#don’t tell me they mean nothing to each other when they have such glaring parallels

[babybells123]

(ASOS, Sansa II)

(ASOS, Jon XII)

[profilerhotch]

For the Marchhotchness writing challenge by @hotchfiles

Tw- brief mentions of drink driving and family loss

Word Count- 420

This fought me every step of the way, I don’t love writing speech yet the conversation was the first thing that stuck.

—

4. [PROMPT] Sympathy for the Devil

Set while Haley and Jack are in WITSEC, and very loosely based around Hotch’s line ‘so why hasn’t he killed himself yet? Sprees usually end in suicide, and if he has nothing to live for, why hasn’t he ended his life?’ 5.02

—

The unsub had lost his family after getting behind the wheel drunk with his family in the car, on the 3rd anniversary of their death he started killing the fathers of happy families he saw around town. 5 victims were lost before they managed to catch him, during the interrogation the unsub breaks and sobs ‘they are gone because of me, if I had just thought about them they would still be here’

On the jet back after the case Hotch takes his seat at the table but doesn’t take out any paperwork, instead staring out the window while running his thumbs over his knuckles. He is radiating tension and he knows it, but this hit close to home, if he had made the deal with Foyet Jack and Haley might not be god knows where. He would still be able to see his son.

Rossi and Reid bravely take the seats opposite despite the atmosphere projected their way,

‘Want to tell me what happened there?’ Rossi questioned, leaning forwards.

Not even turning from the window to acknowledge them, Hotch deflects ‘I don’t know what you mean’

‘Come on Aaron, it’s not hard to see you’ve drawn parallels to your life right now’ this time he does turn, with a glare that has made hardened criminals flinch.

‘I’m not killing people Dave’

For anyone else this would have been clue enough to stop, but not Rossi, completely unaffected he pushes on

‘Stop being obtuse Aaron.’

The two remain glaring at each other, neither one is going to back down or cede control.

‘I know it’s painful when the person you identify with is the bad guy’ Reid states plainly, drawing the gaze of both men. Hotch huffs, shaking his head.

‘Don’t use my words against me Reid, this is completely different.’

‘I don’t think it is, I related to Owen Savage because with the wrong input I could have become him, reacted the way he did and I had the knowledge to make my bullies lives hell. You related to this unsub because yes while your family is still alive, they are currently lost to you. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about what will happen to Foyet when we catch him.’ Realising both men were still looking at him, Reid drew in a breath, making eye contact with Hotch.

‘You could not have known Haley and Jack would become a target, but you would not be able to live with yourself if you made that deal’

[hotwings0203]

Idk what this is but the thought of you being scared of Bakugos quirk is so hot to me

Tw:noncon, predatory behavior

“I swear he’s getting to be more and more like a villain every time I see him,” you giggle with Mina as you two walk out of the class. Bakugo had yet again exploded at one of your shared teachers for correcting him in his pronunciation of a word, and as usual it was quite a scene to behold. Chairs were almost thrown, his friends had to hold him back from leaping up while others egged him on, itching for amusement in their mind-numbingly dull class.

“Maybe Shigaraki was right,” your pink-haired friend snorts and you both collapse in wheezes, clawing and slapping at each other’s shoulders as the ludicrous image of Shigaraki being unable to reign in Bakugo comes to mind.

“Hey ladies, what’re you two laughing about?” A lilting and charming voice comes right at your ear, and you turn to see Denki, Kirishima and…Bakugo walking next to you.

Just because of his proximity and how you were literally just talking about him two seconds ago, you jump away from Bakugo’s glowering face and not so subtly hide behind Mina in a half playful jest.

“Huh? Whatcha ya jumpin’ around for?” Kirishima laughs and you exchange an embarrassed look with Mina.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about how Bakugo’s quirk is totally villainous. We’re lucky he’s on our side,” Mina singsongs, but you slap her arm in alarm.

And well placed alarm at that, because Bakugo’s scowl deepens as he turns his head to you in a death-glare. You swallow hard seeing his expression and try to nervously laugh.

“But, uh, we were just joking. Right Mina?” You give her a pointed look and she deflects it happily.

“Nope! At least you weren’t, you’re half scared to death of him, isn’t that right Y/N?”

Denki interrupts before you can sputter in horror.

“Honestly, who isn’t scared of this dude?” He claps the other blond on his back and yelps when Bakugo’s hands start curling with smoke.

“Watch it dumbass.” He cranes his head to meet your eyes, but when he finds that you’re still avoiding eye contact with him he starts moving around his friends to better talk to you.

“My quirk isn’t that scary you idiot. It’s not like I care enough about any of you to blow you up-“

But with the smoke still curling form his hands and with the permanently intimidating scowl on his face reading closer and close to your, you can’t help but squeal and scrabble around him to sink your nails into Kirishima’s shoulders for protection.

“Okay, I get it! You don’t have to come any closer, I can see fine from here.” Your voice comes out too high and strained to be deemed as joking, but nonetheless everyone laughs at your dramatic show.

Everyone but Katsuki. Because he can see you’re actually scared, he’s seen it a hundred times on civilians who try to pretend they’re fine but still have that panicked glint in their eye.

“Jesus Y/N, with a reaction like that maybe he really is a villain. Bakubro, want us to send you back to Shigaraki’s place? Maybe you should reconsider his offer.”

And finally at Denki’s quip everyone including you this time laughs again in playful agreement, but yet again Bakugo’s blood starts simmering further.

Why the fuck were you being so obnoxious? He didn’t do anything to you before, right? So why the hell were you embarrassing him in front of all his friends and making him out to be this bloodthirsty monster?

Well, whatever. If a monster is what you want, then a monster is what you’ll get.

And so he waits for you after school, trailing behind you a couple hundred feet yet still keeping you in sight. He curses when you giggle with your friends, no doubt in his mind that you’re still throwing dirt on his name and he swears under his breath when you talk to Deku and his dweeb friends.

Of course when you hang around ditzy dorks like Deku he’s gonna look like a psycho in comparison.

But at one point you’re by the vending machine alone in a deserted hallway, fumbling with your coins and trying to quickly get a soda before your friends up ahead leave.

Too bad for you, because when he’s done with you they’ll never want to be seen with you again for their own safety.

You’re shoving money in the slot when he silently walks up a couple feet behind you.

“No friends around to gossip about me?”

You shriek and jump a good foot in the air at the sudden voice behind you. Clutching your heaving chest, you whirl around to see who it is.

Your blood runs cold. It’s Katsuki Bakugo, the absolute last person you want to be alone with in a deserted hallway.

Your feet move a step back.

Wrong move.

His nostrils flare and his eyes widen at your insulting retreat. You know he doesn’t take kindly to it, but with an expression like that how could you not?

“Uh, w-what do you mean?” You chuckle nervously.

He doesn’t laugh. In fact, he does something worse.

He matches your steps and moves forward a little bit.

At this you fully take a stride backwards and clash with the vending machine behind you.

He keeps advancing, slowly getting closer and checking you out, his head tilted as his eyes roam up and down your vulnerable body.

“Don’t move back. Why the fuck did you move away from me? That’s rude, we were just having a normal conversation.”

You surprise yourself by sounding level-headed in retaliation. “‘Kinda hard not to be a little uncomfortable when your conversation sounds so accusing.”

He lunges forward and you actually scream this time, throwing your hands up above your head in instinct to protect yourself from his proximity.

Bakugo doesn’t touch you but you can still feel his breath puffing on your head, can still feel the heat from his hands on either side of your body.

“You got a smart mouth don’t you? Is that why you embarrassed me earlier in front of everyone?”

“Embarrassed you-?” You squeak but immediately cut off when he thrusts his face right in front of yours, a manic look on his face as all his facial features stretch into a irate leer.

“I guess we’ll have to fix that tongue of yours. Put it to better use than to talk shit about me, right?”

Vermilion irises move from your face down your body, lingering on your chest and at the apex in between your legs.

Bile rises to your throat as he licks his lips and lets his lips ghost over yours, oh so close yet not touching.

And in the second before he descends, you shove him off with nothing but pure adrenaline feeling your fear and race past him, blindly running down the halls as fast as you can.

Surprisingly, you don’t hear anyone behind you. That doesn’t mean you don’t stop running though.

The real reason you don’t hear anyone behind you is because Katsuki Bakugo has an eerie smile on his face at your bolt. He languidly stretches his arms above his head and relishes in the popping of his joints, and in succession the popping of sparks in his hand. He kicks one leg out, then the other just to ensure you get a fair head start.

You’ve just made this so much more interesting.

He sets off at a light jog, and even in his carefree pace his strides are enough to eventually catch up with you, instinct like an animal’s guiding him through the winding halls and ending up catching a glimpse of your feet as you turn into another lane.

You’re panting, sweat pouring down your eyes as panic makes it hard to breathe or think rationally. The adrenaline that was pushing you is now dying down but at the worst time.

You take a quick glance back and your rapidly beating heart falters as you see him with a grin on his face as he practically jogs leisurely behind you. You’ve seen this same face on him when he’s in the battlefield, blasting through enemy hearts and blowing up heads as if they were fireworks.

He’s bloodthirsty. He wants you.

“Running away again? That’s not very heroic of you babe,” he calls out, and it’s terrifyingly infuriating how he’s not out of breath.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” you half scream and sob, trying to run faster but failing miserably.

You see a bathroom sign out of the corner of your eye and frantically stumble towards it.

Katsuki knows you know he’s even you take a turn and he laughs to himself at how boringly easy this is.

Maybe he was scary.

He shakes it off and continues his hunt after you, coming forth until he faces the bathroom door in which you were cowering behind.

There’s a small window, and no other door. Just a couple of stalls, a terrified girl, and a psycho with the taste of revenge practically palpable on his lustful tongue.

He knock with faux politeness. “You wanna come out and do this the easy way or you want me to barge in and take you myself?”

You sob and wheeze in response, desperately pushing against the flimsy door in a pathetic attempt to keep him out. Bakugo merely crosses his arms and leans against the door, staring intently at it with a smile still on his face.

Judging by the weight pushing more at the bottom of the door, he can tell you’re probably sitting down in an effort to catch your breath.

You both know he can come in at any time he so well pleases, but he decides he’ll play by your rules for a bit longer, indulge you a little before your inevitable downfall.

He hums loudly and slides down to join your parallel position on the floor.

“I’m tryina be nice here, y’know. You acted so scared of me when I never even bothered you before. Aren’t I being nice right now by letting you choose for yourself?”

He sounds so conversational, as if he were talking to one of his buddies. You stay silent but your silence speaks volumes.

It serves as nothing but a means to piss him off further.

The two of you sit in silence for seemingly hours, even though it’s only around 20 minutes. Every second you feel like he’s going to break down the door any second and blast your face off, but miraculously he doesn’t.

You don’t know what you’d rather prefer: for him to prolong your strained agony by letting you be so close yet so far from him, or to end your suffering and get it done with.

But you needn’t sit in silence stewing in your own fear any further, for at the exact moment you begin to doze off with the dying of the light the weight on the other side of the door lifts and you startle awake at the scuffling on the other side.

You blink a couple of times and blanch when you see through the window the purple light indicating that you really have been here longer than you thought.

Bakugo cracks his knuckles and rolls his head, popping a few more kinks in his neck before breathing out and bracing for impact.

“Ready or not little bitch, here I come.”

“Bakugo, wait-!”

But your plea doesn’t last for more than two words. The door bangs open with such a sound that you actually think he’s blasted it straight off his hinges. You gasp and shield yourself, jumping backwards and covering your face.

“‘Thought I made it clear by now that you can’t run. So why’d you try to leave? Huh? Think you’re smarter than me? You think you’re stronger than me?”

He’s stalking forward again, and you’re left tripping back over your feet and whimpering at his salacious intent as he backs you up and corners you into a stall.

He already knows the answers to his rhetorical questions but he wants to hear you say it. He wants to hear that scornful conviction in your voice about how big and bad he was that you used earlier.

With you tripping backwards into the cramped stall, his approach quickens in hunger at feeling you, feeling the fear radiating off your body.

Bakugo presses up against you against the wall and takes up the space around you, invading your personal bubble. He’s everywhere, growling in your ear, hands gripping your waist so tight you’re sure bruises sprout from his touch, his erect penis grinding on the inside of your thigh.

Your trepidation and terror rises to an insurmountable height as he smothers you.

When he suddenly grips your chin and forces your head to face him you gasp. His touch is even more callous than you thought.

“You lookin’ here bitch? Good.”

His palm is raised towards you and before you can even widen your eyes in realization his appendage starts sparking madly. You shriek and try to throw him loose as little bits of embers fly out and made your face, his voice rough as always yet dangerously low and soft.

“S’not so scary after all is it? You’re reacting better to it than I thought.” Bakugo Blanca you mocks your writhing figure as you desperately try to evade the mini explosions.

“Okay, I get it, please stop I don’t like it!” You shrilly cry out but his hand moves from your jaw down to your neck, and squeezes the last remnants of opposition out of you.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad you get it. But honestly, I don’t care if you don’t like it.

Because I like it. I fucking love this quirk, ‘specially when you cower so prettily under it like you did earlier.”

You choke and try to scrabble at his hands but it’s like a butterfly’s touch to him, barely producing any fruition.

“I kept wondering to myself: why do I care if she’s scared of it? And then I realized,” he leans in and lets his lips brush over your ear, lets his hand lessen ever so slightly so that your main focus is his words.

“You just looked good enough to eat when you know you’re beneath me. When you know how dangerous I am.”

He pulls back and assesses the look on your face. “Makes you look good enough to eat.”

And without further ado he lowers his hand and starts rubbing his alit palm on your clothed pussy, his erection getting harder as your screams wilt into whines.

Your legs flail uselessly as he burns a hole through your pants and his fingers hook aside the band of your panties.

Bakugo thrusts his hips forwards and grinds his straining cock on your moist lips, taking in your blubbers and teary eyes.

You can’t even speak, you can only cry out like a child as he thrusts harder and harder, so hard that your back hits the wall painful and the stall walls rattle behind you.

“You-pant-fucking scared-pant-now slut?” He rasps, his head bobbing on rhythm with yours as he practically lifts you off your toes to match his pace.

Your clit is caught between the fabric and rolled cruelly pleasurable as his tip leaks precum, staining your own panties in the process.

With your attention rapt on his now-uncovered dick sliding in and out of your folds, he takes this opportunity to take his other hand off your neck and blast the wall next to your face.

The second you open your mouth in shock as bits of tile rain down on your face he slams his steaming palm over your lips, burning the soft flesh as you weep openly.

He sets off two more near your sides and another above your head, his own face aligned right in front of yours so you can see the mean smile on his face all the while he sets your heart racing at an alarming speed.

When the smoke clears and you can start feeling glass and tile imprint on your once-smooth face, he positions his dick up so that it prods at your hole and yanks your hair back.

His eyes practically glow with the mini fires preserved in the walls with his blasts, the impact of the air rushing around him makes his hair even spikier, his body is taunt and even more imposing than before.

His teeth gleam with the orange and red light next to you. His chest doesn’t heave, because he’s at ease with your terror.

“You think you know fear?”

With one swift movement he shoves up into you, but this time he doesn’t cover your mouth.

“You haven’t met me truly yet.”

[lolita-lollipop]

yandere other mother x reader- Coraline au

warnings- yandere behavior, platonic yandere, manipulation, slight infantilism, mentions of neglect, false reality,

this one really isn't bad, but just to warn you, if any of these things trigger you, please don't read!

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“Y/n this is insane! Can’t you see that she’s crazy?!” Coraline yelled at you from inside the dusty room while the three ghosts watched, their mouths had been sewn shut long ago, so they weren’t able to intervene. You stood there, feeling like you wanted to cry, this “other mother” was amazing, your real parents never showed much affection, going far enough that it could be Called neglect, so when your other mother held you in her lap, and braided your hair, and gave you warm hugs, and kisses on the cheeks, you felt happy. Your other father was just as amazing, but still, their treatment of you felt similar to one of a baby’s, always treating you like a young child who can’t think for themselves. Coraline noticed this far earlier, while you remained happy and oblivious, the buttons for eyes were the last straw for her.

“I know okay! I just, she’s so nice, I don’t even know what to think anymore, you know what it feels like to actually have parents… I don't, my entire life I’ve been shoved in a little blue house down the stairs and told ‘don't disappoint us’ by my parents! I just want to feel loved… it’s just, it’s just not fair” you spoke, lip quivering, you couldn’t even remember the last time you allowed yourself to cry, you weren’t supposed to love the “other parents” but you did, they were the parents you never had, and you just had to live them. At this point silent tears were trailing down your cheeks, Coraline remained fuming at you, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge the two small black buttons that seemed to appear out of nowhere, peeking through the wall.

“That doesn’t matter, do you really want tiny little needles poking in and out of your eyeballs? Do you really want to leave your real parents behind? Do you want me to leave you behind?” She seethed, you shook your head, letting out a few small whimpers and sobs under your breath, you hated that she was right, you hated it so much, you couldn’t just leave everything in the real world for this parallel universe void of life, you should want to back there right? where no one cared about you, where no one loved you, where you were nothing.

“Coraline? Is that any way to speak to your friend?” A soft voice rang from behind your form, the few lost souls floating in the room ten up, showering to the far corners where the other mother couldn’t see them, then you felt warm hands engulf your waist, pulling you closer to the women’s chest, you subconsciously leave into her warmth, she glared down at Coraline, stoking your head lovingly. In reality, she hadn’t wanted for you to get pushed down here, but Coraline was getting in the way, and you just got caught in the crossfire, she did make sure that your landing was softer though, while Coraline's was harsh.

“You don’t get to tell us what to do, you aren’t her mother.” Coraline breathed out, slimming her eyes into a harsh stare at the woman in whose chest you were sobbing into. One moment, you were in the cold cellar-like room, the next, you were back in the baby pink room that was yours in this place, your true room was a boring white, with a ritzy mattress in the middle, and a small cabinet that served as a closet. Although you didn’t particularly like the color pink, it was nice to know that someone cared enough to bring true colors into your life. The other mother continued her embrace, picking up and cradling your head against her shoulder, you felt a wave of drowsiness overtake your senses, it hit you like a pound of bricks, and you squeezed the back of the women’s shirt to see if you were dreaming or not, her hold just felt so… comforting.

