has split them into pairs: Cecil and Rosa, and Edge and Rydia. They each stare at the others as if they have gone mad.

"He's not usually mean, or, or, or cruel like this! You've known him for long enough to see that!" Rosa says.

"I don't know him at all," Edge says. "Bastard always hid his eyes and never talked to us!"

"He was struggling against the spell," Cecil says. "He didn't mean to do this. I'm sure of it."

This pauses the argument, because Cecil is the only one sitting hunched over, resting to recover from blood loss. Edge stares down at him. He feels his face twisting with many emotions that will be obvious even behind the veil. Pity, anger, disbelief.

Quiet until now, Rydia pipes up. "He's not like you, Cecil. He's not good deep down."

Rosa turns away and does not try to hide or stop her tears. Cecil huffs at Rydia, for a moment almost like an indulgent parent unable to scold a child, instead of the focused holy warrior Edge has grown to rely on. Considering what little he knows of Cecil and Rydia, the thought of him patronizing her, on behalf of this Kain guy, for a moment it makes Edge want to - want to smack Cecil, or bundle Rydia in his cloak and take her away. Snatch that holy headband right of his pretty face and huck it in the lava.

There is some great sin hovering over him and Rydia, and also Kain, Edge knows. None have answered when Edge questioned what it is, what Cecil did to her, how Kain fit into it. Rosa deferred to them. Each said what amounted to, That's for the others to share when they're ready, and even if Edge weren't a ninja he'd know that was a desperate trick to hide from the problem. It was only a step removed from "Ask your mother," and then being told "Ask your father."

Edge had wanted to ask the Eidolons. He was going to, but then he saw how Queen Asura and King Leviathan looked down at the two Baron men, bowed low and motionless before them, far longer than necessary. He decided not to, and told himself it was for diplomatic reasons, not wanting to test the new connections between Eblan, Baron and the Summons. It was not because he was scared reopening that wound would get him or the two fools blown to bits. Not at all.

Into the puckered silence, Rydia says, "Well, he's not. Kain's not a good person. I haven't forgotten what he . . . what he said to you at Mist."

Cecil's head snaps up. "What?"

"He threatened you," Rydia said, whispering. Her eyes are looking at Cecil and also at some distant memory. "He threatened you, he told you to kill me, and it was before he was under Golbez' thrall."

Rosa turns back to them, jaw dropping. Edge is certain he's done the same, but he's a terrible politician and can't hold his face so he's not sure.

"I was seven," Rydia says. "I was a child, and you were the one who did the right thing, and Kain wasn't going to so, so I don't, I don't want to hurt you or Rosa but he is not a good person-"

"Rydia!" Cecil says. "Rydia, no, that's not right-"

"I had ears, Cecil," Rydia says. "I was seven but I could hear you." She curls her fists at her side. Rydia is not actually quick to anger, Edge realizes. All the bantering and frustration she has with the prince of Eblan is nothing compared to how furious she is now. She is just as quiet when ready to kill.

But Cecil is still going on. "That's not what happened. No. No!" He shakes his head. "He was threatening me," he says.

Total silence falls.

"He was threatening me," Cecil says, and hangs his head.

"What?" Rydia says.

"What?" Rosa says.

Cecil looks up, open his mouth, then checks himself, slaps his hand on the ground, and looks back down.

"Will someone please explain to me what the hell happened at Mist?" Edge says.

Rydia's brow furrows into little lines that even in the strange moment Edge can't help but find cute. He is not prepared for what Rydia says next. "Kain and Cecil killed my mum's Eidolon, which killed her," she says.

Edge looks toward Rosa, who does not seem surprised.

Cecil sighs. "We were ordered by Cagnazzo, pretending to be King Odin, to open the way to Mist and deliver a package. He ordered us not to open it until we arrived and presented it to the town leaders for all to see. It was a bomb ring, and Golbez must have been watching us for the moment to set it off."

Cecil is good at compartmentalizing and military summaries, but Edge see this is hard for him. He rocks backwards and looks up at the stone ceiling of the cave entrance. "The first blast ignited almost the whole town, and then living bomb monsters came out of the ring and began hunting down the survivors. Kain and I were safe in a small circle near the ring, but smoke was going to kill us if we stayed or tried to help anybody. So we ran."

Edge looks towards Rosa again. It is still knowledge she has heard before. Rydia's face is like glass, still and smooth but ready to shatter at a moment.

Cecil continues. "On the edge of the village we heard a girl crying next to a dead body. Bombs were still flying behind us, and people who left the town were chased down. I think the only reason Kain and I lived still was because of the ring protecting us from its effects - but I don't know. I will keep guesswork for later. The girl cried that her m, her moth-"

Cecil swallowed and lowered his face to wipe his eyes with one hand.

Rydia spoke. "I told you she died because someone had killed her summon."

Edge fears for a moment the paladin has cracked, because Cecil laughs. "Well, you were saying that to - to anyone who passed by, more like. It's really been ten years for you, hasn't it? Rydia, I'm sorry, it's not been so long for me, and I can still-"

"Keep it together, man," Edge says. He thinks this was the right thing to say, it's not right for Cecil to need comfort from Rydia, but Rydia's focus for the first time snaps to Edge and almost burns a hole right through his skull. He withdraws. Rosa sits down next to Cecil and puts her hand in his.

"Tell me what you mean by Kain threatened you," Rydia says.

Cecil says, "Kain said we needed to kill you. The king wanted you dead. And he drew his lance. That's what you remember?"

"Yes," Rydia whispers.

"I was between you and Kain. He was preparing to attack me if I listened to him and tried to hurt you."

Rosa gasps and says, "You wouldn't have done that, Kain knew that-"

Cecil cut her off. "No, he didn't know that. When it came down to it, I was a dark knight who had just come back from kill- . . . from murdering civilians in Mysidia and stealing their crystal. I had told Kain and everyone I saw in Baron that I felt it was wrong but I had still done it."

Cecil stops and Edge knows he is about to roll around in his guilt like a pig in mud, but the story is not done. Rydia cuts off Cecil's reverie. "You pushed Kain back," she says. "Away from me."

"I pushed Kain back and said I wouldn't hurt a child. Kain said that he thought I'd say that. I don't think you heard that. Kain's an ass, I'm not denying that, but he thinks quick. The fire was there, bombs were flying, and you seemed ready to bolt. If he wanted to save you, Rydia, he couldn't wait for me to figure out my loyalties. I had the bomb ring."

Rydia exhales through her nose. "And you hadn't realized yet this was what Cagnazzo intended."

"Until Kain said so. If I . . . if I had been alone and saved you . . . Well, I wouldn't have made it that far, Kain is the only reason I . . . but if I had been alone, and thought, halfway through returning to Baron, 'I can't come back with this child' . . . I'm not sure what I would have done . . . "

Edge snaps.

"You silver-haired bastard," he snarls. "You would have killed her?"

He will not forget Cecil's expression for a long time. "The king was the only father I had ever known," he says. "I didn't think I would ever kill people begging me to just leave, but I did. I already had. For him."

"You are fucked in the head," Edge says.

"Yes," Cecil says.

"I knew you were the dark knight that attacked Mysidia, but wow. And what, you think a different guy who says he's your father cancels out this shit? Wipes the slate clean?"

"No," Cecil says.

"Would you do whatever I asked if I said I was your father?" Edge says.

"Edge," Rydia says. "It's between me and Cecil."

Edge continues, because he can't stop the fire building behind his eyes, and if he doesn't speak it will come out as something even worse. "Holy dipshit," he says.

"Right," Cecil says.

"Edge!" Rydia says. "Shut up and leave him alone. This is the part I've worked out with him already. Numerous times. You're not my, my protector or whatever it is you're trying now," she says.

"What? You think that - that I'm trying to - ? That is the last thing on my mind," Edge says. "There's too much at stake, here, way more than I realized when I first met you lot, and it turns out the man I've been trusting, everyone's been trusting, to stop Golbez is an asshole who couldn't figure out it's wrong to kill a child without his even bigger asshole friend pointing it out?"

"Edge, you're not listening. He did figure it out," Rydia said. "Wait, no, I mean, he didn't really need to ask that question. Of course he didn't. He's Cecil. Have you met him? Haven't you noticed he gets upset if he has to kill a bug?"

Cecil opens his mouth to say something. Rosa hushes him.

Edge's calm center of ninja training is gone. He is gone. His parents are dead, Eblan is in ruins, and Golbez has all but won. He has found emotional limits he didn't know he had and smashed through them like a rampaging chocobo. He yells, "Well I am definitely not flirting with you just because I'm a little concerned! That the man! Who ruined your life! Is here and you don't seem to care-"

"He did ruin my life," Rydia says, as if talking to a child. "And then he saved it." Then she crossed her arms and stared Edge down.

"Rydi-" Cecil says.

"Cecil," Rosa says, in the tensest tone Edge has heard yet from the white mage. Edge sneers down at her. "Well I'm glad someone has him on a leash," he says, and turns to leave the sealed cave.

"Where are you going?" Cecil asks.

"Fuck you!" Edge says. He starts walking. But he feels, dripping at the back of his anger, something like beginning awareness he has . . . not overreacted, but overstepped some boundary with Rydia. He will not call it a "mistake," yet.

"Edge," Rydia calls out to him. "Don't go far."

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

Rydia shakes her head after Edge leaves. "What a . . . What a baby. I don't know the word for it."

"He'll calm down," Rosa says. "I think."

They are silent for too long, and it is jarring when Rosa speaks again. "Do you want me to step outside?" she says. "If you two need to speak?"

Rydia looks at Cecil. "I don't think so, no," she says. "I love you, Rosa," she adds. It is Rydia's way to be open and calm with her feelings, and say them when they occur to her, more Eidolon than human in manners. Rosa is still startled enough that she doesn't say anything besides, "Oh, I uh, I love you too, Rydia."

The weight that Cecil always presses down on himself to move forward has come back. "We shouldn't spend too much time here. The wound has closed and the potion helped the bloodloss. I can recover on the Falcon now."

"Don't push yourself," Rosa says.

"We must tell King Giott. We have all but lost," he says.

"I can't believe that about Kain," Rydia says. "You really think that, that he decided he was going to fight you that quick?"

"Ah," Cecil says, as he shifts to stand up. He presses a hand to the wall. He feels much older than just turned twenty-one. In hindsight, Kain being ready to fling himself against Cecil at a moment's notice looks bad. His thoughts swim. He is not sure if he has improved Rydia's opinion of Kain at all now.

"I wish you had told me earlier," Rydia says. "I would have forgiven him, if he asked. And now he's gone . . ."

Dancing under the stones of their feet, deeper than the foundations of the earth, is the ever-present knowledge Rydia has not said the words "I forgive you" to Cecil yet. Or maybe that is just him. He hopes Rydia has not assumed he already knew if she does or not. He has not asked her.

After today he is not sure he can.

[yourlcoaltrashcan]

I keep thinking about season 4 of COD and all the fan art that came out of it so. Enjoy this I guess it’s probably not well written but I wanted to post it so be nice please.

—

It had been years since Soap was KIA. Shot in the head right in front of him, he could still remember the scene so clearly. Soap defusing the bomb with Price, him and Gaz running in before shit hit the fan. He can’t get the image of Siaps body laying lifeless on the floor. Blood oozing out of his temple. Ghost sometimes thought about what would’ve happened if Soap had shot him that day Makarov was put in their custody. How many lives would’ve been saved.

Not like he had much time to think about it.

Bullets whizzed past Simon only centimeters away from coming into contact with him. He didn’t care. He never did after Soap’s passing, many of his teammates would even go as far to say the man had a death wish. Running into the field without a second thought, not bothering to check how much ammo he had in a mag before jumping into a fight.

The enemies seemed to be endless. Ghost didn’t know how long he’d been on the front lines, but it was enough to feel the effects starting to strain on his body. The heat pounding down mercilessly, his arms sore from the training he’d pushed himself to do, even his mask felt heavy acutely aware how it sat on his head. He was tired and dehydrated, shooting anything that moved. He was like a feral dog biting at anything close.

If his team didn’t see the sudden burst of green smoke he would’ve chalked it up to a hallucination. Yet here he was standing right in front of it as more enemies emerged from it. Fighting harder and faster than before quickly becoming overwhelming. Calling for a retreat he killed as many as he could running back to a safe spot only catching a glimpse at the man who seemed to be leading the attack.

Johnny.

Ghost shook his head blinking a few times before looking back. Having to do multiple double takes to really process what he was looking at. Johnny. His Johnny standing there alive and well fighting for the enemy team. He felt sick in the moment finding a good hiding spot before sitting down still in guard but taking a breather. He took another look from his hiding spot the need to confirm what he was seeing growing.

There he was, John MacTavish, alive and well walking through that thick green smoke. A black mask covering half his face, a scar on his temple where Makarov had shot him. Ghost felt a surge of emotions wash over him. Happiness, anger, mostly worry. Questions upon questions flooding his mind, before he could even think his body was acting. Running up to Soap mission long forgotten.

“Johnny? Johnny!”

He yelled out stopping a few feet away from him catching his breath. Staring at his dead teammate in the eyes with disbelief.

“Who the hell is Johnny?”

[agentgumsh0e]

I always really like reading your imagines whenever, so now I get to request!! If it’s not too much trouble, could I ask for a sova x reader where the reader is constantly pining for sova, but never has the guts to tell him, until while on a big mission, reader has to hold off enemies for everyone else to leave? And then reader confesses when it seems like they’ll die, and then they disappear for a bit before returning, and everyone in the protocol is super happy? And when sova sees the reader he just feels so overwhelmed with relief that he just tells you how he feels on the spot?

Sorry if this is so long or too much for you, you don’t have to do this one:D

die for you (sova x reader)

word count: 1420+

warnings: mentions of death, injury, blood

notes: sorry that it took this long for me to post a request, i kind of had difficulty with this one and i still don't think it came out that great but here you are 👐

you've been pining for sova for a while now. 

something about his humility, honesty, and the contradictory way he acts so warm to his teammates and yet so cold towards his enemies…

it had you falling for him. 

of course, you would never admit this to him. rather than risk ruining your relationship with sova and losing his warmth, you were alright dying with this secret of yours.

when it was you and sova’s turn to scout out ascent, you thought it was just going to be business as usual. you had it all planned out: work with sova, try to hide the obvious red tint on your face when his mismatched eyes glanced in your direction, watch for enemy movement at each of your sites, try not to be too jittery whenever he crosses your path, and ride back to protocol after an uneventful day of yearning.

you were pleasantly surprised when sova started telling you stories about his family and hunting through your earpiece. unlike cypher or phoenix, he wasn't usually one to chat, so you assumed he was just passing time talking to you and nothing else. still, you enjoyed hearing his voice. it made you feel like he was close to you when he was a site away. 

your previous plan for normalcy started to go awry when you both began to hear footsteps. sova cut his current story short by whispering a “quiet” as you both got into position. 

from the sound of it, there were three people coming to your site. outnumbered, you hid and tried to find a place to pick them off at.

sova informed you that two people were at his site planting the spike. you realized that one, they’d brought a full team, and two, that backup would never make it in time to help you before the bomb exploded and/or both of you were killed. plus, every other agent was on a mission of their own, fighting their replicates. 

from then on, it was a whirlwind of events. sova had managed to kill one of the enemies at his site, but they seemed to have wounded him judging by the groan that sounded through your earpiece.

as much as you wanted to ask if he was okay and rush over to help him, footsteps were nearing your hiding spot. with worry lacing your tone, you whispered for him to try and defuse the spike. 

you managed to hit one of your enemies, but not without getting shot in return. repositioning with gritted teeth and bloodied hands, you could hear the spike beeping faster, along with labored breaths from sova. 

sova grunted, and you soon heard gunfire and a body falling to the floor. you gasped, hoping that it wasn't him who collapsed, but after hearing sova cough you let out a small, relieved sigh.

however, your panic soon rose again, the spike beeping as rapidly as your heart pounded in your throat. you were about to be surrounded by enemies. if you tried to run away now, you would certainly encounter one of them.

“sova,” you began with a soft, but hurried voice, “you need to defuse the spike and get out of here.”

you heard a thud and the sound of the spike being defused, and you guessed that was sova falling to his knees with the defuser in hand.

finally, the beeping halted. sova coughed some more (presumably) blood out, saying with a pained voice, “i'm on my way, (y/n). stay put.”

“no,” you hissed, “the plane’s going to be here any minute. you need to get on it and go.”

more groaning and heavy footsteps from sova. he was definitely badly wounded, and you could guess that he was limping. “we’re both getting on that plane. i'm not leaving you here to die.”

“sova, if you come over here, you're going to get gunned down immediately. you're already seriously hurt, and i can't let you take that chance.” 

“and you think i'll let you be surrounded?” sova said, his composure cracking for a second. logically, he knew leaving was the best choice, but by no means did he want to go through with it. 

“you don't have to die for me!” you whisper-shouted, though dying for him was exactly what you were willing to do.

he didn't say anything for a moment, but you could still hear his heavy footfalls.

“if that’s what it takes for you to get home safe, then so be it.” he was being so stupid. so touchingly selfless, but so stupid.

you exhaled shakily, your voice trembling. “if you come here, both of us will die. i'll hold them off while you get on the plane.”

there was something in his voice that suggested that he wouldn't be taking no for an answer. “(y/n)—”

but you weren’t about to either.

“sova, if i die, i just want to say that i have feelings for you.”

he was speechless after your sudden confession, the suffocating silence broken only by approaching footsteps as the enemies closed in.

you had forced your eyes shut to prepare for rejection, and when you opened them, you saw a plane ripping through the sky to pick you both up. the enemies must have seen it too. 

“...what?” sova asked, audibly thrown by your confession. 

“now just get on that plane. please.” the last part was whispered with a broken voice. not only were you facing a very high chance of dying, if you miraculously did survive and sova didn't reciprocate your feelings, but your relationship with sova would also be strained forever.

sova’s voice took on a more gentle tone. “(y/n), i—”

the last thing he heard was gunfire and a gasp before he lost connection. and as much as he wanted to shout your name in hopes that you would hear him and say you were fine, he had no choice but to turn around and board the plane.

sova returned to protocol without his partner. his eyes were icy and his movements were stiff; both because of the bandages that the medics dressed his wounds with and because of what happened.

he would've gone to the target range (his go-to place for dealing with stress), if he wasn’t on the doctor’s orders to keep still. he remained optimistic as he always was, but he found it hard to keep that mindset without the frequent straying of his mind to your gasp and confession.

the tension in protocol was high. everyone could feel the cold that was left in place of sova’s warmth. 

a nerve-wracking hour passed as sova lay in bed, his mind racing 100 miles an hour as his body ached to get up and do something. he never liked to sit around and brood.

there was a knock at his door.

sova got up promptly to answer, thankful for the distraction, and there you were, bashfully greeting him. “hey, sova.”

after getting over the initial shock, he couldn't deny the smile on his face, tempted to give you a bear hug despite both of you being injured. “there you are.”

inside his room, you told him about how you had dropped your earpiece when they engaged you and how you managed to go three to one, a testament to your skills. you then relocated your earpiece and called for a ride home. 

“good, (y/n). i wouldn't have expected any less.” you averted your eyes and flushed at his praise, which sounded different from when he would compliment other people.

your nerves grew further when you thought about what you would say about the elephant in the room. 

“about what i said…i wasn't thinking straight, it was the heat of the moment. please forget i said anything.”

his eyes widened, surprised, but then he had the nerve to look smug, something that he rarely was. with an almost imperceptible smirk, he said in faux disappointment, “oh, so you didn't mean what you said?”

“i mean…” you trailed off, hoping that this really was going the way it was going.

he laughed heartily. “i like you too, but battlefields are no place for confessions, (y/n). you understand that, yes?”

you bit your lip. “i know, i just…was worried that i would lose you. i'm sorry.” just ‘worried’ was the understatement of the century.

he gave you a reassuring smile, with eyes that revealed that he feared losing you too. “don't be. we should both rest up. i’ll be there when you wake.”

you'd never felt warmer sleeping next to him. 

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x14)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 14: It’s Not What It Looks Like

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: ehehehehehe

Word Count: my anxiety was through the roof this time. and that too on the thing that I know was not achievable. But noooo my boss just wants results. Well, fuck you and your boss who gave me anxiety. You will know the pain of these tears soon.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The familiar sports car shining in its red shade came to a halt right outside the door for Tony to get out and greet the lone camera covering him. "How's it going fellas?" He seemed comparatively chirpier than the last few days as he whistled his way to the boot of the trunk to take out five boxes of large pizzas along with a whole bag filled with soda and side dishes. "It's pizza party today, my lovely unicorn," he announced to the camera person; mostly because there was no one else in his vicinity.

Tony: *standing next to his car* I have come realise that I have been a bit hard on my team because of the anxiety I've been feeling ever since Y/N disappeared from right in front of me. Like last Monday. *camera switches to the video recording of Last Monday* Tony is seen in the kitchenette making detox juice for himself after a workout. Sam comes and grabs the coffee pot, looking around for a mug to pour himself some. The only mug hanging on the stand is your Brooklyn Nine-Nine themed one. "Well," he mutters to himself, "no one's using this for a while." Just as he finishes the sentence, Tony's hand slips on the juicer switch and the green spill out everywhere in the space, making Sam yell for help. "You are excluded from my will," Tony announces while looking dead into Sam's eyes before pouring the coffee from his pot into the sink and walking away. *back to present* Tony: Pepper says I went overboard but Sam didn't have to say that now did he. *makes a cringe face* Anyways. This is my way of showing them that I have made peace with the situation for now and that I trust our alien friends to get my daughter back to me asap.

Tony walked into the facility to be greeted by dead silence. "Did I miss something?" he wondered out loud for the camera while looking around the lobby and the waiting area. "I am pretty sure we were not supposed to go out anywhere thanks to that stubborn virus."  He walked up the elevator to be greeted by Clint coming back from the security room with his self-regulated watch, carrying two glasses of iced Americanos- one of which he offered Tony. "Pizza-" he seemed happy to see the boxes, taking the bag from Tony- "what's the occasion? Are you firing one of us? Is there a budget cut because of the 'Rona? In that case, just know that I spot a person without a mask from miles. And I can end them right there." Tony pressed the button for the lounge and waited for the camera to record his wink and smile till the doors closed to let the other handy camera in the elevator- following Clint- take over. Clint did a survey of the bag and was quite content with the contents. Tony, still with his glasses on, walked his usual walk that displayed well that he owned the place. "No one's getting fired unless they are eating my choco-chip ice cream." "You have set the bar pretty low." "It's pretty much up to the expectations I have from you all."

Clint shrugged and went on to agree with him, walking behind the Iron Man as the elevator dinged. The camera followed Clint and Tony out to film the scene unfolding in the Lounge. Manoeuvring away from their shoulders, the camera caught that deadpan silence in the room filled with nearly every Avenger staring at the screen with the seriousness of defusing a bomb that may go off any time. Peter was hiding under Scott's arm, peeping at the screen through his hands while Scott was biting his nails, nervousness dripping from his forehead. Wanda held Vision's hand while she muttered something under her breath- most probably a chant. Sam seemed to have forgotten he was watering the plants for the water-can was already empty and yet he still went on to pour the contents while his eyes were glued to the screen. Bucky's hands were busy brushing Zuko's fur- while the pupper took this opportunity to lay in his lap and snooze- monotonously, his gaze too stuck on the screen. "Come on, come on. Do it," Steve muttered while on the edge of his seat on the sofa. The camera swivelled back to Clint and Tony- both of whom had confused looks on their faces by now. Both of them turned to the screen in sync to witness what exactly was it that had all of them in such a grim state. And it was something like this.

On the screen was a barely lit space that seemed like it could have been a small closet under somebody's staircase. In that barely lit space, you could be seen from your abdomen up. There you were, panting, sweating, your hair a literal mess, your bra strap dangling out of your tank top's straps. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the camera was seemingly recording you from. And in that same dim light, a movement was discovered behind you. That movement was of the exposed muscles and skin that the viewers had never seen in their daily life. Well, neither had they seen that very person pant and sweat like this before as well. Green eyes shined in that bare light, as the familiar face came out from the shadows to apparently hover just above your shoulder. One pale hand was used to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go."

The iced Americanos created a crackle and bang louder than expected- thanks to the already looming silence- when they hit the floor. The pizza box and other snacks? Not so much. Every other person jumped where they were to turn and watch the colours from Tony and Clint's faces drain away by the second, their jaws unhinged, their hearts at a pause and their lungs just no longer working. Steve- the only one in the room to have deciphered what had just gone down in those Dad brains- got up and raised his arms till his chest as of sign of caution. "It's not what you think. Tony, Clint it's not-" The elevator dinged and out came Natasha and Bruce with four feet long bags of Cheetos and popcorn, the former quite excited to rush out into the Lounge. "We found the snacks from the pantry! Did we miss something? Did they put it in yet?" Steve winced just as Bruce blurted out those words. Tony was already heaving audibly, no air going into his lungs as he nearly collapsed on the floor if not for Natasha holding him up like she was used to it. Clint, on the other hand, had 'disgusted' written all over his face, judging every single person in the room before storming out. "OH MY GOD!!!! OH MY GAAAAA~" the screams could be heard from outside while the camera zoomed in on Natasha's face- already bored and tired.

