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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 6 months

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supermarket run-ins (the start of something new)

summary: nathan mackinnon x f!reader // the supermarket meeting...eventually they'll get married (from this)

warnings: nate being adorably awkward

word count: 3.2k

< i'm gonna link this to a series called 'funny how life works out' (in the works) on my main masterlist and if there's anything you want to see from this universe, please shoot me an ask, my requests are open! >

Nate knew there was always going to be a risk of running into someone he went to school with when he came back to Cole Harbour: the place was pretty small, and nearly every time he’d gone out he’d see a familiar face hiding around the corner, but he wasn’t sure if he could take another awkward conversation, least of all when he was grocery shopping.

It was early May, and the second round loss in the playoffs against the Sharks was still a remarkably sore ache, and the last thing he wanted was for someone to offer their condolences for it: he knew people meant well, but sometimes it did just rub salt in the wound – and for that reason, he decided the best course of action was to do his grocery shopping a little way out of town and at the strangest time possible, i.e. seven A.M on a Thursday morning, because who the fuck else would be insane enough to go grocery shopping that early in the morning?

Or, at least, that was part of his strategy. The other part involved wearing his sweatpants and zip up (it was chilly that early in the morning) and a baseball cap inside to make himself seem as glum and as unapproachable as possible. He wasn’t necessarily trying to hide his identity – it never worked with a baseball cap in those superhero movies – nor did he actually believe that people in Halifax would genuinely care who he was, because he wasn’t the only person to have made it to the NHL in these parts, and he certainly wasn’t the most famous, either. In fact, people were more blase about it than not.

Still, that didn’t stop him from keeping his head down when he walked through the doors as soon as the store opened, nor did it stop him from keeping his eyes on the floor as he navigated his way through the aisles, listening rather closely to the faint music playing over the intercom as he picked up a basket and made his way for the fresh fruit and veg aisle.

Despite having only been back home for a few days, he already had plans, and those plans consisted largely of cooking, eating, working out, and then walking the short distance from his house to Sid’s so they could mourn the devastating loss of their Stanley Cup for this year. Though, Nate did feel as though he had more of a reason to mourn this time: Sid had won it three times already, and this season the Penguins didn’t even make it to play-off contention, whereas the Avs had. Second round. Still bitter. And Nate had yet to get his hands on Lord Stanley.

Even the mere thought of it made his jaw clench. He wondered what he must look like to an onlooker: murderous glares at the carrots usually weren’t a good sign for anyone. In fact, even that thought had him swiping a bag of carrots and looking both ways down the aisle as a precaution, as though he was guilty of doing something – yet, as far as he was aware, the only thing he was guilty of was being this miserable sore loser at seven-ten in the morning.

He reckoned that was a new personal record – he could usually hold it off until half past the hour, but it seemed the early morning pining had gotten to him exceptionally early.

He took a step to the right, reaching for the bag of lettuce, when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Usually he wouldn’t have bothered looking: he was in a supermarket, and people were expected to walk through pretty often, but he’d been the only person sad and mad enough to wait outside the doors until they opened up, and he knew for a fact that no one else had followed him in immediately after.

Only, when he turned his attention to the end of the aisle, he saw someone. A woman. She was walking down towards the back of the store, the aisle directly in line with his. He didn’t know if she’d seen him, but she had headphones on and was wearing athletic gear: shorts, trainers, a long-sleeved top under a short-sleeved one. Nate knew that because he recognised the logo on her shoulder and he had one of his own, only it a different colour, and it was much bigger.

He blinked, turning back to his own list.

He didn’t make it through another five seconds before giving in and looking back at her. He couldn’t quite shake the air of familiarity she encompassed. Even though he hadn’t seen her face, there was something undoubtedly recognisable in the way she moved and stood.

He’d seen that woman before. Knew her, even. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew that much. He just had a feeling, the kind that settles so delicately in your bones and has your heart pounding just that little bit faster – he couldn’t quite ignore it.