“Was she mean to you darling? Don’t you worry your little head about it, shhhhhh, just fall asleep, mother will take care of everything.” She spoke, bouncing slightly up and down with each step she took towards the large bed that was displayed in the center of the room. You barely muttered a small “wait” before falling asleep in her arms. She tenderly placed your body under the silky sheets, wrapping you up with the soft fabric and placing a small pig plushy next to you, keeping an eye on her precious’s little daughter while she tended to some “housework”.

The second you went unconscious you slipped into a weird dream, you were walking on a thin sheet of water, in a pitch dark room, it was so cold like someone had dunked you in a bucket of ice, you stared out into the nothingness, gradually growing more anxious, where are you?

“HELLO! IS ANYBODY OUT THERE!” You screamed, only to be greeted by the echo of your own words, nothing more, nothing less. You started to swivel around in a moment of panic, having just about no idea what could happen to you in this dark abyss. That was until you dek the floor below you disappear, and you popped into existence into a completely different place, it was a medium sized room, the layout was similar to a grocery store, multiple shelves made the room feel smaller, what was odd about it, was that all the shelves were packed with hundreds of snowglobes. You admired the pretty glass structures as you slowly walked down the aisles, each had a completely different design, with little figures inside, you found it adorable, ogling at the pretty things. That was until you heard quiet clicking of heels, and your other mother came into view.

“There you go, now don’t be rude to me! You are a very lucky girl that I’m even letting you live, you should know much better than to taint my daughter's mind with your filthy voice, oh you make such a great addition to my collection! Enjoy your stay, forever” she chimed, you were positive that she couldn’t see you, mainly because you were standing frozen directly in front of her, and she hadn’t acknowledged you. At least you weren’t freezing anymore! You tiptoed closer to the snowglobe that was just placed among the collections, wondering why your mother was so enthusiastic about it. And saw nothing special about it, other than the bright yellow raincoat that adorned the figurine.

you remained completely unaware. of the thousands of button eyes that watched you from the globes, begging to be shattered, and set free.

“Pretty” you muttered to yourself before the world faded again, and you were back into your body, snuggled up under the covers, clutching the pig plushy close to your chest, you felt awake, but also very asleep, forgetting your entire dream the moment your eyes opened, slightly surprised to see that you were still in the pink room, in the other house. You could hear the feint sound of your bedroom door opening, the creak rang through the room. And the other mother smiled softly at your lovable position, cooing under her breath, trying not to be too loud and wake you up.

“Darling, we have to get up now, oh I know I know your still tired, but it’s dinner time, you can’t stay in bed all night, little sleepyhead, my little sleepyhead.” She spoke, rubbing your shoulder while you groaned at the sudden speaking and noise. You didn't know how long that dream lasted, but you did know that it was odd, so odd that in fact, it made up your mind for you about the whole button eyes thing.

“Uhm- Mother? I-I’m sorry, but I- I don’t want to put buttons in my eyes.” You muttered, awaiting a harsh reaction, but instead, getting another one of her sweet smiles, she picked you up again and sat you in her lap, your small frame getting engulfed by hers.

“Oh is that what you were worrying so hard about? Don’t worry honey, you never were going to have to sow buttons in your eyes, it was just to see if I could trust you, and I know that I can trust you now.” She stated, calmly, a little too calmly. So… she lied? You got in a fight with your best friend because she wanted to “see if she could trust you”?

“Oh- okay, where coralline though? Can I talk to her? Please, mother?” You started begging after seeing her stoic expression, why did you want to see her? Was she not good enough for you? Coralline was mean to you, she hurt her little girl! Why did you want to see her? We’re you going to leave your mother for a snobby brat? She tightened her hold on you, pressing you closer to her, whispering little “shh” or “stay with me” in your ear, for some reason, you couldn't place what Coraline's face looked like, even though you had seen her just earlier, any memories of her were slowly dimming, fuzzy spots started appearing in any of those memories, and like turning of a staticky tv, they disappeared. You couldn’t even remember the name “coralline” after a few minutes of being cradled in this women’s lap.

“Cmon darling, let’s go eat dinner now, your father made it this time, I’m surprised he hasn't burn down the kitchen!” She spoke, getting a few sleepy giggles out of you. After helping you down the stairs she led you to the dining room, where you went on and sat at the large table next to your two parents. And so, you forgot about your “real” world, staying young forever here, even growing younger and smaller as time went on, forgetting about coralline, and your parents, and the small door, you lived your life happy, dressed in frilly pink clothing, learning to lobe your mother as she grew more obsessed with you, she got what she wanted in the end

You stayed mother’s little girl forever

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have a great day today :)

[psychostxr]

𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | best friend’s brother

PAIRING. ty ridgemount x female! reader

WORD COUNT. 0.9k

WARNINGS. none

KEYS. (y/n) - your name e.g. paige, sam, etc

"Please (y/n)!"

"I said no!"

"But- but," your friend, Lo stammers, "You're supposed to be my friend!"

"Lo, for the last time, I'm not going to be the third wheel on your date with Reef!" you exclaim.

Lo Ridgemount, your best friend, had been begging you since early this morning to join her on her date. And for the life of her, saying no didn't seem like an answer.

"But Ty's coming too!" she quickly explains.

"Wait," you pause, "Your brother is going to third wheel your date? Isn't that, I don't know, weird?"

"Yeah, but Ty wants to supervise to see if Reef is serious about our relationship. Which he totally is," Lo adds, "But if you're there too, Ty won't be so focused on Reef and me!"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" you exclaim.

"It means my brother likes you, duh!"

"Lo, have you eaten sugar today?"

"Yes, but that's not my point! My point is, my brother, likes you but is too much of a chicken to ask you out, so I'll do it for him."

"You're one hell of a sister. You know that?"

"I know."

— — —

"I can't believe I allowed you to drag me into this," you say, sitting on Lo's bed.

"Oh, don't be such a baby." Lo stands in front of the floor-length mirror, admiring her outfit. "You're going on a date with Ty. What more could you ask for?"

"Um, not fourth-wheeling on your date with Reef?" you reply, "Does Ty even know I'm joining?"

"He does, actually," Lo says.

"Then I guess it's not so bad," you mumble.

"Great. Now come on, we don't want to be late for the movies!"

Lo grabs hold of your hand, pulling you up from her bed. She rushes downstairs, tugging you behind her. Eventually, you both reach the Resort, where Ty and Reef stand. Ty glares at Reef, forcing the boy to take a step back.

"Reef!" Lo squeals, jumping into the boy's arms. Reef's arms snake around Lo, squeezing her tightly. "I've missed you!"

"You saw me earlier today!" Reef smiles.

"Yeah, but I never got to spend time with you!" Lo explains.

The two seem to be in their own little world, ignoring your and Ty's presence. You roll your eyes before joining Ty's side.

"Do you think they're going to be like this the whole night?" Ty whispers.

"Most probably," you answer, "At least they're having fun with each other."

"Guess we'll have to make our own fun, won't we?" You smile at the hand Ty offers you. You grab his hand, his palm parallel to yours, and you interlock fingers.

"I guess we will."

The Whalebus soon arrives with Kahuna in the front seat. You and the others hop on. Lo and Reef sit at the back of the bus while you and Ty sit in front, hands still interlocked. The ride to the theatre is quiet, for the most part. You can hear Lo and Reef go on about their day, but you and Ty enjoy the calm atmosphere between you two. When arriving at the movies, there lies a long line waiting ahead.

"Do guys you know what movie is playing?" you ask, exiting the shuttle bus.

"I think it's a horror," Reef says, hanging his arm around Lo's shoulder, "But with Kahuna in charge, who knows what it will be."

"Ugh, I hope not." Your wrap your arm around yourself protectively. "I hate horrors." You shudder at the thought of the movie being about a psycho clown, a killer doll, or a creature that only walks in the shadows.

"Hey." Ty pulls gently to his side, holding you close. "There's no need to worry. I'm here to protect you," Ty whispers the last part, causing you to smile.

"Yeah, you're worrying for nothing (y/n)," Reef says.

"Says the guy afraid of the dark," you retort, holding on Ty's arm.

"Hey! I have you know I'm getting better," Reef clarifies.

"Really? That isn't what Lo's been telling me."

"You told her?" Reef questions Lo who only beams sheepishly.

You snicker at their encounter before looking towards the ticket booth where Kahuna gives customers their tickets. The line is shorter than before.

"I'm glad you decided to join us," Ty says.

"Well, I wasn't going to let you monitor the kids all by yourself," you joke, "Besides, I've been wanting to hang out with you for a while now."

 Ty raises an eyebrow. "Really? And why would that be?"

"Let's just say I've fallen for my best friend's brother."

He's about to respond, but Kahuna calls out for the next group to move. "Pay with whatever you got compadres."

You and the others pull out the trinkets and objects you brought with you. 

"Wow, these things are great." Kahuna hands you guys the tickets. "Enjoy the movie."

Lo and Reef enter the building, and just as you're about to, Ty pulls you back.

"Hey, what gives-"

You're interrupted by feeling Ty's lips against yours. He kisses you softly at first, and then with a gradation of intensity, you cling to him, kissing him back. You pull away breathless, staring up at the boy.

"So, I take it you like me back?" you ask.

"What gave that away? The fact that I kissed you? Or the fact I've left my sister alone with Reef?"

"Let's go with the first one."

© psychostxr — all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, translate, or claim any of my works as your own.

[seyaryminamoto]

As someone, who's favourite character is Zuko, let me just say that your analysis about the Southern Raiders is spot on. Something about that episode (especially the way Zuko acted) always felt a little... off to me. And I could never figure out what it was exactly and considering the fact that discussion about this episode centered around the Kataang vs Zutara, I thought I was the only one who felt that way. So, I guess thanks for putting my thoughts into words.

Oh, I really feel ya, anon. If you actually don't look at the episode from a shipping point of view, which seems to be the focus of most the fandom, a lot of unpleasant things really start sticking out. I'm personally neutral to the Kataang vs. Zutara debate, I see good points and drawbacks to both ships, and no one's going to convince me that this episode proved the superiority of either pairing, especially when the shipping interpretations have never been important to me when analyzing this episode. People can say Aang is right in the end, they can say Zuko understands Katara's plight better (which, considering Aang has lost even more people he loved than Zuko has, he certainly should have understood Katara's suffering quite well too), but focusing on whether Zuko or Aang are the angel or the devil on Katara's shoulders practically blinds everyone to the very glaring and mindboggling flaws in this episode's writing, imo.

In general, the concept of Zuko's life-changing field trips with the three Gaang members he'd wronged the most is fine and fun for most people, but from the first time I watched the show it felt like the production team knew they were pressed for time and needed some veeeery quick and effective solution for Zuko to gain acceptance in the Gaang ASAP despite all the bad blood there. I can imagine a lot of people love these episodes, but admittedly I wouldn't rank any of them among my favorites because, as interesting as some of their concepts could be, if executed right, my immersion certainly wasn't as strong as with the rest of the show due to the nagging feeling that this was all for the sake of redeeming Zuko in the eyes of each Gaang member... and not necessarily in the eyes of the audience.

They get away with it, of course, because by this point in time, the audience is 100% conditioned to love the Gaang and Zuko, and if you see them getting along, you should be rejoicing in their team-up... but if you put some emotional distance between yourself as a viewer and the events of these episodes, their writing leaves a lot to be desired, especially in the concept of giving Zuko a quick whitewashing in the eyes of Aang, Sokka and Katara, one after the other, so they can genuinely accept him as a teammate and friend. If we'd seen similar trips frequently or occasionally in the rest of the show, with two specific members of the team taking off on an adventure by themselves, it might not be so glaringly obvious (and even... artificial? I guess?) that they're trying to quick-redeem him for each of them here, but on top of it happening thrice, it's literally happening one after the other, too. There's no episodes in-between, it's just literally a four-parter arc of "let's help Zuko become friends with these three".

The plotlines to be dealt with in these episodes are basically catered to each Gaang member, tailor-made life-changing field trips based on whatever they'll value the most, all of it conveniently possible and doable in the span of time they have between Zuko's joining of their group and the show's finale. Aang needs to learn firebending, Sokka needs to save his dad, Katara is permanently grieving for her mother's death. And so, Zuko to the rescue! If he helps them with their personal character quests, he gets 50+ approval points! :'D Honestly, I'm absolutely not against the notion of Zuko befriending them, obviously not, but the methods through which they chose to make it happen simply might not be the finest...?

Zuko loses his ability to bend because he "lost his rage", but he's still angry pretty often, the show even spoofs its own writing by showing him losing his patience at Sokka... while at the same time trying to sell that Zuko "isn't angry" anymore? Zuko helps break out random prisoners from the Boiling Rock without taking a single moment to actually learn who they are, why they were locked up, and without pondering if they deserve to be helped or if perhaps they're genuinely dangerous? Zuko gives Katara every possible tool and information she needs to take revenge on Yon Rha, because, loosely quoting his own words, he "cares what she thinks of him"...?

How about if we'd seen Zuko trying to connect with Fire Nation people, to help his fellow Fire Nation citizens, especially the ones who were living in dreadful conditions, like the ones in the Jang Hui river village? How about if we'd seen Zuko saving lives rather than threatening to take them? How about if we'd seen Zuko actually reasoning with his anger, and either working his way out of it, or repurposing it consciously, or making legitimate, personal efforts to find a new source of strength for his firebending through self-reflection, above all else?

We didn't really need sudden one-on-one field trips to teach Aang, Katara and Sokka to trust Zuko: we needed Zuko to prove himself worthy of that trust, to show how much he has changed, to literally contrast his new behavior with the old, to actually see that the guy no longer jumps into violence-mode 24/7, that he's willing to listen to other people's opinions or wisdom, that he wants to learn better when he knows he's misguided or misunderstanding something or another. Would he have become BFFs with any of them in four episodes if this had happened? Well, it definitely would have happened with Aang, the other two would have been trickier, but they definitely would have been more willing to accept him if they actually got to SEE that the changes in Zuko weren't skin-deep. Katara can be as thick-headed and stubborn as she may want to be, but I have no doubts she wouldn't have been able to hate Zuko as much as she used to if she'd seen him helping people, much like she often wants their group to do. But instead, they don't get to see the actual changes and growth... they just get their biggest goals and wishes satisfied, and that's enough to decide Zuko's trustworthy, no matter whatever sketchy behavior he displays in later episodes.

I absolutely appreciate the worldbuilding context we gain for the raids on the Water Tribe through The Southern Raiders, but I don't think this was an organic way to tell the story of how Zuko became friends with the Gaang. If pressed, I'd even say that Zuko's overt desperation to be their friend is OOC, to a degree: if this guy actually knows how dangerous his father's plans are (and he's supposed to :'D), how isn't he focusing on that side of things, when he's always been such a go-getter? It's not like he grew out of this sort of ends-justify-the-means behavior, seeing as he's absolutely obsessed with stopping his father ASAP, by any means possible, in the finale, when there was no such urgency to be found ever since he joined the Gaang. How isn't he more worried about stopping Ozai than about becoming best friends with the Gaang? Immediately sharing everything he's learned about Ozai's intentions of destroying the whole world might not make them friends instantaneously, but it would certainly get someone like Sokka to take his information seriously and immediately begin strategizing how to counter Ozai's plans. Instead, Zuko spent all those weeks, over a month, even, teaching Aang firebending, going on field trips and hanging out with his new friends in Ember Island. Once you have all the cards on deck and you actually look at all of them at once, doesn't it feel like there were so many more ways to achieve what the show was going for, far more effective ways than through the "let's be friends with Zuko" arc?

Ultimately, there's very little display of growth, in my opinion, in this small arc, on Zuko's side, despite the most obvious and reasonable way to earn the trust of the Gaang would be by outright showing them how much he's grown. I won't deny I appreciate that the writers respected his personality and didn't just warp him into the perfect good softboi the way the fandom apparently interprets him, but even if Zuko was going to be cranky and speak one-liners like "I'm never happy", it wasn't impossible to write better situations for him to connect with the Gaang's members and gain their trust. Even if the writers were set on having these episodes happen exactly as they did, they absolutely could have been written in a much better way, to create an explicit and direct contrast between Zuko's early behavior and the new Zuko's behavior when it comes to things that matter (most the parallels I've seen the fandom drawing are things like "oh look he hated tea before but now he brews it for his friends! So much growth!"... would've been nice to see the growth when it came to a lot of other things, too, if the growth really was there? Am I rite...?).

I may just be influenced by other redemption arcs that focus mainly on characters having common goals and working together to achieve them, then becoming friends in the process... but I really don't see how Zuko's character benefited from these episodes. Yes, bridges were built... but they absolutely could have been built in a more organic way that didn't make people like myself (and a few others) question if Zuko had learned or grown at all, considering the way he behaves isn't all that distant from the Zuko we've seen and known throughout the rest of the show. And the fact that he really seems to have learned nothing in The Southern Raiders once you reach the show's finale... you're basically asked to take for granted Zuko did learn a lot of lessons because he says he did, to assume he's going to put them into practice sometime in the future despite he has chances to do it during the show itself but never does, simply because they drop the ball upon every opportunity to show how much he's changed.

I really don't blame his character at all, when it comes to these shortcomings... it's seriously, genuinely, a problem with the writing department. Take a look through the fandom and you'll see thousands of people who claim Zuko's character arc is the most touching, complex and beautiful writing they ever have seen... and why? Because we're in the face of tell-don't-show :'D most people's perception of Zuko's character are based not so much on HOW Zuko displays his growth, it's strongly based on him stating he made progress, even if there's too many instances where the growth simply seems to have fallen to the wayside or gone forgotten for the sake of a plotline or another. Zuko absolutely could have been written far better than this, he could absolutely have the redemption arc his fans are sure he does have, but for me... there's way too many gaps in logic, too many missed opportunities, to truly think his growth was as extraordinary as a lot of people are hung up on saying it was.