Natasha: If they had more than one working brain cell they wouldn't have fought like twelve-year-olds in the middle of an airport and then stopped talking for a whole year. *camera pans in on her face* *faces the camera* And to think they can procreate. .

One Hour Ago Eight Hours Earlier In A Galaxy Far Away One of the camera drones stepped over a stone wall and passed over a dozen guards, buzzing its best to enter the first window it could find. Passing over ogres guarding the small galleries, another drone accompanied the first one down the maze of hallways, parting at the stairway leading down to the dungeons and up to the meeting room. The way to the dungeons was one dark path that only lit up at the very end of the hallway- few lamps burning with constant flickers. The space was divided into walls and covered with iron bars. A few of these cells were empty while others housed creatures who are only spoken about with the name of their shadows. In the last cell was a shadow that seemed similar to that of a human sleeping under the lone ragged excuse of a blanket. If one tried to focus, they could hear light snores coming out of that creature too. The drone came to rest upon one of the iron bars, sending in the live feed to the cameraman behind this whole shebang. The other fly had already found the 'throne room'. The throne- as one could make out with the setting of the hall- was made out of a tree trunk burned till all that was left was an ash-covered dead piece looking up at the sky. The seat was carved right through the middle with one of the ashened branches housing a black adder with red eyes. And in the throne sat the one person no one wanted to see. "Aellae," you mumbled in the most derogatory sense, your eyes wanting to hurt her there and then through the screen in Javier's hand. And lo! Right then the God stepped in the frame, standing in front of the witch with his usual demeanour. Well, that's what it looked like. "Why do you have to bow to her?" You whispered at him a bit viciously. White entered the frame that was recording your end. Looking at the screen he furrowed his brows and wondered how you could tell that. "He stands straight," you stressed, already sensing the question from White, "and right now he is not. And he does not not stand straight for anyone." "I see you have found yourself a fine pair of pets on your galactic travels, my love," you and White hear Aellae from the screen, bringing your attention back to her. "Just a bunch of humans and a kitten to entertain me on my way," he chuckled and shrugged a little, that Asgardian charm resurfacing in his smile. Aellae smirked at him. "On your way to where?" The question had a hint of anger even when she added a wave of curiosity, something that was easy to catch of the one who was listening to layers in her voice. Loki waved his hands in the air. "You know how it is for me. Here and there, always on the move. A nomad exploring the universe." "No more," she announced, her head high, her stare stern, "now you stay with me. You will be my advisor in the day, guiding my army to every corner of this world, with nothing to spare." She got up from her throne to walk an inhumanly seductive gait to reach the God and place her finger under his chin. "And in the night, you shall be my pacifier," she whispered, making your whole face cringe for the camera to zoom into it. "You shall satiate all my bedly desires till I the very. last. drop." Something cracked on the other side, making Javier and White turn in every direction to look at the source of the sound. Lulu too was a bit confused. You were the only person not taking your eyes away from the screen.

You: I swear to God if she was not such a bitch, I would have asked her out. Would have even gone to lengths of being her *makes air quotes* bedfellow if she was not such a fucking bitch?? Javier: *turns the camera to himself with the dazed look on his face* *signs for the camera* I am supportive and all in for this but is now really a good time for her to be questioning her sexuality? When we can literally die for just breathing wrong???

"Now," Aellae snapped everyone back to the screen, "as for those pets of yours, I'll send someone to take care of them. They are just hindrance if nothing more." "Aellae," Loki's honey laden voice was now implying a sternness. "What." "They are not to be given enough importance to be-" Loki sighed and closed his eyes- "taken care of." "All the more fun to watch them die in misery." Her eyes widened with excitement at the thought of murder. "Especially that Midgardian who is living in the illusion of being your friend." Loki's jaw tightened. "If you decide to harm h-them, I will not aid you in your irrational quests, Aellae. Going after those weaklings proves that you are still the reckless stubborn creature that I left you." There wasn't an exclamation of surprise on her face but rather that particular smirk of the devil who has walked its prey right into its trap. "So, she does mean something to you." Loki kept mum. "Guards!" she yelled for the two orcs standing outside, "bring me the head of the woman!" "Aellae, stop," he begged casually. "Enough humour." "And do whatever with the rest of her!" she ordered with her eyes piercing through Loki's soul.

The next thing you know, the last fly drone that got lost on the middle floor somewhere was recording two orcs throwing Loki into a room before shutting the door behind him. His grunts echoed through the room with no windows. All around him were walls coloured in a dusty cream shade, lamps lining up the four walls with one dressing table sitting with one of the four walls, housing heavy chains, the purpose of which Loki did not want to know. He huffed as he stood up, looking at the door before letting his gaze land on those shackles on his wrist that now seemed permanent. The tension on his jaw did not go unnoticed by the tiny roommate before he slammed those bracelets- along with his wrist- into the wall in pure animalistic rage.

Witch's Den- Down the Hall Two orcs stood guard to the entrance coming to the floor via the stairs. One of them seemed to be snoozing with all the pressure sitting on his nose and brows while the other one was trying to drive away this one stubborn fly that kept buzzing around its head. Eventually reaching the threshold of irritation, he followed the fly out towards the stairs, his curved sword being swung into the air to strike the buzzing creature; only to be taken by surprise with a bright source of light. The next thing the fly was recording was the other orc waking up to the clunk of a sword dropping, this one finding gasping and taking an attack position before the camera went dark.

But not for long.

The fly in Loki's room recorded the God catching the sounds outside while he was in the middle of surveying the whole room for an escape route. The grunts and gasps of orcs outside have stopped, making him all the more cautious to the steps that steadily approach the door. He took one of the chains in his hand, with calculated steps, walked towards the door to catch whatever tried to come in next. With the sound of a heavy key twisted inside the keyhole, the wheels turned and the door opened a smidge to let someone in. Without losing even a second, Loki wound the chain around your neck from behind you, nearly choking you. "Not now, dammit!" you choked, trying to free yourself from the hold. "Y/N?" the surprise stirring along with confusion was a new shade on Loki that you would have appreciated any other day. "Wha-what are you doing here?" That God wasn't even able to squeak on realising it was you. The chains came off as fast as they had gone around your neck, giving you room to breathe and widen your eyes in horror. "No! No no no no noooo!!"  You ran towards the door as it clunk shut, leaving you to pull at it with all your might to no avail. "The door opens from outside," you groaned with a sob, thumping your head on it with low winces before a tiny realisation hit you hard enough to stop and look back at Loki. "Ow!" He yelled at the hard slap that came for his back, looking at you in simmering confusion. "You could've waited to choke me after we got out, you fucking IDIOT!" The slaps and punches got more vigorous with each word until Loki had to gab your hands with his to stop you from wasting your energy anymore. "And what makes you think coming here was a good idea?"  He struggled to keep your writhing form from hurting itself more than him. You were ready to kick him in his shins and you would have absolutely done that if Loki had not shoved you into the wall with him towering over you to restrict any movement of your limbs. The little buzzing drone came to sit over Loki's arm and capture the frame where both of you were flaming with anger and still trying to breathe enough to keep that rage alive. "I'd already told you were on your own," he grunted, his eyes drilling through your soul. "And I'd already told you I am a psychology major. I can see the denial routine from miles away, you stupid blob of six-foot galaxy brain! You think I haven't sacrificed myself to a professor for the sake of my friends?" "...what? Wait. What do mean by sacri-" "Now get off me and find us a way out of here." You pushed him back. Well, at least you thought you did. But he pushed closer to you, shooting emotions of mild surprise in your eyes before you caught yourself slipping. Fortunately, this little drone caught everything in 4K. From the veins popping in Loki's neck to the parted lips and wavering gaze of yours. "This world is not a joke, Y/N. There was a reason you were left behind. And you have done the exact opposite of that which is supposed to keep you alive." It felt as if Loki had to restrain from spilling that anger over the rim. To make that hypothesis true, he punched the wall to dissipate this emotion he did not want to be running him. And there he stood, his head hanging above you in defeat, his eyes closed and his breath wavering. "I was supposed to send you home safe," he was barely able to mutter. The drone focused on your hands coming around his torso, your arms taking as much of his frame in a hug as possible as you softly patted his back and soothed him. Loki's body twitched a little at this new touch, still like a stone before giving in with every wave of your soothing touch. "You're family, idiot. I'm not gonna leave you behind with some crazy bitch that isn't me?" A chuckle resonated through you and then the room. The next moment when you looked at him, he was looking lighter. "Now come on, use your muscles and drill through one of these walls." Raising his good brow, he judged you while tapping his fist casually on the wall. "What exactly do you take me for?" "A cheesy brooder who's all soft inside," you commented without skipping a beat, looking around to find some kind of a loophole in this square room. "Say that outside these walls and watch what this brooder does to you." "Sounds like an invitation," you sang under your breath, tapping the walls. It took a while. A while that was long enough for you to move around the room to come and sit on the lone drawer by the wall, feeling the heat of the room bursting out the sweat in your skin, other than turning your brain into an irritated mush. You groaned while taking off your top and throwing it on the floor. You wanted to cry out loud to blow off some of the unbearable heat but stopped short at the sight of that overcoat coming off. Followed by that black shirt. Muscles. No matter how he moved or what he did, his back lived in that moment to tease you with those muscles. And what was that? Sparkles? No, sweat, glistening in the dim light. Wait, why was it glisten- You looked around and realised the lamps were at their wick's end. "Same," you sighed as you looked back at Loki's back, only to find him turned around to face you. "Oh, Gods!" you jumped down from the drawer with quite the surprise in your eyes. "This is your first time seeing me shirtless?" It almost felt like he was genuinely curious. "What? No! I don't know. That wasn't the-look!" You signalled him to come closer and let your hand hang right above the drawer's top that touched the two corners of the wall. Loki mirrored you and realised it instantly. "That's a cold breeze." He looked at you with pupils expanding wide in that dim lighting. Taking over from there, he tried his best to get a look as to which section of the wall it was coming from. "There's an opening-" he immediately shifted his position to standing parallel to the length of the wall, his hands grounded on the varnished top- "we will have to either pull it-" he tried his best but the structure did not budge- "or push it towards the opening in that section." You got to work as well, standing next to him and giving your end of the small corner a good push that only ended up in failed grunts. "Okay, let's try another way," you inhaled, "I'll push the top, you be the bottom."

The drone was sitting on the drawer now, capturing all those failed attempts from every angle both of you thought possible before you nearly collapsed due to lack of air. "We're are clearly doing something wrong here," Loki huffed, his puffed-up chest, the centre of the camera's frame. You flipped your wet hair to show your tired face in the lone lamp that burned in the room. "There weren't any more of those BDSM chains inside it, were there?" Loki's breathing stopped for a moment. You looked at him for an answer. Both of you moved to open the drawers. The drone captured the disappointment in your own IQ in high definition before watching you both taking them out with nothing but pure spite. "Take a break, I'll try-" "No," you shook your head and wiped the forehead sweat, "let's do it together." Loki wanted you to stop but that you gave him was more than adequate to let anyone know you won't listen right now. "This time you stand behind me and let's use the wall behind as a supp....ort? Wait how is this room looking shorter?" You were looking around in dazed confusion while Loki closed his eyes. "It's not a normal room. Those two walls will keep closing in until..." He didn't have to say more. "Well, then what are we waiting for?" the drop of panic in your high pitched voice was evident as you positioned yourself- putting your palms on the edge. "Come on." Loki came to stand behind you, copying your position, just a bit more charismatically- and with a bit more skin- till he felt your hair come into his mouth. "One, two, three!" This time the push did budge the drawer chest a bit but your strength had been used for that movement of a centimetre. Your breaths almost felt like your lungs were on the verge of crying. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the drone was seemingly recording you from. Loki looked at your back, clearly concerned. This time he used his hand to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go." Both of you had your eyes stuck on the wall with a fiery gaze and an aura that would have burned this place to the ground. His muscles tried to take all that you could not. And just when the grunts were turning into screams, the drawer started to move from its place with a screeching noise. As soon as Loki noticed a decent enough opening in the wall to your and his side, he pushed you and himself in through the opening before the death walls came for your limbs. The drone fly followed. Both of you rolled through what seemed like a tunnel slide through the walls for a minute till that just did not seem to end. It did end though. It ended in a noisy fall of thuds and groans- you on top of him. "You okay?" you winced through your broken voice, not moving a muscle for the fear of breaking something. Also because it was awkward lying over him on your stomach. Loki replied with a quick wince. A ruffle came from next to you. Followed by a lazy groan.  Your head turned to the noise. So did Loki's.  "You two could have easily waited for another hour." The drone swerved around to bonk into the one that was already there, covering the dungeons. There under the rugged blanket, laid Carol Danvers, looking at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Neither of you knew what to say. She looked at her watch and put her head inside the blanket again. "Five more minutes."

[bnhasimpgirltm]

Until the End  [BNHA (Platonic) x Reader]

Pairings: BNHA (platonic) x reader

Warnings: a lot of death, swearing

Genre: Small Fluffy moments, and soft angst

Word Count: 3685

A/N: this idea was born from the chat between me and @jayjee.art (Instagram). She was going to draw cheerleader Bakugo and not show me, so I used my power and decided to do this. I really like writing flashbacks, so this is similar to the first fic I posted on this blog (a Todoroki fic). I’m so sorry for not posting a lot. I’ve been working on three things at once, so it’s a lot, but I hope you guys like this one! This is also a call to make platonic love a normal thing. 

note: this one is a little confusing to read, so I recommend reading it a little slower than you would read other things on my blog. 

———————————————

“RUN!” Todoroki yelled urgently.

“We can’t get out,” you yelled in a hoarse voice. The smoke was getting to your lungs, and everything was on fire. You could barely see Jiro and Kaminari, and Todoroki was completely obscured.

“Keep trying!” He yelled back. 

You had been trying, and it was no use. 

“I’m sorry guys,” Kaminari shook his head. “They blocked the radio signals, I can’t call for help.”

Jiro let out a sob, but kept mining at the walls with her ear jack. 

“Can you defuse the bomb Todoroki?” You asked. 

He shook his head. 

“At least try!” Denki yells back.

“If I cut the wrong wire it will kill us,” Todoroki explains worriedly. 

“IF YOU DON’T DO ANYTHING WE’RE GOING TO DIE ANYWAYS!” You scream while hitting the wall uselessly. 

“I don’t know which one to cut,” Todoroki sweats, either from the heat or because he was nervous. 

“Cut the red one! That’s what they do in the movies!” Denki cries out.

Todoroki cuts the red wire and the ticking stops. 

Everyone let out a sigh of relief, glad to not die a horrible death to a bomb, and now trying to find a way out of the hot, stuffy, vault.

But then, it happened so fast. Todoroki had cut the wrong wire. 

Since Todoroki was the closest, he was first. 

~

“You do it like this (Y/N),” Todoroki said.

“This is so dumb Todoroki,” you whined. “How about we kick back and head over to hang out with Midoriya and Iida instead of doing this!” 

Todoroki thought about it for a moment, wondering if it was a good idea to let you off. 

“Fine, we can go watch a movie or something with Iida and Midoriya.” Todoroki sighed. 

“Perfect!” You fist pumped . “You’re the greatest best friend Todoroki.” 

~

You and Todoroki enjoyed small moments like that. They were the best examples of your friendship.

~

You fell to the floor laughing.

“So you’re telling me you don’t know how to ride a bike?” You asked Todoroki.

“No, I never learned,” He replied back stoically.

“We can teach you!” Midoriya offered with a smile. “(Y/n), can you get my bike?”

“Yes! Oh my gosh this is going to be so fun!” You jogged to the bike rack and took Midoriya’s bike, bringing it back to where he and Todoroki were standing. 

“Lets get started,” you clapped your hands together enthusiastically.

~

The last thing you heard from Todoroki was “I’m sorry I let you down again.”

~

Jiro was next. You and she were inseparable.

~

“(Y/n), do you want to join me tonight for open mic?” Jiro asked you. 

“Of course,” you agreed. “It was super fun last week.”

“That’s great, I get a little nervous singing in front of the class,” she admitted.

“It’s okay Jiro, you have nothing to worry about!” You reassured. “You’re a great singer.”

~ 

Music built your friendship, but it stayed up because your personalities matched so well. 

~

“Jiro!” You screamed. “There’s a Hot Topic that opened in the mall!” 

Jiro put the book down, and shot up from her seat. 

“No way!” She said. “Lets go!” 

“I know!” You excitedly did a victory cartwheel in the common room, then ran with Jiro out the doors.

“Oh my God is this Heaven?” Jiro asked.

“Maybe not, but it’s close,” you responded, looking up at the mass of band shirts and merchandise from your favorite shows. 

“How does this look, (y/n)?” Jiro asked, holding out a My Chemical Romance shirt.

“It suits you Jiro. You should get it,” you gave her a thumbs up.

She smiled back at you, digging a Fall Out Boy shirt out from under the stack and tossing it towards you. 

“We can rope Denki and Momo into this so we can be the quartet,” you joked. 

“Is this an excuse for us to get more shirts?” Jiro asked.

“Maybe?” You bit your lip and let out a loud laugh.

Jiro laughed with you, and soon, you were both on the floor laughing.

~

The last thing you heard from Jiro was a strangled sob, mixed with the word “Help”

~ 

Then came Kaminari, your wild card of a friend.

~

“Haha! Nice one Kaminari!” You yelled. This was the fifth game that Kaminari had gotten a stuffed toy from, and much to Kirishima and Bakugo’s dismay, they were the ones who had to hold them,

“Kaminari, can you chill out on the games?” Kirishima complained. “I’m being drowned by these things.”

“I’m on a roll and no one is going to stop me!” Kaminari proclaimed proudly. 

“How about (y/n) plays the next game, and if they screw it up and don’t win, we can go do something else?” Bakugo bargains.

Kaminari thinks about it. “Fine, (y/n) is a carnival game God, there’s no way they’re going to lose!” 

“You’re going to be eating your words in a minute Dunce Face,” Bakugo retorted.

You and the Bakusqaud walked over to a game that Bakugo was sure you couldn’t win. 

“This isn’t fair!” Kaminari complained. “No one ever wins this!”

“That’s the point Dunce Face,” Bakugo rolls his eyes. 

“Watch and learn everyone,” you gave a ticket to the worker behind the counter and got three darts. 

“There’s no way (y/n) is going to land three darts,” Kirishima said.

You lined up with the balloons and threw the first dart. 

POP!

“Lucky shot!” Bakugo argued. 

You looked back and grinned at him.

“We’ll see about that.”

You looked back towards the balloons and aimed again. 

POP!

“I’m just super lucky, I guess,” you mocked.

“Tch, you’re not going to get the third one,” Bakugo claimed.

Rolling your eyes, you throw the last dart at a green balloon. It bounces off, and Kaminari’s excited face shifts to disappointment.

“Ha, I told you,” Bakugo says triumphantly.

While the dart falls to the floor, you use your psychokinesis quirk and lift it.

“Eh?” Bakugo asks.

Guiding the dart forward, you stab the green balloon with it. 

POP!

“You were saying Bakuhoe?” You snarkily said. 

“THAT’S CHEATING!” Bakugo whined.

“Nice one (Y/n),” Kirishima fist bumped you, and Ashido laughed at Bakugo’s complaining.

“Which one do you want?” The person working asked.

You looked at all of the plushies.

“That one,” you pointed. 

The person working handed you the giant Ground Zero plushie and you added it to the growing stack in Bakugo’s arms.

“I hate you so much,” Bakugo groaned.

“This is awesome,” Kaminari took his phone out and took a picture of Bakugo buried under the plushies.

“I hate all of you,” Bakugo repeated.

~

To think that you would never have another moment with Kaminari was unthinkable. You thought you would both have forever to do stupid things together. 

~

“(Y/n)!” Ashido called. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked. 

She paused for a minute to take a breath. “Kaminari is going to do human tire bowling!”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” You squealed. “Lets go! Where is he?” 

Ashido motioned for you to follow her, and when you two left the common room, you saw Kirishima stacking trashcans and Kaminari standing next to Bakugo.

“This is dumb, someone is going to get hurt,” Bakugo complained.

“You worry for us Bakugo! How nice!” Kaminari prodded at Bakugo.

Sero impatiently rocked the tire back and forth. “Come on guys, lets get started.”

“I’m going first, and then Bakugo and Ashido will go. That means Kaminari and (Y/n) are a team, and they’ll go third.” Kirishima explained. “It’s like normal bowling. You get two tries, and then the next team goes. The next round, the person who wasn’t in the tire gets to be in the tire. We’ll do ten frames, so each person gets to be in the tire five times.” 

“Did he do the math right Bakugo?” Sero asked. 

“Yeah whatever, lets just start so I can beat all of you,” Bakugo smirked. 

“You’re on Bakuhoe,” you teased. “Come on Denki, let’s do this!”

~

The last thing you heard from Kaminari was a scream that tore through the vault and through your heart.

~

You were the last one hit, and your eyes teared up. It was as if everything slowed down. 

You saw your mother.

~

“(Y/n), come over here,” your mom called. She was watching a news broadcast of heroes who had stopped a small gang of villains. 

“Wow!” you had said. “Someday I’m going to be a hero just like that!” 

“I know you’ll be a great hero,” your mom hugged you close to her. “I know that you’ll make me proud.”

~

You saw your acceptance into UA.

~

“Did you get that mail?” You almost tackled your mom as she came in. 

“Yes, I did.” She chuckled. “Someone’s excited.” 

You shuffled through the mail that she put on the table, and found what you were looking for.

When you opened the envelope, you realized that you had been accepted into UA, the top hero school in Japan. Not only had you been accepted into UA, but you were also put into the hero course, and you would be in 1A.

“Mom! I did it!” You had shrieked. “UA HERE I COME!” 

“I’m so proud of you!” She jumped up and hugged you. “You’re going to be a hero!”

“I can’t wait!”

~

You saw short moments with your friends.

~

“Bakugo what are you reading?” You had asked.

“Hah? Nothing,” Bakugo sat on his book and defiantly looked at you.

You looked at him, suspicious, and using your quirk, you pushed Bakugo over and grabbed his book.

“Bakugo, you read ‘Maid Sama!’?” You looked at him, shocked. 

“Yeah, what about it?” He said, trying to keep his tough guy facade up.

“Bakugo, why didn’t you tell me?” You shrilled, “We could have had so many good convertations you UWU boy!”

“Shut up,” he grumbled.

~

You knew that Bakugo the gremlin would miss you, Kaminari, and even Todoroki. Though he would never admit it.

~

“How could you do this?” You asked Kirishima. “How could you betray me like this?”

“(Y/n), I’m sorry, I didn’t know-” He started. 

“No! I don’t want to hear it! I despise you Eijiro Kirishima!” You yelled. 

“Shitty Hair, put the damn card down,” Bakugo said, annoyed.

“NO! DON’T DO IT!” You pleaded. “I thought we were best friends!” 

“We are (y/n), but I must do what I have to do,” Kirishima slowly put his second to last card down. “Uno!”

“Stop him!” Ashido begged. “Someone put a wild card down!” 

“I got you!” Kaminari was after Kirishima, and he placed his wild card down, choosing red. 

“Damn you,” Bakugo grabbed another card from the deck and added to his slowly growing hand of eight cards.

“I call skip!” You put a red skip card down and skipped Ashido. 

“(Y/n)!” She whined. 

“I had to Ashido, you could have put down a card that would lead to Kirishima’s victory!” You reasoned. 

“Guess what color my last card is,” Kirishima let out a shark toothed grin.

“No!” You all yelled.

“Red seven,” he placed his card down. “I win!”

You all wailed and groaned and complained. 

“Who wants to play again?” You asked.

~

When you needed small things, they always came through, because you always came through for them.

~

“Todoroki, my drink is warm,” you complained.

“What should I do about it?” He asked, stoic as usual.

“Maybe you could make me a couple ice cubes,” you prodded.

“(Y/n), you know I’m not supposed to use my quirk without permission,” he argued. 

“But this is an emergency!” You dramatically said. 

“Fine, only this once,” Todoroki agreed reluctantly. He made four ice cubes and put them in your drink. 

“Thank you Todoroki!” You grinned at him as you sipped your drink.

~

Yeah your friends might have been idiots, but at least they were always there for you, comforting you in your worst moments. 

~

“Hey (y/n), are you okay?” Midoriya asked you. 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine Midoriya,” you said through sniffles. 

He looked at you with wide eyes. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t need me to stay?” He asked.

“Well, I do need someone to talk to,” you patted the open spot next to you on the bench.

Midoriya sat down and hugged you. “It’s okay, you don’t even need to tell me what happened.”

“Thanks Midoriya,” you said. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’ll always be there for you. You’ll always be my friend!” Midoriya smiled at you and you smiled back. 