Still, he continued on with the rest of his shopping, even going so far as to treat himself with some cake mix (that he was probably going to just bake and give to his parents, because he’d have one slice and get bored and before he’d know it, he’d have to throw the entire thing away because it’d gone stale), and it was as he was making his way back up to the tills, walking straight through the ready meals aisle, that he saw her again.

She was standing in front of the refrigerated section, her basket on the floor as she held two boxes in her hands, seemingly undecided on something. A small part of him hoped that she’d see someone coming and look at them (him, really), so he could deduce who she was. In fact, a large part of him wanted that. It was all he wanted at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he could leave the supermarket without figuring it out before he left – and he immediately shut that thought down because he sounded like an absolute creep.

He kept his steps mildly loud and purposeful, not moving too fast or too slow to rouse suspicion, and he kept to the centre of the aisle. At some point his hands seemed to have made the decision to take his cap off his head, because when he briefly looked down at his basket it was sitting on top of the cat food (probably for the better, because it’d be weird if he ended up saying he didn’t actually own a cat even though he had cat food – that was guessing he’d even end up saying something anyway: it was all rather a large question mark in that sense), and he ran an anxious hand through his hair, fluffing it up from where it had been squashed, before looking up.

The woman reached down, dropping a box into her basket, the other one nestled safely back on the shelf, and whether he’d timed the entire thing impeccably well, or whether she’d actually seen him, she looked up. Right at him. And, before he could even do anything consciously, his legs had slowed to a stop.

He was right. He definitely knew her. In fact, the very woman standing in front of him was the exact same one he’d had a crush on in school from the age of ten to…well, he wasn’t quite sure when it stopped because he left shortly after that, but now she was standing in front of him, smiling politely, and Nate instantly felt like a giddy ten-year old again.

It was you.

You, who upon seeing he’d stopped in his utterly bewitched stupor, had taken the headphones off from over your ears and had turned to face him.

All because he stopped in his tracks.

“Hi.” You said, picking up your basket on the floor and regarding him with some sense of confusion.

He blinked, his mouth falling open dumbly, the words sitting right there on the top of his tongue, but he seemed suddenly incapable of even stringing anything together.

He shut his mouth almost immediately after that realisation, and the flush in his cheeks almost seemed inevitable — as did your curious quirk of an eyebrow, because even the people that didn’t know him well knew it was never a good sign for someone who was so used to being in the public eye, to stutter and make a fool of themselves simply trying to have a polite conversation.

“Is everything okay?”

He didn’t know it was possible to blush even harder, but he felt it tingle in his toes and the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I—” he cleared his throat, heart hammering in his chest like there was no tomorrow, “You just took me by surprise, I guess. Haven’t seen you in years.” He managed, tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. He’d never struggled so much before, but old habits do die hard and he’d never been completely normal talking to you when he was ten.

A look of pleasant surprise crossed your features, and only then did it occur to him that it might be weird of him to say something like that, because you two hadn’t really known each other at all. A few weeks sitting at the same table didn’t exactly constitute the kind of friendship that’d be so profound you’d shock him.

“Would that surprise also have something to do with the fact that we’re apparently the only two people with the thought to go shopping at this time?” You ignored the latter half of his bumbling ramble, probably for the better, and instead seemed to find some relief in the fact that he had regained his ability to talk.

He didn’t quite know which was worse.

Nevertheless, he stuck on a smile and tugged awkwardly at his earlobe for a moment, “It might, yeah.”

You hummed, rocking back on your heels with the faint trace of an amused smile on your face.

It was only then that he noticed the old, slightly worn in Halifax Mooseheads logo printed squarely on the front of your t-shirt, and he very quickly averted his eyes — only the more he seemed to look at your face, the more obvious it became that you were every bit still as beautiful as you had been to his ten year old self, if not more.

“So, where are you, how are you these days?” He asked, once again the words tumbling straight from his mouth with little thought, but you seemed to appreciate the question, if he read the look on your face correctly.

“I went to college in Montreal, and I’m still there. I work for a law firm as a legal translator…And I guess I’m doing well.” You shrugged, “What about you?”