[yellowsuitcase]

I missed you // Draco Malfoy

A/N: This was an anonymous request I received about 4 days ago. It took me a while to write it because school was A LOT this week and I’ve been so exhausted from trying to keep up with everything. I’ve also started trying to shift so if anyone has any tips on that, please let me know! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Draco and Y/N have mutually broken up and have started experimenting with other people. But it’s only a matter of time before Draco gets jealous.

Warning(s): Swearing

Word Count: 2.5k 

It was for the best. Wasn’t it? He didn’t love her anymore, and nor did she. That happens sometimes. People just fall out of love. It was mutual; there was no fight, nobody was angry. The relationship had run its course, no feed to fuss about it. Besides, it wouldn’t have made sense for them to remain, boyfriend and girlfriend, when they’d each lost feelings.

If all of that is true...then why does it hurt so much? Y/N wondered as she lay flat on her back, the bedsheets around her in disarray from all her tossing and turning. She knew there was no way she’d find sleep easily tonight, not after the breakup. She felt as if a piece of her had been forcefully ripped from her. But why? She had a hunch for almost an entire month that she’d lost feelings for Draco. Shouldn’t she have been prepared for the end? Alas, Y/N knew that completely preparing oneself for a breakup is an impossible feat. 

These thoughts swirled through her brain as she finally closed her eyes. She clutched the sheets in her palms, trying to ground herself. Her forehead was tense with wrinkles as she was already anticipating the nightmares. But nevertheless, after a few more minutes of restlessness, her body’s need for slumber overtook her.

When she awoke the next morning, she could practically feel the bags sitting under her eyes. She could only guess that her sleep had been plagued with nightmares as she was lucky enough not to have any recollection. Her head pounded as she sat up in her bed. Her roommate gave her a pitiful and knowing look. Y/N took in a deep breath and clambered out of bed.

It didn’t take her very long to get ready since she frankly didn’t care whether or not she looked presentable today. She made sure her teeth were brushed and that her tie was on correctly and walked out of the dorms. Truthfully, she knew she wasn’t very hungry, but people would ask questions if she missed breakfast. While walking to the Great Hall, she was startled by someone jumping right in front of her.

“Good morning!” George Weasley said. “Why the long face?”

Y/N gave him a weak smile and said, “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

George looked skeptical but pushed no further. He fell into step beside her.

“Where’s Freddie?” she asked.

“Morning detention with Filch, he slipped a puking pastille into his drink.”

“You had nothing to do with it?” she asked, a doubtful smile on her lips.

George shrugged, smirking as he did so. “I have my ways,” he said while bumping her shoulder slightly. She looked up at him with a fake mean glare as they strode into the Great Hall. Y/N caught sight of Draco immediately. He was where he always sat in the morning. Usually, she would’ve made a beeline for the space next to him. Today, that spot was taken by Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl who had always taken a keen liking to Draco. Y/N stopped in her tracks and stared. Pansy was fawning over him, running her hands up his arms. Y/N felt anger begin to rise in her chest...but then she remembered. 

Shaking her head, she forced her feet to follow George to where he had sat down at the Gryffindor table. He was talking animatedly with his mates and didn’t notice Y/N standing behind him awkwardly while she tried to figure out whether or not she was wanted at the table; she was a Slytherin after all.

George eventually took notice of the presence behind him when his friend nodded his head towards her. “Y/N, did you want to sit? Thought you’d be with Malfoy. Has something happened?”

She sighed as she threw her leg over the bench and sat down. “Yeah, we broke up,” she said softly.

“Broke up? He didn’t do anything, did he?” George asked while turning to look at Draco.

“No, no. It was mutual. He didn’t do anything.”

“Good. Well, cheer up then. You’re a free woman now. The world is yours, right?” 

Y/N smiled at George. “Yeah, you’re right, it is. I don’t know why I’ve been sulking so much. I lost feelings, and so did he. Nothing more to it.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Who needs Malfoy anyway?” George bellowed, successfully making Y/N giggle. She felt her stomach rumble. This surprised her; she didn’t expect to be in a good enough mood to be hungry. But the buttered rolls on the table now looked extremely appetizing.

---------

{A few months later}

Draco paced back and forth in front of the mirror. He was nervous. In nearly twenty minutes, he’d be on his first date since breaking up with Y/N. He couldn’t believe he was really going on a date. With Pansy Parkinson, nonetheless. These past few months, she’d really grown on him. She was from a pureblood family, she was kind to him, and she was rather pretty. Draco knew his parents would love her. He could only hope he could grow to do the same.

He gathered his courage and left the bathroom. They had agreed to meet outside the potions classroom. It was an odd location, but Pansy suggested it, and Draco had no reason to object it. As he walked down the middle of the corridors, his mind began to race. What would she be wearing? Would she like him? Would they become boyfriend and girlfriend after this? Would Y/N find out? What would she think?

Draco’s face grew tense. What a silly thought to have. He wouldn’t actually date Pansy. And as for Y/N, he knew she wouldn’t care. She and George have had a thing for a few weeks now. They were always holding hands or sitting shoulder to shoulder, lovey-dovey stuff like that. He had even given her a kiss on the cheek. The image of it was burned into Draco’s memory.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw Pansy outside the classroom. She had her back leaned against the wall. She donned a dark green dress that reached her mid-thigh. Her hair was wavy and fell over her bare shoulders. Draco exhaled sharply. He felt the anxiety in his stomach but was determined not to show it.

“You clean up nice, Parkinson,” he said cooly and confidently while nodding his chin towards her. 

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Thank you, Malfoy. You look handsome as well,” she said while scanning him up and down, her voice slow and sensual. Draco shifted his feet, feeling uncomfortable. “Shall we?” he asked. Pansy smirked and pushed off the wall and sauntered over to him. She reached for his hand and grasped it tightly in hers. Draco had to fight the internal instinct to wriggle his hand out of hers.

Just as they were about to go, they heard a noise from behind them. They turned around saw none other than Y/N, her arms full of potion ingredients and notebooks. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Stealing potion ingredients, Y/N?” Pansy asked with a knowing smirk on her face.

Y/N’s eyes shifted back and forth between the pair. When her eyes landed on their interlocked fingers, she straightened her spine and frowned. “You know perfectly well that we have a section that’s open to students. And it’s none of your business anyway,” she spat.

But Pansy was unfazed. “Lavender, Flobberworm mucus, and valerian sprigs. What’s wrong, Y/N? Can’t fall asleep? Oh no, don’t tell me you get nightmares,” Pansy taunted, using a voice one might use when speaking to a baby or a dog.

Draco watched as Y/N’s face turned red. He knew she’d always struggled with nightmares and would often have to make herself a sleeping draught potion to be able to get some genuine rest. As he looked at the ingredients in her hands, he noticed she was short on a few of them.

“You don’t have enough,” he said without thinking. Both girls’ eyes turned to him. He ignored Pansy’s and instead focused on Y/N’s.

She waited a few beats before replying, “Snape has stopped refilling the supply. He said I need to stop relying on it so much,” she muttered. Her head had turned away from the couple. Draco’s eyebrows knitted together. When did she become so dependent on those potions? While they were together, she’d only need it maybe once every few weeks.

He didn’t have time to wonder about it any further. Pansy had begun walking and dragged Draco with her. Leaving Y/N alone in the cold dungeons, watching them go.

----------

Draco stared through the leaves of the tree he lied underneath. Classes were over, and he was relaxing before Crabbe and Goyle were bound to come and bother him. The week had dragged on for what seemed like years. Frankly, he was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the next few days away, but he had already made plans for the weekend. 

He allowed his eyes to close, and the stress from the week began to leave his body. But his peacefulness was short-lived. Loud cheers made their way to his ears. He sat up angrily, ready to hex whoever decided to irritate him. However, all that frustration dissipated when he saw what people were cheering for. When he saw it, time seemed to stop.

George was holding Y/N in his arms, she was parallel with the ground, and her lips were pressed against his. He was kissing her passionately while her hands gripped his shirt collar.

Draco felt his heart sink. The only word running through his brain was “no.” No, no, no, no. After he watched the scene in front of him for nearly a minute, he decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. He jumped to his feet and stomped out of the courtyard, passing Pansy as he did so.

“Draco, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked, her face was strewn up in confusion as to why Draco’s shoulders were heaving. 

“Not now, Parkinson,” Draco snapped.

“But Draco—”

“Shut up! Merlin, do you ever shut that trap of yours?” he shouted at her. Her eyes widened in shock, but Draco paid her no mind. He was halfway down the corridor when he thought better of himself and turned around. Rage overtook his body as he stormed back into the open courtyard and headed right for George and Y/N. They noticed him coming towards them and took a few steps back. George took Y/N’s hand and pulled her behind him.

“What d’you want Malfoy?” 

“Move, Weaslebee, I’m not here for you.”

George pursed his lips and withdrew his wand. He was intent on not letting Malfoy come any closer to the girl behind him. “If you’re here for her, you’re not getting her.”

Draco clenched his fists and also withdrew his wand. He aimed it straight at George’s face. “Move,” he demanded.

George widened his stance and raised his wand towards the blonde boy. “No,” he said firmly.

Draco inhaled and opened his mouth, but before he could hex George, a golden light shot towards Draco’s hand, and suddenly his wand was thirty feet across the yard.

Y/N emerged from behind George. Her wand was clutched in her palm. “There’s no need to fight. I can decide whether I want to speak with someone, and I certainly don’t need protection. So if you’ll excuse me, it’s obvious that Draco and I need to have a chat.”

She didn’t waste a moment; she began to make her way towards the exit. Draco quickly came to his senses and went to fetch his wand before hurrying after her.

He followed her through many hallways before she stopped outside the Slytherin dorms. “Salazar,” she muttered. The walls opened up before her, and she and Draco walked down the stairs into the eerie common room.

Y/N took a seat at the couch on the left of the fireplace. It was the couch they’d use to cuddle on after a long day. It felt weird to sit on it now since they both sat on opposite ends.

“Let’s not waste time,” she said, “you’re obviously upset. Care to tell me why?”

Draco scoffed and threw his arm over the back of the leather sofa. “Weasley, huh?”

“Draco, don’t be a git. We’ve been broken up for months. I’m allowed to see other people, aren’t I? I mean, you went on a date with Pansy.”

He shook his head vehemently and shifted in his seat. He couldn’t sit still, he was so angry.

“Speak, Draco. You know we can’t work any of our issues out if you don’t speak,” Y/N reminded him.

He let out an angry sigh and turned to face his ex-girlfriend. He had expected her to look just as mad as him, but instead, her eyes were filled with worry and concern. Her hand was pressed into the couch, and her body was slightly leaning forward. Draco felt the fire within his chest begin to die. He took another breath before talking.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it, Y/N. Seeing you with someone else fucking kills me. It makes me so angry. When he kissed you, I… I forgot how to breathe. It was like a dementor had come and sucked all the happiness from my veins. I was infuriated, not just at him but at myself. How could I let someone else hold you?”

Y/N stared at him with soft, gentle eyes. Slowly, she reached for his rigid fist that was resting on his lap. She took it into her hands and felt the tension leave. She had always had that effect on Draco. Her touch was able to calm his stiffness with ease.

“What am I saying?” Draco wondered out loud as he shamefully wiped a tear from his cheek, “you’re not mine anymore. I know that, and yet…” he trailed off.

“Then make me yours again,” Y/N whispered.

Draco’s head whipped towards her. He saw a look of nervousness on her face. Steadily, he took her head into his hands. He moved his head slightly below hers, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Almost as if he was afraid to ask.

Y/N nodded her head, “I do. God, I do. It’s always been you, Draco. I’m so sorry—” She was cut off by Draco pulling her in for a kiss. Y/N felt herself melt into his embrace; she felt at home again. 

He pulled away to catch his breath. “I’m sorry too. I never stopped loving you. I know that now. Please, let me be yours again.” 

Y/N smiled, “I missed you, Malfoy,” she said with a small chuckle. Draco felt a grin spread on his face, and he dove back in for another kiss. 

“I missed you more. Don’t you ever let me walk away from you again, you hear?” Draco asked playfully. Y/N laughed and gave him a quick peck on the nose.

“I solemnly swear,” she said in a fake deep voice while trying not to giggle. Draco rolled his eyes and tackled her onto the couch, causing her to squeal happily. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, vowing to himself to never let go of her again.

[scriptaed]

...cause i like you?!

genre: fluff/crack; e2l!au;

pairing: jin x reader;

length: 2.1k;

synopsis: just the thought of it, no, the mere possibility of it boggles the ever so egotistical mind that belonged to kim seokjin. him? and... her? his arch enemy? his sworn nemesis whose incessant badgering he simply refuses to surrender to? struck with a capricious cold, jin’s teapot of a mind attempts to conceal its steam fall short when you pay an unexpected visit and all mayhem is set loose. when did it happen? how did it happen? no... no, it can’t be... he can’t... possibly... like her?! 

You [4:05 P.M.] are you sure this is the right address????

Dipshit Tae [4:05 P.M.] yes for hundredth time

Dipshit Tae [4:05 P.M.] why would i give you the wrong address??

You [4:06 P.M.] you mean why WOULDN’T you give me the wrong address..

You [4:06 P.M.] is that loser even home? 

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] yeah, he should be. he was texting me about how bored he was just a while ago.

You [4:06 P.M.] wait.. he was texting you?? I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE WORRIED CAUSE HE WAS BEDRIDDEN AND WASN’T RESPONDING???

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] uh… yeah, he was :) I swear :) which is exactly why you’re there because YOU have a car and I don’t! 

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] aren't I a good wingman? :)

You [4:06 P.M.] I DON'T LIKE HIM 

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] awww I can see you blushing through text you

You [4:06 P.M.] I hate your guts also why isn’t he answering the door

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M] he’s not?? try ringing the doorbell

You [4:07 P.M.] you think I haven’t, dumbass? 

Dipshit Tae [4:07 P.M.] hold on, let me call him 

"God," your breath marks the air in white puffs as you pace in place before his house, "hurry up—"

—swoosh, the door opens magically and, lo and behold, there stands the devilish man himself, Kim Seokjin… except unlike the formidable foe, this skeptical phenomenon stands before you, lips gaping and doe-like eyes widening in utter shock rendered by your presence. You only manage a quick scan of his donned baby pink bathrobe matched with pink bunny slippers until the both of you practically jump back into an ephemeral moment seemingly frozen in time. 

Just as his phone rings, Jin quickly slams the door on you. His efforts prove fruitless, however, once you somehow manage to stick your foot in between his doorframe and the merciless force of his, which fortunately comes to an abrupt stop before your potential stop to the emergency room. There are trivial incidents like these—when he ignores the itch to tease you on the days you wear a frown or when he reluctantly chooses to lose an argument although you are very clearly in the wrong—that you bestow him the honorable badge of consideration… but the stubborn part of you theorizes he’s just trying to avoid a hefty hospital fee. 

“Ahem, ahem,” the boy feigns a cough into his phone, “Taehyung, can’t you tell I’m sick?”

Scoffing into the air, you call out loudly, “sick enough to slam the door so hard—”

“—ahem,” he shoots you a death glare, “sorry, I’m just so very sick. Can’t talk. Need my beauty sleep. Bye—”

“—beauty sleep?! You? Beauty?” 

It’s almost impossible to hold in your cackles; in fact, it takes you only a split second to surrender to the crackling fireworks of your laughter. The quip’s effect is shortly lived, however, when his unusual lengthy silence has you gradually settling into the cold winter air beside him. With his eyes glaring at you from underneath the dampened locks of his bangs clearly fresh out of the shower, it’s nearly impossible to deny the tiniest thought that flashes across your mind.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Jin’s pretty damn hot. 

“Are you here to tease me or what?” he retorts, burying the phone into the fluff that is his robe. “I’m not in the mood.”

“What? Pshhh,” you wave a dismissive spare hand, “silly, no!” 

“Then?” he quirks a brow whilst slowly guarding himself behind the door. “Are you here to watch me wither on my deathbed?” 

“No, will you please just let me in? I’m freezing here. I heard you were sick and classes just became too quiet without you—” and when the boy remains unconvinced by your pleas, you let out a loud sigh as your hand raises to reveal a bag of much needed warm soup “—I have food.”

He immediately swings the door wide open, “come right on in.”

“Wow, so you’re not in the mood for me but you’re in the mood for food?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rolling your eyes at his 90 degree bow, you march your way into his halls and directly to the kitchen as you have done so in the many times you had unfortunately been paired with the most self-absorbed classmate for a group project. At this point, you know his everything like the back of your hand. From his house and his obsession with pink to his hobbies and his quirky dialogue, you, his sworn nemesis, probably know him even better than his friends… and oddly enough, you take pride in that—although you’ll never admit it. 

“So,” you say nonchalantly as you set out the utensils on his kitchen island, “what could possibly be going on in that peculiar mind of yours?”  

“Peculiar? Aw, did Y/N just call me unique?” he snorts. “I said I wasn’t in the mood for you, not anything else.”

“Okay, so,” you gesture for him to dig in despite the evident hesitation in his eyes once he seats himself across from you, “why me specifically?”

“Cause—” he stares at you confidently but struggles to spill before playing with his spoon “—cause something’s been on my mind.”

You flash a cheeky grin, “you mean I’ve been on your mind?” 

“What?!” he almost springs from his seat in absolute denial, leaning forward across the counter enough for you to take a step back. “No! Wooow, that’s just… that’s… preposterous!” 

“Alright, alright, I was just joking,” you raise two merciful hands but leave the latter half of the sentiment to yourself—because who even uses the word preposterous nowadays? Your silence, however, rightfully ends when you notice him constantly probing around at the congee, as if looking for something lurking in the soup. “Don’t worry, Jin, I didn’t poison it.” 

“Ah,” he nods, thereby confirming your completely accurate reading of his mind. 