~

They were also there to celebrate your greatest acheivements.

~

“WE DID IT!” You yelled out. 

“Yeah we did,” Jiro echoed.

“I’m so glad I met you guys,” you said to your classmates. “Stay in touch with me alright? And don’t be afraid to call for help! You’ll always be my girls!”

“I love you all!” Ashido squealed. 

“Love you too,” Jiro repeated.

“You guys are the best,” Yaoyorozu added. 

“I can’t wait to be a pro hero,” Asui said.

“I hope we can see each other again soon,” Uraraka and Hagukare said at the same time.

“Same! I’m going to miss you guys so much,” you teared up and the girls of 1A group hugged.

“(Y/n), who’s agency are you going to go to?” Uraraka asked.

“Well actually,” you started,”I think that I might start my own agency.”

They all blinked at you in disbelief, then broke out into grins.

“You’re going to be great!” Yaoyorozu excitedly said. 

“I’m so happy for you!” Hagukare shouted. 

“Enough about me, who wants to get the rest of our classmates and have a graduation dinner?” You asked. 

Everyone cheered and hugged. 

It was the end of your chapter at UA, but you would start a new one once you formed your agency. 

~

You hoped that Yaoyorozu, Uraraka, Ashido, and Asui wouldn’t be too broken up over your death.

~

“mY Ex-mAn BRoUGhT hIS nEw GiRLFrieND,” you sung loudly.

“She’S LiKE oH mY GoD, BuT I’M jUST goNNA ShAKE iT,” Ashido continued.

“anD tO thE FeLLa OVeR ThEre WiTH ThE hELLa GOod HaIR,” Jiro bopped.

"Won’T yOU coME oN oVEr BAbY wE cAN shAkE, sHAke, ShAKe,” Uraraka finished. 

You all burst out laughing, as Jiro danced with Yaoyorozu. 

“I’m so glad we got to spend today together,” Ashido said. “Pro hero work has been exhausting!” 

“Oh my gosh, you’re so right,” Uraraka sighed.

“I’m just glad that we could all make time to hang out,” you said. “We can always get together though.”

“Right, now who wants popcorn?” Jiro asked. 

~

Who knew that would be the last time you would see them in person. It was a realization that brought on strong emotional pain on top of the physical pain that came with being in a burning vault. 

Your mother spoke again, but unlike earlier, it wasn’t filled with energy. It was soft. 

~

“(Y/n), I’m so proud of you,” your  mother said. 

~

Her voice was soft and loving. It was warm, in a good way.  You missed your mom and wished that you spent more time with her after graduating.

~

You hugged your mom tightly and asked “Really?”

She hugged back and smiled. “My child is a pro hero that’s running their own agency. How could I be more proud?” 

“I love you mom,” you said, choked up.

“I love you too,” she said.

~

You had so much love to spread around, and you had given it to all of your friends. They had always deserved it.

~

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I trust you okay, so don’t go around talking about what you saw.” 

“Okay, okay,” you agreed, then more seriously you said,”I love you, Bakuhoe.”

“Eh?” He asked, clearly confused.

“I said that I love you, best friend,” you repeated. 

“Yeah whatever, I tolerate you more than others I guess,” Bakugo rolled his eyes. 

“And that’s enough for me,” you sat down on the couch next to him.

~

“Who wants to play again?” You asked.

Everyone agreed. 

“Guys, I know I don’t say it enough, but I love all of you,” you quietly mentioned. 

“Our platonic love will keep us all together forever!” Ashido commented. 

“This is too much love, I think I’m going to fall into a hole and die,” Bakugo dramaticaly recited. 

“Bakubro, you have got to join the dark side,” Kirishima said. “We know you love all of us in your own twisted Bakubro way.”

“We should make shirts that say ‘Katsuki Bakugo Wuvs Us’,” Kaminari suggested. 

“Oh my God yes,” you agreed. 

~

“Thank you Todoroki!” You grinned at him as you sipped your drink. 

“That is the only time, okay,” he reminded. 

“Yeah I know.” You agreed on impulse. “I love you Todoroki, you’re the best friend I could have.”

“That’s very sudden, (y/n),” he said, surprised. “What brought this on?”

“I just need to tell all of my friends how much I care about them,” you explained.

~

“I’ll always be there for you. You’ll always be my friend!” Midoriya smiled at you and you smiled back. 

“I love you Midoriya,” you said.

“I love you too (y/n),” Midoriya said back. 

You smiled at Midoriya and embraced him.

~

It was the end of your chapter at UA, but you would start a new one once you formed your agency. 

“Girls, before we leave, I want you to know that UA wouldn’t have been the same without you guys,” you started. “I love all of you to the moon and back.”

“We love you too, (y/n),” Yaoyorozu said back. 

“I know, and I’ll remember until the day I die,” you linked arms with Yaoyorozu and Jiro, then started to skip around. 

“I still want food though, so lets go.”

~

“Right, now who wants popcorn?” Jiro asked. 

You all raised your hands and Jiro counted the hands that were in the air. 

“This is super random, and I know I say it a lot, but I want you guys to know how much I love all of you,” you said thoughtfully. 

Uraraka didn’t say anything and hugged you tightly.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” she sobbed quietly. 

“It’s okay Uraraka, we’ll be here for you, always,” you held her tightly. 

~

Your memories finished flashing in front of your eyes, and just as fast as it started, everything was over. 

And despite everything going on, you managed to smile. 

Yes, you were in pain, but just like in all of your life’s special moments, you had pushed through to let your positivity shine through. You smile would be the last thing that your friends would see of you, and you knew that your job here was done. 

They could live knowing that you had died loving them. 

“I love you, all of you,” you whispered, closing your eyes. 

Quite fittingly, those were the last words you said. 

Then, you welcomed the darkness. 

~

The next day, you and the other’s that had been trapped in the vault didn’t show up for work, so a group of pro heroes searched for all of you. 

The first place they checked was the vault that you had all gone to. The door was blown off, and they found four bodies that day. 

Four true heroes, lost forever. 

“Who are they?” Midoriya, the pro hero “Deku”, asked. 

“We haven’t identified them for for sure yet, but based on the information we know, we can assume (y/n) (l/n), Shoto Todoroki, Kyoka Jiro, and Denki Kaminari,” the police officer said. 

“What?” Bakugo stood next to Midoriya, questioning the officer.

“We know that you were good friends with who we assume the deceased are, and offer our condolences,” the officer walked away, not wanting to be suceptible to the wrath of Ground Zero. 

“Kacchan-,” Midoriya started.

“AGHHH!” Bakugo yelled, kicking the wall.

He remembered you and Dunce Face, and even Icy-Hot and Earjack girl. 

You had all meant something to him, even if he never showed it. 

“Ground Zero, sir, you and Deku have been the two requested to customize  (l/n)’s headstone,” a small, wiry man said. “The police said that it’s highly likely that one of the bodies is (l/n)’s, and that we should make arrangements.”

“Give it,” Bakugo motioned for the clipboard he was holding, and the man turned it to him. 

He paused on the engraving. 

“Kacchan, let me,” Midoriya said, taking the pen from him and filling the engraving part out. 

Bakugo read what Midoriya put, and reeled back. 

“I love you? Isn’t that a bit basic?” Bakugo asked. 

“(Y/n) loved us all, and was never afraid to say it,” Midoriya said pointedly.

“Give me the damn clipboard Deku,” Bakugo grabbed the clipboard and scratched out ‘I love you’, writing ‘The greatest gift to give is love, and I shared this gift with everyone.’

Handing the clipboard back to Midoriya, Bakugo folded his arms. “Well?” He asked. 

“I like it Kacchan,” Midoriya approved. 

“(Y/n) would have liked it too,” Bakugo looked at his feet.  

“(Y/n) loved everyone, and wanted us all to get along, so why don’t we start over?” Midoriya asked. 

“I guess we can do that,” Bakugo kicked at the ground, wanting to say something snarky, but refraining. He had been such an ass to Deku, so who was he to refuse a fresh start?

“Hi, I’m Izuku Midoriya, the pro hero, ‘Deku’,” Deku stuck out his hand.

Bakugo shook it. 

“My name is Katsuki Bakugo, and I’m the pro hero ‘Ground Zero’,” Bakugo introduced.

“I think we have the potential to be great friends,” Midoriya smiled at Bakugo, not in admiration to worship him, but this time as an equal.

A friend. 

Bakugo smirked back. “Yeah, I think I can make that work.”

With that, Bakugo and Midoriya walked away from the vault together, surprising everyone.

The pair knew that you would have been proud.

They had put aside their differences and past to create something new. 

All because of you. 

For even in death you were still bringing people together.

And as long as people remembered you for that, you would never truly die.

[adarlingwrites]

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

Author’s notes: Huge spoilers for episode 8 and the manga.

TW: blood, references to past self harm.

Edit 5/5/2021: Fleshed out a scene involving Aguni and Yamane’s arm injuries.

VI

propaganda is in our flesh and blood and we rejoice in the control of others / euphoria – poisoning the minds of the future / and it is turning our kids to murder, to murder

A few floors below them, as Last Boss trails his fingers behind Yamane’s legs to point out a few more arteries, their chief converses with his friend, a secret no other Beach members knew.

“That girl is concerning me,” Aguni admits, crossing his arms. “Accepting her in the military sect might have been a mistake. The kid couldn’t even kill without the guilt gnawing her alive. She’s innocent compared to the likes of Niragi.”

“But isn’t that a good thing, Mori?” Hatter asks, leaning back into the sofa and putting his arms behind his back. “She’s a stabilizing element. It might help you with keeping the violent members of the Beach in check by having someone with her restraint around,” he continues, chuckling as he puts his feet up on the coffee table between the sofas. “Plus, it’ll help me sleep better knowing that the military sect of our utopia has members who aren’t simple, mindless killers.”

Aguni’s brow furrows. “Takeru, I’m afraid she’d become more like those two who took her here. I asked Saiko what she knew about that girl. That girl has problems that could drive her over the edge.”

At Aguni’s response, the Hatter smiles and moves to sit next to his friend. “Reminds you too much of yourself?”

Aguni merely nods.

“Remember that quote by Gandhi that I said to recruit the first members of the Beach, Mori? ‘Be the change you want to see in the world.’ Do what you can to help her stay sane.”

Nodding, he pats Hatter’s back.

Above them, another militant was heading towards the balcony. “Last Boss, there’s- whoa. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

The other man stopped in his tracks when he saw the silent militant kneeling in front of a woman.

“I-it’s not what it looks like,” Yamane blurts out, stepping away from the tattooed militant.

The interrupter gave her an awkward nod and rubs the back of his head. Seeing Last Boss with a woman came as a surprise to him; the tattooed man was known for keeping to himself instead of sleeping around like Niragi. Last Boss turns around to give the interrupter a sour look.

“There’s a group of traitors who kept their cards from the previous game. We gotta get rid of them,” the man says, averting his gaze from the two of them.

Last Boss unsheathes his sword, and he turns to Yamane, motioning her to follow.

“Wait- me?” Yamane asks, blood running cold.

“Part of our duty is to discreetly kill traitors,” the other militant says. “Didn’t they tell you that when you came here?”

Gulping, Yamane wordlessly follows the two. It’s finally sinking in; her role in the military sect meant dealing with not just most physical games, but these ugly matters as well.

They walked all the way to the basement, and the other militant waited outside, keeping watch. There were three people kneeling, eyes and mouth bound by duct tape. Their arms and legs are bound as well. Yamane recognizes one of them as the medic that helped Sunohara treat Last Boss’ injuries.

“Go ahead,” Last Boss tells her, kicking a bucket in front of the captive.

Yamane freezes at his command. Eyes flicking towards the captive, she could see the sweat dripping from his skin as he struggled in futility. The taller militant advances on her, tilting her chin with his fingers, and the words don't come to her.

“Put what I taught you into practice. This is the perfect opportunity.”

The dormouse’s only response is a slow, nervous nod. Her small fingers reach for the dagger from her holster, and she kneels behind the bound medic, who was thrashing and sobbing as her other hand pushed his head down.

A gasp escapes Yamane as Last Boss knelt behind her as well, wiry arms guiding her, and his hand over hers. Warm breaths on her neck and his proximity made Yamane feel the heat surge between her legs again, mind muddled by a cocktail of fear and lust hormones. The dagger presses into the victim’s skin, and with Last Boss’ guidance, they make a quick slash to the artery, blood pumping and draining out to the bucket.

“Good Yamaneko,” he whispers, not letting go of her despite the deed being done. His scent engulfs her, and Yamane chokes back a moan, disguising by clearing her throat.

“Let’s move on to the others,” she whispers, moving away from him.

Later that night, in an attempt to purge the mental image of slicing three people’s throats, Yamane’s feet bring her to the loud merrymaking at the pool. She grabs one drink, and sits in a corner. It helps that her status as a militant meant people left her alone.

It didn’t stop Sunohara from sitting next to her, though.

“You really shouldn’t be drinking alcohol while you’re taking tramadol, you know,” she casually mentions, lighting a cigarette. Smoke wafts to Yamane’s face and she waves it away with her free hand. “I thought doctors advise people to stay away from cigarettes, why are you smoking?”

Sunohara laughs. “Touche. I guess I can’t stop you. Just don’t drink before a game. It’ll make you drowsy.”

“Sure, I’ll keep it in mind.”

In consideration, Sunohara blows the smoke away from Yamane’s direction. “So, what was your game tonight? You had so much blood on you.”

“A Spade.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sunohara comments, taking another hit of her cigarette. “Physical games tend to get messy. Though, Heart games can get messy too.”

Now Yamane’s interest is piqued. She never had a heart game before. “What’s in a Heart game?”

“Ah, never played one before? Heart games play with, well, your heart.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” Yamane replies, taking a sip of her cocktail. “What do you mean by it plays with your heart?”

Sunohara flicks her spent cigarette away and crushes it with her sandal. “They’re psychological, the type that uses your emotions to make a fool out of you. They mislead you into thinking that you’d have to do something terrible, but losses can be avoided if you think things through and don’t let your emotions get the best of you.”

“You sound like you’ve seen a lot of Heart games, Sunohara,” Yamane comments, setting her empty drink down.

“Not really. Just two. When you’re a doctor like me, you need to be calm in an emergency. Assess the situation properly, and give proper treatment. I just applied my experiences.”

Sunohara stands up to shake off the ash from her coat, and gives Yamane a smile. “I need to go. My assistant disappeared on me and I need to check the medication supply.”

With that, she sets off. Yamane gulps the last of her drink, and guilt drops like a heavy stone in her stomach. That assistant must have been the man she executed.

Drowsiness settling in, she needs to rest for the games. Unlike when she was surviving on her own, Beach members play them every night regardless of how many days they have left on their visas. Yamane lies on the bed, but her body is still buzzing. She recounts her experiences for the day, and her mind wanders back to the time she spent with Last Boss.

Against her better judgment, her fingers trail downward to the waistband of her shorts, and she pulls them off of her legs, underwear coming off with it. A string of her juices coats her finger as she glided it against her folds.

The little dormouse pleasures herself that night thinking about the tiger above her, fantasizing about him doing unspeakable things to her body. She comes quietly, intensely. Then, she drifts off, the post-orgasmic bliss calming her down.

The next morning, she wakes up feeling worse.

Sluggish, she climbs out of bed, and goes to the bathroom. The blood had come off of her clothes now, so she scrubbed them, rinsed them, took them out of the sink and hung them to dry. In the middle of hanging up her skirt, her stomach rumbles. She forgot to eat last night.

At the lobby, the usual banquet is set out for the residents. Yamane takes all the food she can fit on a plate, goes back up to her room, and eats in peace. She’ll need the strength and energy to survive tonight.

She didn’t know if she should be dismayed or relieved that she’s not grouped with Niragi and Last Boss in the game tonight. Instead, she was grouped with Saiko, Sunohara, Aguni, and another Beach member that she hasn’t spoken to yet. One of them wears a plain white hood, a distant, sly look on his face. They all went through the laser grid, and there were enough phones for ten players.

Soon, other participants arrived.

This game takes place in a hospital, and various implements are laid on the table. Yamane takes note of them; stress balls, large needles, blood bags, scalpels, and buckets. Sunohara was eyeing them as well, deep in thought.

In the middle of the room was a large electronic weighing scale.

“Registration closed. There are currently eight players. Difficulty: Five of Hearts.”

Ice runs through Yamane’s veins. Just last night she was talking to Sunohara about Heart games, and here she was.

“Game: Bloodletting. Rules: There is a bomb in this building. Players must spill enough blood to defuse them all. Time limit: thirty minutes.”

“Spill blood? This should be easy,” Saiko comments, loading her gun.

“Game Start!”

At the cue, Saiko shoots an unaffiliated player dead. Yamane’s eyes widen in surprise, while Sunohara screams, bracing herself against a medical gurney. Aguni is quiet, looking at the corpse, while the man with the white hood rolls his eyes. The others were too shocked to say anything.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice announces.

“Dammit!” Saiko shouts, shooting another player dead. The other one tries to flee, but she makes quick work of her.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice continues.

Saiko points the gun at Sunohara, but Yamane shoves her aside. “Idiot. It didn’t work the first time, what makes you think that it’ll work the fourth time?”

“Huh. Will you look at that. A militant that isn’t entirely stupid,” the man in white comments in a sing-song voice. Saiko turns to him and points her gun. “Would you rather I shoot you, Chishiya?”

“Saiko. Enough,” Aguni commands, crouching to look at the fallen man. “Your strategy clearly doesn’t work.”

Collecting herself, Sunohara sighs. “This is a Heart game. The rules aren’t what they seem. Look around you, there are implements for blood transfusion, and a weighing scale in the middle of the room. The game’s name is ‘Bloodletting’ too.”

“Let’s use the dead’s blood to fill the buckets then,” Aguni suggests. “How long does it take to drain the blood from a man his size?”

“A man that size looks like he has about 1.5 gallons of blood. That’s roughly 5.6 liters, enough to fill ten blood bags, which holds 525 milliliters of blood,” Chishiya comments. “The heart pumps five liters of blood per minute, but that man is dead.” 

Saiko and Yamane look at him with bewilderment. “He’s a medical student. I was his senior,” Sunohara comments sheepishly. “But, still, each transfusion would last eight to ten minutes, and that’s on someone alive. There wouldn’t be enough time for us to drain all their blood before the building blows up.”

“It’s still worth the try,” Yamane comments, taking a bucket. She kneels in front of one of the dead players, takes a deep breath to steady her hands, and applies what she learned from Last Boss the night before, the blood spilling into the bucket. Horrified, Sunohara could only watch as Yamane worked. Aguni takes a scalpel and starts to drain the other dead player as well.

“Twenty minutes remaining.”

The doctor takes a steadying breath when she takes a scalpel and kneels. The rest follow suit except for Chishiya, who merely observes. Soon, they were moving buckets of blood to the weighing scale.

“Not enough blood is spilled,” the robotic voice chimes in, and Saiko groans. Sunohara is nervously eyeing the militants, including Yamane, while Chishiya smirks. Impatient, Saiko points her gun at Chishiya again, and Sunohara gets in the way, eyes defiant.

“Get out of my face before I blow your face off instead of his,” Saiko hisses, but Sunohara remains firm. “Stop. I’m not letting anyone else die. This is a Heart game! It’s deliberately fucking with your head to make you think that killing each other is the only solution.”

“There’s something in the rules you’re all overlooking,” Chishiya comments, unfazed. “The rules said players must spill enough blood.”

Upon hearing his remark, Yamane has an epiphany. “Maybe it meant that we should all fill a bag?”

Chishiya smirks.

“Ten minutes remaining.”

Sunohara rushes to gather the blood bags and stress balls, giving them to the remaining players. “We better hurry,” she says, panting. “Hold out your arms,” she instructs. “Chishiya, don’t just stand there, help me!”

He gives her a cheeky smile and gets to work.

Plunging the needle in Yamane’s arm, Chishiya gives her a look. “You’re too clever for this lot.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she responds. “Let’s just focus on the game.”

“Fair.”

Soon, everyone had their needles inserted in their veins. “Now what?” Saiko asks, scowling.

“Squeeze those stress balls!” Sunohara directs, and everyone starts. Slowly but steady, they all fill a bag.

“Five minutes remaining.”

“How long does this take again?” Saiko asks, still hard at squeezing. “Eight to ten minutes,” Sunohara replies, eyeing the weighing scale.

“Three minutes remaining.”

At that point, Yamane was cursing, bag filled only three-fourths of the way through. She looks to the other players’ bags.

“Two minutes remaining.”

Aguni is first to finish his bag, and Sunohara promptly helps him move it to the weighing scale. Chishiya follows, then Saiko, then Sunohara. Yamane’s bag still isn’t full.

“One minute remaining,” the robotic voice chirps again, and Yamane curses. “Hurry the hell up!” Saiko yells, distressed.

“Thirty seconds remaining.”

In desperation, Yamane grabs her bag, puts it on the scale, and takes one of her daggers to slash her arm, blood spilling on the weighing scale.

“Enough blood has been spilled. Game Clear. Congratulations!”

Collective relief rushes through the group. Yamane should be relieved herself, but now, blood continues to spill from her arm. “S-Sunohara, I won’t stop bleeding,” she gasps.

Cursing, Sunohara scrambles to find supplies to help stop the flow. But the pressure wasn't enough; Yamane continues to bleed all over the table. Aguni steps in, meaty palm pressing against the wound. As he kept the pressure on her arm, he notices a few scars on the surface of his underling's skin. Multiple stripes lined up on her wrist, and it only took one look for him to realize that they were self-inflicted. Sensing the discomfort in Yamane's gaze as she watched him stare at her scars, Aguni looks away.

Once the bleeding stopped, Sunohara treats Yamane’s arm, wrapping a bandage around it. “You’re lucky,” Sunohara comments. “The cut wasn’t deep enough to sever your radial artery. A little deeper, and you would be dead in two minutes.”

“Let’s go,” Aguni grunts, collecting the card from the round table that always shows up after a game.

Before they leave, Yamane eyes the bodies of the dead players Saiko shot, and she feels less horrified. Desensitized.

As soon as they arrived in the Beach, she passed through the pool, most of the Beach residents already hard at partying, and Yamane couldn’t stop the dread from creeping up her spine. These people probably saw other people die in a game tonight, yet they’re more than happy to forget all that with a drink and a good fuck.

“Maybe I should try drinking and fucking my sorrows away like them,” a small part of Yamane’s psych tells her. But her own thoughts are interrupted by the rumble of her stomach.

The blood loss made her ravenous, and she went directly to the banquet. Yamane didn’t even take the food back to her room; she just picked up whatever she found appealing and started eating right there. Biting into a chicken leg, Yamane didn’t care for what the onlookers thought. Sauce pooled in the corner of her mouth as she polished off the chicken, not a single shred of meat left on the bone.

“Yamaneko.”

Abruptly, she turns around to see Last Boss giving her an amused look.

Almost choking, Yamane forces herself to swallow the meat in her mouth. She couldn’t look him in the eye after pleasuring herself at the thought of him the night before. “Last Boss. Hey.”

She moves aside to allow him to gather his serving too. Yamane follows him afterwards to a secluded area afterwards, and he seemed to tolerate her presence, allowing her to sit next to him.

“Thank you for last night,” Yamane tells him. “It helped me clear my game tonight.”

Last Boss only stares at her as she ate, which made her self-conscious. She slowed her chewing, and when he didn’t stop, she turned to face him.

“Yes?”

Goosebumps ripple through Yamane’s skin again as the other militant brushes his thumb on her lips, towards the corner of her mouth. He proceeds to lick it off of his finger. Yamane’s entire face is red now, and she rubs the rest of the sauce off of her mouth with a napkin.

“Y-you could’ve just told me I have sauce on me.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he finally speaks up.

Yamane just knew that she was going to spend nights touching herself to the thought of him again. Several nights.

Four days later, after a Club, a Diamond, and two Spade games, Yamane is given her new player tag. Number twenty five. She’s slowly becoming a seasoned player.

Every after game, Yamane sought out Last Boss’ company more and more. Whether they spoke or just sat in silence didn’t matter. He hasn’t told her to go away once, so Yamane continues to spend more time with him. People started to talk. Not like Yamane cared; she endured all of that in the real world, it doesn’t faze her anymore in this strange land. Soon, the thoughts of home started to dissipate from her psyche, preoccupied with the games and the twisted sense of acceptance she received from her fellow members of the Beach’s militia.

A day after Yamane’s Spade game, she received her next team assignment. She looks at her slip of paper and proceeds to look for other members. Last Boss locks eyes with her, and holds out his slip of paper. They were grouped with a couple who couldn’t get their hands off of each other in the backseat as Yamane drove. Last Boss sits next to her in the front seat, eyes occasionally wandering to her.

Yamane pretended not to notice, locking her eyes on the road.

Soon, they arrive at the game venue.

A love hotel.

As the two other Beach players walked towards the venue, Yamane leaned against the car, eyeing the neon sign. “This… this probably won't be a Spade game, huh?” she mumbles to her companion, whose mouth was slightly open.