When another second passes and you’re finally at a loss for how to prolong a conversation with Jin, you subtly join in on his silent nods; but with each succeeding nod, you begin to notice his cheeks gradually burning a flush shade of pink much stronger than his robe. 

“Jin,” you frown, “are you okay? Your face is turning really red—”

“—it’s probably the steam from the bowl,” he blurts, eyes quickly averting to his bowl before downing a big spoonful of soup into his perpetually ravenous stomach, leaving you little to no time left for you to retort. An unsettling silence follows—an undeniable rarity between the rowdy atmosphere between you two—and you begin to wonder what exactly are you staying silent for. 

You can’t possibly be… waiting for his reaction to your cooking, are you? Why does it even matter to you? Why did the flow of things become so awkward? And why is he so… jumpy? Something must be definitely off today, but, oddly enough, you don’t exactly mind this change of pace from your usual bickering comedy duo selves.

Whatever it is, the silence is deafening and you swear he can even hear you gulp. 

“Did you…” he scrunches his brows and sets his spoon to the bowl with a clink, “...did you cook this?”

“Yeah, I did,” you follow suit with a frown, “is there something wrong with it…?”

“Yeah, no, of course you did,” he leans back into his seat with a loud huff and a cross of the arms, “you added too much salt.”

“Hey! What’re you imply—”

“—but,” he cocks his head, frowning as he drowns himself deep in his nonsensical thoughts, “it just doesn’t make sense…”

“Hello? Earth to Jin?” you wave a hand across his lost gaze that remains affixed to his mystery of a meal. “What are you going on about now?” 

“There’s too much salt in this soup. So, theoretically,” his two parallel hands tap the table sequentially, as if marking some sort of a complex timeline, “this should be a terrible meal… but…”

“But…?”

It takes everything in Jin to squeeze the grand reveal out of his zipped lips and very reluctantly so. 

“But… why does it taste so good?” The utter concentration in his dartlike eyes and sheer conviction in his nearly convincing albeit silly argument makes it almost sound like he’s questioning himself, especially when he continues rambling without your response—although, really, you had nothing but a flabbergasted look. “Everything you make should theoretically taste bad but why, when it’s you and only you, does it taste… so good? It makes me—” he clutches his chest dramatically, but noticeably on the opposite side of where his heart should’ve been, and locks a quizzical, almost desperate gaze with you “—so warm and fuzzy inside?”

“You mean your heart?” you point at his chest. “It’s on the opposite side, Jin.”

“And why,” he gasps for breath like a mad man, an emotionally mad and a mentally mad man, “why do I always let you tease me? Why do I let you win? I’m Jin, Kim Seokjin, for God’s sake! I never lose! And the most confusing part of it is: why do I always supposedly smile whenever I argue with you?!”

“Oh, can confirm, you definitely do that.”

He points an accusatory finger at you, “you do, too!” 

“What?” you gawk. “Do not!”

“Taehyung said so!” 

“I do?”

The both of you challenge the other in a stare off, eventually and silently admitting a mutual defeat to the subtle nagging side of you that had always taken note of that true albeit irking fact. 

“It just doesn’t make sense…” he begins pacing back and forth with a finger to his pursed lips. “I never had problems with my beauty sleep until I met you… I never lowered my food standards to such devastating levels until you started feeding me… I never enjoyed having someone trying to get under my skin until you came into my life… it all doesn’t make sense. The only possibility I can narrow it down to is—”

“—wait, Jin, are you—”

“—is it all cause I like you?!”

The both of your jaws drop open, possibly to the floor, staring at the other as if whatever had slipped from his mouth was the most preposterous thing he had ever suggested! In retrospect and to the general public, you know you should have seen this coming from a mile away. It’s impossible not to acknowledge the several times the lines between a vigorous argument and a flirty quarrel became blurred; but to you, the offensive enemy participating in a never-ending duel with the infamous Kim Seokjin, there’s nothing you could’ve done to anticipate this confession pulled out of thin air. 

Did you like it? 

The possibility of being something more than a fervent pair of enemies and a questionable pair of friends? 

Your mind says it’s unsure, but your smile says much more. 

You have to get out of this house, anywhere but here before the opposing enemy catches onto his advancement.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’re you smiling at? You’re the reason I’ve been losing sleep!” he warns sternly, pointing a finger at you whilst you gather your things. “Hey, you must be the reason I’m sick right now! Take accountability!”

“You mean I’m the reason why you’re lovesick now?” you stick a tongue out as you head out the kitchen and you can’t help but laugh at the way he follows like a lost puppy. “What? You want me to make more of my terrible food in return?”

“What? No, shut up! Hey, hey, hey!” he stutters over his own scramble of words, watching you pacing around his front entrance and calling out to you from the hallway. “Where are you going? I think I just confessed to you? No, I’m pretty sure I just did!”

You shrug, “and?” 

“And what’s your answer?” he throws his hand in the air, as if his mental stability depended on your very response. “Is it a yes or no? Do you like me, too?”

“Umm… I don’t know,” you hum, “I’ll let you know over dinner? At 6?” 

His eyes glimmer with hope, “d-dinner?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a cheeky grin before quipping, “hey, why’s your cheek so red?”

A loud huff of his follows your series of cackles and you can hear his last remark that has you undeniably smiling from ear to ear even through the closed door behind you. 

“Damn it, you know it’s cause I like you!”

[luckyasfuck]

maybe i just wanna be yours [k. bakugou]

A CAMBOY AU SERIES - PARTS 1, 2, [3], 4, 5

pairing // katsuki x female reader

tw // cussing, smut

warnings for this part // (kinda?) mutual masturbation

theme // enemies to lovers au, camboy!katsu au, college student!katsu and reader au, no quirk au

keys // y/n, l/n, h/c

words // 1.8k

a/n // pt. 4 will be written at 100 likes and posted at 5-10 reblogs :). i’m glad ya’ll are enjoying it, send criticism and/or ideas in my inbox.

previous part I masterlist

y/n’s head was no longer cloudy.

it scared her at first,  her twitter username and bio must have gave it all away. part of her hoped that katsuki wouldn’t notice the notification, and if he did, well she hopes he’d be too dumb or oblivious to know it was her. but of course, bakugou fucking katsuki wasn’t like that. y/n would know, especially when she woke up him following her back.

fucking son of a bitch.

it was very obvious that it was katsuki. from his voice during lives to his demeanor with his posts: reserved. it was a bitch to think about, no matter what y/n did it was all that occupied her mind. she was aware of the comments she had left on his last live, her other hand too busy pumping her fingers in and out of her pussy to make more than two. that’s what bothered her. not only did she get off to her rival of all people, she did it twice. twice!

she thought about it the whole morning as she reached UA. a person came from behind and bumped her shoulder, rushing to the group of people crowding the main gate. y/n knotted her eyebrows, her mind was too all over the place to know what they could have been fussing about.

the crowd completely blocked the gate and she sighed, opting to take another route until someone grabbed her arm. thinking it was a teacher or a student, she turned around with a smile.

what the fuck.

katsuki stood there gripping her arm and her heart dropped. she yanks his hand away and glared at him, goddamn if looks could kill katsuki would’ve made it to heaven right about now. she stared at him with so much intensity, it almost looked like she was gonna go crazy over the fact that he stopped her, let alone even touch her.

fuck, that’s hot. katsuki gulped and mentally slapped himself after the thought. “don’t let the teachers see you-” he whispered, looking around. y/n sighed, “too late.” she looked behind him where their Biology professor stood with a smile.

“good morning, kids! i’m glad i found you two together, which is um... quite new, don’t you think?” the old woman greeted. katsuki rolled his eyes before facing her, standing beside y/n.

the h/c-haired girl didn’t like being near him at all, he had this weird aura and she didn’t know what his intentions were at all. and him approaching her for the first time without being forced by a professor after the shenanigans of last night? way too timed to be a coincidence, though she wishes it was. 

“if you don’t know yet, our school’s competing with others schools with this little competition our school made.” the old woman got straight to the point. “the competition is that weekly for this month, a duo would take a quiz on a specific subject together. the subject changes every week and the questions get harder and harder! the 5 duos with the lowest scores are eliminated. it’s said on the board right there!” she pointed to where the students crowded.

“um, okay...? why are you telling us this then?” y/n questioned, adjusting her grip on her bag as the professor smiled again whilst katsuki breathed out a loud sigh. 

“i want you both to be the duo that represents our school!”

“miss-” katsuki started, but got cut off. “don’t you think we’re the worst duo for this? i mean,” y/n laughed sarcastically. “you know we hate each other, everyone fucking knows tha-”

“language, miss l/n.” the professor’s sternly scolded and y/n flinches a bit at the change of mood. “yes, ma’am.” the younger girl looked down on her shoes. “i think it’s a good opportunity for the two of you,” the old woman pointed to the two students. “to get along. you two are really gifted, and i don’t want our school to lose this or get humiliated just because you two have beef with each other for reasons unknown.”

y/n was sweating under her jacket and she gulped as the woman walked away, letting them know her decision was final. katsuki breathed out a deep sigh, face-palming. “what are we gonna do now? knowing that bitch, she’ll tell everyone we said yes.”

y/n didn’t bother to argue with the blonde, she knew he was right. the crowd near the gate starts to disappear and she leaves without responding to katsuki. she doesn’t know where the fuck he got the confidence to talk to her so casually. more like she wished she didn’t know.

she knew that he knew.

and he knew that she knew too. 

so simple yet so complicated.

class dragged out and y/n hasn’t spared a single glance at katsuki. she’s done this almost everyday since she met him, so it was easy to do. if only he’d stop staring into her soul, knowing she can see him in the corner of her eye. 

katsuki’s always liked to stare, though he had nothing to stare at. and now he does, even he doesn’t like how much he’s staring. he’d snap out of it, curse himself and y/n too while he’s at it, then get caught in a daze while staring at her again. 

multiple teachers approached them and individually asked them about the competition, their answers were the same the whole time, a bland “yeah, we’re competing as the duo.”

the students sat in their last class, blabbering around and not caring anymore. it was the last class, after all. they were tired and wanted to go home, but of course, they can’t. at least not yet. y/n didn’t feel like listening, she was tired too. doodling in her notebook, her heart drops when the professor calls her name. fuck, i don’t know the answe-

“oh. and mister bakugou too. i think it’s for the competition, the principal wants you two.” the old male lets out an intrigued hum. “don’t you guys hate each other?” y/n and katsuki walked out the room silently, filling the room with embarrassment on the professors side. 

the female walked on the other end of the corridor, she didn’t like katsuki at all. his mere presence makes her gag, and she knows it’s the same for him too. that’s why they opted to stay as far away from each other as possible.

the ash blonde walks into the principal’s office with y/n hot on his trail. “take a seat.” the principal said, not looking up from his paperwork. “listen, you two. i heard a lot from teachers about how you compete with each other, but the both of you are the smartest duo here. all i want is for you two to study together and pass the quizzes as best as you can. you don’t even have to get along! and your grades will be perfect A+’s for the whole month, and if you win, maybe i’ll extend to a month more.”

y/n and katsuki’s eyes widened at the offer, it was so tempting. and education always came first before pride anyway. “fine, i’ll do it.” y/n was the first to speak while katsuki just nodded his head.

“it’s settled then.”

[ timeskip ]

y/n plopped down on her bed. the two of them got sent home early and were forced to share socials with each other. they were also granted permission to use the library whenever they wanted, and were given the schedule to study together from their last two classes until whenever they liked. and before going their separate ways, she told katsuki to text her a plan if he had one.

her phone dings and she automatically assumed it was him. and it was. just... a little more lewd. definitely not what she was expecting.

y/n cussed, “since when the fuck did i let this stupid fucking site give me notifications?” katsuki’s heavy breathing and occasional grunts boomed through her speaker and she hurried to click off it, until her eyes landed on his cock.

from what seemed like it, he had already cum once, the white liquid dripping from his slit down his lenght. y/n can’t seem to tear her eyes from the way he stroked his cock, so gentle yet so rushed, so... satisfying.

she shakes her head and kicks herself out of her absurd train of thoughts, thumb hovering over the ‘X’ on the top left of the site. “have you joined the live, pretty face?” she flinches when she heard his raspy voice, thighs unconciously rubbing together and panties already soaked. 

“i hope you have, fuck. been thinking about you all day, mhmm~ why don’t you drop your little comments for me?” she could practically hear the smirk in his words, and it irritated her. but fuck, if he wasn’t so attractive. his perfectly sculpted body, his voice, and that pretty cock. it was that fucking cock.

“are you touching yourself, pretty face? you better. this live’s all for you.” katsuki moaned out, stroking himself faster. y/n watched as the chat went crazy, all of them confessing their sins to him like he was some sort of God.

and maybe he was, cause she found herself running a finger through her wet folds as she watched the camboy play with his tip. she shoves a finger inside, moaning with him before moving in and out parallel to his strokes. 

katsuki comes again, his strokes coming to a half. he pants before smirking, “pretty face, lookie here.” he shows a fleshlight to the camera, his tip prodding at the toys entrance. y/n slowly adds another finger as he sunk the toy down onto his cock, both of them moaning.

they both fuck themselves into oblivion while thinking of each other, katsuki’s hips violently fucking into the toy as he hissed, “fuck, i bet your pussy feels a lot better.” y/n felt her cunt clench around her finger at the statement as she started to rub her clit as well. 

she orgasms a little bit before katsuki shot his load into the toy, both their movements halting as they tried to catch their breath. she types in a comment before finally exiting the site, feeling slightly disgusted of what she just did. she shudders and opts on taking a shower before napping.

“you dirty little thing.”

katsuki felt his cock twitch at y/n’s comment. he ended the live right after, knowing she probably left already. the notifications for money he hoarded sat heavy on his account and he smiled, cleaning himself up after. the image of her with her legs open, her fingers buried deep in her cunt and her moaning uncontrollably was all that filled katsuki’s brain.

and he fucking hates it. he hates how much power the desires of his cock had over him when he was horny.

and the only desire his cock had was her.

next part I masterlist

taglist:

@princesspeach-00 @tamakisropebunny @bakugous-mamas @ll379333 @j1-914 @gazelle-des-pres @trashpandainahat @dickinson-67 @victoriaestein @amelie-chan @your-worst-obsession [ cannot tag last two ]

[meear]

HOW is reibert still not canon (long post oops)

1. there was literally no reason for reiner to look this salty. is this how y’all look when you tease a friend about their crush???

2. we KNOW yumihisu is the one ship confirmed canon af and this whole arc they’ve been trying to protect the other what’s not clicking

3. BRUH

4. you can’t possibly think Reiner was being subtle in any way. it’s him. he’s talking about himself because he is the CEO of projecting onto others and we know that

5. projecting onto Annie again

how many times did Bertholdt rush to save Reiner from a life-or-death situation. hint : a lot

the fact that reiner both consciously and unconsciously called for him haha anyway

6. you’re all aware by now but if Ymir doesn’t like men and she’s always with Historia it doesn’t take a genius to understand how she and Reiner parallel each other

7. this line exists but go off I guess

(the look he gives her though)

he’s literally only thinking of Bertholdt. funny how he later worries about not being able to protect him against the titans when they had already lost Eren huh

8. by the way, right after Reiner says that about Ymir, Bertholdt worries about him dissociating again. 

it’s interesting how Bertholdt immediately associates Reiner’s crush on Krista with Reiner not being himself and Reiner knows it perfectly. it literally can’t be more obvious, otherwise it doesn’t make sense for Reiner to say “I’m a warrior, so I’m not interested in Krista because she’s cute”. how out of the blue is that??? people still think Reiner is bi. he isn’t.

Bertholdt really isn’t amused by Reiner’s bullshit and honestly same

9. remember the rushing in to save Reiner thing ? and how “if you lose you die, if you win you live” is a motto in this series?

mikasa swears to win for Eren’s sake

historia literally tells ymir they’re going to live for each other

“he has his own reason why he can’t lose” lmao so... Reiner is his reason to win?to live????? just say you’re in love and go

10. remember how RB’s mission would have succeeded if only Ymir hadn’t suddenly stopped everything to go back for Historia? how that gave the survey corps the time they needed, and how RB basically helped the SC??

Bertholdt stopped for Reiner and gave the SC the time they needed to get away from the explosion. if he hadn’t done that, he definitely would’ve killed them all

Bertholdt is a hypocrite lmao

11. nothing to see here just dudes and gals crying for their bros and pals

12. we know Bertholdt is a much more capable warrior than Reiner and that he mastered the colossal titan immediately. there is no way Reiner would’ve been able to fight Mikasa like Bertholdt did. Isayama said that Bertholdt “could do anything physically”. sure, Reiner ranked above Bertholdt and Annie during training, but when you look at their childhood, i think both of them could’ve surpassed Reiner if they had been 100% serious. this is just my interpretation though, it’s also possible that Bertholdt’s lack of initiative and Annie’s unability to work with others hurt their grade. i think hand-to-hand combat (Reiner’s weakness) wasn’t graded either 

at the very least Isayama’s literally saying that Bertholdt would let Reiner win if they fought

wild how reibert keeps on paralleling characters with confirmed romantic feelings

(Ymir slacked off on purpose too)

+ Bertholdt waiting for Reiner as they race

13. Ymir and Bertholdt are two tall dark-haired shifters who are both really tired of their smaller blonde partner retreating into their fake persona out of a desire to be liked what is n o t c l i c k i n g this is so specific

14. reiner’s main reason for thinking Bertholdt likes Annie is that he stares at her and I mean sure

look I’m not putting every instance of RB doing exactly that because sometimes it’s just because the other happens to be talking lmao but these?? no explanation

bruh you can HEAR the stare

this one is especially glaring since Annie is also in the picture so why didn’t he just draw Bertholdt looking at her??? guess we’ll never know

Reiner has NO excuse for staring at Bertholdt here I’m sorry literally everyone is looking at Sasha and Connie teasing Annie. Bertholdt isn’t doing anything

15. Bertholdt’s development after accepting Reiner’s possible death and deciding to end it all is SO similar to Mikasa after Eren’s death in Trost. they’re both moving in this trance-like state before repeating that the world is cruel, but it’s really interesting because the events are in reverse order for Bertholdt. so it’s more like a mirror. i’ve tried to represent it lmao i hope it’s readable

there’s the same onomatopoeia for the heartbeat, and Bertholdt and Mikasa were making similar expressions. even if isayama’s drawings weren’t as good in the first chapters, you can see that Mikasa has that same blank, wide stare when approaching Eren (it’s chapter 9)

both seem to become another person as they move, though Bertholdt is much calmer than Mikasa (which makes sense if their “normal” personality has switched I guess since Bertholdt is usually the nervous one). He sees everything around him perfectly, but Mikasa runs out of gas because she wasn’t paying attention to anything anymore

see it’s funny because Mikasa literally loves Eren

only difference is after falling, Mikasa says the world is beautiful as well, which makes the omission in Bertholdt’s case (as he rises) obvious 

anyway might as well put those too I guess, though i wouldn’t consider them direct parallels but we’ve made it this far lmao

it reminded me of Historia after losing Ymir and Reiner after coming back alone :

(btw the music when Historia cradles Ymir in her arms after she fought as a titan is also called Her heart still beating on Youtube, but I don’t know where that comes from because the actual title is AOTs2M他3... probably just a fan name, but that’s a cool coincidence)

16. this post i made the other day still not over it

17. if reibert not canon then why literal actual canon????

[burnedbyshoto]

sensei

— Being a Pro Hero means having a will of steel, too bad for Shinsou that will of steel has one major kryptonite: a schoolgirls skirt. —

pairing: pro hero!shinsou hitoshi x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, dom!shinsou, bondage (capturing weapon), blindfold, orgasm denial, cursing, praising, mindcontrol, degradation, roleplay

word count: 6,789

a/n: this was a commission!!! omggg!!!! also i used the name mindjack for his pro hero name and neutralizer is your hero name! okay, so like, don’t come for me until you read the entire thing. if I get a single message about what I think ya’ll might come at me for imma spit on your butter. if you cant eat butter then your oat milk or whateva.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Shinsou stood in the kitchen, his Pro-Hero costume on, and his hands pressed onto the countertop. Today was the day that his hero work student was coming in for a small dinner of celebration. After months of conducting some late-night hours and intensive fighting, they had finally taken down an underground crime ring that had been resurfacing in Japan. 

His fingers ran through his hair, the soft locks parting with his calloused fingers. Years of having to strengthen himself to keep up with physically powerful quirk holders had left his body sharp, hard, and rugged. There wasn’t a part of his body that hadn’t been bruised; that wasn’t without its imperfections.

It was almost hilarious to think of where he used to be, a child in high school who was no stronger than the average person in Japan, and where he was now. 

Placing his cup to his lip, Shinsou was about to take a drink of water when a knock was heard. A small grin quipped on his face knowing precisely who it was, placing the cup on the table and shoving his hands into his pocket, Shinsou walked over to the front door and opened it.

Opening the wooden door, his violet gaze locked onto a bright and eager set of eyes.

Outside his door stood a young woman who had just recently eighteen with your hair fluttering in the wind. You wore the well-recognized U.A. uniform, your backpack resting on your shoulders. A smile soon grew on your face at the sight of him, and you tilted your head with a small smile in greeting. 

“Neutralizer,” he greeted with a coy smile, and his body leaned onto the doorway. His eyes drank you in, the swell of your chest against the button up white shirt, the striking red tie, the jacket that remained unbuttoned on your body, the dark socks that reached your knees, and that stupidly short skirt.

“Hi, Mindjack-sensei,” you greeted with a bright smile, unfazed by the coyness of his energy and ignorant to his straying eyes. “You wanted to meet here today?”

He wet his lips and nodded his head, his eyes closing, “Well, I had to celebrate this joyful win with my favorite student, didn’t I?”

“I’m your only student,” you snorted, pushing past him and entering his house.

You didn’t seem to notice the way his eyes zeroed in on your ass when you passed him, nor did you see how he was nearly drunk off your figure when you bent down to exchange your shoes for his guest slippers. 

“I think that speaks volumes on how highly I perceive you,” Shinsou lazily grinned, taking your jacket and backpack and went to put them in his closet. “You’re so great that I don’t need to look for another helping hand.”

“What will you do when I graduate in these next months?” you asked teasingly, your focus back on Shinsou, and you both held each other’s gaze while standing in the hallway. 

“You’re trying to tell me that you won’t accept my offer to be my sidekick before you go pro?”

His gaze was dangerous, practically begging you in this subdued cat and mouse game to contradict his theory.

“Maybe I am.”

His eyes narrowed; to anyone else, they would’ve been daunting, menacing, threatening, but to you who had known him for years, you could see right past the playful glare.

“Watch it, punk.”

With that, you walked further into the household and having never been to his house before, you couldn’t help but point out the different pictures you saw. There was no stopping you on asserting how weird it was that he went to school with so many well-known heroes. U.A. sure was something else.

The conversation between the two of you flowed like water. There was no dull moment while you stood by the counter, mindlessly eating fruit while exchanging lively words. You had since reaching the bar rolled your sleeves up to your elbows while attempting to catch the fruit that Shinsou was now throwing at you, but most often, they continued to bounce off your nose and go flying onto the floor. 

“You’re horrible at this,” Shinsou snorts when you reappear from the floor with the slightly dirty fruit.

“Get a better aim,” you retorted with a snicker, eating the fruit.

But then Shinsou focused in the wrong area. His eyes focused on the way your lips gleamed under the fluorescent lights, coated with what was definitely your saliva and tinted with berry juices. Your lips stunned him with how delicate and soft they looked. How full and sinful they would feel pressed against his lips, wrapped around his—

“Mindjack-sensei?”

His eyes snapped up to meet your eyes that looked curious, naive to his thoughts, and with the slightest hint of embarrassment.

Recomposing himself, Shinsou cleared his throat and leaned against the counter again, the cold marble digging into his hip. “Y/l/n?”

“I was asking why you’re wearing your costume inside your house, it’s a bit dorkish.”

It seemed the embarrassment wasn’t from his drinking of your lips, but instead because of your question. Shinsou’s fingers fisted into the capturing weapon that rested around his neck. Honestly, he had no idea why he did; his costume was definitely a very comfortable piece, and well, he didn’t exactly go out on the field today, so it was clean.

But when he went to answer your question, his eyes saw the way your teeth gnawed on your bottom lip, and the way that you leaned in closer. Such a flustered school girl. How was he supposed to be professional when you did that? The only thing he could see — the only thing he wanted to see — was you gnawing at your lips when he was fucking you to the heavens, your embarrassment keeping you from being as loud as you could be.

“Come here,” Shinsou commanded, his head gesturing to you to move over to his side of the counter.

Obediently, you followed and stepped before him.

Fuck, you were tiny compared to him. Shinsou looked down at you, your eyes stared up at him curiously, unsure of what he was going to say or do.

“What do you think about me?”

Your eyes widened, your tongue coming out to lick your lips nervously. What was that kind of question? You thought he knew exactly what you thought about him? “Well, um, I think you’re an excellent Pro Hero! You’ve taught me a lot in my work-study, and I’ll forever be grateful for you!”

It seemed like an appropriate response, not too harsh, and it wouldn’t be enough to inflate his ego. But it seemed that he wasn’t in agreement with your thoughts, his hand came to rub his stubbled cheeks, and his eyes darkened.

“What else?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine at those words. There was so much intention behind what that could mean. What was he trying to insinuate here?

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

Shinsou took a drink of his water, his eyes still focused on you. His gaze as calculating, as if he was studying a bug under a microscope. Your locked stares were unbreakable and soul searching, and as you were now just growing used to while on the field, a sense of an upcoming battle was flaring on your instincts. Placing the cup down, he took a step forward, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“What do you think of me?”

“I-I already told you,” you stammered, taking the smallest step back, but your didn’t retreat when he took another step closer. “You’re a very good—.”

“Not like that,” he growled lowly, his eyes dropping down to your breasts, to the swell of your hips.

It was becoming increasingly harder to breathe, his musky scent was overwhelming your nose, sending shivers down your spine, and there was nothing you could do but gasp for air.

“I don’t think I understand…”

Shinsou was now entirely parallel to you, your chest nearly touching his while he leaned down, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. You could no longer breathe, unable to focus or think of anything but the fact that your boss — your mentor — was seemingly admitting that he was attracted to you.

“How do I make you feel?” he nearly panted in your ear. “All I know is that you drive me fucking insane with how beautiful you are, you’re so fucking pure, yet I know you know what you’ve been doing.”

“Mindjack-sensei—!” you squeak, your face radiated heat. You tried to stumble back, to deny his accusations, but his hands were on your waist, keeping you cemented in place.

“Do you want me the way I want you? The way I want to fuck you until your body is forever printed into the mattress of my bed? To have you begging until my bed frame breaks?”

Shinsou grin turned sly at the way you trembled against his hold.

“Don’t you think about fucking me, kitten? Because I can only think about your pretty lips and pussy around my cock. I bet you have such a pretty fucking pussy too.” An audible moan left your lips, and Shinsou’s fingers tightened around your waist to the point he was most likely leaving bruises. He was enjoying the way you were obviously enjoying this too. “You like this? Mm, of course, you would. Such a dirty little kitten, I bet you’re already fucking wet, wanting nothing more than my cock to fuck you into oblivion.”

“Mindjack-sensei,” you gasped in horror of his words despite your body pressing flush against his. His words hadn’t been false, by god did you want him to fuck you into oblivion, but you always pressed those feelings aside because he was a respected authority. He could have just about anyone as a top hero, so why would he want a high school student who worked for him? Shinsou let out a sharp stream of air at the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing boner. “We can’t do this! If we’re caught, we’ll—”

“We can’t do this? On the contrary, I think we can fucking do this. No one has to know, but if you don’t want me the way I want you, that’s okay. Tell me to stop then,” he interrupted you, his fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt, his teeth nibbling at your ear. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way about me, and I’ll stop.”

Your chest heaved, your body screaming at you to let him fuck you. You’ve wanted him for so long, to have him buried balls deep within you, calling him yours and no one else’s. But your brain — your anxieties — screamed at you that this was wrong because he is your teacher. What if something terrible were to happen because of this?

“Nothing bad will happen,” Shinsou murmured, and you stopped breathing at the way his warm breath fanned against your neck. “I promise.”

You pushed away, your eyes wide while looking up at his violet gaze that seemed to grow impossibly darker. You had been under his mind control before, countless days being spent to see who could use their quirk faster, him or you. Each and every time so far, you had bitterly lost, you knew what it was like to be under control. To have your ability to choose what you wanted to do or not taken away. You knew what it was like to not have free will, but this was not it. 

You could choose.

You would choose.

Gulping, your fingers rose to his soft purple hair, raking through the short purple locks that were ever present in your fantasies and dreams.

“Fuck me then.”

His lips pressed against yours immediately, and your breathing nearly stopped at the immediate contact. The scruff on his cheeks, chin, and jaw tickled the softness of your own skin, and only continued to scratch against your skin when the kiss increased in intensity. His mouth drank you in quickly, the heat of his mouth making you overwhelmingly woozy. The kiss alone was sending throbbing heat to your core, your cunt already feeling slick with your essence just from this kiss that you’ve wanted for so long.

Shinsou then took a step forward, and you took a step back, a dance between these new lovers until your back was slammed against a wall. With the feeling of the cold wall pressing into your back, the knowledge of where this was going shot through you.

“How do you want me to fuck you, kitten?” Shinsou growled against your mouth, pulling away afterward so that his nearly black with lust irises burned into your own. “Tell me your deepest fantasy.”

You wheezed when he lifted you up, the height difference between the two of you was too grand for him to grind his hardened cock into you while merely standing. The growing slick in your panties grazed against his hardness, and you pressed your hands onto his shoulders. Your head lolled backward; the shuddering pleasure from the harsh graze was already overstimulating you. His mouth latched onto your exposed neck, pressing spicy-sweet kisses onto the soft skin, his hips pressing hardened circles into your growing heat. 

“I want you to,” you swallowed, your mouth running dry from his actions, mind unable to keep up with his pleasure gaining effects. 

“What do you want, kitten?” he growled against your growing slick neck. His fingers were kneading and pulling at your covered breasts, someone how managed to press onto your nipples despite not knowing your naked body. Fisting your hands into his hair, you tugged hard at the roots, the pleasure shooting through your body unignorable. 

“I want you to use your capturing weapon on me,” you plead, your hips jerking against his in frantic attempt to get this going. “I want you to blindfold me — fuck, I want you to use your quirk on me, deny me, overstimulate me, I don’t care. I just want your cock in my pussy.”

“My, my, you’ve been thinking about this for a while now, haven’t you?” Shinsou grinned with a burst of barking laughter at your embarrassment of being caught. “How many times have you thought about me bending you over in the middle of an alleyway, right after a successful mission, fucking you as congratulations?”

“S-Shinsou—!” you whimpered at the way his hips were now embedding into you as if you two weren’t fully clothed, but already fucking like savage animals.

“I want to hear you call me sensei when I’m fucking you,” he grunts against your throat.

“Not daddy?” you squeak when he pulls away from the wall, and your arms wrap around his neck in precaution. His hard cock now presses deliciously against your heated core, the movement of his walking legs adding to the slow and imbued sensations running their course through your body.

“Maybe another day,” he chuckled deep within his throat.

You felt a chill run through your spine at the way he possessively grabbed onto your waist, his body leaning down to press your back against the soft mattress of his bed. His lips were so ardent against your skin. The body heat expelling from his person, making you sweat when his lips dominated you again.

Your lips glided over each other, your fingers fisting into his shirt with undeniable electricity pouring down your spine. Powerful and sharp pulses slamming through your body when he ground his hips down onto you. 

“Sensei,” you whimpered when his needy lips pressed once more against your cold neck. The contradicting temperatures quickly spun your head, and your eyes clenched closed, trying to focus in on these exhilarating sensations. “Please, sensei do— oh my god.”

Shinsou’s hips were grinding insistently into your, his fingers now pressing into your clit above your panties, expertly rubbing figure eights into your puffy bundle of nerves. Your legs trembled around his waist, your head flying backward with the beating of your heart heavy between your thighs.

“Do what, kitten?” he asked, his teeth marking purple ringed bruises onto your collarbone, enjoying the angry warm colors appearing on your skin. “Is your sensei making you feel good? What do you want from me right now, use your words? Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

The last bit is no louder than a mere whisper, but it’s loud in your ears. You hadn’t even stripped yet, and he had these opinions on you! The intensity of that piece of knowledge made your knees weak with the thought of how intense his own emotions were — for how long has he wanted you in the same way you wanted him? Your mouth opened with a chill running down your spine, your hips grinding down onto his circling fingers.

“Now, I don’t like being disrespected,” he warned, his finger stilling against your clit. You, however, were already consumed by the pleasure that throbbed deep in your core over his nimble fingers teasingly touching where you wanted him most. Your hips still roll against his stiff appendages, and he chuckles at the almost needy and pathetic whimpers that expel from your lips. Your eyes are again shut, mouth opened, and body begging for more.

“Stop grinding,” he commands, his left hand pressing onto your hip, stilling any and all actions from you. You groaned loudly, disappointment and disapproval profoundly evident on your face when you finally opened your eyes.

“Sensei—” you whined, but your hips stopped nonetheless, a pout on your lips. 

“I want you right now,” he says quietly, but his words are firm, unwavering, and genuine. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs, making you jerk with horny anticipation until you felt like taking in charge of him. “Can I fuck you right now, kitten?”

The words almost knock the wind out of you, the innocent yet well-knowing tone on his tongue enough to make you bite down on your lip harshly while you nodded. “Fuck me right now.”

Shinsou lips stretched into a cunning smirk, his teeth capturing his mouth while he nodded, “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Sitting up, your eyes took in his body that was hidden under his baggy clothes, much like his own mentor. You did nothing to conceal the way your teeth tugged at your lower lip in lustful need, and your hand pressed down onto the restrained bulge in his pants, grinning when he twitched under your hot hand. 

“I want sensei to fuck me, to fill me with his cock and cum until no one can deny that I’m yours, sensei,” you mewled in his ear.

Without a second thought or a moment to realize what was happening, your shirt was ripped off your person, the buttons scattering loudly against the wooden floor. You shouted in complete shock when Shinsou tugged the red tie off your neck and tossed it on the corner of the bed, and your skirt was thrown to the floor. You lay on the bed exposed in just your undergarments, but they were more than only your regular garments. Shinsou’s eyebrow quirked up upon recognizing that the piece you were wearing was lingerie — expensive lingerie at that.

His eyes met yours, and your eyes swam with confidence that made him stop.

“Were you expecting this?” he asked softly, his fingers grabbing onto the bridge of your bra. His touch so gentle, so soft, it was almost as if he touched it for too long he would destroy the lace fabric of your lingerie.

“It’s hard not to be extra prepared when celebrating with sensei,” you fluttered your eyelashes as you shifted so that you were now straddling his hips. Your body was pressed firmly against his, your mouth ghosting the shell of his ear, “Especially when I want my sensei to fuck me until I’m only his.”

The small victory you gained from being able to distract the Pro Hero was soon snuffed out when cold, and steel-like cloth wrapped all over your legs and arms and slipped between your teeth. The world spun when your face and chest was then shoved into the mattress.

“See what you make me do to you, kitten?”

You whimpered loudly at the arched position you were contorted into. Despite your discomfort, your core ached in need, flaring with this dominative aura that burned to life within him. This is what you had been craving since the beginning, you wanted nothing more than for the purple-haired hero to bend you to his will, to make you no better than some damn puppet while he fucked you deep into his bed.

“Look at you, you’re fucking soaked, and I haven’t done so much as grazing your clit!” Shinsou chuckles, leaning closer to you until you could feel his warm breath fanning against your clenching wet hole. “You’re such a dirty kitten, wanting your sensei’s cock. I guess your sensei is going to have to teach you a few things about mannerisms and make sure you’re fucked to completion.”