“Ever been to a place like this before?” Yamane asks him, wrapping her arms around herself.

“No.”

Yamane didn’t say anything else after that, proceeding inside the venue with Last Boss.

The signs led them to a large suite, where X-crosses are lined up. Smartwatches are laid out for the players, along with guns. Yamane and Last Boss pick up a phone, and proceed to wear the watches. On Yamane’s watch, an arrow pops up in the display, while a heart shows up on Last Boss’ watch.

As another pair gets in the room, Yamane inspects the guns, which had an arrow engraved on the handle. Her eyes flick to the restraints, and dread washes over her when she sees the heart designs in the red light.

“Please sort yourselves accordingly,” a sign on the table instructs them, and the players are done as they’re told. Last Boss went to the X-cross, which had automatic cuffs that bound his arms and legs. Yamane looks at him with slight discomfort, but he stares at her with a blank expression.

“Registration closed. There are currently six players. Difficulty: Nine of Hearts.”

The other players started to mumble amongst themselves, while Yamane’s eyes remained locked on to her fellow militant.

“Game: Desire. Rules: Arrows must take turns to confess their feelings to the Heart they find most desirable. Arrows must fire the gun at the Heart of their choice. Lying or failing to fire the gun would result in a Game Over. Time limit: five minutes.”

“Shit,” was all Yamane could say.

“First player: Daisuke Inamine.”

Yamane turns to the said player, whose tears are streaming down his face as he looks at his lover. “Shit, I can’t do this! I can’t do this,” he sobs, putting the gun down and running out of the room. A laser fired and killed him in an instant. His lover was crying and screaming, fighting against the X-cross’ restraints.

“Next player: Rina Yamada.”

Hands shaking, the other player picks up the gun, and points it at the boy she came to the venue with. “Hiro,” she starts, voice shaking. “I’ve- I’ve always liked you since middle school,” she confesses, sobs wracking her body. “I appreciate that you enjoy the bento I’d always make for you. I like how you’d always come to protect me from my bullies. I- oh god, Hiro, please, please forgive me.”

“Three minutes remaining.”

Hiro was looking at her with resignation in his eyes. “Enough, Rina. I’ve always liked you too. Please, do what you can to survive.”

Shaking, sobbing, Rina pulls the trigger, firing the gun at Hiro’s chest. She then tosses it away, covering her face as she wails.

“Next player: Minami Yamane.”

[stellar-imagines]

SCENARIO REQUEST: ❝swap issues.❞

[ Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia ] [ Characters: Bakugou Katsuki ]

「Bakugou and you were arguing when you’re both hit with a villain quirk that caused you to change bodies with one another. Unfortunately for you, or rather Bakugou, you’re about to get your period.」

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

An argument with Bakugou wasn't that rare. Given his temper and behavior, it was no surprise that you'd eventually get into a fight. He's pissed over something, no surprise there. You weren't sure what it was all about but seeing him all angry in the alleyway, hidden from everyone, made you wince. The loud explosion sounding off and his screams of anger. You were certain that you'd be deaf the moment you stepped into the room. This act was making him look like a bad guy and you were having none of it. As his girlfriend, you knew about him the best. He's misunderstood and actually has good intentions, it's just that he loses his temper a bit too fast.

Calming him down was like defusing a bomb. You cut off the wrong wire, then you're fucking screwed. It was just shortly after you both finished up a job. However, the two of you were in separate divisions and you had no clue to what triggered him. So you did your own research, asking a few people about what happened out there in the field. You didn't remember the full detail but hearing Midoriya's name was more than enough. The two were rivals with completely different personalities and to be honest, Bakugou always makes things a competition. The moment you approached him, he was already aware of your presence.

"Come on now, are you really that pissed?" you asked casually. Bakugou looked up, narrowing his eyes at you. He was still dressed in his hero costume, minus the gauntlets and neck brace. 

"Take a hint, dumbass. Do I look like I'm happy?" he voiced out his thoughts without thinking it through and that actually threw your off. You had expected him to click his tongue, tell you to find your own business like he normally does. You weren't sure how to respond to that.

"You're both on the same side! Instead of getting pissed over how he arrived at the scene, you should be glad that no one got hurt. What the press said about " you told him, watching as he dropped the towel and turned to glare at you.

"You don't fucking understand what it's like! Don't act like you know everything. You don't have to lie to me face about it to make me feel better." his voice was slightly raised and you could easily tell that he didn't like that you were taking this matter too lightly.

"I'm not acting like I know everything. I'm not lying to make you feel better either. I'm just telling you that—"

"Just fucking stop there, I don't want to hear you pitying me." Bakugou was pissed and it wasn't hard to tell. His voice grows louder and louder up to the point where he was going to explode. If you took the wrong step he will surely blow up. His hands were balled into tight fists, his quirk threatening to go off.

"When in the hell have I been pitying you!?"

"Shut up! Get off my back!" an explosion went off.

"You telling me to be quiet? Fine, I can't even deal with you right now." you huffed at him. It was really uncalled for. You try to help and he just blew up in your face. The two of you were oblivious to the shadow slowly approaching the two of you and kept on arguing. The silhouette was an unfamiliar one and you both noticed it when they spoke. 

"Two Pro Heroes, fighting in the middle of the day is quite amusing and that shows that you're both very careless and incompetent!" Neither of you were quick enough to avoid the blast that emitted from from the palm of the villain's hand. You were able to shield your eyes from the bright light. 

It felt odd. All you could say that it didn't hurt like you expected it too. Your muscles were tense the entire time and they relaxed when the light faded, your wrists felt heavy and your head hurt a bit. When the pain dissipated, you were in shock. In front of you was your body. You looked at your hands, which were Bakugou's and suddenly the weight on your wrists made a lot of sense. 

"What do you mean we fucking switched bodies!?" 

"Calm down, [First Name]-san—Kacchan!" Midoriya shrunk back in fear, clearly intimidated by the angry look on your face.

"Oi! Don't yell so loud, Katsuki!" you scolded your boyfriend.

"Calm down you two. Until you're both back in your own bodies, you have the day off." Aizawa who happened to be the one in charge of leading the attack came after hearing that you and Bakugou ran into the villain. Without any problem, the other heroes managed to capture the villain who was the reason behind the predicament you're in. 

As much as it annoyed the two of you, neither of you were going to be able to properly work like this. And maybe, a break was just what the two needed. The two of you needed a chance to rekindle your relationship after all. Bakugou was annoyed but he knew that yelling and complaining about it wouldn't do anything. He also didn't want to recreate the same atmosphere as the day before. It surprised you how civilised and calm your boyfriend was behaving. You both sat on the couch, the silence being your company.

"You're surprisingly calm despite being in a sucky situation." you spoke.

"Whining and complaining won't change a damn thing." he grumbled.

"I wished you realized that sooner instead of getting angry at me." you sighed out loud. It was like he was punched in the gut. It wasn't hard to tell that you were referring to what happened yesterday. You didn't want to appear petty but you just couldn't help it. His words hurt you and you were upset. You didn't want to cry over something so ridiculous. However, remembering the way he yelled at you made your heart hurt.

"Hey." he moved a bit closer to you. All that aside, hearing him talk to you in your voice just sounds so damn weird.

"I admit that I made a mistake. You don't need to start crying."

"I'm not crying or anything."

"Yeah right. Something's in your eye right?" he said. You found yourself smiling a bit as he mimicked the remark that you often used. Maybe it was because you felt happy that Bakugou actually tried to apologize. Sure he didn't state 'I'm sorry.' but it's close enough. You rubbed your eyes, relieved that you weren't tearing up.

"I know that this sucks right now but we're gonna get through this hell together." Bakugou said, leaning on you.

"Yeah, you're right. We're gonna get through it."

"That's the fucking spirit."

"Actually, there's one problem. It should be mine but now that you're well.....in my body, you're the one dealing with the problem." you rubbed the back of your neck. Bakugou rose an eyebrow, clearly not really worried like you were.

"What? Fucking perverts stalking your ass or something?"

"No.....it's nothing like that." you laughed nervously.

Bakugou had expected something really serious. Did you have some sort of injury that you had been hiding from him? A secret? Had you been circulating drugs illegally? No, you’re stupid but you’re not retarded. When he was dragged into the room and being handed a few things that looked like painkillers, heating pads and whatnot, all he could wander what the fuck are all these for. Now, he was standing in the store at the feminine hygiene aisle looking at ten different brands of sanitary pads.

"I wish I had a boyfriend like him!" Bakugou heard a girl gush. 

"He looks like he knows his shit and he’s handsome too." the other said before walking away from the aisle. It fed his ego since it was his body that the girls were checking out. You, who's in his body, was oblivious to the comments that girls were saying.

"So this one is a bit thick but overall soft and it gives you the feeling—"

"It looks the fucking same to me just buy whatever you fucking get!" Bakugou snapped, rolling his eyes.

"I guess the mood swings are in full swing." you said, trying to hold in your laughter. It was supposed to be an unintentional pun and when you realized it, you couldn't help but laugh. Bakugou let out a noise that was akin to annoyance, clearly unamused with your humour.

"All I want is the shit that can help with this pain! It feels like a persistent diarrhoea that I can't fucking get rid off!" Bakugou complained while you tossed in a few items into the basket before heading to the counter to checkout. After purchasing the items, you both headed back home. And the the entire time, Bakugou complained about the pain and the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He lost all motivation to even move and decided that the couch was his new bed.

"How are you feeling now?" you asked.

"Like I've been hit by a bus, and kicked by a kangaroo. I just want to fucking sleep." Bakugou grumbled, hugging a pillow close to his stomach.

"You want some cuddles?"

"Are you kidding me? How are cuddles gonna make this feel better?" he questioned as he made space for you.

"Just trust me. I've done this with you so many times." A small laugh escaped your lips as you laid down with him, wrapping your arms around his body and pulling him closer.

"Fuck that actually feels so comfortable."

You smiled gently, letting your boyfriend cuddle you on the couch. The silence between you didn’t last long and much to your surprise, Bakugou broke it. He gazed up at you with a face devoid of emotion.

“I’m feeling horny.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Blame your period, now I’m the fucking mood. Do something about it.”

Total: 1662 words Published: 13.12.2019

Thank you for requesting! *｡٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و*｡ It’s been a month since we last posted something and that’s because we’re really busy with studies uwu I have a test tomorrow that I have NOT studied for and honestly, I’m just really bad at studying :’) Anyways, we’re sorry to make you wait so long. So, uh, funny thing, I’m actually on my period right now. Any of you experiencing KILLER CRAMPS!?  Some of my friends are lucky enough to not have cramps. ― author Hibiki/Lou

Thank you for requesting! College is killing me and I just hope it finishes me off. Lou who has 3 assignments to do over the break has no time to be typing anything. We both have Christmas break but Lou has assignments while I have reports and analysis to do. So it’s not really a break. We hope you like it and we’re so sorry to make you wait, anon. ― author Natsuki

Please do not mind the grammar mistakes and typos.

[katsukikitten]

Weighted

A/N @zbops for you bb as per your request. I hope that this lives up to at least half of your expectations. Thank you so much for supporting me and for encouraging me. Enjoy it and may it help you just a bit more. I send my love XOXO Kitten 💋

It was not unlike you to occasionally stay up late into the night. Late enough to see the moon rise high in the inky black sky watching the constellations move by at a lazy pace.

But to lie awake long enough to greet the sun was abnormal.

At least it was supposed to be abnormal now. Before it was your normal to lose sleep as fat droplets slid from unblinking eyes. Thoughts consuming you with nothing and everything at once.

You thought yourself better.

Not cured, not immune, but well.

Fine and level headed for once.

Yet here you lie again unable to will your exhausted body to sleep as you replay failures from pasted years.

Like an old film one must study to improve but every time it is rewatched another haunting flaw jumps out.

And there is nothing you can do to right your wrong.

Frustrated tears well in your eyes now as you watch the clock for the second week in a row burn an obnoxious 3 am into your retina.

Furious as you thought you had put this problem in its place. That you had long ago learned how to make your demon small and to lock it away.

As with everything in life it adapted, slipping through the bars of its cage only to find itself looming over you once more. Delighting in your anguish as it exploits the coping mechanism you developed.

Turning it on its head to haunt you, to hurt you. To put you in your place as you thought you did it.

Although it knows this will be enough to pain you, it wants to do more.

Truly a petty being as it steals your voice, worming into your head just to whisper.

"Did you really think a few extra hours of training a day would make a difference? That you would suddenly be  sought after as a pro hero? You could barely get an apprenticeship and look at how you're failing at that!"*

This dredges up your failure from last week, your first offical mission as apprentice.

What was supposed to be a normal patrol quickly unraveled into a full on street brawl.

You aided your hero holding down the perpetrators bodies with your quirk, straining to keep them in place.

There were tenty or so overpowered drug enhanced strength quirks fighting the pull you placed on them. 

Your arm pangs now, reminding you of how it threatened to snap beneath the own weight of your quirk.

"Useless." Its laugh echoes in your ear.

Your temper flares, fist smashing the small black box that mocks you with the time before you rise. Dressing into your training clothes, sliding on your weighted vest as your bruises groan against it. You push your already consistent 1.5 times Earth's gravity pull to a consistent 2.5 for now.

Hands grab for your phone and headphones before fumbling to find your key in your amassed returning symptoms. Throwing piles of clothes, books, and homework onto other piles of  long neglected items.

Irritation mixed with a twinge of panic sets in as you look for your FOB that accesses not only the gym you are so desperate to use but also it accesses your dorm building as your dorm room key rests on a chain around your neck. Your memory works overtime as you wonder where it could have been placed.

Was it it Kirishima's room?

Or Bakugou's?

Who's room did the three of you spend the night in last?

You cannot remember, time all runs together much like a watercolor painting caught in the rain.

Colors bleed and the world dips into sun bleached greys as you think of the two of them.

Had you even texted either of them good night?

When was the last time you told them you loved them?

You pick up your phone, bloomed bruised hand winking back at you before the phone obliterates into metal and glass confetti at your feet.

"Fuck." You hiss having forgotten that you had the gravitational pull around your hands as well. Damning yourself for being so careless although you are still careless enough to walk over the shrapnel with bare feet.

It is then you find your key FOB lying in the middle of the chaotic room which you snatch greedily before locking your post nuclear bomb room away.

And with that the thoughts of ash blonde and ruby red hair.

You slink on guilty feet in the shadows of the hall, the moon your only witness as you make your way outside.

The air is cool agaisnt your heated skin, hinting that fall is almost over. That winter will be sure to rear its ugly head and harshly at that.

As if to prove a point an icy wind cuts through your skin deep into your bones, you sigh out upping the force on your body.

The gym is a short walk from the dorm, the night caressing you with soft fingers as it guides you to the thick metal door.

A worried gulp echoes back at you as your hand hovers just before the panel. FOB just out of range to be scanned.

Last time a student was on rest probation their key could only work if Sensei scanned theirs as well.

With gritted teeth you bring the key to kiss smooth plastic. For a moment you're sure it will flash red but when it beeps with a flash of glorious green you cannot help the small smile that spreads across your lips.

They must have forgotten to add those restrictions to yours, that or they didn't think you would disobey your physical therapist and other Sensei.

It doesn't take long before you're sweating.

And the more you swing the harder you make the gravitational pull on your body. The floor groans from the pressure as you push the pull towards you beyond limits for a recovering body, 3.5 times Earth's normal pull.  Sweat slides down a bruised nape and drips into now stinging eyes.

You do little to alleviate the pain or sweat that is trying so hard to blind you.

Another swing of your weighted fists has your bones creaking, muscles burning while you have half a mind to add more sand to your wrist and ankle bands.

Hell maybe even more to your vest although it presses against your sternum harshly with each step, threatening to snap a rib. You begin to lose the concentration on the areas you want to afflict as the incresed gravitational begins to spread out. The floor groans harder depsite being designed to withstand many powerful quirks.

A hairline fraction fissures through the smooth wood, attempting to snake up the cinderblock wall.

"None of this is going to change anything. You will still be..."

A heated punch hits the dummy hard, causing it to skid but you advance without letting up, snarling.

"Don't fucking say it."

Another hit to the dummy and you've got it cornered agaisnt the wall but still the voice goes on, a smile dancing along its tone as it purrs.

*"Worthless"*

You begin to jab agaisnt the dummy with enough momentum and force that the padding begins to fall away from its "face" revealing unforgiving metal beneath.

Metal that you pound into anyway.

Metal that warps for a moment from being too close to your pull, still your barrage of fists and feet cease to let up.

You follow up a punch with a round house kick increasing the force on your body subconsciously. As you rotate your vest slams heavily into your ribs and an audible crack echoes around the room. 

"Fuck!" You huff slamming your foot against the cool surface, the dummy implodes as you land on your feet.

In that moment the room pops from the pressure as you let up the force. The floor creaks, almost breathing as it returns to normal although now heavily warped. Suddenly you feel as light as a feather. As if at any moment you could float up to the ceiling like a lazy balloon only to get tangled in the harsh overhead lights.

Crimson splatters the floor from your knuckles and spit, hand feathering over your ribs. Sliding beneath dampened fabric, smoothing over already bruised skin. You're sure it will only worsen now that you count, one, two.

Three fucking cracked ribs. Your breaths come out in heavy puffs all echoing back to you as you right your self, eyes seeking out another dummy, ignoring the pain begging you to stop.

But feeling pain was better than feeling that weighted void in your chest.

As if you were a super nova that imploded, pulling everything around you into the darkened abyss.

Turning it all into hollowed nothingness.

The first sparring dummy you spy seems to look at you funny, you rear your fist but before it can make contact a growl cuts out.

"You've done enough little one."

His voice dips low, borderline pissed. It is a warning and one you must obey as the air permeates with salted caramel.

But you're in no mood to deal with Katsuki, no mood to be submissive, obedient or anything relative to feeling at all.

Regardless if it's clearly for your own good. 

All you wanted, needed, was for everything to fade.

And maybe to black.

But it doesn't instead he advances hand finding your wrist with a sharp grip, that softens only to assess. Turning your wrist this way and that with heated calculating eyes, before he rips off your weighted vest with a growl. Lifting your shirt to reveal blush black painted beneath your smooth skin.  His finger prods your ribs and when he counts them in his head he snarls. You watch his muscles twitch as he holds himself. Muscles that had grown twice their size since first year and yet you were left unchanging.

"Training is futile, you'll always be puny."

You rip your wrist free, teeth bared at an already snarling Bakugou.

"Not. Now." You misread his actions beneath the initial rage. He is concerned but all you see is punishment in his eyes 

Disappointment.

You look over Katsuki's sculpted shoulder to see Kirishima waiting at the door with glistening ruby eyes that seem to be torn.

Who does he support? How can he defuse this? 

"You're fucking hurt." The blonde bites out venom.

"I'm fucking fine. Drop it!" You shove past him slamming your shoulder into his. He wants so badly to reach for you. To yank you back to him so you can look him in his angry scarlet eyes.

"Oh so the blood on the floor means you're fine? Your cracked ribs and bruised to fuck all body means you're fine?!" His temper shows with deadly pops that dance along his skin.

You weight him and Kirishima down gently as you leave, hoping it slows them down long enough for you to return to the safety of your dorm room.

Katuski snarls as he walks with leaded feet, as if walking through mud under the influence of a muscle relaxer.  But he and Kirishima have trained with you plenty of times, not to mention they are exposed to your increased pull.

"Maybe we should give them sometime? They are upset, babe." Kirishima offers only to be met with a glowering glare. 

"I've tried listening to you, I've tried it your way and look what has happened." A snarl so low that Kirishima feels his gut twist.

"But..."

"But what?" He turns on his lover quickly, "We gave them two weeks of no contact. This is clearly a symptom we need to bisect before they kill themselves over some stupid fucking training."

Kirishima can do nothing but follow as Bakugou stalks you up the steps that you stomp.

You're seething, steam rising from your skin with each heavy breath as your vision blurs between rational thought and white hot rage.

Rage that is always so easy to give into. Especially when your only other option is immobilzing sadness. Before you know it Bakugou is barking at you from the jamb of the door while your ruby haired boyfriend presses gently against his back.

Trying to remind him that his own irate reaction could further the situation, Bakugou feels it but it is lost as you strip to change. You rip the velcro from your wrists, dropping the fifty pounds weights with a harsh thud. The floor rattles the items on your desk and even the window before you move onto the hundred pound weights on your ankles.

Grumbling as you think of your two hundred and fifty pound vest abandoned in the gym. How hard had Bakugou torn it from your strong yet sleek frame?

Would you have to take it to the support class?

You strip your shirt and then your pants as two sets of red eyes gauge different reactions. 

Rubies widen, shining with the threat of tears. While blood scarlet narrow with burning, hot, wrath.

Katsuki knew you were bruised, he knew you had those broken ribs and he knew you were set out of rehabilitation probation due to injuries but he did not know the extent of them.

And how the fuck could he? What with you locking yourself away in your room, refusing to text them, refusing to eat the meals cooked and left for you.

Refusing help as you promised you would not do.

Katsuki's warning signs of blowing do not go unnoticed, a strong hand wraps around his hip. Squeezing, hoping to convey the softness the ash blonde so desperately needs.

It works, at least as far as his quirk goes. Bakugou Katsuki  could erupt in more than one way.

"What. The. FUCK?!" He goes to take a step in but Kirishima keeps his grip tight. But that does not stop the tongue lashing you get. Bakugou takes a large slow breath, as you once taught him and snorts it out like a dragon.

"You promised you would stop doing this..." His voice, once soothing now grating your last nerve, "You fucking promised, damn it."

Kirishima gives another small squeeze before piping up.

"We are just worried about you, love. Very worried." His voice cracks at the end, causing Katsuki to look over his shoulder.

The tears well faster over dancing garnets.

From the weight of the guilt something in you finally snaps. The room blurs as you subconsciously pull the force to you, items slowly crushing beneath the weight as you lunge for the first thing you can wrap burning hands on.

Your desk chair to which your hurl while screaming

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Your hot headed boyfriend catches the chair with ease, exploding it on impact.

With an angry enough blast that the paint on the ceiling and walls peel.

Oh if Bakugou wasn't pissed at you before he was now.

And not angry over the fact that you've thrown something at him.

But over the simple fact that you were hurting in deadly silence. So badly suffering that you cannot even rationally express yourself anymore.

And more over he is pissed he has let it get this far.

The glass of your window shatters behind you, both from your exertion and his explosion pulling you into the here and now.

The room spirals as quickly as you do, suddenly forgetting how to breath. Gasping as a fish does out of water before you fall to your knees. The two men rush to you, fearing you'll lose yourself in your panic. Two sets of strong arms wrap around you both crushing you between them.

"You're okay." Kirishima soothes, "You're okay. Just breathe."

Nails bite into toned flesh though you are unsure which unfortunate mail is receiving the half blood moons as tears prick your eyes. Falling towards the Earth as much as you wish they wouldn't. Your stomach lurches, your side screams but it does not stop the racks of sobs that tremor through your body.

You come undone in the worst way before the very two men you wanted, needed to be strong in front of. There was already a detrimental gap between your development and theirs.  In every fucking aspect you could think of.

Muscle mass.

Durability.

Capability.

The list could go on.

After some time Bakugou coos to you.

"Now tell me what's wrong."

Kirishima places his head between your shoulder blades, reaching out for Bakugou's hand.

"I...I'm behind. I... I cannot even train right." Tears slip over ruddy cheeks that Katuski gently wipes away.

"Behind how?" Kirishima prompts, letting lazy circles trace your stomach.

"On my first mission I get put on recovery suspension, I worked so so so *hard* to even get that hero to agree to take me on and yet I fucked it all up!" Another frustrated sob that has you hiccuping for a moment. You watch Bakugou's face turn to stone as he tries to calm himself.

"I almost died on one of my first big missions. I sat out for a long time, this was a little bit before you transferred." Kirishima admits, "Resting and PT made me stronger."

"Hell I was behind at one point too. I couldn't even fucking pass the provisional!" Katsuki growls at the thought.

"Neither could Todoroki-kun." Kirishima adds.

"But you three...you three are strong. I'm so....weak." With that Bakugou snaps.

"You think I can run with a two hundred fifty pound weight on my chest and keep pace with Iida's jog? Do you think Kirishima could hold down twenty fucking tweaked out villians at once?" His voice is gruff but his hands are soft as he lifts your chin, purposefully making you hold his gaze as he speaks, "Answer me, little one."

"N...no." You sob, Kirishima's strong arm squeezes tigher around your middle, careful to avoid your ribs, as he peppers kisses over your blackened shoulders.

"Just because your body does not reflect mine or Eijiro's does not mean you are weak. You are strong Y/N. Real fucking strong." He kisses you softly, capturing your lips tenderly as Kirishima kisses along your throat.

"Share this weight with us." Bakugou breathes out after pulling away.

"Its not weak to cry or ask for help baby." Kirishima whispers in your ear, your eyes look over your sturdy shoulder before they fall to their hands intertwined. You notice Bakugou's knuckles turning white. Had you really made them worry this much?