You chocked against the cloth in your mouth; it was pressing harshly against your tongue, riling your gag reflexes until saliva poured from your mouth. You weakly looked at Shinsou, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire, your pussy clenching in its attempt to draw him nearer. This was so dirty though, he was older than you, he was your mentor — your sensei. You shouldn’t be letting him talk to you this way, letting him tease your soaked folds, but you wanted his cock — you needed your sensei’s cock to ruin you for anyone ever again. 

Shinsou looked at you, his eyes glinting dangerously as if he could read your filthy thoughts while his fingers slid off the black panties until they bunched at your angled knees. Your arch deepens at the feeling of the cold air now reaching your blazing core, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you wantonly whine. The restraints on your wrists and ankles were tight, sending just the minutest bit of discomfort through your nerves to send you wiggling your ass impatiently.

But as you stared up at Shinsou, and the way his coarse fingers dug into your hips. His heated fingers dragged against your smooth skin until he caught you staring. “You don’t need to be looking at this, kitten.”

The binding left your mouth and wrapped around your eyes. The cold and wet with your saliva metal binding to your face caused a sensation to course through you that was foreign. It disgusted you on a shallow level but fueled the gagging moan that pressed in your throat.

“Sensei!” you squeaked, not expecting this to happen so soon. Especially with the fact that your body was ultimately under his domination. 

Your lack of sight immediately sent all your other senses to one hundred, and you were acutely aware of the fact that he was no longer touching you. You knew he was in the room, but you couldn’t sense him. You only knew that your ass was perked into the air, your arms shot before you in a position that you never knew you could achieve without weight to shove your chest further down.

Shinsou, however, was behind you, his eyes focused on your shining heated slick cunt. A groan emits slowly from his mouth, and he almost relishes in the way that you twitch towards him, the blindfold doing precisely what he had hoped for. Rumbling lowly in his chest, Shinsou inserted two nimble fingers into your wet cunt, moaning at the way that your walls are tight against him. It was so lewdish in the way that your walls were already milking his fingers, begging for more despite the initial entrance.

Your legs trembled, and your mouth fell at the feeling of his foreign fingers entering your spasming cunt. It’s a feeling you immediately burn into your skin. You want this; you crave this. His fingers reach knuckle deep against your heated walls, and they clench around him whenever he attempts to move.

“Your pussy is so pretty and so fucking tight, and all I have in you is my fingers,” Shinsou groans, his fingers curling smoothly within you. Your hips snap backward, trying to fuck yourself against his appendages, desperate the elevated pleasure felt as his fingers moved against you. Desire soaks your body, and you thrust your hips against his fingers, uncaring about how needy this looked.

His fingers were buried in your cunt, and you whined loudly at the feeling of his fingers pushing and pressing against your velvet walls. The feeling of his fingers stroking your walls, sending your body thrusting forward and backward. They continue this pace, not slow enough to be teasing, but not quick enough to satisfy your needs.

“Don’t tease me, sensei,” you pant, your ass moving and wiggling in the air while he manipulated your body under his ministrations. “I want you to — please, fuck my pussy so good!”

There was no response to your pleading, only action. His fingers then hooked within you, scissoring, and even pressing against your walls until nothing was coming out of you except the squelching noises of his fingers digging deeper into your cunt. His hero name a mantra on your lips. 

“Such a pretty little kitten, taking my fingers so well. I can’t wait to see how you’ll react against my cock. I bet your cries will be fucking cute to hear,” he chuckled, his thighs hugging against yours, and you moaned at the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your lower belly. You whimpered loudly at the sensation, craving nothing more than to have his cock buried deep within you instead of his fingers.

“Sensei, please!” you begged, the feeling of him all over you. Yet the denial of both seeing him and having his cock buried deep within you was too much. “I don’t want sensei’s fingers, I want sensei’s cock — fuck, please!”

Shinsou chuckled, his fingers left your cunt, and you whimpered at the way your body felt so cold and empty without him buried within you.

“You’ve been good so far, I think you deserve my cock,” he grinned, his breathing heavy and hot against your spine. Your back arched and your body trembled with excitement and nerves as he guided his cock against your wet slit.

Then his hips pressed forward, only the tip of his head pushing through your folds. Teasing you, tormenting you with this half fullness when you knew his cock was much bigger.

“Stop playing unfairly, sensei!” you squawk, your hips trying to slam back to take him more in, but he predicts it and moves back with you. More of his cock leaves you, and you cry in blatant need and horrid horniness. 

“Don’t you have any embarrassment?” he chuckles, his hands finally removing the bra on your chest, and his fingers grip and pull at your nipples. You shudder against his hold, curse that he was so much bigger than you. You needed more of his cock, but he didn’t seem willing to give it to you. “A schoolgirl asking her sensei to fuck her silly, do you know what you’re doing to me, kitten? So fucking dirty, so fucking needy. You want my goddamn dick, you better admit that you’re a stupid little girl who wants her sensei for the rest of her fucking life.”

There was nothing but pure electric shivers that poured through your body at those words, and still, you needed him. Your mouth let out a strained whimper; the slightly circling of his fat cock buried an inch into your cunt, a reminder that you needed to get him fully within you.

“I’m a dirty stupid fucking little girl who wants my sensei and his fucking cock for the rest of my fucking life,” you parrot with no shame, your hips bouncing in hopes of engaging him. “I only want my sensei!”

“Such a good kitten, saying such pretty things,” he sighs, but still, he doesn’t penetrate you fully. 

But he does begin to move.

It’s teasing and by every means maddening feeling the first three inches of his swollen dick push into you and exit. The feeling of the veins on his cock dragging against your sensitive walls made you stammer his name. But that wasn’t good enough, no Shinsou wanted you to howl his name to the heavens, to make sure that everyone knew what a good sensei he was.

His hips move in faster to meet the back of your thighs. With the slowly deepening penetration, your eyes lull to the back of your head, your tongue pooling from your mouth.

“Say more pretty things, or I’ll take my fucking cock away,” he growled, his fingers digging impossibly deeper into your waist.

“Sensei!” you squirm, your back arching like a cat the second the tip of his cock drags against your particular spot.

“What did I say about not following what I command!”

You splutter, your body thrashing against his stilling hips, “But sensei’s cock! It makes me so dumb!” you whine, your fingers digging into the mattress when he slowly starts again. “It’s so big, so thick in my tight pussy! Sensei, please defile me, please make me cum! Cum in my pussy, please! I need you, sensei!”

Those must have been some magic words because Shinsou snarled, and his hips hammered into you. Sending your arms sprawling, your scream of pleasure and glee dripping from your throat. The way that his cock is now brushing over your g-spot again and again was too much.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Your pussy is so fucking tight,” he gasped, his hands slamming your ass back against him. The slapping of your skin on his pelvis sends your eyes fluttering behind the blindfold. He was contorting your body to his will. “After today, I’ll make sure you’ll always be able to take me, all of me, no matter how wet you are.”

Your voluptuous moans are untamable, your thighs trembling with the upcoming orgasm that you can feel throbbing from your toes.

“I needa cum!” you sob, hoping that with how he was drilling against your g-spot, it would be soon.

“You don’t get to cum yet.”

You cried when he pulled out of you completely, and the capturing weapon wrapped around your waist, and you were suddenly pulled to your knees. You heard a familiar sound of a body dropping to the bed, and his hands replaced the fabric around your waist.

“You’re going to ride your sensei’s cock,” he instructed, pulling you down towards him so that your dripping wet cunt was once against grinding against the tip of his dick. “Show sensei what a good kitten you’ve been, what a great hero you’ve become because of me.”

You swallow thickly, your mind swimming with lust and need while his swollen cock twitches at your entrance, “I’m going to show sensei that he’s taught me well.”

“Damn right, you will.”

And with that, he lowered you.

While the blindfold around your eyes obstructed your vision, your sight was wholly taken away from you by his actions. When Shinsou guided you onto his cock, the feeling of his thick veiny length reentering your cunt that begged for his return nearly took your sight away. He wasn’t even within you yet, only the tip of his cock penetrating your slit once more, teasing your walls that clenched in desperation for him. “Don’t tease me, sensei,” you pant, the capturing weapon preventing you from lowering yourself fully onto him, but surprisingly, he does as you hope for. 

Then, what you’ve wanted this entire time. His hips thrust forward at the same moment that you’re dropped onto his cock, and your jaw splits into a soundless scream.

“SHINSOU!” you scream, and his fingers that have your dried slick are placed into your mouth.

“Suck.”

Without arguing, your mouth clamps around his fingers and sucks your essence clean from his fingers. He holds you from behind, his free hand meshing and tweaking at your breasts, making sure to tease and pull at your sensitive nipples until your legs were shaking underneath you. 

His hand rips from your mouth, a trail of saliva following after his mouth. You can only cry louder, more wantonly of how the cold saliva dribbles onto your overheating body. Your head slams back against him, and his hot breath fans against your collarbone while the capturing weapon still proceeds to make you bounce against his cock. Every bounce sends his cock deeper within your clamping cunt, stretching you out in unimaginable ways until your walls spasming around his length because you need more.

You whine into his ear, your mouth pressing blind and sloppy kisses against his slick with sweat neck.

It’s when both his hands bring your hips down to him, his cock finally bottoming out entirely within you, does the most primal moan rip through your mouth. You convulse on his lap, trying to move as the head of his cock buries against your cervix, and you swear behind the blackness of your vision, you can see the entire galaxy. You tremble on top of him, wordless cries pittering from your mouth while he nibbles onto your earlobe.

“Fuck, kitten, I can feel your cervix against my cock,” Shinsou grunts, and you rise and falls against his throbbing cock. 

“You’re filling me out, sensei,” you cry, your hips bouncing up and down, the feeling of his cock pressing up against your cervix, making you dizzier by the second. “Sensei’s cock is so fucking big, he’s filling and stretching me out so much! My pussy can’t — fuck — I can’t take it, sensei!”

“You can take it,” Shinsou growls into your neck, his hands rising you up and down against his cock. The soft slapping of your ass meeting his thighs a drum in your ear. “You’re taking my cock so fucking well, I taught you — I’m teaching you better, I know you can do this kitten.”

You soon readjust to the numbing pleasure, the bruising pleasure, and pain that comes with his cock slamming against your cervix. The way that he thrusts up into you, stretching out your walls far more than you was ever used to.

“I can’t fuck you correctly like this,” he growled, and the restraints yanked you forward once more.

You yelped loudly when you were now on your back, your ankles by your wrists, and your cunt exposed to him completely. In seconds flat, he was buried back into you, but the angle of being on your back aided to the curve of his cock, and your spine nearly snapped in the way you reacted to the pleasure spasming in your toes. This was what you wanted. “Sensei, your cock! SHIT! Oh my god, oh my god, this angle—!”

Your voice lessened to a senseless babble, your sentences blurring together, and your cheek pressed into the mattress and drool pooled from your lips. You feel his hot and robust shoulder touch against the backside of your thighs. With your thighs to support him, he begins to drill his hips into you.

His pace is completely irreplicable, every maddening powerful thrust of his hips shoves you closer to the headboard. The wet slapping echoing throughout the room when he pierces into you almost drowned out both of your senseless cries. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving purple fingerprints on your soft skin, and it amplified your howls of pleasure. 

Fire erupts in your cunt, an overwhelming heat that throbs right in your core, and with every slam of his hips, it grows only more. 

Intensifying. 

Deepening. 

The temperature of your body sizzles off you in large heat, and you swear that your sweat evaporates with every slam of his hips. His lips press against yours, a maddening escape of lust and need exchanging between your parted lips. Your salvia is everywhere, covering both of their faces with the sticky coldness. But that didn’t stop him; it only fueled him to kiss you entirely, engulfing you with his mouth, daring you with his tongue.

You were barely keeping up with his snapping hips, your mouth begging for more when he suckled on your tongue.

Her walls fluttered and clamped around him, a constant reminder of the impending orgasm that you could no longer warn him about.

“Do you need to cum?” he huffs against the corner of your mouth, his hips continuing to drill dangerously fast and deep into you.

“Y-Yes, sensei, I needa come so badly! Let me come against sensei big cock, please!” you sobbed, your body trying to press even closer to him. It was at that moment, the revelation that you were close that his quirk washes over you. 

It’s a weird feeling, your body continues to feel disgustingly on fire, like an illness burning you from the inside out. But you’re no longer in control, your mind fuzzy and muggy, but he continues to fuck you as if you weren’t there. The coil that had wound so tightly in the core of your uterus seemed frozen. No longer tightening to the point of snapping, but so tight that it pained you that he now denied you a release.

“Well, I’m not ready,” he pants, “you don’t cum until I do.”

His hips now work against you with untapped vigor he had not been using before. One hand holding your leg over his shoulder, the other keeping your hips in place as he continued to push his cock deep within you. Your body was by all terms relaxed, not a single muscle was tense while he drilled into you, his fingers massaging your clit and nipples. But your mind was alert, thoroughly overworked, over thrilled, and feeling like you were moments from exploding with no choice but to keep it in. 

His sweat dripped onto your body, and your drool slowly slipped from your lips. 

It pained you not to moan, the inability to move your hips against his rutting ones nearly driving you insane until he was snarling like a savage beast, and with his teeth buried into your neck, you only heard one thing before your vision turned white.

“Cum.”

You weren’t sure whether you broke free from his quirk because he let you go or because the orgasm that crashed through you sent your body snapping up and rolling them over so that Shinsou was on his back. But the orgasm was still ripping through you. Powerful waves of insane pleasure drumming deep within you until there was nothing left but that hollowness that came after an orgasm.

Your breathing was erratic, your heartbeat on your tongue while you looked down at him with a frazzled expression.

“Holy fuck, ‘toshi,” you gasped, your hands pulling away at the tie from your eyes, and now you held onto your breasts. Your brain must have short-circuited because nothing was running through your mind, no matter what you tried to think about. 

“Look at that,” he mused, looking down at his lower abdomen. You followed his eyes, and a blush brightened your face at the clear liquid that coated his abs. 

You had squirted.

“Well, that was fucking hot, I don’t blame ya,” he chuckles, bringing you in. “How are you feeling? I know I was pretty deep in you, sorry.”

You sighed, nestling into his chest, finally relaxed. It took a bit of willpower to ignore the slick wetness that came with your mixed cum sprayed out onto his lower stomach. His lips pressed against your temple, and you sighed wistfully, tiredly.

“I’m fine, ‘toshi,” you affirm, grinning at him. “I might have problems walking tomorrow, so you’ll just needa help me.” 

He chuckles but nods in agreement. Tapping you on your waist, he rolls you over so that you’re relaxing on the bed, and he pulls out, and you groan at the lack of his dick in you. Waving off your protests, he leaves and reappears with a damp washcloth. Without speaking, he begins to gently clean you up, placing tender and scratchy kisses against your body.

You grin when your husband finally collapses back onto the bed and pulls you in close, his nose rubbing against your bruised collarbones, eliciting a sharp squeal from you.

“Maybe I’ll pull out my old schoolgirl skirt more often,” you giggle, and he hummed in agreement. “It was fun.”

“I think that would be perfect.”

“Happy anniversary, sensei.”

“Happy anniversary, kitten.”

[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 6

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Warnings: Angst, Remus Accurate Thoughts, and Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Word Count: 1,880

There was a moment where the silence felt like a ticking clock between the two of them, and then...

The moment of weakness was over in a second.

Virgil hastily jerked his shoulder away from Remus’ very touch so hard that the other side was sure that he nearly dislocated it with such a move, it didn’t stop Remus from raising an eyebrow at Virgil as the anxious side snarled at him. As if he wasn’t just weeping his eyes out moments ago, and as if Virgil hadn’t just looked at him like he was hoping that Remus held all the answers to his problems the moment he had appeared. 

“What do you want?!” The anxious side spat out, had he fur Remus was sure that it would have been bristling like a cat’s. “Why are you here? Didn’t you ruin enough?” 

Ouch.

That shouldn’t have hurt the way that it did, and yet… somehow coming from Virgil of all people, it stung in a way that dish soap could not. It was like… peroxide on a fresh scrape. Like it was bubbling and destroying each cell in its wake, not caring if it was bacteria or any normal cell trying to help. 

That’s what this pain felt like.  

For a second there was nothing to be said, not as he felt Virgil’s scorching heated glare that told him just how much the anxious side hated him in this moment. Although, for the life of him, he couldn’t tell if it was because he had seen Virgil in his moment of weakness, or… if Virgil was secretly grateful that he had come along when he did. Either way he could only blatantly stare at the other side for a moment, taking in how Virgil was holding himself, and just how he seemed to clutch at the papers Logan had given him like a lifeline so that he wouldn’t fall apart even more. 

Speaking of Logan though…

“I wanted to see this all for myself, and to see if Janus was right.” Remus didn’t know it was possible for Virgil to bristle even more at Janus’ name. “To be honest… It’s kind of weird to see that he’s right, I mean.. I didn’t think Janus was lying when he told me about it. But I was sure that he was exaggerating in how Logan treated him.” It perturbed him, which he hated, because nothing was supposed to perturb him. He wasn’t somebody who got perturbed by anything! He was Remus Sanders, he was the one who usually did the perturbing, so this.. this wasn’t at all fair. “With dearl old Logic like this it's very unsettling... even for someone like me.” 

For him it was almost impossible to not draw parallels to when it was him, Janus, and Virgil. And just like them, this felt all too similar to how Virgil was acting right before he left them, and as much as he liked to deny any sort of squishy feelings for the anxious side…

It was kind of hard for him to see it happening to Virgil in real time.

But be that as it may, “When it was you…” Virgil flinched, and even so Remus carried on. “There were plenty of warning signs that me and Janus missed and by the time that the point came around it was already too late to get you back.” 