"Isn't that right Suki?" Eji asks, resting his chin in your shoulder. Katsuki looks at him for a long time, this man and you have helped him more than he would ever like to admit. But if this is what brought that natural magnetism about you that attracted him in the first place he'd say it 

Fuck, if it brought that blinding smile of yours back to your kissable lips he'd scream if from the fucking roof.

"Yes." He lets out a shaky sigh, "Now please, please let us help you little one."

Searching his eyes you wonder if there will ever be a time when you will stop feeling this way.

When you will stop feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders over little to nothing at all.

When you will stop feeling that black hole that crawled into your chest weighing you down and making you weightless all at once.

When you will stop the haunting feeling of sadness that lingers on the fringes of your every thought, tainting every memory and moment with its shimmering darkness.

You wonder if this cancer, if this demon that has since crawled into your chest and devoured your heart whole will ever die.

Scarlet eyes soften as they rove over your lovely features, strong arms support you from behind and you know what the answer is.

The answer is no.

It will never die, never cease to exist, never leave you alone. It will stay with you until you lie motionless forever and even then it will crawl into your casket cradling your cooling skin.

But you will not stop fighting.

Cannot stop fighting because of the small sliver of a feeling you have now.

The love that resiliently blooms despite the pressure, despite the darkness, despite it being trampled over and fucking over.

You know that these two men are not your worth nor or they your reason for being and even if, Kamisama forbid, you three broke up, you would fight on.

Tooth and nail keeping this demon under the ball of your steel toed boot.

Because in the end, after it is all said in done you will do anything to feel this.

This hope and love that radiates from within. You sigh out a shaky sigh, releasing the tension of your shoulders and the constant pressure you've kept on yourself since that mission, your shoulders sag from relief.

"Thank you, thank you for baring this with me." You squeeze their arms respectively as you speak to them both at once, "I love you."

They speak in unison their two tones melding together and soothing over your skin like an ointment.

"I love you too." 

[kill-for-cookies]

Promise is a beautiful lie (pt. 6)

Dhawan!Master x Reader

Words: 2710

Note: Just want to say I don’t think I’ll be able to post anything until Saturday. ‘Cause I have an exam on this day and was warned about it yesterday. So I need to stop writing fics for a while. But it’s only for 3 days. Take care of yourself and enjoy this part!

previous parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5

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“What I should do?” you ran to the Doctor, barely able to breath. Of course, you got out of breath when you had to run in a ball dress and tight corset.

“Nothing. I handled it by myself. We just need to get back to the TARDIS.”

Wait, what? What did she just say? The Doctor just called you to go to the TARDIS. You were like Cinderella, whose carriage would turn into a pumpkin at 12 o'clock. Or police box into a pumpkin… No matter.

You ran here like hell, thinking the Doctor needed help. And it turned out she didn't. Damn, you could have stayed on the balcony for another five minutes. And maybe something would have happened between you and the man in black. Now you would regret it for the rest of your life.

“I didn't interrupt anything, did I?” the Doctor asked you, turning sharply and looking closely at your face.

“No, nothing.”

You tried to say it as casually as possible. Some things the Doctor shouldn't know. You were hiding a lot from her lately. Weird. You could have told her everything before. Even about your personal life. And now even the tongue didn't turn to do it.

As soon as the Doctor turned and walked back to the TARDIS, you looked up at the balcony. Your mysterious admirer was still there, looking at you. When your eyes met his, you looked away and blushed. Damn, you'd do anything to be on that balcony again.

“So what was it?” you asked when you entered the blue box and took off your mask. True bliss. You didn't realise how much you were tired of this mask.

“What are you talking about?” the Doctor was standing at the console, doing something. Did she ever get away from it?

“I'm talking about a trace of alien energy” how did you even remember it? You didn't think about it at the ball. Well, you had some things to do… “What was it all about?” if you couldn't have fun, then at least, you needed to satisfy your curiosity.

“Oh, this…” the Doctor hesitated a little. For some reason, she didn't want to tell you about it. Apparently, didn't want to spoil your mood. Well, now she had no choice, but answer you. “Well, it was a bomb.”

“Bomb? In the 16th century?” you couldn't believe your ears. Why would anyone want to blow up the palace during the masquerade ball? “If I'm not mistaken, even dynamite was invented in the 19th.”

“That's right. But it really was a bomb. But this isn't the end. Such bomb won't be invented until about 4,000 years later.”

Okay, that was harder for you to believe. The bomb, invented in the 56th century, was in the 16th. What an evening! Why couldn't you have at least one normal evening? Calm, without any dangers and running.

“So are you saying it did a time traveller?” you raised an eyebrow in disbelief. That was your only explanation.

“Exactly. But there's one thing I don't understand...” the Doctor took a couple of steps and started walking up and down. “It was quite difficult with the bomb. Well, at least, that's what happened. My tracking device went wrong a couple of times. Then servants didn't let me pass. And when I came face to face with bomb, I didn't immediately understand how to defuse it…”

The Doctor stopped abruptly, as if expecting a reaction from you. You weren't with her when she dealt with bomb. You didn't know what happened next.

“Don't look at me like that. I don't know what you're getting at yet.”

“The thing is I defused. There is one second left on the timer. Don't you think that's strange?”

And indeed. The Doctor had so many problems with the bomb, and she still managed to defuse it. It was really weird. She couldn't just be lucky. This couldn't be happening. Of course, miracles happened, but this definitely wasn't one of them.

“So someone knew how long it would take you to defuse bomb and added one second to it?”

“I think so. But why?” the Doctor stopped walking and rubbed her chin.

Good question. What was it all for? Why allow the bomb to be defused? Isn't the bomb supposed to go off? It was more logical to calculate the time, needed by the enemy, and take some time. For example, a second.

“So the bomb wasn't for destruction…” you started to think out loud and it suddenly hit you. “What if it was a distraction?”

The Doctor looked at you for a minute. There was no emotion on her face. No confusion, no surprise. Just nothing. You started to think she didn't hear you, but then the Doctor took off running towards you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Did I tell you you're a genius? Because it is. I'm very old and stupid. Maybe it's time for me to retire” Doctor's face immediately changed from excited to serious one. “Y/N, did you see anything unusual?”

The Doctor's hands were hard on your shoulders. It even hurt. Who would have thought she was so strong? Besides, the corset only made worse.

“No…I don't think I saw it” you were barely able to keep from hissing in pain. “Everything was as usual. Although I didn't pay much attention to it.”

The Doctor let go of your shoulders. You exhaled. Relief. You can even breathe easier. Strange reaction from the Doctor. Maybe she suspected who it was… But she would have told you, wouldn't she? Why would she hide anything from you?

“Okay, Doc, I'm going to take off my dress. Not used to it, you know… So until tomorrow” the blonde just wished you sweet dreams.

You were walking through a maze of corridors. Your feet hurt. Yeah, you were really exhausted and didn't even think of that at the masquerade. But that was probably why the TARDIS brought you into wardrobe almost right away.

You took off your light purple dress and put on your pajamas. Trousers were more comfortable for you than dress. And even more than corset. How did women wear it before?

When you hung the dress, you attached a red rose and sniffed it. It smelled so good. You wanted to keep a flower as a souvenir from your first ball in your life. Maybe you would meet your mystery man again one day. Unlikely, but why not dream a little?

You wanted to bring mask with you, too. But you hesitated a little. Wasn't sure if you could. You found the mask in wardrobe, after all. The TARDIS might object. But the pleasant buzz told you the opposite.

So now you were going back to your room with two souvenirs. As you entered, you were met by darkness. Well, almost. Only the desk lamp lit. Apparently, you forgot to turn it off when you were reading the book. In this darkness you put the mask on the drawer. The rose was almost touching the surface of the drawer…

“Hi, love.”

You jumped. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. Heart began to beat faster and breathing became irregular. During the telepathic conversation with the Master, you sensed he was up to something. Now you knew what it was. To get into the TARDIS and meet you. And the Doctor said no one could get into the TARDIS. Apparently, this wasn't true.

“You?” you turned slowly, trying not to move and barely holding back a shiver. “What are you doing here? How can you even be here?”

“I have my own TARDIS. Do you think I don't know how to get into it? Besides, I've been in the Doctor's so many times.”

And then it hit you. Well, of course. It was obvious. Who else would do it? Although what else could you expect from the Master?

“So you planted the bomb, right? I should have known…”

“Don't blame yourself. You had more important things to do…” he slowly approached you, like a predator, knowing his prey wouldn't run away.

The Master stopped a meter away from you. His eyes fell on your hands. You held a red rose to your chest. Held it so tight, like it was holding you and not the opposite. You could see the grin on his face. Why?

“Is it a rose from your admirer?”

“Yes...” you immediately remembered the big hall, dancing couples, conversation on the balcony. It gave you courage and you decided to tease him. “Some problems with that?”

“Oh, sweetheart, you still don't understand, do you?” the Master's hand gently tucked hair behind your ear, took the rose from your cold with fear hands and inserted the flower there. “Come on, Y/N. Keep up. You already understood it.”

He leaned closer to you, invading your personal space. You had to put your hands on the drawer to keep from falling. What was going on? Why the Master was so soft with you? It didn't sound like him...

"I have no idea what you're talking about..." your voice dropped to a whisper with each word.

"Light purple dress..." his eyes glittered, although there was almost no light in the room. "You should wear purple more. It suits you very well, my dear."

The Master scared the hell out of you when he was so nice. Although he often scared you. But especially now. It was more usual to see him irascible, sharp, arrogant. He definitely had something on his mind. It couldn't be otherwise.

How did he know what dress you were wearing at the masquerade? You were only communicating with him telepathically. He must have seen in your memory what you wore to the ball. Was just digging into your memories.

"I didn't have to."

Okay, now you were really nervous. And then it turned out... No! He couldn't... The Master couldn't be at the ball. You would have noticed. Even so, he was wearing a mask. And if it was true, he just watched from the sidelines? Quite strange.

"I wanted to tell you who I am a couple of times. To see how you react. I like the way you scare" the Master walked around, stood next to you and whispered in your ear. "But I was so curious about how far you would go. And you didn't disappoint me."

What was he talking about? It couldn't be about... And then you realised. You turned to face him, trying to find in his features you were mistaken. Well, at least, some kind of mind game. You would even agree to that right now. But the Master only smiled broadly and slyly. His eyes glittered with mischief. Damn, it was true.

For the God's sake, you really understood it. Almost from the beginning. Noticed these small details, even paid attention to them, just didn't draw conclusions. Your secret admirer seemed familiar to you. Eyes somehow resembled Master's. The frown when you teased the Master during conversation in your head. It was so obvious. If the subconscious could, it would be long gone, because you ignored it.

"I told you we would meet again. And want to admit that for a person of 21st century, you dance waltz very well, love. By the way, thank you for the evening."

Damn it! Until this moment, you thought the worst thing was to dance with the Master. Well, not anymore. You did something you never expected to do and never thought of it. You kissed the Master. He didn't even make you do it. You did it willingly. You hated yourself so much and damned with every possible words.

"You tricked me" it was supposed to sound firm and furious, but your voice was weak and uncertain. As if you didn't know whether to be offended or not.

"Oh, no-no-no... You tricked yourself. You said no one knows anyone at the masquerade. And everything I said you was true" the Master went away from you with his back turned. There was a little space to breathe normally.

Deep breath. You didn't notice you held your breath. When you was back to normal, you decided to do something. Why could only the Master tease? You wanted it too.

"Everything? So you think I'm beautiful..." he turned to face you, gripping the edge of his waistcoat. There was confusion on his face. Well, that was a small victory. "I remember you saying you couldn't take your eyes off me..."

You could barely contain your self-satisfaction. The grin couldn't left your face. You even felt the mischief in your eyes. Damn, it was really good. You should do this more often.

"I needed to say something so you wouldn't suspect me" now the Master loomed over you, growling in your face.

"Oh, really? I don't thi..."

Before you could finish your sentence, a firm hand was at your throat. It didn't choke you, just held you back. But that wasn't very comforting, judging by the fact your legs were a little weak.

"You make me so mad!" something definitely was going to happen right now and you were sure you'd regret it.

But you were wrong. Really wrong. After all, what happened in the next second you definitely didn't expect. Especially now... And in your life.

The Master kissed you sharply and fiercely. Your hands went to his neck almost immediately, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. One of his hands was already gently holding your cheek, pulling your face closer. The other encircled your waist, so you were away from the drawer that you were still holding on to.

You were lost in that kiss. It felt like you had always wanted this. Who wouldn't want? Kiss the most dangerous and ruthless criminal in the Universe. And he had a soft spot for you. How could you resist?

From other side, it was so wrong. Do it with the Doctor's best enemy. In her own TARDIS. You should be ashamed... It would be if it wasn't so good.

You were the first to pull away, gasping for air. The Master pressed his forehead against yours, just enjoying the pleasant silence and each other's breath. You wanted this moment to never end.

"It was a very strange declaration of love" you said ironically, giggling. He just rolled eyes.

"It was just the only way to shut you up" your eyebrow went up as if you were angry at him, but your smile gave you away. "Maybe I should steal you from the Doctor. What do you think?"

You're frozen in place, not moving. Even your chest barely rose. You were getting more and more afraid. He was joking, right? Taking courage, you complained, hoping your voice wouldn't falter.

"I don't think this is a good idea. You'll get tired of me quickly. Besides, I will constantly mess up your plans."

"I suppose, you're right" the Master leaned close to your ear so you could feel his warm breath. "But I'll do it anyway."

Heart was beating so fast that it was about to jump out of your chest. Your lungs forgot what oxygen was. And the eyes wanted to roll out, because they were so round. What did the Master just say? He would do what? Was he really going to do this? Although knowing the Master, he could...

"Take it easy, sweetheart. Not tonight" a deep breath of relief escaped from your throat. It was like a stone fell from your shoulders. "That would be too easy."

You wanted to complain, but the Master interrupted you with another kiss. It wasn't so passionate and desperate as the first. Unfortunately for you, it ended quickly enough and when your eyes opened, the Master was gone.

You felt empty without him... And unusual. It was like you lost a part of yourself. Although it was so. After all, this fucking Time Lord stole your heart.

Of course, tomorrow you would say you only imagined it. Just because you wanted to sleep. You certainly couldn't fall in love with the Master. But this wasn't true. You had one small thing to do. Admit it. And it wasn't as easy as it seemed.

[elsaclack]

Prompt Request: 'You know I can't do that' Jake to Amy in as soft a voice as he says to Pam in Casecation. Hope you can get to it! Thank you in advance! All the love! ❤️❤️❤️

HI SO

I KNOW YOU SAID YOU WANTED ANGST AND I TRIED TO MAKE IT ANGSTY BUT i couldn’t resist,,,,,,,,The Action™

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT FHASDLKFJ

The thing is, when she first decided to pursue a career in the NYPD, Amy had no idea just how damn dramatic her life would get.

Like, she’d expected car chases, maybe a few shootouts. A handful of kidnappings and murders, and maybe, if she played her cards right, a big-name serial killer that would propel her through the ranks like a rocket launcher. She’d expected the action-oriented drama. She’d relished in the idea of it.

She hadn’t expected Jake.

Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be familiar with a hollowness so bone-deep it left her whole body aching, sickly and spent, helpless to do anything but cry as armed guards led him away in handcuffs. She wouldn’t know the exact degree the moonlight slants through the windows along the far wall at 4 o’clock in the morning - the only thing to focus on outside of her own spinning anxiety with Jake gone, not in their bed, sleeping in a narrow prison bunk thousands of miles away. She wouldn’t know the gnawing fear of loss and loneliness always lurking in the back of her mind, even with him settled right beside her; she wouldn’t know the exhilaration of love in its purest, most simple form.

Maybe if she had, she wouldn’t be chained to a steel railing on the upper floor of a bank with a live bomb strapped to her chest right now, an hour before their wedding is meant to start.

(But then again, Dario was her perp - so maybe she’d have ended up here all the same.)

Sweat is beginning to drip in earnest down the small of her back and she squirms, trying and failing to bend her neck in such a way that will allow her to catch a glimpse of the steadily-beeping timer protruding from the front of the bomb. The chain winding tightly around her torso loops around her neck, too; even just turning her head a degree presses the links against her throat, cutting off her airway. She feels herself choking and lifts her chin again, eyes falling shut of their own volition at the responding ache of her tender head. Her arms are pinned, the railing unyielding, and even with her legs sprawled out freely before her, she’s never felt quite so trapped before.

She has no idea how long she’s been here. She has no idea how long she’s been missing in general - it was still early in the morning when Dario attacked her, whacking her in the head with what she could only assume was a heavy metal pipe based on the metallic clang still ringing in her ears. Her memories are foggy, coming in pieces and waves - the stench of a musty apartment, a terrifying wall of photos of her with her eyes scratched out, the pale and frightened face of a child, Dario towering over her, blackness.

And now, the upper floor of a bank, chained to a steel post bolted to the marble floor.

Commanding voices are shouting instructions downstairs and she closes her eyes, imagining the scene in her mind. She only knows it’s a bank from the teller’s voices echoing up here and the panicked 911 call that followed her screaming for help, but she’s responded to this kind of scene before - a dozen civilians, a few employees, and the full force of the squad decked from head to toe in riot gear now storming the building.

(The last time she was in a bank like this, Jake ended up in prison. Bank jobs have never been kind to them. She tries not to think about it.)

There’s a method, a process, and she’s followed it enough times to know that by the time someone makes it to this wing of the second floor, it will be too late.

It’s the first time in her life she genuinely hopes someone will break protocol.

Heavy booted footsteps pounding up the marble staircase some fifteen feet in front of her snap her back to attention - sure enough, the moment her vision focuses, she spots the familiar shape of an officer in riot gear sprinting toward her. The officer casts his semi-automatic aside blindly, like it’s some cumbersome annoyance instead of a literal lifeline in the event of an armed attack, and dives toward her, skidding to a stop on his knees just inches away.

It’s here that she gets a look at his face.

It’s here that she regrets everything.

“Jake,” she croaks, voice strained around the chain links digging into her neck. His body is visibly taut with tension as he carefully removes the bomb’s cover, eyes moving with practiced precision as he quickly studies the inner workings. “Jake, Jake -”

“It’s okay,” he tells her in a calm, rehearsed voice - his calming-the-victim voice, a surefire sign that he’s lying. And of course he is, how can it be okay, there’s a bomb strapped to her chest and a timer steadily moving closer to zero. “I’m gonna defuse this thing and get you outta here -”

This is the first time she’s seen him since she left their apartment this morning - he’d been half-awake then, still in bed, smiling serenely when she’d bent to kiss his forehead. He tried to convince her to stay in bed with him a little longer but she’d resisted, somehow reasoning that all the last-minute day-of-wedding errands were more important than staying with him.

She can’t remember why, now. It seems so far away.

Jake’s face radiates concentration, shining with a thin sheen of sweat that glistens in the late afternoon sun emanating from the first floor over the balcony behind her. He carefully moves the wires, fingertips just barely brushing against them, and each high-pitched beep from the timer has her closer and closer to the edge of pure panic.

Judging by the frustrated growl he releases as he rips his earpiece out of his ear and his helmet off altogether, she’d venture to guess she has less than a minute left.

The panic is closing in quickly but she fights it, chin lifting slightly in an effort to gulp down more air. “It’s too late,” she rasps, and Jake blinks down at the exposed wires rapidly. “Jake, it’s too late, you need to get out of here before this thing goes off -”

“Not a chance, Santiago,” he snaps. “Not without you.”

“Please, Jake,” her voice is ragged. “Get downstairs, get to safety. Please.”

For the first time since reaching her side, his eyes flick up to her face. “You know I can’t do that, Ames,” he says softly.

The panic in her chest squeezes mercilessly around her heart.

He quickly reaches into one of the small pockets on his vest and produces a small pair of scissors, already entirely refocused on the control panel before him. “You trust me?” he asks breathlessly.

Despite the terror quaking in her veins, she nods wholeheartedly.

He clenches his jaw and reaches inside the panel with the scissors, and in the split-second of silence between heartbeats, she hears the tell-tale snip of the blades slicing through a wire.

She holds her breath, but the next beep of the timer never comes.

And all at once Jake is collapsing backwards, the tension leaving him in a rush, and Amy’s borderline sobbing with relief. The chain around her neck pulls tightly and it distorts her voice, but she’s never been so far from caring.

She feels him back at her side before she sees him, his hands firm and steady where they lift her, adjusting her position to alleviate the pressure on her windpipe. “Easy,” he says, voice thick and unfamiliar in her ears. “It’s okay, Ames, just relax. The bomb squad’s on their way up to get this thing off’a you, just try to relax…”

He rips his gloves off with his teeth and strokes her hair soothingly, resting his forehead against the side of her head until they hear footsteps pounding up the staircase before them. The bomb squad converges quickly, and Jake is forced to shuffle aside to make room for them. He doesn’t go far, though; she can still see the shape of him hovering behind the officer to her left, one hand over his mouth, foot tapping against the floor.

The straps of the bomb fall away, taking the weight of the world with them, and then her vision is full of Rosa shoving her way through bomb squad officers with bolt cutters in hand. It takes a few tries, a few grunts of effort from Rosa, but before long the chains are falling away, too.

And the moment they do - before they’ve even fully hit the floor beneath her - Amy is on her feet and flying into Jake’s arms.

He sweeps her up in a bone-crushing embrace, lips and nose pressed against the line of her shoulder, and for a brief moment she’s sure they’re both at risk of floating away from the utter relief of it all. Her head still aches and her throat isn’t much better, but none of that matters when Jake heaves a shuddering sigh and gently tangles his fingers in her hair. “I love you, Amy, I love you so much,” he mumbles hoarsely into her shoulder, and her toes barely brushing the floor. Her exhale escapes like a high-pitched keen and his fingers tighten in her hair. “I’m so glad you’re okay, oh my god I was so worried, you just - you weren’t at any of the places on your list and you weren’t answering your phone and -”

She lets out a quiet whine and the fingers fisted in her hair loosen and begin to gently stroke. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he nestles even closer.

The EMTs converge less than two minutes later, and she has to bite back the urge to fight them off for one more moment. He seems just as reluctant to let her go as she feels - he stays close, even after she’s been hefted onto a gurney, his hand squeezing hers firmly down the stairs and into the back of an ambulance.

Head wrapped in bandages and mind made fuzzy with painkillers wasn’t quite the way she imagined her wedding night ending - but that’s alright, she thinks. Because despite the bandages and the painkillers making her unsteady on her feet, she’s positive no one will ever feel as beautiful as she feels with Jake looking at her like that. Terry’s arm is steady and solid beneath her fingertips - an added precaution should she go down partway down the hallway-turned-makeshift aisle, definitely more out of necessity than tradition - and even though the sterile walls and linoleum tiles are a far cry from the Gina Linetti-approved decor currently adorning the rec center on the other side of town, Amy can’t find it anywhere in herself to care.

Judging by the overjoyed twinkle in Jake’s eyes as he takes her hands and pulls her close, she’d venture to guess he feels the same way.

When she decided to pursue a career in the NYPD all those years ago, she hadn’t expected to be married in a hospital hallway, concussed, relying on her goofy partner - no, her goofy husband to hold her upright as her head spins violently. She hadn’t expected the family her squad has become for her - she hadn’t expected the love that now permeates every aspect of her life.

She hadn’t expected Jake - and she’s never been more thrilled to be so thoroughly caught off-guard.

[ripuels]

Rival Gangs AU: warnings of blood, violence, swearing, bruising, etc.

For @annabellioncourt thank you!

(This got too long so I’m publishing as a text post to use a Read More that’ll actually work. This website is amazing. Really. Also I’m Very Tired, sorry if the editing looks like a four year old did it)

“Are you the one who's been following me? Stalking me?”

Amanda had recognised the eyes straight away, the depth of brown peering over a khaki bandana, pinched tight over his nose and tied at the base of his neck. The switchblade pressing against his throat shaves a tuft of green from it. 

“Fucking answer me, pretty boy.”

His hand moves gingerly as if he were defusing a bomb, a knife rolls from his fingers and clatters into the blue metal like a gunshot in the dark.

“I’m sorry, Ripley.” The synthetic with every reason to flinch doesn't. This woman, more leather and machine grease than human, holding him fast against the tunnel wall, shivers with unpredictability. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You couldn't scare me if you tried. Fuck,” she grimaces against the fading adrenaline, leaving her a dizzy creature, a lamb, holding up a lion. 

They both know a severed throat wouldn't do much to stop a berserk synthetic, especially not with her struggling grip. He stands still regardless, unfazed by the threat. 

“How the hell did you even find me, Samuels?” 

He glances to the blood leading down the train line. A dot-to-dot probably leading all the way from the outskirts of snob-hill to here, X marks the spot right over his chest, staining his cashmere sweater.

Amanda grunts in comprehension and shoves herself off the wall, leaving him to brush his clothes smooth. “Okay, good point.”

Samuels wishes it wasn't. “You've lost a lot of blood. Are you alright?” 

“Fucking peachy.” She says, retreating onto her gang's side of the tracks, replacing the switchblade into her leather jacket with incomprehensible speed. “Wish I could say the same about my bike, I swear to God, if there's so much as a scratch on it, I’ll kill the lot of ‘em.”

She brushes her fingers back through her hair, her hood falling down and he pans over her injuries.

“What happened to you?”

Ripley scoffs in disbelief, leaning a heavy shoulder into the dark emergency alcove. “Like you don't know.”

“I was told nothing more than they intended to attack. They know I'm conflicted by protocols. That I struggle in a fight. I think they try to be kind by not inviting me.”

“Or they know you'll get in their way.” Which he does, far too often to go unnoticed by David. “You're too good for this life, Samuels. It's going to catch up to you one day, believe me.”

This synthetic's deep frown flinches, easing to something far, far worse. Sadness. After all this time, after so many close encounters with others like him, she'd never seen one be that before. 

“Was no big deal.” Amanda can't bare his gaze. “Got jumped behind the garage when everyone fucked off home, too pissed to ride. Fucking cowards, I got shoved in a boot, driven out, and I got away, but... Well,” she gestures vaguely at her face. “It's obvious they didn't want to kill me.”

Christopher knows it's because she would absolutely be dead, and they'd have war on their hands. No, this freckle of red and staining of blue was a scare tactic, an obviously ineffective one as she winces her next breath. Heavy, resolute. Plotting. 

“They shouldn't have been on your side of town.” His voice sounds accusing, but for what it's unclear. 

“I didn't fucking provoke them, if that's what you're asking. Your lil' biker gang of Decepticon wannabees probably just don’t like the fact we kicked your ass in the park district. It's ours now. You want it back? Fine, time and place. Name it.” 

“I personally couldn't care less.” Samuels says rather than stating her very existence seems to egg his crew, his family, on. “I'm worried why you were left alone in the first place, is there still no honour amongst thieves?”

“It's Sunday.” Amanda shrugs as though it explains everything. “Believe it or not, we don't live to terrorize you, we all have jobs to go to tomorrow. Real lives outside this territorial bullshit. To be honest though,” she trembles to dab her brow and winces, a bruise beginning to darken the outer corner of her eye. “I could really use a day off.”

“I'm sorry.” He mumbles and it surprises her.

“Why? You had nothing to do with it. Funnily enough, you never do.” 

“Yes, I did.” A hardness sets in Samuels' gaze, the purity and innocence vanishing in a heartbreaking fall. She can't help but feel as though it's like an angel from grace. “I could have warned you, but by the time I heard-” 

“Shit, Samuels. Don't start blaming yourself, you would'a been killed for stepping foot over the tracks anyway, let alone coming to the workshop. You didn't do anything wrong, I know that. We're good.” It kills to give her direct rival such power. “And yeah, we might be from different worlds completely, but I don't let the actions of some reflect on the whole thing.” 

“Who was it?” He doesn't need to ask, just go back to the clubhouse and see who's missing teeth or some digits. Find someone sourcing parts for repair. “Ash? David?”

“Doesn't matter who it was, they'll be on their guard for a bit now. No need to protect them.” The quiet rage surprises them both, just as genuine as it is violent. “Yet.”

“Please, don’t do this.” Despite all the warnings in his programming, Samuels steps over, ducking into the small archway she's hunkering in. “I’m sick of the bloodshed, on both sides. I'm thinking about- No, I am certain. I'm out, Ripley.”

“You think so, do you?” 

“Yes.” He says in a way that makes her believe him. “I can't see people like this anymore, I can't keep repairing my friends and pretending that it's not all for nothing. That they aren't terrible enough they can do this to you, a human. That you, or one of your friends won't kill us in a few months when tensions run high again anyway.”

Tensions are always high, Amanda thinks as he moves towards her, licking his thumb and scrubbing at a spot of blood on her cheek. It makes no difference in the grand scheme, one mark amongst hundreds. He licks it again and she recoils, almost in disgust, but he stares like steel, nonchalantly taking to the mass of red on her cheekbone. She winces, but doesn't pull away.

“You look a mess.” Samuels hums thoughtfully, tugging his bandana off his neck and sucking on a corner, using it to clean her lip. “They shouldn't have gone this far.”

“Had worse. Done worse.” 

“Seen worse.” He states flatly. “Doesn't mean it's not upsetting to me.” 

“To your protocols.” Amanda doesn't mean to make it sound so much like a weakness, rather than she actually admired it about this one. 

“That too.”

“Speaking of which, since when have you been carrying a knife?” Amanda cocks her head away into his other palm under her ear, a little skeptic, a little in pain. “You expecting a fight or something?”

“With Amanda Ripley involved, always.” He says deadpan, but there's an attempted note of humour in his voice. Her reputation is littered in grey, some awful things proven to be small town gossip; and other more harrowing tales that perhaps only he knows, absolute truth. “But it wasn't for you, I was worried about being followed.”

“Like you were following me?” Her voice finally cracks in good humour, it's short lived but Samuels falters. 

“Just- keep still, will you?”

“Yes, okay, Christopher.” How anyone with a self appointed ID like that ended up in any gang at all is beyond her. She nudges him. “What the hell kind of name is Christopher anyway? Doesn’t exactly scream synthetic delinquent.”

“Like you're one to talk,” he finally smiles, “Amy.” 

They fall into a relaxed silence in the dim, a damp trickle of moisture running from the overpass nearby, fog rolling in down the way. They are relatively secluded, the green exit sign casting them both in a nebulous glow as her wounds are silently tended to in less than sanitary conditions. His eyes leave the mess of injury for hers every few seconds, searching for a tell of her discomfort. Of course it is always relative. Now, it's not so much his proximity to her that's cranking at her anxiety, but the thought that if he was seen on their turf, even by a metre or two, he'd be killed. If they were seen so close, they both might be, the speed of which would depend on who came across them first. 

She remembers Zula, the best damn right hand Amanda ever had, and that Davis, he was alright for a military device. They'd been chased to the edge of the world when David found out about them. They were nothing more than friendly, familiar, but they've yet to stop running for it. An anonymous letter is delivered every now and again, no return address, but one day, she knows they're going to stop. 

This, she thinks, is far too close to that.

“What is it?” Christopher asks the darkening of her face, the silence waning of it's humour. 

“Why the hell are you here? You know if I'm seen with you they'll fucking kill me.” She pushes off the wall, nearly right into his chest. Though her stature is found sorely wanting, her entire demeanour screams louder than Samuels ever could in raw, fearsome, violence. Barely contained in a 5’ 5 cage. “Get the fuck out of here Samuels, before you get us both-”

She swallows her words as his lips crash onto her own, hesitating briefly until her hands take his jaw with a demanding hardness. Shoving herself into him, they hit the far wall hard enough to encourage a deep grumble amongst a slew of colourful names for idiocy, and more specifically, him. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Her body presents no complaint. “Chris- think about this.”

“I am- I have.” He brushes down to her neck, detects her tensing, pushing back harder as he finds a firm lump of bruise. A footprint. Fucking David.

It's a wonder what it would be like to feel, anything, let alone pain, learn what about it grounds this woman. It would be a fair deal, he supposes, to have a sense of the worst rather than nothing at all

“Then you're an idiot and a deadman.”

“You don't scare me, Amy.” He says as her angry kisses take control of him. Holding her, bloody and bruised, just tight enough to hurt in all the places it doesn't yet, until his systems blare that it's too much. That it encourages the alarming grip she has of his hair or neck or shoulders. 

“I should.” She hisses in response.

Christopher knows it too. The ghastly stories she had whispered, melting from her lips as her icy exterior thaws over his chest. Her leather and flannels, his denim and cashmere, both of their embroidered patches, all scattered over the floor of dingy motels. Completely bare together, stripped of identity in the next town over, then the next. Riding further and further until one day they might never stop. 

Never need to retreat with their fallen. To lick wounds. To prepare for next time. 

Next time. 

Because there were plenty. So often they met on the field, in the canyon, at the lookout, her hands stained white taking life, his red from saving it. For years Christopher would always find her after the fights by an upturned motorcycle, pacing at an old inn or bar, fingers through her hair, and he'd lead them to a room. They'd find relief from the wounds and the damage, the over-stimulation and adrenaline. Take whatever was left out on each other. It became their ritual.

Now, just like every other time, he takes the side of her face, but offers something new. “Leave with me. Right now. For good. Don't make me beg.” 

“What?” Her lips are yet to leave his, but Samuels' eyes open to slits, slowly pulling away to gauge her. 

“Why do we ever come back, Amy? We know how to get out, in the chaos of the aftermath, we abandon our people to fuck in cheap rooms and play it off as hunting down each other's stragglers. How long do you think we can keep this lie up? How long until they learn where we really go?” Samuels allows himself to lean in, accept a kiss that feels awfully final as her hands grow unbearably tight at his shoulders, taking him by the collar with a rough shake. 

“Jesus, Chris, you can’t be serious. Open your Goddamn eyes.” A demand weaponized by a glance down, their different attire barely touching at the chest but worlds apart, threatening to collide like two orbits never meant to meet. On course to implode, or burn out. It's impossible to tell. “Look at us. I’m a greaser. A criminal. I darken the city with a pitch black bike, and run red into the streets. I am a fucking menace to society just like the rest of us. And you, fuck, you’re a synthetic with a heart of gold. And if you- if you let me, I’m going to ruin that. Ruin you. Shit, I mean you already look forward to the turf wars, because you know what comes after.”

“I do not look forward to them, but being there means I can keep an eye out for you if you need.” His gaze moves away lazily, unapologetic. “They do herald the time we spend together, but it's not that which I like. It's the fact we can escape for a while, just us. A breath of fresh air amongst all of this.”

“And we come back because we know they’ll-” her voice cracks, “they'll find us. Out there is a big fucking world that we already know we can't hide in, we'd never find peace. There's no future, not for me and you.”

“What are you saying?” 

“I mean.” She stands back again. Breaking away. “I mean I'm out too. Of this. Of us.”

His face, already torn between sadness and fear, falls further. “Do you think there is peace here? At least we have a chance out there. Movement, that's what will keep us safe. On the road, under the sun and stars, rain and shine, I don't fucking care. As long as you say you'll come.”

“Samuels, we’ve tried before, to run,” she mumbles softly, “and we were caught. Hurting the others, I don't give a shit, you know I fucking don't, but having to hurt you-”

“Do not dare blame yourself.” He says sternly, holding his shoulder where a long jagged ridge of repaired silicone pushes back. “I didn't feel a thing. They had to believe me, it was the only way.”

“No,” the tremble cheats the strength in her voice, in her eyes. A hundred times he’d looked into them and not seen this. “There was another way, there was always another way, we just don't want to admit it.” 

“And I never will. You cannot convince me to move on, to leave you.”

“You have to. My people will try to kill me, and they'll definitely kill you, and-”

“Then I'll die.”

“Christopher...” She closes the gap between them, hesitant and desperate arms crashing around each other. No longer willing to exchange needy kisses, but fill a void. Squeeze so hard his respiratory system freezes. “Where are we meeting this time?”

“Pardon?”

“I need to get my bike, and you need to get off this side of town. But then what?”

He frowns deeply, for the first time he doesn't want to go through with it. “For our usual rendezvous?”

She convinces herself to back away, catching the last fragments of him like this, his fingers loosening their suddenly paper gentle grip on her waist. “I've been called many things, Christopher Samuels, but never shy of a challenge. Let's get the fuck out of here.”

Chris takes a step forward but stops, “Amanda,” he whispers, not wanting to ask if she's serious, strain this already brittle, whimsical promise. “Sunrise. The lookout.”

“Be there. Oh, and one more thing?” She calls back down the tracks, “I love you.” Her voice echoes in the dark long after she's gone. 

[alrightinbed-betterwithapen]

Clever Little Things — Part One — David Dobrik x Reader

A/N: hey guys so this one’s based off an awesome ask! I’m writing my asks a little slower at this time (and taking sometime away from Datalie until inspo comes back) to ensure better quality. I’m also turning this one into a series. Lemme know if you have any ideas of where you want this story to go. Anywho, thanks for taking the time to read, love ya!!

Masterlist

Summary: You don’t like David, and he plans on changing that.

Anon Asked: Hey !! Love you're writing, nobody ever does my requests so hopefully u can break that pattern :-), can u do a david x reader where it's an enemies to lovers sort of thing, where he's really charming and smug to her and like a huge flirt and she kinda just rolls her eyes and tells him to fuck off (maybe it could be a series??) Thanks !!

——

David fucking Dobrik.

Fuck that guy.

Yeah, you said it. Repeatedly and sometimes out loud. You couldn’t give a fuck about YouTube’s resident golden boy. You have lived in California far too long to be impressed with young, ridiculously wealthy men and their expensive cars. David seemed like a guy who fell face first into a vat of luck and wore humbleness like a cloak, hiding who he was underneath.

You were bound to run into him around Hollywood, your job as a freelance editor had you working with a ton of people in the industry he dominated. You had once preferred working in TV and film, but when a girl named Gabbie reached out to you, getting your info from a colleague, you were yanked into the YouTube world. Gabbie loved your work and had given your name out to all her influencer friends. The calls came rolling in.

Hey, it was a paycheck. These viral sensations actually made bank, and you were getting a more steady source of income from them than you did at any other job you’d worked in the city of angels. It even led to a pretty long contract job at a decent media group. Where you had to attend events and mingle and really learn about the world you were working in. It was mostly good.

But David, he fucking annoyed you. Whether it was hanging all over Instagram models for clout, or holding up the entrance line at a club to take paparazzi around his car, laughing and playing it up to an extreme, he fucking irked you. You had made the mistake of following him on Snapchat, one of his stories accidentally rolling over from a friends; he had two bleach blondes screaming about merch and then the camera flips around to his smug face telling you to swipe up. Yeah. Fucking. Right.

In your mind there were the Paul’s, Ricegum and David Dobrik: the premier fuckboys of YouTube.

So, there is no way you’re actually going to call Jason Nash about becoming his steady editor. You tell Gabbie as much over coffee.

“But, it’s a job, like long term and well paying... and he asked me about editors I knew the last time I saw him. Plus, if you last for a while, you can put that shit on your resume. And he’s great, like the coolest, chillest dude ever,” she’s explaining, trying to win you over. She had told you all about his kids and ex wife, how stressed he was. And that he could pay big money because he was racking in the revenue from his relationship with Trisha Paytas. Still, working for one of the vlog squad basically meant working for David, and you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, no. I’m sure he is, but the vlog squad? C’mon. Why would I do that to myself when you noped the fuck outta that mess years ago,” you tell her, sipping on your latte.

“Because I’m not an editor, (Y/N). It’s not like you have to hang out with them. You just hang around Jason and edit his shit. It’s not that complicated,” Gabbie says, looking at you like you’re dumb. You roll your eyes at her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be associated with David Dobrik and his loyal servants when their party comes crashing to the ground. You know it’s coming. He’s the next Shane Dawson expose for sure,” you ramble, “Like, Dobrik is the next Jake Paul. At least that’s what I get from his Snapchat’s, does he do anything but try to sell his shitty hoodies? And prank people until they cry?”

“Yeah. He gives people cars all the time.”

“PR move!” You yell, a little too loudly for nine in the morning at a coffee shop. Gabbie jumps a little and brings her hand to her mouth, shushing you. Ignoring her, you continue, “Yeah, it’s sooo genuine, Gabs. ‘Hey guys, I sent my friend to the hospital last week for a poorly thought out, unfunny stunt. This week I’m buying my assistant a car! No motive, no PR team screaming at me from the sidelines. Nope, I’m just a super awesome, humble guy who appreciates the people who obediently follow me around like a puppy so I can make content that’ll have 16 year olds everywhere buying my shitty merch!’ Gimme a break.”

“Holy fuck, I know you’re a cynic, but you have gone full pessimist lately,” Gabbie laughs at your impression, shaking her head. “They aren’t bad people, (Y/N). David isn’t either, he’s just young and rich and a little dumb. And Jason is probably the most down to earth one of them. Just think about it.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine, just no more talk about it. How’s your book coming?”

You change the subject, firm that the phone number she programmed into your phone will never get any use.

——

Then Defy Media goes under and Clevver, the main source of your rent lately, is done. You are out a decent paying job and next months check, you are royally fucked. Staring at the number in your phone, bent over on your couch, your thumb hovers.

You need the job. You want work, being at home with nothing to do all day makes you stir crazy. But all your points listed out about this still stand.

Fuck it.

You type out a quick message to Jason about Gabbie and his need for an editor with a link to your reel. You press send before you can talk yourself out of it. Then, it’s a waiting game. You’re scouring the internet for job postings when you get a message in return.

Hey! I’m so glad you hit me up. I desperately need help and would love to have you as my editor. Your reel is great! Can you meet for coffee in like 2 hours? I’m behind already and we can talk logistics.

You’re shocked. He must be desperate if he’s hiring you sight unseen and already getting you to work. But it’s a saving grace and more than you could of wished for. You’ll get a paycheck sooner and not have to worry about eviction. You let him know that’s fine and arrange a place.

The meeting goes well, Jason is a cool dude who doesn’t seem as wound up as your usual content creators were. You agreed on a wage (like 35% higher than your last gig, fuck yeah) and got to understand Jason’s edit style and post dates.

What didn’t shock you about the job, but you were hoping you could circumvent, was that you would be working closely with Trisha and David, as Jason often traded footage with both of them. And unlike Jason, they both edited their own vlogs because they had either, fewer responsibilities in their lives (Trisha), or were anal about their edit and wanted to do them personally (David). Great, great, great.

A jobs, a job though. You’ve survived working with some shitty people in your time and honestly didn’t think you’d have any problem on your hands.

——

There are problems though.

Yeah... there are a couple.

——

The first is Trisha. Well, she wasn’t a huge problem, but an obstacle. She was super insecure (you knew this going in) and the first time she came over to Jason’s and you were chilling on the couch, finishing up a vlog, things got tense. She knew you were hired, but she hadn’t met you before. You’d introduced yourself and shook the woman’s hands, wearing your usual editor getup of jeans and a giant hoodie, no makeup, hair not really done up but presentable enough for the public and giant headphones, to tune out the world around you.

You think that helped you because Trisha made a comment about how you were at least not trying to look good for Jason. You laughed at that, and looked her straight in the eyes with meaning behind them, and maybe a little intimidating,

“You couldn’t pay me into retirement to sleep with Jason.”

She’s taken a back for a second and you both look over to the man. You say no offense softly as the man shrugs, but don’t apologize or try to take it back. Trisha just snorts and says she likes you, claws retracting and a calmness returning to the room. Jason looks like a bomb’s been defused and ever grateful for you.

Bullet dodged... hopefully.

——

The next problem is David...

He’s actually the rest of the problems you have with your new job.

See, Trisha got over her bullshit pretty quickly and began texting you once a week for specific footage with Jason. She would describe them well and stay on the phone while you found and verified the clip, and then you’d send them to her. No muss, no fuss. She was an editor’s literal dream.

But, David fucking Dobrik was a nightmare.

Constantly texting you about clips from things that weren’t recorded, but he’s “sure they were because Jason was holding his camera like it was recording”, or waking you up in the middle of night to make sure you weren’t using a certain song for a montage or outro because he was going to use it in the next week.

And that was besides the ridiculous amount of times David was reminding you not to post certain things that were gonna premiere on his channel first. Like, yes, it’s fine to tell you. If it makes David feel better that you’re hearing it from him and not Jason, FINE. But to text you every post day, over a dozen times? It was a fucking joke and has been going on through week four of your new job. And you’d had enough. You’d mentioned it to Jason, but he’d just shrugged it off as David being David.

Well, fuck David.

You’d never even met the man in person at this point in time, but he was living up to every one of your terrible expectations. That’s when the 14th text comes in, as you’re exporting Jason’s latest vlog and just leaning back to relax on the older mans couch. That’s also when you snap, hitting the call button on the text and calling the douchebag.

“Hello? (Y/N)? Why are you callin-,” he starts after a few seconds of waiting for it to connect.

“Hey David! Nice talking to you finally and not just reading your utterly demeaning and demanding text messages!” You start in, just letting loose all the irritation he’s caused you over the last month. “Super appreciate the literally DOZENS of messages you leave me on post day, not to mention in the middle of the god damn night the rest of the week. I’m glad you understand what an invalid I am and how the constant texts actually do help me! It’s absolutely not a slight to my four year education and years of experience in my profession. Or the fact that I do heed your words the FIRST time I hear them, because it’s my literal job. A job I have that actually doesn’t revolve around you. Crazy, I know!” Your voice is just dripping with sarcasm at this point. In your brief pause you can hear a soft, amused breath from his end of the call. It doesn’t stop you at all.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call and let you know how productive you’re making me, and thank you! I really don’t know how I would function in my chosen career without your undying, unrelenting, un-asked for guidance. Hope the vlog that just posted meets your standards! Leave a comment if it doesn’t. Just please, please don’t text me about it.”

And you’re slamming the end button before he can respond. You look up and Jason is standing in the entrance way to his living room, jaw dropped. And all he can say after lifting it off the ground is,

“I didn’t know he was texting you in the middle of the night! Yeah... fuck him.”

You’re glad this ends with you both laughing and not you being fired.

——

“Your editor’s got some mega fucking attitude, dude,” is the first thing David says to Jason, picking him up in the Tesla the next day. Jason just starts cackling at that.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t text her in the middle of the night. Most people’s work schedule doesn’t extend to 3am, Dave. And I thought she had quite a few points. Like, she works for me. And she does in fact know how to skillfully edit my shitty vlogs,” Jason’s laughing this out and is glad to find David just as amused.

“I wasn’t expecting to get ripped a new asshole is all. I was in an Uber to some event and Natalie heard the whole thing,” David replied, kinda sheepishly.

“You’re just butt hurt that there’s someone in this world that doesn’t give a fuck who you are and is willing to talk shit to your face. And that now Natalie and I know someone put you in your place,” the older man retorts, pointing at him accusingly before going on, “I’m not reprimanding her for having enough of you. She’s doing great AND Trisha likes her. Fuck off dude. Just text her less.”

“What do you mean she doesn’t give a fuck who I am?” Of course this is the part of what Jason was saying that David focuses on.

Shaking his head, he explains, “Well, she knows who you are and is absolutely comfortable enough to basically call you a dick within the first month of being my editor. Also, Gabbie told me the first time we talked about her that (Y/N) hates working for the bigger creators on the platform, and that she thinks they’re all materialistic and out of touch assholes. So, you know, I thought she would be a perfect fit for me. I’m basically nobody. But you? There’s no love lost there from the beginning, but she’s obviously professional enough to keep from snapping on your ass for like a month. I don’t know, Dave. What? You want me to force her to care who you are?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I guess I just figured-“

“Sorry, dude. Not everyone loves our golden boy. But she’s not a mean person. She’s never even mentioned it. This is what Gabs told me forever ago. Either way, she doesn’t have to be blown over by you to be my editor. Right?”

“No, yeah, right. I guess I didn’t think I was bothering her. I’d always hit you up the same amount.”

“Yeah, but we’re friends. She works for me. It’s different,” Jason’s explaining as David nods along, eyes on the road, thinking.

(Y/N) doesn’t like him? Everyone likes him! YouTube world or not, David was charming as shit. It perplexed him, stirring uneasiness in his chest. This was just going to be a challenge in his eyes now.

She doesn’t like him? That’s fine. She will though.

David guar-an-fucking-tees it.

——

David Dobrik sends you an apology Edible Arrangement. The good kind, all chocolate covered fruit.

There’s a card attached that says,

Jason’s last vlog def met my standards, so you obvy don’t need my help. I’ll stop being such a dick.

(See? I didn’t text you.)

-D

It makes you laugh fucking hard.

You find it a little endearing but also, yeah, you deserve an unhealthy Edible Arrangement. He probably has a contact at the fruit company for appeasing all the people he steps on to run his empire. You’re not special, but the thought is at least there. Whatever. He had stopped bombarding you with texts and had been much more polite in general, so you were more than fine with the whole situation now.

You had hoped this was the end of it.

——

It wasn’t.

——

[ain-t-bovvered]

Epiphany 2

read first ACT 1 

EDIT:  @waywardbaby​

Summary: Less than two years later, you finally passed the men of letters’ initiation and, finally, you now set foot in America eager to be reunited with the Winchesters. But if Dean thought that you spent your days only with your nose in books and hands in monster’s guts, he was dead wrong. Your mission? Something that the British branch tried and failed miserably,  or at least that’s what they told you anyway. 

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel and Jack

Warnings: slow burn guys…slow burn. Also, some fluff, humor, feels and angst. 

Some laughs and some shuffling later Cas and Jack left you and Dean alone again. After a little moment of awkward silence, during which a particularly interesting drop of condense rolled down the neck of your beer bottle, Dean clicked his tongue annoyed.

“By the way, big fan of how you masterfully avoided any talks about that scar of yours.” he blurted out.

“Well, nobody asked.” 