Virgil glowered darkly at Remus, having a feeling that the creative side was trying to point him in some kind of way that he couldn’t exactly see just yet. He didn’t like the kind of game that Remus was attempting to play with him, he already didn’t have a lot of patience when it came to this side, and now with everything involving Logan he had even less of it now. A part of him just wanted to hear it straight up, without any kind of nostalgic twangs in Remus’ voice. But another part of him… Well the other part of him couldn’t help but to agree, he had given Janus and Remus plenty of signs that he was starting to grow tired and that he wanted out of what they were doing. And when they had missed them at every turn, as well as the light sides as well... 

He had simply decided to duck out, and save everyone the hassle of dealing with him in person. 

That little reminder did little to ease his ire though, “Just what are you trying to say?” He growled sharply, not liking this one little bit.

Virgil felt his stomach drop as soon as the smile curved onto Remus’ face like a knife.

“Simple,” The creative side said with a bout of fake cheer, “That you all had plenty of chances to help Logan before it got to this point. And just like me and Janus, you all failed miserably at doing anything worthwhile.” 

In an instant, Virgil rounded on Remus, his hands clenched into fists as a burning rage flooded his stomach and crawled up his throat. In that moment right then and there, he could have strangled Remus with his own stupid sash and he wouldn’t have felt bad for about it for a single second. His teeth bared themselves into a snarl, and without even thinking he took a step forward, almost talking himself into acting on the dark urge that made his hands want to move. 

Virgil was a little more than pissed, “What would you know about any of that?!” The words he had wanted to spit out, he ended up shouting instead. “What the hell would you know about helping someone?! What would you know about making things better?!” His voice shook the pictures on the wall, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that the others could hear him, and he didn’t care about the weird look of guilt on Remus’ dumb face. The only thing he cared about was pounding his frustrations through Remus’ stupidly thick skull until he finally understood and got it for once. 

Since when had Remus ever cared about helping other people? Since when did he ever extend a thought that just wasn’t about himself, or making someone else’s day even worse? Since when did he care about anything that went beyond tormenting others with his weird thoughts, and the nightmares that he regularly gave to Thomas? Since when did Remus actually have single solitary thought that wasn’t going to hurt them in some kind of way?

As if reading his mind Remus extended his hand in an uncharacteristically placating manner, “Plenty.” He merely says, “Plenty…” Remus says, with a surprising amount of calmness. “I have regretted it every day of my life,” Here Virgil went still, the momentous amount of seriousness in Remus’ voice deserved that much at least. “I have always regretted that I didn’t do a single thing to stop you from leaving and even more that I didn’t help when you needed me to.” For a second he hesitated, delaying and deliberating on what he knew he was going to have to say next to Virgil. “And… I feel that this is also somewhat my doing too…” 

It wasn’t that he was scared, far from it. 

It was that… if he told Virgil what he knew and what he had done, that would be owning up to all of this. And that in some way all of the others could pin this on him, and not the fact that they too could have helped Logan not make the choices that he had made. 

“How?” Virgil tiredly asked, “How could it possibly be your fault? You just said that we didn’t pay enough attention to his warning signs. I know that you were a dick to him recently, but I don’t understand how this is your fault…” 

Remus’ fleshy insides softened at Virgil’s words, and at how much the anxious side seemed to want to absolve him of any kind of guilt. It was sickeningly sweet in his eyes, like Virgil knew he couldn’t absolve himself, so he could in the very least do it to Remus. 

But it needed to come out.  

He had to tell someone. 

So, taking in a steadying breath he went on. 

“I gave him the nudge,” He finally blurted out, he had never been one to keep secrets. So the truth had been pressing inside of him, like a stuffed animal full of too much stuffing. And upon seeing equally Virgil’s bewildered and shocked stare, and clearly not understanding what he was talking about. He went on before neither he or Virgil could stop himself from elaborating. “He was in the imagination after the fiasco of my plans had fucked everything up, he was angry, and sad, and just upset. I could tell that he was feeling a lot of things because clearly no one was listening to him, I.. I had ensured it when I ruined his schedule. And I had thought that he would just shrug the thought I gave him off, or he’d know that it was me…” Remus floundered for a moment, the taste of guilt strange on his tongue, “ I had only suggested that things couldn’t continue like they were, nothing else. But he…” 

But Logan had gone with it, and hadn’t stopped for a single second.

Then everything else had happened. 

He had not meant for the idea he had given Logan to get so out of hand, he was impressed, sure, that Logan was actually taken to it and was making the changes he wanted to see happen. And he was definitely impressed that he had broken under the weight of Virgil’s and the others’ woes certainly… but seeing Janus go numb on him, and seeing Virgil absolutely bawling his eyes out…

Seeing how Logan had reacted to Virgil of all people had made him so obviously apparent to the major flaw in what he had wanted to happen, he had thought, and hoped, that the others would apologize, change, and that Logan would go back to normal. 

He had thought that just once he had helped, but… 

“I don’t think that he’s going to stop anytime soon…” 

It was a lot harder than he had thought that it would be, and it was even harder to see it happening to people that he knew and cared about. 

Looking down at the anxious side he feared for just a moment that Virgil was going to explode on him again. That this time he’d actually lunge forward and wrap his hands around Remus’ throat, and choke the daylights out of him for causing all of this. He knew that Virgil had thought about it, hell every time he talked and caused trouble he could tell that it was something Virgil wanted to do to him.   

But Virgil had gone dead silent, the look on his face unreadable by Remus.  

“Help me fix this,” Virgil finally whispered, his body finally loosening as his fists unclenched, no longer full of murderous rage. “If you want so badly to help… then help me fix this.” After a second finally adding, “Please.”

That was something at least, no even more than that…

It was a start. 

A better start than he deserved.  

[theseshipsshallsail]

Chapter 1

The revelry from the bookstore leaves a heady buzz of la libertà flowing through their veins, and as the crescent moon climbs higher in a pin-pricked sky, Rome’s labyrinthine streets bear witness to the loss of their remaining inhibitions. Drunken kisses give way to drunken dancing - and unfortunate drunken vomiting - but the ancient cobbles are their compass on this ferragosto evening, steering them back to the complicit safety of their hotel. 

The stale scent of sex still lingers in the room, yet tempted as they are to add to it, the prospect of their imminent separation is a sobering force. Elio’s body is heavy with exhaustion. The oppressive tightness in his chest magnified by all that he’s trying to ignore. Their time is borrowed. Soon, all of this will be naught but memory. The man beside him nothing but a ghost. Haunting his every step with visions of a life denied. A future obfuscated by what-ifs and maybes.   

He refuses to sleep, however. Refuses to sacrifice a single minute to unconsciousness in spite of the grappa’s siren call. Absurd though it is, a part of him dreads waking up alone. That Oliver will disappear like a thief in the night - taking what’s left of his shattered heart with him. His guards are down - all his pretences stripped away - but here they are, stretched out on a too-small bed, solemn fingers caressing familiar skin. Worshipping each other by words, if not by the flesh. 

And it isn’t easy. Of course it isn’t. Elio’s an individuo reservato. A trait he’s uncomfortably aware of. But he can’t let that stop him from spilling his innermost thoughts. From divulging the things he wishes he’d done differently. Or not at all. In some aspects, he’s sure he’s repeating himself, but there’s just so much he needs Oliver to hear. Things he never dared tell him previously - never deemed vital - when the end of their summer idyll was a nebulous concept.  

Like how he’d leave the adjoining door open at night, hoping beyond hope that Oliver would walk through it. Or that afternoon at the tennis courts, when he’d recoiled from his massage for fear of leaning into the frisson of excitement. Needs him to understand his visceral reaction the morning after they first slept together. The crippling anxiety that twisted his intentions, necessitating a hasty - if short-lived - retreat. Wants to beg him not to forget. To remember everything. So that when next he tastes the salt-tang of the ocean upon his lips, the sweetness of apricot juice beneath a cloudless yonder, a piece of Elio - nevermind how fleeting - will slip into that parallel life, too.

All his secrets. 

All his worries. 

All he’s put off for later. 

A futile notion, admittedly, now that there is no later. 

No more chance for postponement. 

Thankfully, he isn’t the only one speaking, and Oliver lays his own regrets out like a hand of cards whenever he stumbles into a tongue-tied silence. His forearm is slung around his waist, their legs tangled at the knees, and Elio drowns in his eyes as he recalls the steely glares that once pierced him to the core, but which he now appreciates were a means of self-defence. An attempt to stave off the unavoidable.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers, twisting Oliver’s Star of David between his fingertips as he burrows into the sticky warmth of his neck. “When you said you’d been happy here?”

“How can you even ask me that?” 

“How can I not?” Elio replies, failing to control the tremor in his voice. “You tried to keep your distance when you arrived. It was me who sought you out. If I hadn’t pushed so hard -”

“I’d have probably spent ten more days kicking myself for my cowardice,” Oliver tells him, dropping kisses to his knuckles as though they’re something to be cherished. “Wearing holes in my espadrilles… trying to hide a semi each time you passed by in those swim trunks...”

Elio snorts. “The feeling’s mutual, mon ami.”

“So we’re both idiots, then?”

“Well… one of us was being purposefully difficult...”

“Goose,” Oliver growls, and Elio giggles despite himself when he’s tickled without mercy. “I’ll show you purposefully difficult.”

It soon devolves into a childish wrestling match, Elio’s wrists pinned above him as Oliver scrabbles along his sides, leaving him bow-taut and winded. “Tutto apposto! Enough!”

“You give?”

“I give,” he says, lungs heaving in his chest. “Dio… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Nonsense.” Oliver rolls to the side, tipping his chin up to better meet his eyes. ”This is new to us both. It’s only natural to have doubts.”

Elio huffs. “Doubt is the father of inventions.”

“And may I ask what you’re inventing?”

An awkward shrug. “Nothing,” Elio says, afraid his misgivings will lead them down a destructive path. “And everything. You know how my brain works.”

“I do, yes.” Oliver brushes a thumb over his bottom lip. “Though for my sins, I’ve yet to find cause for complaint.”

“Déviant.” 

“Takes one to know one.”

Elio nips at the tormenting digit, not quite ready to let the subject go. “I want to hear it,” he murmurs, teeth scraping the nail. “I think I need to hear it.”

“Elio…”

“Just tell me,” he insists, and sighing, Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” 

Impatience flares at the return of his evasiveness, and the remorse in Oliver’s gaze is immediate. “We never talked much about my family, did we?” he asks, and Elio shakes his head, shuffling closer as Oliver draws a shuddering breath. “My parents, they’re.... well. To describe them as traditional would be a kindness,” he continues. “Our relationship has been strained for years, but they have certain... expectations, I suppose. For my future, specifically. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Elio asks, stiffening as I'm sure I'll pay for it somehow echoed from the not so distant past. 

The implication is clear, and maybe there are razor blades in his expression, because Oliver’s own turns instantly apologetic. “I guess not,” he says, sliding a conciliatory hand to his hip. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

Elio frowns. “In what way?”

“With your folks,” Oliver explains. “My father would cart me off to a correctional facility.” A beat. “He still might.” 

“Only if he finds out,” his traitorous mouth blurts before his alleged genius can catch up, and Elio’s heart sinks. “But he won’t, will he?”

It’s less a question, more a statement, and Oliver’s jaw clenches as he stares at him in silent concession. “I wish things could be different.”

“I know,” Elio says, the words braver than the sentiment behind them. “Me too.”  

But the universe isn’t that lenient. Like Icarus, they’ve flown too near to the sun, and the consequences of such defiance will see their wings clipped once they crash back down to earth. He’d cautioned himself on the journey south to prepare for the blow. Peered out the grimy window of the direttissimo, knowing that when he next stands on the platform he’ll be alone. That he’ll hate it. Those rehearsals, it seems, have done little to dull the pain of what’s to come, and latent superstition has left him fumbling in the dark, regardless.

“E’ la vita,” Elio says, resorting to self-preservation as he dredges up a smile - the over-bright, false one he’s perfected through years of dinner drudgery. “Why risk it all for a bit of fun, right?”

“Don’t do that.” Apparently Elio’s not the only one who can see through a facade. “You mean more to me than some fling, and you know it.”

“But -” 

“No. Hear me out.” Earnest, Oliver smooths the hair from Elio’s temple. “These past six weeks… I don’t know how to describe how important they were to me. The freedom. The acceptance.” His throat bobs in the grey strokes of dawn. “You.”

“Me?” 

“Us.” Oliver fidgets with a loose thread on Elio’s shirt. “I meant it,” he mutters at last, winding an errant curl around the index finger of his other hand. “I have been happy here. I’ve been happy with you.” He hesitates. A quick flash of indecision. “I’m not sure I was ever really happy before you.” 

“Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Per carità! That only makes it worse,” Elio says, whirling away to hide in Oliver’s collar. The sour musk of sweat is soaked into the material, and he inhales deeply, hoarding every piece of him while he still can. “You are the very best parts of me,” he confesses, lifting his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do when -”

“Hey…” Oliver’s grip tightens. “Didn’t we go over this? You’ll be -”

“Fine. You said.”

“Clearly it bears repeating.” 

Elio touches his face. Watches the ripples of emotion spread out like a pebble cast into the lake. “And you?” he returns, recollecting that night on the rock. His naivety in presuming Oliver’s ghost wouldn’t always be staring out at the horizon. Rodin’s Thinker clad in billowy cotton. “You’ll be okay?”

A breath. “I’ll be okay.”

Elio’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince, so he kisses him gently in lieu of examining it further, his stomach flipping when Oliver pulls back with an air of exquisite softness. “What time do we need to be at the airport?” he asks, seeking sanctuary in distraction. “You have your passport, sì?”

“I do,” Oliver says, studying him carefully. “The plane leaves at noon. But don’t feel you have to -” He stops. Swallows. Tries again. “You don’t have to see me off. Not if you don’t want -”

“I want.”

“Elio -”

“Non essere ridicolo. I’m coming,” he tells him, fighting a shiver as the cool breeze from the window brings goosebumps to his skin. “Of course I’m coming.” 

The relentless tick of the clock rings loud in the sudden silence, and Elio raises up on his elbow, only for Oliver to cup his cheek before he can turn towards the wall. 

“Don’t look,” he whispers, sounding choked as he double checks the time on his watch. “It’s ten minutes fast at any rate.”

“Ten minutes?” Elio laughs. Slightly unhinged. “What difference does that make? Ten? Twenty? You still have to leave.”

He detests the unspoken word that hovers between them. The entire phrase a sullen admission of weakness: you still have to leave me.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Oliver murmurs, one hand stroking the base of his spine. ”We have a few hours yet.” 

Elio sniffs. “Not like they’ll matter tomorrow.”

“Maybe not. But they matter right now.” Oliver nudges their foreheads together. “Every second, Elio.” 

“Every second, Elio,” he echoes numbly, if only to call him by his name one last time.

He’s shaking, he realises, though in all honesty he doesn’t care that his vulnerabilities are on display. That Oliver can see how lost in him he really is. That the situation is gutting him, and he’s unable to stop the bleeding. His chest feels concave. The space below his ribs too small to contain the sheer need and protectiveness that washes through him. He wants to shelter Oliver from the storm that lies ahead. To house him beneath his breast where the burdens of this world cannot touch him. Encapsulate everything Oliver is within the confines of himself, meagre as those confines might be.

But what can he do? Implore him to stay? Ask him to give up his doctorate? His career? His responsibilities? And for what? A life in the shadows? Always looking over their shoulders. Always that sense of shame.

He thinks of the pink and yellow lilies that bloom in the giardino back in B. The delicate petals that unfurl for such a brief period of time. There’s something recherché, he knows, in such transitory beauty, yet Elio’s never lacked for stubbornness. Oliver may believe his story is already written - that their destiny is forged in stone - but no one’s ever survived a freefall by continuing to spiral. 