You stood up, the old stool protesting, slowly moving in front of him. He removed his legs from the table as you bent over, both your hands on the armrests of his chair.  Leveling your eyes to his, you saw how he tried to hide how his breath caught in his throat and his own eyes flicked to your mouth. You smiled because, holy shit, and then leaned in, grabbing the coffee and the Moka beside him. 

“Take me to the kitchen. I’ll show you how to use this.”

Dean blinked confused before registering what you had just told him, quickly scrambling to his feet as the chair legs scraped the floor.

“Don't use tap water, and fill it to the valve, not over and not under it. Just exactly in the middle.”

“Yeah yeah, how many rules are there?” he said, watching you from behind, bending over your shoulder. “I want to drink coffee, not defuse a bomb”

You shushed him, “Do as I say and you’ll thank me later”, you went on, opening the packet of grounded coffee. “Pass me a spoon, would ya?” you asked him without turning towards him, while you tied your hair up and out of the way. The spoon came hovering in front of your eyes, Dean’s breath was on your neck, and shivers spread down your spine. 

“Y-you need to put the coffee in carefully, ok?” you faltered, “... however, there are two different opinions. We DO like to tear each other apart over that” 

Dean was watching what you were doing, intensely but he was also distracted. 

Dean’s thoughts, even if he was, barely, paying attention, were all over the place. She was talking nonstop, about this and that…  

Jesus, whatever!

He actually did not care right now. She was here. How long had it been since he last saw her? Almost two years? It certainly felt a lot more than that, but she looked the same and completely different at the same time. There was something offbeat in the way she carried herself. However, when he saw her blushing again he knew she was still the girl who mumbled and hit her head under a table and spilled special whiskey on his hand. 

She definitely looked like she could still eat his face if she didn’t like what came out of his mouth and he was pretty sure she could slap him silly if he gave her a good enough reason, and holy shit he got real close to that. 

When he had first seen her, in his bedroom, he had thought he was hallucinating or something. Then she manhandled him and he knew right away that she was real. 

Then came anger when he saw her tattoo and what the fuck. She said she was deep in books and guts not guns and also guts. 

Oh, she’ll hear him alright he had thought before she came back with needles and anti-Vamp biotic or whatever that was. And she looked so proud, all twinkling eyes and pure confidence, his resolutions went flying right out the window. 

She was doing well, she looked well. Maybe just a spank or two.

He gulped, suddenly feeling his mouth dry. No, okay maybe don’t go there Winchester.

When Sam had left to get dinner, he had a moment to let his eyes wander over her, taking her in. Fieldwork surely looked good on her. She looked strong even in her ridiculous height. Layers of clothes didn’t hide what all that training did. She looked sturdy, she was wearing jean shorts, her thighs tanned and full and- 

“The fuck is that?” his eyes had widened at the sight of a long scar.  He dropped between her knees without thinking, and only now did he realize how their position must have looked to Sam’s eyes. 

He cleared his throat as her fingers brushed along his when he handed her the tablespoon.

“Actually that life found me, you found me ….”

He never had what she had and she was willingly diving into this life. They did encourage it when they had left, but she had made it clear that she would just help, not actively participate, or at least...be that involved that would justify a scar that big. 

What else has she been lying about? Was she alone? How many times did he risk los- had she risked her life?

“OH SHUT UP! You want to know what I’d be if I hadn’t met you? I would be dead, in my car, that night. You saved my life and I’m proud of what I’m doing with it… Do not fucking spit your fucking contempt on it”

Her outburst caught him completely by surprise. There she was, standing proud, teary eyes, lips trembling, red-faced and she looked magnificent. His anger had melted into something else, pooling at the pit of his stomach. He had wanted nothing more than to take her there and then. He didn’t care that Sam was there. He had taken a moment before he followed her, but not before throwing Sam a glare to stay, the fuck out of that. His brother had lifted his arms in surrender and shaken his head, and fuck that, Dean saw the smirk on his face. 

He had found her packing the few things she had brought in earlier.

Oh, hell no!! She wasn’t going anywhere. For once he had decided that he was going to swallow his pride just a bit. She smiled at him and his insides melted once again. 

Her face at the sight of Jack had been priceless, and she had brought nougat for Satan’s baby. Yep, the kid had been so grateful for the gift, he kissed her and before he could stop himself he actually shouted at him in front of everyone. 

Smooth Winchester! Real smooth! 

The last night he had seen her replayed in his mind. Her skin, and scent, his fingers through her hair and how his name sounded, whispered and gasped from her lips when he had pressed her against the wall, her whole body opening for him and- 

when Sam had told her she could stay, he saw her hesitation.

“…this is your home too, now” he blurted out without thinking, and it almost scared him how true that felt. 

And now there they were, making coffee at the crack of the fricking dawn, probably trying to fight jet lag as he scooted closer, hands itching to touch her.

“So you have two choices here…” you continued trying not to think about Dean looming behind you and his warm breath on your neck, “... pack your coffee very tight and once you reach the edge smooth it down. Or you could gently let the coffee settle by itself and just let it breathe. In my opini-” you stuttered feeling his nose grazing your skin, his arms moving around you, hands resting on the counter. 

“Dean?”

“Mmm, your opinion?” he murmured and you could be mistaken but you were almost certain he had buried his nose in your hair and maybe inhaled.

You cleared your throat, “I - in my opinion, the first method gives you a stronger and sharper taste. The second makes the taste smoother and gentler. So it depends on what are you in the mood for…”

“I can think of a few things,” he said low, and you swear you could hear the smirk on his stupid mug. Spinning around you faced him, hands bent behind you on the counter, looking up in his dark, hooded eyes gazing down at you. You just needed to stretch on your tippy toes to…

“OH.. " you cocked an eyebrow, “I’ll be happy to listen to those…” your hand lifted to his face, brushing his cheek lightly before gently grasping his ear. After all, two can play this cruel game and tugging him down to your level, added: “... after you make me the perfect coffee as I just explained it to you.”

Half an hour later, you were satisfied.

“Mmm yep! This is great. I can almost taste you” you said moaning, around escaping your lips that may not quite be appropriately fitting a coffee sampling. 

Dean choked in his mug, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I-I m-mean ...I can tell this has been made by you”

“Oh, so you could tell who made you coffee?” the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“To some extent, yeah. Everybody can tell different people making coffee”.

He leaned back and crossed his arms, “Ok, close your eyes then and tell me which one is which.'' 

You felt him putting a cup in each of your hands. You slowly sipped from both. After a moment you held up the right one, opening your eyes.

“This is mine”

“How in the hell …”

“Because it tastes different. Here…” he took a sip from the cup you held to him and then one from the other.

“This is good,” he said, lifting yours. “Tastes soft in the beginning and then bam! All the flavor hits you at the end. That one though,” he said pointing at the one he had made, “That one just tastes bitter.”

“That’s not true. It’s rich and complex. You’d think you know what you are tasting, and end up with something totally different” you pointed at yours, “mine is just…bland”

“Let’s just agree to make each other’s coffee?” he offered. 

“Yeah, I think it’s better” you chuckled.

“So how long you planning on staying?” he asked peeking from above his cup.

“I - I, uh, don’t know. For as long as I’m gonna be useful? Actually, I’m here because I sorta um …lied to my bosses...?”

“Lied?” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well, I guess I told them I was going to…sort of ...train …you” your voice lowered almost to a whisper, and you blushed deeply.

“I - 'm sorry what?” he laughed, “Did I hear that right?”

You bumped your forehead on the hard cold table embarrassed.  “I needed an excuse to leave my post and this was the best I could come up with!”

“…so you said” he had another fit of laughter, “that you were going to train American hunters?” His eyes gleamed as he continued, “And they believed you? Damn, Y/n!”

“Well…I… uh... volunteered to bring you some new equipment and knowledge. And before you say anything, they don’t know that I was talking about the Winchesters.”

“Why?”

You fidgeted with the handle of your cup, not looking at him in the eyes. “Well ...you two are pretty famous both as hunters and as legacies, and not in the best way. If I had told them you were my contacts they would have never let me leave-”

“Oh…?” he said smugly.

“-not that I think the same!” you quickly added, “I have the utmost respect in what you did and do. I've told you that already.” You looked down at your wringing hands “Don’t ever doubt that” you whispered trying to show him how truthful you were. 

“I know you do,” he said softly. Your hands itched to grab his but you didn’t know where you stood. 

Were you friends? More than that? Lots of time had passed and things were muddy and he was being his flirty, asshole self as always but-

“Um, I guess I’m gonna crash with you guys for a bit, if... that’s ok”

“I told ya, this is home, you can stay as long as you want”

“Thanks” you smiled. “I’m gonna start unloading my car, for my luggage at least. The rest, I can do tomorrow.” 

Putting your empty cup in the sink you walked toward the exit.

“You can go to sleep, you know?” you looked over your shoulder when you saw Dean tailing you.

“I know. It’s fine. I’ll help”

“Your shoulder’s fucked”

“‘Tis but a scratch,” he replied with a British lilt, his stupid grin brightening up his eyes, and damn those eyes, and his smile, and his whole face.  

You laughed climbing up the stairs “Don’t quote Monty Python to me”. 

Once out, you walked to your rental car and grimaced even before you heard Dean’s whistle.

“Nice car” he taunted.

“Yeah, I know. Well, I just needed to drive here, and since you brought it up, how about you find me a nicer one? “

“We have a full garage here. Some cars need a little kick but nothing I can’t fix.” he proudly said.

You opened the trunk and dragged out a big trolley and another big backpack that you gave to Dean. Easier to carry on his good shoulder.

Walking in the sterile green corridor, you tried to be as silent as possible. The acoustic must be terrible here, and you didn’t want to wake up Sam.

“You can choose any room, Sam’s down there, mine’s number 11 from before.”

“…yeeeah ...I'll need one with a bathroom for myself. You know…one bunker, two guys, one angel, and the antichrist. A girl needs her space.”

“Oh…sure. Mmm, there should be a service bathroom, I think it’s mid corridor? Aaah, you’ll find it. But ..ah...showers are common. No luck there until you say otherwise, though” he said wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure Dean,…just to be safe, if there is a towel on the handle, please knock “ You chose a room that was almost at the same distance from both of them. Opening the door, you grimaced.

“Spartan” you sighed entering and threw the suitcase on the bed. A cloud of dust rose and tickled your throat and you coughed waving your hand in front of you. “I guess I know what else I'll do tomorrow”

You turned to Dean who was waiting at the door. He handed you the backpack and put his hands in his pockets, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yes, Dean?” you asked while unpacking.

“You…you know that I’m happy…  we… we are happy that-” he waved a hand towards you.

You stopped to look at him, “Of course” you smiled.  "You just need to stick it into your head that I make my own choices. I’ll be fine. I need to finish unpacking and you should go to sleep”

“Yeah…ok. Uhm…goodnight then”

“Night”

You tossed and turned in your new bed, the jet lag hitting you hard and probably the dawn coffee hadn’t been a great idea. You had hoped that maybe listing all the things you were gonna do tomorrow would help, but nope, you were still wide awake. The phone said it was just past 5 am; you could explore the bunker and maybe make breakfast for everyone...? 

Tossing your blanket aside you padded silently down the corridors, shivering as the cold tile floor hit your naked feet. Nobody had switched off the lights, thank god and now you were wondering if they ever switched them off?

Arriving in the main room, the one that looked like an old library, you lost yourself between the shelves. This room alone had so many rare things and so much knowledge that was thought to be lost back at home. Maybe you could ...no… what the hell? You put the book back in its place with a loud thud.

“Y/N, you are not gonna steal these books, you are not gonna steal these books, you are n-” you repeated to yourself in a mantra-like tone. 

“You want to steal books?”

 “Wh - Jack! Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack” 

You jumped at the sudden voice behind you. His face suddenly grew worried, “You need a doctor? W - wait, I’ll call Castiel to-”

“No no, I’m joking! I was joking” you said quickly as you gripped his arm.

“Why would you joke about that? It’s a serious human, medical emergency,” he said confused and honestly, he looked offended. You put your hand on his shoulder.

“No, you are right. Sorry if I scared you. It’s just a figure of speech” 

You saw his brain gears working to assimilate the new information. God, he really looked like a normal kid, a normal confused kid with so much power. Your hands itched. No, it’s - he’s not another monster to put on your table. He is…

“Jack …what are you doing awake anyway?”

“I don’t sleep much and I heard some noises. What are YOU doing up?”

“Ah, jet lag, can’t sleep; I was looking for something to pass the time before breakfast. Tell me, you know the bunker well?”

“Yes “

“Great, want to show me around?”

Jack showed you all the rooms and sections of the bunker. They even had an indoor shooting range. The garage made you giddy and you already eyed one of the bikes, the black Norton Commando. Your eyes were hooked on that when you felt Jack scooting to you. Looking at him, confused, you saw him eyeing the black Impala that was parked inside.

“It’s just a car, Jack”

“Dean said I can’t go near her. He calls her baby and treats her like she’s a person. I don’t think that’s normal”

“No, no, it’s not.” 

Chuckling, you approached the car, Jack anxiously trying to stop you. You let your hand slowly caress the sleek, polished, black hood and you peeked inside. It really was a gorgeous car. 

You went out of the bunker, enjoying the crisp morning air and you paused to watch the sun rising. You felt at home and you were so happy right now. 

“Say Jack…?” you began, facing him as he squinted his eyes at the first sun rays of the new day, “... care for a quick drive?”

The phone buzzed a couple of times and you thought nothing of it. Probably your parents asking about minor stuff and that could easily wait.

“After last year Dean doesn’t like me going out without telling.” Jack was nervous but at the same time, he looked around the store excited even to be the one pushing the cart.

“Yeah well, I’m not Dean, am I? Just stay close ok?”

“I will “

Jack looked like an excited kid, pushing the cart between the aisles, eyes sparkling as you asked him to choose the cereal, while you looked for something that resembled what you knew about American breakfast. He came back with 4 different kinds, face falling as he told you he couldn’t decide. You just took all four and tossed them in the cart.  

You let a fascinated Jack put the items on the rolling mat while you went to the other side to bag the groceries, getting confused looks from people because you refused help to do that. ‘I can bag my own, damn, groceries, thank you very much’ you thought. 

After paying, you also let him park the cart with the others, laughing when he connected them and looked at you all proud, waving the coin. He picked the bags from you and walked to the car. Suddenly the screech of tires broke the silent morning in the mostly empty parking lot and you jumped, startled as Dean’s car stopped right in front of you. 

The three jumped out, a scary look on Dean’s face, a worried one on Sam’s and you could not tell what was on Cass' face. Amusement and something that looked like he was gonna spank the two of you.

“Y/N, what the fuck ?”

“Wh-?” you didn’t have time to respond and Dean was in your face, Sam trying to get between you two. 

“What happened? “ you asked, startled

“This! This is what happened,” Dean stated gesturing between you and Jack. “What the hell were you thinking?”

You and Jack shared a look “…pancakes?”

“Pancak-” Dean began and he had to stop himself from freaking out. “Ok…you can’t take Jack to buy groceries alone”

“Why? “

Dean threw his arms in the air, exasperated.

“Y/N…” Sam pushed his brother to the side, “... we woke up and you were gone and Jack was gone too. We were kinda worried”

“Oh...I’m sorry, next time I’ll leave a note “

“There is no ne-” Dean began. 

“Dean, it’s fine. Nothing happened.” Cass’ calm voice interrupted him. You watched them, and suddenly it clicked, and you peered at Jack who looked guilty and kinda sad. Your heart broke but he was still the most powerful being in the known universe and you took him shopping for groceries.

“Oh ...I see, guys I’m sorry. In my defense…” you grabbed Jack and pushed him in front of you. “Look at him! Look at this face” you put your arms around him. “He would never hurt me, right?” you asked and he looked at you from above his shoulder, nodding shyly.

“I can’t believe this,” Dean said rubbing a hand on his face. He breathed out and looked at you. “Get in your car, we’re going home. Jack, jump in,” he said, opening the passenger door of Baby.

“He can ride with me” you challenged, lifting your chin “I promised to teach him how to drive later”.

“Okay Jack, now slowly pour the batter in the center. Try to keep it as round as possible.” 

Leaning on the counter near the stove, you watched Lucifer’s kid, cooking pancakes, his tongue peeking out his lips in concentration. “When you see bubbles at the edges, flip it over quickly as I showed you.”

He looked at you panicked when the first bubbles started to appear, and carefully picked up the half-cooked pancake, flipping it over flawlessly. His head snapped up at you, mouth opened with amazement and your fists shot in the air triumphantly. “You did it! Nice job” you opened your palms waiting. He looked confused, “Dude, slap your hands on mine! Come on! Don’t leave me hanging “.

Dean‘s head popped in the kitchen right at that moment. “We hungry here”.

“Almost done. Jack, can you take those to the table? I’ll join in a moment.” 

Dean started to follow him.

“Deeean…” you chanted, “... can you help me with something here” your tone glacial, now.

“S-sure. Um- whatcha need?”

“I need…” you turned to face him smiling sweetly, hands behind on the counter, “... to tell me, how did you manage to find us”. 

You watched as he shifted awkwardly on his feet. “You put a tracking device somewhere in my shit, right?” 

His shoulders sagged and you exhaled “It’s not my phone because it would have been neutralized, so what?” your face contorted in disbelief, “Is it my car? Did you bug my car?” 

He did not say a thing but his expression told you everything. “Seriously?!.... Oh my God, don’t you trust me?”

“What? No, of course, I trust you, don’t be stupid!” he retorted and you blinked at him, “Uh...sorry...we all do. We had already tested if your GPS worked but it didn’t...”

“So, you bugged my car?” 

You turned around to pick up the pitcher with the freshly squeezed orange juice and walked up to him, looking like you wanted to tell him something and he lowered himself. 

On your tiptoes, you brought your lips near his ear and grazing it because you, too, are a little shit sometimes, and whispered, “Next time just ask me or I’ll smack you so hard that not even Castiel can raise your ass from where I’ll send you.

“Yes ma’am,” he stuttered. 

Patting his injured shoulder a little bit harder than you should but believing that he deserved it, you joined the others.

The table in the library looked great. A huge pile of steamy pancakes in the middle, fresh bite-size cut fruit, greek yogurt, because Sam, Nutella and the juice alongside the still fuming family sized Moka. Sam was already piling fruits into his yogurt bowl, Dean hadn’t even sat yet that he already had his hands full of pancakes, bouncing the stack from hand to hand because they were still hot, the entire jar of Nutella under his arm.

“Leave some for us, would you?” you said to Dean who was spreading a nauseating quantity of chocolate cream between the layers.

“This jar is-” he said looking at the number on it “-500g…whatever that means. I think it’ll be enough” you snatched it from his hands and passed it to Jack who thanked you and did the exact same thing that Dean had.

“Jack…are you sure you can eat all of that? “

“Oh, don’t worry,” said Sam “he’s imprinted on Cass and Dean and has been imitating  them since his birth “

“Oh, that’s why he kissed me yesterday,” you said just to be a bit mean to Dean who was currently choking. You poured him some coffee while turning to Jack, “I mean, you must have seen him kiss some girls. Please, tell me that’s all you saw”

“Do we need to talk about that?” Dean said, his voice still strained. “Now?!”

“Yes, that happens on cases. Sam always takes me to get ice-cream or at the movies… he says-” his forehead furrowed, “-he says that it’s best if we wait a bit before going back to the motel, but every time we come back Dean is sleeping drunk and clothed. I don’t understand”

“Dude! Come on!!” Dean groaned.

You snorted, and the coffee stuck in your nose.

“Is that everything?” Dean grunted, putting down the last case. Straightening up, he massaged his hurt shoulder. “What’s all this stuff, anyway?”

“Equipment.” 

You crunched down and opened one of the crates, Dean and Sam peering down curious. At the sight of piles of books and manuals, Dean’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“You think I would have been able to go on a plane with all the weird shit without problems? They shipped all the toys in a container. They should arrive in a few days”

“Toys? What toys?” Suddenly Dean’s eyes sparkled.

“Most of it, you’ve already seen from the British. The rest is mostly prototypes I was helping with. Shouldn’t really have taken them out the lab but, what the hell? They don’t know what you have to face. They could be more useful to you than to them”. You passed the manuals to Sam’s eager hands. “Now, can you show me an empty room you don’t use so I can set up my stuff?”

The next 3 hours were spent setting up a makeshift lab with what little you were able to bring from HQ. Jack offered to help and he was now sitting on a chair while he checked the list. “Is that everything?” you asked, clapping your hands to get rid of some dust.

“I…think so “

“Let me see.” You walked behind him and scanned the list.  “Yep, that’s everything. Thank you, Jack.”

He smiled proudly. You really couldn’t see evil in him. Your eyes fell on the exposed skin on his neck and your hand twitched. If you could just take a bit of his blood…

“what’s all this crap?” Dean’s voice snapped you out of your trance and you looked up at him.

“Your new lab!” you announced, gesturing around, proudly.

“The new what, now?” he walked in and looked around. “Not to be an asshole sweetheart, but we don’t need this stuff.”

Your smile fell, before frowning. “You say that now, but after I’ll show you how this works you’ll thank me. Besides …” you said walking up to him, “... this is just a little one. It only has the basics. You’ll learn in a flash, don’t worry and I translated all the procedures”

“Y/N, we are hunters…” he began. 

“And I’m a lab nerd, I know. But…” you turned to watch the room, “... this could help you with the medical problems and… ” you faced him again, “...preventing nasties, ok?”

“Such as..?”

“…Mmm, like… not having to worry about vamp blood accidentally falling in your mouth or, even better, werewolves’ bites. You inject this-” you said pulling out a vial and shaking it in front of his eyes, “-and no worries. You are safe for up to 4h from doggie genes. Awesome right?” you said wiggling your eyebrows.

“…that’s…ok, yeah that’s actually pretty sweet, but ...why needles, Y/N? Aren't there any…vitamins, gummies?”

“….-then there’s this spray that can partially transform your scent to nonhuman or something. It confuses the nose,” you said waving a can to him. “Oh, oh and this! Oh, this is one of my favorites. Need blood to draw a sigil or some spells? Forget about cutting yourself and….” he and Jack watched as you went around the room grabbing things and dropping them in a pile in Dean’s arms.

Suddenly Cass appeared on the door, “I think Sam has a case”

“Really?!” you stopped with another one of your tools mid-air, throwing it to Dean, who barely caught it and followed Cass.

“She’s very energetic” Jack commented beaming to Dean, who stared down at his full arms and at the door where you disappeared.

“Yeah, …she is” he answered smiling softly, before almost dropping one of the vials.  “Aaah, crap-”

When Dean, followed by Jack, arrived in the war room he came to a harsh halt making Jack almost crash into his back. As Sam was explaining the case, you had your elbows propped up on the light table, stretched to reach the laptop laying in the middle. Your hips swaying casually as you listened to what Sam was saying, unaware that the shorts had ridden up your thighs. His hand flew up to cover Jack's eyes, and he cleared his throat. You straighten up smiling at Sam and spun around.

“I’ll go grab my things. Sam’s gonna update you.” hopping past him you heard him yelling at your back:

“To the car in 20 …and change your pants!” 

“…and change your pants” you mocked while shimmying out of your shorts. “Like, I don’t know any better”. Hopped to squeeze in your leggings, you felt your heart beating fast, excited for your first real hunt with them. A chance to prove your worth, finally! Maybe after this, Dean would stop being an asshole. Grabbing your medical kit and duffel bag, you stopped by the new lab and grabbed a few things. You were going to hunt what was probably rogue werewolves. Should you bring…

“Maybe I should ... yeah, ok.” You went back to your room and dragged out the soft case from under the bed, which you had hastily placed there, the night before. 

“Hello beautiful “ you cooed, stroking the straps across your chest. 

You found everyone in the garage. Jack and Castiel, you noticed, had no luggage. 

“You not coming?” you asked, disappointed.

“No Y/N. I and Jack will stay here for this one”

“Why?”

“It’s probably a milk run, nothing fancy. They can rest this one out and focus on the search for mom” Sam told you, leaning out the passenger seat.

“We’ll stop along the way for a bit before going to Grantsburg” Dean called from the driver seat, “get in”

“Where are we stopping? “ you yelled over the music. Dean lowered the volume, looking over his shoulder to you.

“Sioux Falls “

“Oook, why?”

“It’s a 10h drive to Grantsburg. We’ll stop to rest and visit a friend.”

“Another hunter?”

“And a sheriff and a friend of ours,” Sam added.

You nodded and caressed the leather seats, Dean’s eyes watching from the rear-view mirror. “This car is gorgeous, by the way…” you mused and heard Sam scoffing and Dean, pleased, hummed gently as he patted the dashboard, “...and you have an unhealthy relationship with it,” you added, earning a laugh from Sam and glare from Dean. 

The rest of the drive passed slowly, listening to the same 3 cassettes. By the look Sam gave you, you realized that suggesting something else was out of the question. Like, not even try to ask, it's out of the question, kinda look.  Finally after a drop of temperature that made you put on your old ratty jacket, and the “Welcome to Sioux Falls” sign, Dean parked outside a simple, little house.