For something so tragically temporary, their bond has left a permanent mark. And Elio? He wants to beat his fists against this odious ending until they’re bloodied and raw.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Dressrosa (Part Two)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

wild how this is upwards of 750 chapters in and yet i still get a big dumb smile whenever luffy declares he’s going to be king of the pirates. one piece is a series very much driven by its main characters and their goals and dreams- i don’t think it would be nearly as good if the main character was anyone but monkey d. luffy. 

personally, i always just feel kind of proud whenever he says this, because- yeah!! he is!! that’s luffy, he’s going to be king of the pirates, and we’ve known that since day fucking one. 

i really think there’s something to be said about usopp never taking credit for saving luffy and law from sugar. it’s arguably his greatest feat in the entire series thus far- an impossible, perfect shot across an entire country, with an angry mob inches from his back- and he never even tells anybody he did it. he’s come a long way from someone who tells tall tales about heroic acts he never did to someone who doesn’t even feel the need to take credit for ones he really did, so long as his friends are safe.

i really like how corazon’s introduction and characterization throughout the flashback is handled. at the start of law’s flashback, we know a few things about him already: that he’s someone law loved very much, and that he was killed by doflamingo. we know how this ends. 

but then cora is introduced as a clumsy mute weirdo who nearly kills law as one of the very first things he does, and we as the audience aren’t really sure how to reconcile that- and then the rest of the flashback is us, along with law, slowly discovering what a complicated and contradictory but ultimately good person he is. something very similar happens with the asl flashback- we know the endpoint of luffy and ace’s relationship, but the flashback is all about how they got there, from attempted murder to willing self-sacrifice. 

i think it’s really cool the way law and doflamingo’s backstories are layered together. they’re characters who exist with a lot of parallels and similarities between them already, which is something they’re both clearly aware of- i’ve mentioned before i think the only real difference between them is that law got corazon where doflamingo got the executives- and presenting their backstories simultaneously only makes that more obvious. 

i’ve always found it so interesting that we get what’s pretty much our only substantial exposition about the will of d direct from a former celestial dragon. it makes sense- cora’s basically the only character we’ve met who both has this information and is willing to share it-  but i don’t know, there’s something that feels very poetic to me about him having this information that’s clearly been suppressed and hidden by the dragons and willingly choosing to share it in order to help protect law, a D, who should technically be the very enemy he was once taught to hate and fear. 

i really like corazon. 

it fucks me up that we can tell the exact moment cora dies from the moment law starts making noise again. 

this might be a controversial take? i’m not sure. but i like baby five. i think her and sai’s relationship is really sweet, and people might complain about her getting off easy or whatever but i’m honestly glad she gets a happy ending after being thoroughly emotionally abused and broken her entire life. and on a lighter note, she’s also just a fun character to watch through the whole arc- the running gag with her crying whenever law glares at her is still one of my favorites in the whole series. 

the shot of robin’s bloody back is a favorite of mine, because it’s a reveal that doesn’t get lingered on at all, and yet at once it gives the entire proceeding scene a lot more weight when we understand just how much pain she must’ve been in the entire time. and yet she never even flinched or faltered while protecting rebecca. nico robin is very, very strong. 

there’s something so deliciously fitting about diamante’s final fall ending with him cracking his head on scarlett’s grave, and something so lovely about kyros and rebecca finally getting their proper reunion there, when neither of them ever really got a chance to mourn.

law’s line about the strawhats trailing nothing but miracles in their wake is one of the first ones i always think of when i think about the strawhats in general and luffy in particular, mostly because it’s so true. from the very beginning, the strawhats have been doing the impossible, from sailing to the sky to breaking in and out of the world’s greatest prison, and law saw that and staked all his hopes on it and they did not let him down. 

also i think it’s very cool of law to, when held at gunpoint and down an arm, grin, flip doflamingo off, and tell him to eat shit and that luffy is going to kick his ass. love that for him.

i think dressrosa does a very good job of making the victory against doflamingo equally law’s and luffy’s. they cooperate and trade off fighting him throughout the arc to great effect, and i think it’s pretty clear that neither of them could have tackled the massive challenge of dressrosa alone. 

while the final fight is luffy’s, it’s made clear that that’s only after law’s done absolutely everything he could and spent the majority of the arc distracting doflamingo, keeping him occupied, and even fucking shredding his insides with pure radiation before finally needing to tap out. i think it’s a good balance, given that luffy is the protagonist but law’s grudge against doflamingo is the driving force behind the entire arc. 

conqueror’s haki clashes are always very cool, pretty much regardless of who or where or why, but the one between luffy and doflamingo is a favorite. 

one of the things that’s always impressed me about one piece in comparison to other shounen series is how it handles its powerscaling- in that it does it well with a gradual increase and villains who vary widely in strength instead of every arc necessarily needing to be bigger and better than the last- and i think the way it handles powering up the main characters is a big part of that. 

through the entirety of one piece thus far, i’d say luffy has had three major power-ups- second and third gear in enies lobby, haki at the timeskip, and gear four here in dressrosa (an argument could also be made for ryuuou in wano, but i think that’s less major than these others). this helps prevent runaway powerscaling and also makes new power-ups feel like a genuine event, which i really like. 

i once referred to luffy as ‘hopebringer’ in a conversation with friends, and it’s a descriptor for him i think sums up really well how he manages to save so many people while insistently not being a hero. luffy inspires people, inspires whole countries, starting all the way back with coby in romance dawn. it’s one of the reasons i think it’s fitting how thoroughly he’s associated with the dawn. 

doflamingo is very, very scary. which is interesting, because he’s indisputably less powerful someone like kaidou, but at the same time i find him a much scarier villain, and i think it comes down to doflamingo’s gleeful, wanton cruelty. not that kaidou is in any way shape or form a nice person, but our first introduction to doflamingo is him forcing marines to attack each other just because he’s a little bored. he hurts people just because he can, and finds it funny. 

relating to my earlier comment about hope, i really like how the whole country comes together at the end to cheer luffy on and count down to his return. it makes it feel all the more triumphant when it does, especially for the citizens of dressrosa who’ve been suffocating under doflamingo’s rule for years and can finally, finally see freedom.

other people have put a lot more thought of the symbolism of doflamingo’s eyes and glasses than i intend to, but i’ll settle for saying that it’s the breaking of the glasses, before anything else, before the birdcage even vanishes from the sky and everyone is safe, that shows us that, at long last, doflamingo is well and truly defeated. his glasses break, and so does his power. 

i’ve written a longer post about it before (here) but it’s a recurring motif that one piece’s worst villains are those that steal people’s freedom, including, in the cruelest cases, the freedom to express their emotions openly. we see it with koala and the celestial dragons, with the failed smile fruits in wano, and here, too, with kyros. and, much like koala, triumph for him means finally being able to cry. 

i mentioned it back in the first post, but i’m so, so happy rebecca and kyros get the happy ending they deserve. they’ve both been fighting a war that they never should have had to for years and years, and they both deserve to get to just live, now, peaceful and quiet and together and surrounded by flowers. 

i really dig the note dressrosa ends on. it’s happy, of course, obviously, with the liberation of the country, kyros and rebecca’s happy ending, the creation of the grand fleet, even law getting some degree of closure through his talk with sengoku, but it also leaves this massive, gaping question- what now? 

in a way, doflamingo’s speech here follows up on law’s new era speech from punk hazard. luffy and law have just thrown a major wrench into the delicate power equilibrium of the entire new world, and we have all these characters out there who might be affected, who might want to take advantage, who might try to seize the throne. 

[petrichoravellichor]

Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 1 (of 5) (Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Chs. 4 & 5)

“Crowley! Wake up, you son of a bitch, wake up!”

Crowley opens his eyes to Dean shaking him hard by the shoulders. Which is strange: the last thing Crowley remembers, he was dying, alone and forgotten in a parallel universe.

He isn’t there anymore. Instead, Dean is kneeling over him in a dome of golden light beyond which everything is dark, and for a brief, absurd moment he’ll chastise himself for later, Crowley thinks he’s somehow ended up in Heaven.

Then he glances past Dean and sees Sam with an exhausted-looking Castiel slumped against him; next to them is a younger man Crowley doesn’t recognize, but his eyes are molten gold, the same color as the dome surrounding them all. The amount of raw power emanating from the golden-eyed man makes every one of Crowley’s hairs stand on end, and not in a good way.

No, definitely not his idea of Heaven.

Crowley snaps his gaze back to Dean. “What—” he begins, but Dean cuts him off, hauling him to his feet.

“No time for questions!” Dean yells, and it’s only then that Crowley registers the roar coming from beyond the dome: it’s as though they’re standing in the eye of a hurricane as all around them things blow apart. “Come on, we gotta go!”

And then they’re all running, the dome of light moving with them like a shield as wispy black wraiths crash and burn against its perimeter and somewhere unseen, a hideous voice howls in rage.

*****

Once they’re safely back in the Bunker war room, Dean takes hold of Castiel and, along with the golden-eyed man—whose irises have faded to a soft, concerned blue—ushers him off in the direction of the infirmary, promising gruffly as he goes that he and Crowley will talk later.

Patience, however, is a virtue, and Crowley isn’t feeling particularly virtuous—especially not after seeing how tenderly Dean and Castiel looked at each other as Dean wrapped an arm around the angel’s waist and led him from the room. The sight had left a bitter taste in Crowley’s mouth, one he does his best to ignore. There will be time for that later; right now, he needs answers, and he’s not waiting on Dean in order to get them.

He crosses his arms and fixes Sam with an expectant glare. “All right, Moose,” he says, "out with it: what in God’s name is going on?”

Sam snorts, looking tired. “Um, yeah, about that...” He gestures towards the map table, then heads over to the liquor cabinet. “You...might wanna sit down.”

Crowley arches a brow, but he does as Sam suggests. Sam joins him a moment later and, after pouring them each a drink, spends the better part of the next hour telling Crowley all that’s transpired in the three years—three years—Crowley’s been dead.

Which is, it turns out, rather a lot.

Lucifer’s spawn survived his birth and is none other than the golden-eyed man Crowley saw when he woke up; his name is Jack, and for all intents and purposes, he considers Castiel to be his father.

An alternate version of Michael got a hold of Dean for a while, until Jack killed Michael at the cost of his soul, then, in a soulless rage, killed Mary.

God killed Jack. All Hell broke loose. Rowena, who’d apparently survived Lucifer’s last attempt to kill her, died to fix it and was now Queen of Hell.

Billie brought Jack back to kill God. Dean tried to kill Billie, so Billie tried to kill him. Castiel managed to take Billie out by admitting his love for Dean, at which point the Empty took Castiel—

Of course, thinks Crowley, the bitter taste in his mouth returning with a vengeance. Of. Bloody. Course...

The brothers had stormed the Empty not for him, but for Castiel. Good, noble, righteous Castiel, the wayward Angel of Thursday who’s been hopelessly in love with Dean for longer than Crowley has known him...and whom, it seems, Dean has finally admitted to loving back. Sam and Dean had saved Castiel because they loved him, because Dean loved him, but Crowley...They’d probably only rescued him because they’d figured they owed him for saving their denim-clad arses that day at the lake.

Now, as Crowley half-listens to Sam talk about defeating God, he glowers down at the map table and wishes they hadn’t bothered bringing him back at all, because it’s one thing to die unloved; it’s another to have to live that way. Crowley’s done both, and he knows which he prefers. At least in the Empty, he’d been at peace.

“Crowley? Hey, you okay?”

He looks up to see Sam regarding him from under a furrowed brow. Bollocks...

“Naturally,” Crowley says, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive smile. “That’s quite a tale, Moose. It sounds like you and Squirrel have outdone yourselves these past few years, even managed to pull one over on God; bravo. I’m sure Lucifer’s spawn will make a spectacular replacement: he is, after all, three.”

Sam’s eyes harden. “Jack’s nothing like Lucifer; he’s good, and he’s got us to help him, and Amara—”

“Oh, Amara! Now there’s a recipe for success if I’ve ever heard one: God’s evil sister and her Satanic great-nephew with billions of raw souls at their disposal. How could that possibly go wrong?” Crowley scoffs, shaking his head. “Honestly, there’s just no learning with you lot, is there? You just keep humming the same damn tune, then acting surprised when the notes turn sour, and it never even occurs to you to pick. A new. Bloody. Song.”

The frown on Sam’s face intensifies. “This is different. Jack, Amara, they’re on our side, and now that Rowena’s in charge of Hell—”

Crowley snorts. “Right. Care to wager on how long that lasts?” Then, at the look of sudden wariness on Sam’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Moose; that wasn’t me plotting a coup. I have no plans to try and take back the crown.”

“You don’t?”

“Why on earth would I?” Crowley takes a sip of brandy, grimacing slightly at the flavor—for all the changes the past few years have wrought, the Winchesters’ abominable taste in liquor remains tragically consistent. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I hated Hell as much as the blasted place hated me. If Mother thinks she can do better, she can have it.”

They sit without speaking for a moment; then Sam clears his throat. “You know,” he says quietly, “Rowena regrets how things ended between the two of you.”

Crowley stiffens, a stab of anger piercing his gut. “No, she doesn’t.”

“She does,” Sam insists, and how anyone can look so stupidly earnest is beyond Crowley’s ability to comprehend. “She told us so.”

Crowley scoffs. “And you believed her?” he demands, left hand closing into a fist at his side. “You know, for the longest time, I thought you were the smart one.”

Sam sighs. “Crowley...Look, I’m not saying Rowena’s perfect—”

“She’s quite literally the Queen of Hell, Moose.” Crowley manages to keep his voice level, but his fingernails are digging into his palm. “I’d say that’s about as far from perfect as anyone can get.”

“—but I think you two should talk.”

Crowley’s hand starts to bleed.

“I mean it,” continues Sam, when Crowley says nothing. “When I was a kid, my dad...he wasn’t there the way he should’ve been, and we fought a lot, and there were times I felt like I hated him, but when he died...”

A multitude of emotions flicker across Sam’s face in rapid succession, too fast for Crowley to name them all, but the final one, the one Sam looks back at him with, is regret. “When he died,” Sam continues, “I didn’t care about any of that. And maybe I should have. I know I should have. Believe me, I tried. But I just...kept coming back to the fact that what I was feeling, the good and the bad, I’d never get to actually say it to him, and if he was somehow sorry for the bad, that was something I’d never get to hear.”

Crowley’s anger flares white hot; his hidden palm is slick with blood. “If you have a point,” he growls, “I’d encourage you to come out with it.”

“My point,” says Sam, curtly, “is that you actually have a chance at some closure, and I think you should take it. For your own sake.”

Crowley clenches his jaw, looks away. “For my own sake,” he echoes, softly. As if his and Sam’s pain is the same. As if Rowena is capable of causing anything but. “Tell me, Moose: since when do you or your imbecile of a brother actually give a damn about my own sake?”

He raises his gaze to stare coldly at Sam who, for the first time since they sat down, seems at a genuine loss for words. Crowley snaps his glass down on the table and stands. “Thought as much.”

He shoves his hands in his coat pockets and turns to go—where, exactly, he has no idea—only to nearly crash headlong into Dean, and suddenly, Crowley’s anger turns to outright fury, because at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had gone up against Hell and his mother and even his own better judgment for Dean more times than he could count.

It didn’t matter that the two of them had shared a bed when Dean was a demon, doing extraordinary things to triplets that Crowley would have kicked out in a heartbeat if he’d thought he could get away with it.

It didn’t matter that Crowley had sacrificed his life to save Dean and Sam and the whole bloody world.

None of it mattered, because for all the times Crowley had chosen Dean, Dean had never once chosen him. Then again, Crowley thinks, maybe it’s his own fault for expecting any different, his due comeuppance for stupidly believing he deserved to be loved. It doesn’t matter; he knows better now.

“Hello, Dean,” he snarls. “Come to look in on me now that you’ve seen to your angel? Well you needn’t have bothered; I was just leaving.”

Dean frowns, crossing his arms. “The hell do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“I mean get out of my way.”

“No.”

“And why not?” Crowley demands, voice rising. “Am I your prisoner? I’ve already told your oaf of a brother that I’ve no interest in causing any sort of trouble in Hell, so if that’s what this is about, then you can just—”

“Damn it, Crowley,” snaps Dean, “no, that’s not what this is about; it’s about where are you even gonna go. You got a place somewhere we don’t know about?”

“I’ll find one.”

“Or,” Dean counters, “you could cut the crap and just stay here.”

That catches Crowley off guard, but only for a moment; he gives Dean a hard look, determined not to let the surprise show on his face. “And why on earth would I want to do that?”

“Because you know it’s the smart thing to do,” says Dean, face impassive, “and last I checked, you were an asshole, not an idiot.”

And it’s not that Crowley doesn't know full well that running off half-cocked into a world whose dynamics have fundamentally changed is naive at best and suicidal at worst—that isn’t what makes him nearly scream in rage, because he knows it’s patently true. No, the infuriating thing, the truly mortifying thing, is that Dean knows him well enough to know that he knows it, and that if Crowley does leave, he’s only going to prove Dean right.

The thought is more than Crowley can bear; still, if he doesn’t get out of this room right now, he’s going to start shouting—at Dean, at himself, at everything. There are other, less crowded places in this godforsaken Bunker, and it’s past time he went and found one. He’s not going to give Dean the satisfaction of watching him break.

Crowley pulls his fury tight and close, stepping forward into Dean’s space and glaring up at him with every bit of defiance he can muster. “Funny,” he sneers, “because last I checked, you were both.”

And he vanishes before Dean can respond.

*****

Crowley finds an unoccupied room at the far end of the hall and decides to claim it as his own for the time being. He bolts the door and turns to collapse onto the bed...only to freeze dead in his tracks.

His mother is standing in the corner. As Crowley gapes, Rowena takes a step forward, face pale and incredulous. “Fergus?” she whispers. “Gods, is it really you?”

Her voice snaps Crowley out of his shock, and he narrows his eyes. “Mother,” he growls, the word like poison in his mouth. “What do you want?”

“Sam told me they were going to try and get you back,” Rowena says softly, eyes roving over Crowley’s face as though seeing him for the first time, “and I wanted...I needed to see if they’d done it, if you were all right.”

Crowley glares, making a mental note to have a word with Sam about this particular indiscretion. “Well, you’ve seen me. Now get out.”

Rowena recoils, and if Crowley didn’t know any better, he’d swear his words actually hurt her. “You’re angry,” she says. “You’re angry, and you’ve every right to be, but if you’d just let me explain—”

“Explain what?” Crowley snaps. He clenches both hands into fists, ignoring the burn in his left palm. “What could you possibly have to say to me that I’d want to hear? You hate me, remember?”

“I love you—”

Crowley barks out a laugh. “Really? Have you forgotten the last time we saw each other? You left on a bus after you sent my son to his death, all because you wanted to watch me ‘suffer the loss of a child’, of my child!” He stumbles towards her, half-blind with rage. “Tell me, Mother: did losing me bring you any suffering, or were you just sad you weren’t there to collect three pigs in exchange?”

Rowena looks as though she’s been slapped. “Of course I suffered! Do you have any idea what I went through trying to get you back? I faced Death herself; I begged her to return you to me, but she wouldn’t do it! Ask Sam, ask Dean!”

“They’ve already told me,” Crowley grinds out. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?” Rowena is crying now, tears rolling freely down her face. “Of course it matters! I did it because I missed you, because I love you!”

“You’ve never loved me a day in your life.”

“That isn’t true! I did love you; I do!” Rowena takes another step forward and reaches out a hand. “If you could just find it in your heart to forgive me—”

“Forgive you?” Crowley snarls, and it’s all he can do not to spit in her face. “You don’t get to ask for my forgiveness, not after any one thing you’ve put me through, not after everything! What was it you said to me that day at the bus station, your parting words? ‘Who better than me to crush your shriveled heart’? At least I had a heart, once; you never did.”

“Fergus—”

And Crowley explodes. “GET OUT!” he screams, seizing the lamp off the bedside table and hurling it at his mother with all his might...only to watch as it flies right through her and crashes into the wall.

And then Rowena’s gone, just like she always is, and Crowley’s alone, just like he always is. He stands in the middle of the room and stares hollowly into empty space. “Astral projection,” he says, quietly; it always had been one of his mother’s favorite tricks. “Of course.”

He spends the rest of the night warding the room as many ways as he knows how, determined not to let his mother or anyone else get the drop on him again.

[billiewena]

for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.  

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around — almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)