You slid out of the car slowly, groaning, stretching your legs painfully.  “Man, I’m not used to these long drives “

“How do you travel long distances back home?” Dean asked retrieving your duffel bag and swinging it on his good shoulder.

“Humans have these amazing inventions called airplanes, you can cover great distances in 1⁄4 of the time”. He mumbled something while Sam simply shook his head. You followed them to the door and watched as a short-haired woman appeared before they could even knock.

“Hey, guys! Couldn’t mistake that car’s sound for anything else.” She hugged them both, warmly. “How are things?”

“Oh, you know Jody. No rest for the hunters. This…” Dean said moving aside, “... is Y/N. We told you about her, yes?”

Jody looked at you with a critic's eye. You smiled uncomfortably, her gaze quickly softening, as she offered her hand.

“Hi…I’m Y/N” you repeated as you took it, smiling.

“Jody Mills... they told me you are Men of Letters?” she asked you while inviting you in.

“More like Ladies of Letters, from the family that initiated me. Ladies run things where I come from”

“Love that!” She closed the door and pointed you to the couch where Dean was already slouched on, Sam occupying the armchair which although quite spacious, looked extremely small with that soft giant on it.  

“Are you here for a case that I missed?” she asked from the kitchen.

“Nah, just visiting. Tomorrow we're driving to Grantsburg for a possible werewolf case… thanks” Sam said, grabbing one of the beers from Jody. Dean was next and she paused a moment, sizing you up.

“…I know I have a baby face but I’m past 26” you smiled bitterly. She blinked and smiled back, handing you the bottle.

��Don’t sound so salty. Give it 15 years and that baby face will be your best ally. Trust me”. Sitting down, she turned to Dean. “I’ll call Donna later to give her a heads up”

“I think this will be a milk run, but sure. Maybe she picked up something. Where are the girls?” Dean asked looking around.

“Alex’s at work, Patience’s gone home for finals and Claire she is ...well…you know” she sighed. 

“Looking for trouble again, I assume” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah …” She confirmed while taking a large gulp of her beer. Looking at her watch she stood up slapping a hand on Dean’s knee. “Stay for dinner?”

“I thought you’d never ask” Dean answered, excited.

[theseaeaglelives]

Round 12

THE SEA EAGLE

MAKING RUGBY LEAGUE GREAT AGAIN!!!

Taking a mid-season holiday for the past month, the Sea Eagle did his utmost to self-isolate, and avoid anyone with a Victorian number plate and/or persons who had come within a bull’s roar of the Crossroads Hotel, the suburbs of Casula, Liverpool, Warwick Farm or South Western Sydney in general, and of course the Holy Duck restaurant and Thai Rock at Wetherill Park. That said, it’s fair to say that even in the pre-COVID era (or any other era for that matter), the Sea Eagle would in all likelihood have avoided most of these destinations on the basis of pure common sense.

A bit like the happenings in Victoria the past month has not been kind to Manly with two wins since the demise of Tommy Turbo and a brief summary of those games follows:

Round 7

Manly Sea Eagles             22

Defeated By

Cronulla Sharks                40

Following on from the stirring victory against the Raiders, Manly was expected to make easy meat of their perennial whipping boys (i.e. The Sharks). Unfortunately, neither team read the script and the Manly defence also decided to take a mid-season holiday allowing the Sharks to run roughshod in this game.

The Sharks ran in 7 tries and only a late flourish (3 tries in the last 15 minutes) saved Manly from even further embarrassment.

As far as the Sea Eagle is concerned there was nothing good to come out of this game, apart from the fact that he did not have to watch it, so the less said the better.

Round 8

Manly Sea Eagles            12

Defeated by

Newcastle Knights          14

Another game that the Sea Eagle was unable to watch, however the score would indicate a much better effort by Manly. That said, Rugby League 101 is a difficult concept to overcome and despite the closeness of the result, the outcome still sees Manly failing to get the chocolates and the all-important 2 competition points.

It has been reported (a bit like in Round 4) that Manly did not get the rub of the green in terms of refereeing decisions in this game culminating in the last minute send off, of Manly firebrand Adin Fonua-Blake for allegedly calling the referee “a f#$king retard” following a contentious and controversial decision.

Fonua-Blake was duly (and rightfully) suspended for 2 weeks, plus a $20k fine (suspended) for this outburst and forced to make an apology to all and sundry, including the toothless tiger also known as the Australian Human Rights Commission for his derogatory attitude and use of the term “retard”.

No doubt this was because the term “retard” is seen as offending those members of society with impaired intellect. Strangely, the fact this outburst was directed at a referee and questioned said referees ability/integrity was barely an issue.

Without condoning the actions of Mr Fonua-Blake, who is quickly building up the CV of an A grade goose, and is an individual who himself may possibly be of quite an impaired intellect, the Sea Eagle is somewhat bemused that Manly did not contest the charges and the suspension.

On the face of it, the use of the word “retard” could well be construed as being derogatory to those members of society of less fortunate and impaired intellect. Having said that, the Oxford Dictionary defines “retard” to mean “to make the development or progress of something slower”. Could it be that young Adin was merely pointing out to the referee his displeasure at the ref’s failure to stamp down on slow play and/or delaying tactics by the Knights??

The suspension of Fonua-Blake for his outburst has prompted the Sea Eagle to ponder on what is now deemed to be an acceptable way to dish out criticism of referees and/or to avoid offence to the usual suspects.

To start with, it would appear that the use of the pro-noun “f#@king” is acceptable given that there was little or no offence taken by this word in this instance.

Obviously as has been proven here, the word “retard” is not acceptable, as is anything that is sexist (e.g. woman, girlie, pussy etc), racist (e.g. black, coon, gook etc.) or that could cause offence to the LBGTQ community (e.g. faggot, poofter, pillow biter, poo puncher, traveller of the chocolate superhighway, carpet muncher etc.). As it should be. There is no place or need to denounce, denigrate, humiliate, slur, or belittle anyone. Even if it is true and even if, on any reading of the objective facts, the said comment could only be taken as a correct statement of the bleeding obvious. Readings of the Sea Eagle over many years will stand testimony to that .

In AFL circles the use of the word “maggot” has been universally adopted, so “f#@king maggot” may be a goer. As would be “f#@king tool”, “f#@king knob” and perhaps also “f#@king f@#kwit”. The use of the word “f(8kng c87nt” should however be avoided. The list of acceptable options is endless and players (and fans) now just need to be more creative than has been the case in bygone eras.

Round 9

Manly Sea Eagles            4

Defeated by

St-George Dragons          34

The Manly defence mid-season holiday continued in this game and without Tommy Turbo/Dylan Walker there was also nothing to offer in attack. The Dragons, who were going legless at the time ran roughshod over Manly and as a result Manly’s season was then appearing to be in a free-fall, not dissimilar to the Victorian government’s handling of the COVID debacle.

As was the case in Round 7, as far as the Sea Eagle is concerned there was nothing good to come out of this game, apart from the fact that he did not have to watch it, so the less said the better.

Round 10

Manly Sea Eagles            22

Defeated

Parramatta Eels               18

Based on the past 3 weeks, Manly were expected to be lapped by the high-flying and competition leading Eels.

Sent out at the juicy odds of $4.50, Manly was back at fortress Brookvale, and dished out an old-fashioned ambush on their bitter rivals and in the blink of an eye ran out to a 16-0 lead in as many minutes.

Cherry Baby (who had a shocker the previous week) was back to his best and was front and centre, leading from the front and instrumental in Manly’s improved performance.

Despite a late comeback by the Eels, Manly ran out deserved winners to get their season back on track and keep them within striking distance from the top 8. That said, without Tommy Turbo (and to a lesser extent Dylan Walker), Manly do appear to continue to struggle and it is only their pride and tradition, and a great coach in Des Hasler, who seems to work miracles with very little,  that will keep them in contention until the great man Tommy Turbo (and Dylan Walker) return from injury.

Round 11

Manly Sea Eagles            24

Defeated

North Queensland Cowboys       12

Let’s face it, a trip to Townville even at the best of times is never a pleasant experience. Commonly referred to as Shitsville in the popular Shit Towns of Australia Facebook Page, Townsville is a regular chart topper in the rankings of Australia’s crappiest places to visit. A trip to Townsville is made even worse when confronted by an equally desperate North QLD Cowboys outfit  and played at a traditional graveyard for many previous Manly campaigns.

Thankfully however, Manly carried some of their good form from the previous week’s outing against the Eels and started this game where they left off.

After dominating the early skirmishes, Manly opened the scoring after 7 minutes via a barnstorming and bullocking effort from Curtis “the Carnivore” Sironen (more on that later). 

After having to withstand some pressure of their own with some at times desperate defence, Manly were able to extend their lead 10 minutes of the break when new hooker Danny Levi barged over from dummy half. Levi has been a shrewd acquisition for Manly and has done a fine job filling in for the mandatorily stood down, Manase Fainu, who in the Sea Eagle’s opinion will be lucky to avoid incarceration for his alleged off-season stabbing incident.

Unfortunately, Manly was unable to maintain their dominance with the Cowboys hitting back on the stroke of half time when winger Kyle Felt lept high to take a bomb over the permanently grounded Horhay Taufua. Defusing the high ball has never been one of young Horhay’s hallmarks and again he was found wanting in this instance. Manly 12-6.

After withstanding some early second half pressure, tries to Cherry Baby and Cade Cust sealed the win for Manly. The Sea Eagle (as did Des Hasler post-match) would like to single out Cade Cust for special mention. Young Cust is improving each week and looks a likely prospect reminding the Sea Eagle of a young Keiran Foran. Let’s hope for young Cade’s sake that he does not follow the example set by Foran (i.e. leaving the nest, chasing greener pastures elsewhere and ending up on the rugby league scrap heap at one time allegedly residing in a less than ideal housing arrangement).

When Dylan Walker returns it will be interesting to see whether he finds himself back out in the centre position , putting a bit of pressure on Brad Parker to retain his spot. That said, young Parker might be quite a useful bench player given his robust frame and liking for the heavy stuff, which could easily see him cover forward and/or backline replacements as required.

EAT RED MEAT

It has been reported (SMH 25/7/20) that since going on to what has been called a Carnivore (i.e. meat only) diet this year, young Curtis Sironen has been able to transform himself from an average journeyman to an established and worthy first grader. Based on his recent performances it’s hard to argue, however the Sea Eagle must attribute some of his improvement to the fact that he is now being mentored by master Coach Des Hasler as opposed to the procession of mediocre Coaches he has had to endure in the past.

It also goes to prove, yet again, some things the Sea Eagle has found quite repellent . And that is the latest trend of so called veganism. We need to get one thing straight here . Carnivores are A grade predators and top the food chain. And for good reason . If you play Rugby League or think like a Rugby League person then you better eat red meat and follow the Curtis Sironen example. It is your choice whether you prefer to eat it raw, rare or medium rare . If you want to follow netball , soccer (men or women's ) or AFL (men or womens) then by all means become a vegetable only eating Nancy Boy.

The Sea Eagle, based on the findings of Mr Sironen, suggests red meat become a predominant part of the diet (and if religious reasons preclude eating beef, ensure that lamb , Goat , kangaroo , snake or crocodile, or venison is the appropriate substitution). If you are capable of engaging in the Bear Grills type lost art of catch and kill your own in this space, all the better.

  The Demise of the Dogs (and the return of Trent Barrett)

It is not with any pleasure that the Sea Eagle accounts the demise of this once proud club. The past decade has been nothing short of shambolic, from sex scandals (e.g. Coffs Harbour, Port Macquarie etc), mad Monday debacles, horrendous recruiting (e.g. Foran, Hoppoate, Hasler etc), to now finding itself odds-on to get the spoon in 2020 and having recently sacked club stalwart and legend Dean Pay.

Can it get worse for the Dogs and their long-suffering fans? In short YES.

It has widely been reported in many media outlets that none other than Trent Barrett has been signed to a 3-year deal to take on the head job relacing Dean Pay.

What is there left to say about Trent Barrett, that has not already been said. His time at Manly was nothing short of a debacle, with the only good thing to be said about this DFI infected, ex-Dragon/Shark, non-premiership winner, was that he kept the gym clean and has a good supply of his own gym/office furniture.

https://t.co/2A3P9koeuD?ssr=true

The decision by the Dogs to give Barrett the head job beggars belief. Those in charge of this decision at the very least should have sought explanation and clarification of the following questions and issues, during the interview and appointment process. Namely; “Trent:

Have you won a premiership as a player?

Have you won a premiership as a coach?

Have you ever been coached at club level by a premiership winner?

As a player were you ever coached by DFI patient zero, Brian Smith?

Is it possible that as a consequence of question 3, that you are infected with DFI which is still transmittable to players that you coach?

As a player, were you ever publicly slapped by your coach (who was also a DFI infected, ex-Dragon, non-premiership winner?)

Were you sacked from your previous head coaching role?

Has any team since your sacking, under a new coach improved?

Do you hate Manly and all they represent (ie success and a failure to tolerate mediocrity)?

Do you agree that on the whole, when someone leaves Manly they rarely if ever, go any better and sometimes end up on the slide to oblivion?”

Finally, do you still have any decent office/gym furniture?

The Sea Eagle takes little joy or pleasure from this apparent demise of the Canterbury Bankstown Bulldogs . Whilst it is fair to say the Sea Eagle has never loved this club , the Sea Eagle has generally speaking had nothing but the most respect for how about they went about the business of Rugby League. Let's face it, there was a time when if you played the Bulldogs, you knew you were in for a hard afternoon/evening’s work . Until now . The appointment of Trent Barret as coach, who is so un-Bulldog, will and should end in tears.

COVID 19 MELBOURNE

With the recent debacle that is the Victorian government handling of Covid 19 quarantine matters, one might have hoped the effective isolation of Victoria from the rest of Australia via mandatory border closures, would have seen the Melbourne Storm and their filthy wrestling techniques also marooned in that COVID-19 ridden hellhole. Regrettably, the Storm managed to escape to sunny Queensland and are now functioning as though nothing had happened. More is the pity.

Frankly, the Sea Eagle cannot understand how this occured given Queensland has quite correctly banned anyone who comes from the Liverpool and general South Western Sydney post codes from entering their State (and seem to be able to ban residents from nominated NSW postcodes virtually at will and on a daily basis).

When they went to Albury earlier in the year, that town rightly wanted them out pronto.

Surely banning the Storm would have been an easy and straightforward/ common sense decision to make given where they came from (ie Melbourne). This must now be seen for what it is, a missed opportunity to remove the Storm from the Rugby League landscape once and for all. All fair minded followers of Rugby League can place the blame for this one squarely at the feet of the Queensland government.

 THE SEA EAGLE

[stop-klancing-around]

Defuse

I’m Back. This was supposed to be posted a few hours ago as a birthday fic here, but I fell asleep.  Now that the semester is done, I have all of the time in the world to write fics and draw klance and what not. Thank you @raythenerdyfangirl for being my beta. Enjoy :)

You can also read here on ao3

Keith opens the door to Lance’s apartment with ease. It reminds him to talk to Lance about constantly leaving the main door unlocked. It’s not going to be the first time that Keith talks to him about this. He leaves his bag and shoes by the couch and explores the tiny apartment. Keith hears the water running somewhere and walks towards the sound.

“Lance, where are you?” Keith yells out.

“I’m in the bathroom” Lance yelled back. The water was filling the tub so Lance decides to come out the bathroom and to the bedroom to pick out a bath bomb for tonight. Keith just so happens to walk into the bedroom to see Lance setting both a pile of clothes and a box full of bath products on the bed.

“You really need to stop leaving the main door unlocked Lance.”

“And why is that, Freckles?” Lance walks to Keith and gives him the tightest hug for a minute and loosen his grip but allowed his arms to dangle from Keith's shoulders.

“I really don’t want to walk into your apartment with all of your stuff taken.”

“Don’t worry, the only valuable thing in the place is the laptop and the TV.”

“Lance, I got you that laptop for your birthday. I would be in a piss poor mood if that was taken.” Lance thinks about what Keith said for a minute. “It took too many hours of me in hell for that to get taken.” Lance snorts.

“Okay, I’ll lock my door from now on. I should give you a spare later” Keith sighs.

“Thank you. What is that anyway?” Keith points to the shoebox full of balls and begins to peer over with curiosity.

“These” Lance picked up a red ball “are bath bombs.” Before Keith could ask another question Lance filled him in “You put them in the water and it basically turns the water to that color and it smells nice.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Is that from Lush?”

“Obviously. Why do you ask?”

“I work at Lush in the Balmera Mall, ”Lance's eyebrows hit the ceiling. He turns Keith around to face him.

“Since when do you work at Lush?” Keith begins to open his mouth but Lance continues “Even better, how do you NOT know what is a bath bomb if you work in Lush?”

“I just don’t... I work as a cashier because some of the products actually fucks with my asthma.” Lance starts to really look at Keith and checks over his face to see if that was really him or some imposter.

“Then why work at a place where you KNOW it will make your asthma act up? Do you even use a mask when you’re working? How are you still walking amongst the living?” Lance did a few laps around Keith before he pokes his forehead.

“I need the money for both of our art supplies. Plus, because of you, I actually take three puffs of this every day before I walk into lush hell.” Keith pulls out an inhaler from his pocket and waves it in Lance’s face. “Anywho, which ones do you have?” Lance began to give out a gleaming smile before giving Keith a rundown of what he has, likes and wants to buy or in deep need of.

“So which one should I use?” From the looks of it, Lance popped Keith out of his little reverie because he gives Lance a confused look. Lance waved his hand in Keith’s face and guided his eyes to the shoe box. “Can you pick one for me.” Keith’s eyebrows pinched together before picking up the purple ball that was littered with stars.

“This one.” He puts the star decorated bath bomb in Lance’s hands.

“I figured that you’d pick this one. This one is named Twilight and it acts as a sleep reliever.” Lance began to walk back to the bathroom to see that there was enough water in the tub. Lance turned off the faucet and slowly dropped the Twilight ball into the tub. Keith stood behind Lance and watched the bath bomb disintegrate in a light shade of purple before moving into a darker shade of indigo. Lance would always enjoy the scent of lavender that slowly ebbs out of the ball and filled the bathroom. Lance looked back to see that Keith had left his side and moved into the hallway to sit down. Lance walked towards him and crouched down with concern.

“Are you okay? Is your asthma acting up?” Lance asked him.

“Yeah, I’m okay, and surprisingly it's not acting up. I left so that I wouldn’t test my luck.” For a short second, it felt like there is another underlying reason for his actions. That is tucked and buried within the asthma one. Lance decides to ask him later on about that.

“Oh, then would you like to join me in this bath?” Lance could see one of his eyebrows perk up.

“I just said that I don’t want to test my luck. Plus, your tub isn’t big enough for the both of us.” Well, Keith is right about the tub. It’s tiny and was not made to hold the both of them, but Lance really wanted him to be with him in the tub. Keith genuinely looks both stress and tired from his classes and Lance would love for Keith to at least relax with him.

“We can try to fit?” Lance gave him an unsure, but pleading look. Keith takes it in for a few seconds before giving up.

“Fine, just let me get a few things and take a few puffs of my inhaler and I’ll join you.” He gets up and walks into my room. Lance raised my fist in the air and gave a good shake at it.

Lance begins to strip and ease himself into the light purple colored water. At this point of his life, Lance felt at ease. All of the stress from college, work, and life had begun to float away with the lavender scent that wafted the bathroom. Lance almost dozed off when he heard a knock at the door. The door opens to Keith carrying some clothes and a towel that appears to be Lance’s.

“Are those mine?” Lance questioned.

“Yes, if you have a problem with that because I can return them.” Lance shook his head.

“NO, no, no, NOPE, no problem.” Lance quickly replied to him. Keith places his set of clothes next to Lance’s and begins to strip. Lance turned his head. Lance doesn’t even know why he did but it felt odd to see his naked state. They have been dating for a while and this is still awkward and new to him. Lance felt the water dip and looks up to see Keith in the tub, but at the other side with his hands on top of his knees. Lance also sees that his hair is in a high ponytail and an Alice band holding back his bangs. Lance gave him a look.

“What? I don’t want my hair getting wet.”

“But this is a bath it’s going to get wet regardless.” He shrugs. “Plus, why are you over there come over here.”

‘I dunno. Are you okay with me being that close to you?”

“Keith.”

“Yes, Lance?”

“We have been dating for at least three weeks now. Why wouldn’t I be okay with this? Plus, I invited you to the tub. Unless you are uncomfortable with all this?” Lance began to feel all of the dread pour all over him. ‘Of course, Keith didn’t feel comfortable in here’ Lance thought and it doesn’t help that he pushed him to do something that he didn’t want. It looks like Keith could sense the oncoming fear that Lance was about to drown himself in because he began to speak up.

“No, it's just that this is all so new to me.” Keith gave Lance his hand and gave a small tug on his arm. Keith begins to move slowly towards Lance to close the gap between them. Keith manages to place his back on Lance’s chest with ease. The water was still warm and some of it began to spill out to the floor. There was too much water in the tub for both of them but they fit very comfortably in the small space. The scent of lavender began to take Lance away once again and almost dozed off when Keith finally broke the silence.

“This feels so surreal.”

“What does?”

“This” He makes a small circle with his finger. “It still feels like yesterday when we met in Garrison Valley. One minute we were like and I quote from you ‘sworn enemies in the art of game designing’ to being boyfriends and doing domestic stuff like this.” Keith's finger quotes this and Lance giggles softly.

“We even got paired for the same project and boy we hated each other for awhile. Until our grade was more important than our differences.”

“The hilarious thing about that was that I was in the design program, while you were in the developing and design program. You still managed to do both without breaking a sweat. I had high respect for you because it was something I could never do and you seem to do that so easily.” Lance could feel the heat rising from his cheeks when he said that.

“It actually wasn’t easy to do two programs in the same semester. I hated everything that had to do with the developing program because the university made their own code called potted. There was easily so many things that were wrong with it, but I got the class done and when on with all of the other languages.”

“You had Iverson right.” Keith groans at the mention of the name.

“Never again. I swear that professor was just hard headed.”

“Like you?” Keith glares at Lance. “What, it's true.”

“You’re rude, you know that?” Keith pouts as he turns his head around. Lance smiles at that.

“Yes, I know that.” He shrugs before continuing. “Before you know it, we began crapping out all these ideas of doing this and doing that and created a whole game in the fit of our bickering.” Lance’s hand began to intertwine with Keith’s freckled one. Lance raised them and gave them a small peck.

“Hey, at least our bickering got us somewhere.”

“Yeah but we still bicker, but it now all replaced with domestic bickering like who has left the paint water in the mug and such.” Lance gave out a loud groan. Keith had to bring it up.

“Oh come on it was that one time. Let it goooo”

“No, do you know how paint water taste? It's not a pleasant taste.”

“And I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t know you drink out of that mug.” It was silent again. Lance could feel Keith trying to get comfortable in the tub while the water sloshed around. Lance slouched his body forward so that they are both semi laying in the tub. Lance looked at the time on the clock to see 10:00 PM.

“Keith do you want me to take you home or would you rather stay with me for the night. I really don’t want you walking home alone at this time.”

“You’re acting like I can’t handle being alone at night. I can if you were wondering” Lance groans at that.

“You got ambushed walking home a month ago. If I didn’t come running to get my charger for my laptop from you, you would of been on the five o'clock news either for being murdered or murdering someone or both.”

“Like I said” Keith moves his head to face Lance. “I can handle myself outside. There is no need to worry about me.” Lance gives Keith a skeptical look.

“Okay, then let me remind you of the scar on your right shoulder.” He looks down from Lance to stare at his right arm. The lightning flower expanded from the shoulder to the tips of his fingers. Keith covers the larger parts of the fractal scar by putting most of his arm under the bath water. He had received the scar from a lightning bolt earlier in the year. It also put him out of commission for a month and a half because of it. “You still have phantom pains and your arm twitches from time to time.”

“I am ambidextrous for a reason.” The tone of his voice pleaded to change the subject, as much as Lance want to tell him that ‘I worry about you too’. Lance took the bait and steered the convo to a more lighter path.

“That’s probably the reason why you get lost so easily. Mr. No-Sense-Of-Direction.” Lance could feel the eye rolling from the shorter one.

“It was that ONE time and that’s a stereotype, Lance. ”

“Of many, Keith you got lost in a strip mall. You only had to go straight. I’m still confuzzled to this day as too how you ended up in the park.” He groans and slouches himself until his nose was submerged. They continued to bicker for a while. He speaks up again after a while of silence albeit in a whisper.

“I’ll stay here for the night.”

“Okay. You are more than welcome to sleep in my bed.” With that, Keith began to giggle. Lance give a confused look and he turned his head to look at Lance.

“Don’t you mean our bed?”

“True,” Lance said. It was silent again, but it was a comfortable one. It was the soothing lavender that finally took them away from the domestic setting and into a restful sleep.