Nathan swallowed nervously, the crushing weight of the loss almost crashing into him full force, and he knew he froze for a good couple of seconds, trying to get his head back into the present moment. He didn’t know if you could tell just where his mind had gone, or if you were just that patient, but you didn’t say anything or do anything to indicate his lack of immediate response.

“I’m good, yeah. I mean, I’m still reeling from the play-off loss, but it’s nice to come home and recharge.” He inhaled, “But other than that, Denver’s treating me well.”

“That’s good.”

“As good as it can get to say I got absolutely no choice as to where I had to live when I was eighteen? I’d say so, yeah.” He agreed, feeling himself ease up a little.

He couldn’t get his mind to quieten, and he felt jittery; he didn’t know what to do with his hands and he knew all of that would be solved if he just stopped thinking so hard about a simple conversation, but all he could think about was his poor younger self, who, upon finding out he had to move to Minnesota, did wonder what happened to you.

If his younger self could see him now…

You laughed softly at his sarcasm, and he felt the clouds part for a moment – a laugh meant he wasn’t completely making a fool of himself.

“What are you doing here now anyway?” You asked, wandering across the aisle, your basket still on the floor, and he watched, one hand stuffed in his hoodie pocket, as you picked some cheese off the shelf and made your way back to the basket.

“I’m restocking my fridge and avoiding any possible run-ins with people–well, with people I went to school with, actually.”

You just grinned, and for some reason he had an idea of what your next words would be before you even said them, “How’s that working out for you?”

Nate shrugged lamely, “There are worse people to run into.”

And from the comical look on your face Nate had an awful feeling that you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that why you’re here too?” He continued, acutely aware of the fact that you were mid-shopping trip, and he knew for a fact that even if he did want to keep standing there and chatting to you for a little while longer, he couldn’t. Not really. Still, it hadn’t been quite long enough yet to end it now.

If he did, he knew he’d regret it if it was the last time he’d ever see you again for the rest of his life.

You shrugged, showing no signs of his presence or conversation either dulling or pissing you off, and answered without hesitation, your basket now in your arms again, “Yeah, but I’m also busy for the rest of the day so I couldn’t go at any other time.”

“Oh, anything nice planned?”

“It’s my Dad’s birthday, so there’s some family coming over and then we’re all going out for dinner.” There was a pause, and for a brief second Nathan felt himself get hot with panic at the mere thought of that brief pause turning into an awkward silence, but you spoke again, and his heart rate dwindled and his body temperature lowered with the help from the fridges, “You got any plans for today?”

Nate felt himself begin to nod before he could spew the words out, “Yeah.” He said, “I’m seeing Sid tonight.” It was only after he finished talking and had the chance to double-check that he hadn’t said anything wrong accidentally, that he realised that you might not know who Sid is.

He had no clue if you even liked hockey. In fact, he knew little to nothing about you apart from that fact that you were clever, played soccer quite violently from what he’d heard from some of his friends, and that you went to college in Montreal, and both lived and worked there now. And it was your Dad’s birthday today.

In fact, now that he thought about it, you hadn’t actually given him any indication that you knew who he was. You’d not said his name, how would he know you weren’t faking it to be polite?

He didn’t voice any of that, though. If he did, it wouldn't matter if you knew who he was or not, because the second he voiced exactly what was running through his head, this entire thing would turn into a car crash.

“Kind of crazy how that works out, huh?” You asked rhetorically, and Nate raised a brow, waiting for you to elaborate, “I remember you talking about him in class, and now…”

Nate grinned, only just resisting the urge to sigh in relief, and all at once his mind seemed to clear. It quietened; he could think properly now. All because you remembered him.

He felt a little bit pathetic, actually, at how easy it was for him to physically brighten because of one vague thing from fourteen or so years ago (fourteen!), that he probably told everyone who would listen – but he had a strong visual in his mind, then, of everyone else on that school table tuning out his Crosby-rambling, and you were the only one listening. He remembered you’d ask him questions, and…you liked hockey, he remembered that now.

It was funny how a moment so insignificant in the past could feel like a tectonic plate shifting under his feet.

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. God, he really did chat hockey a lot, didn’t he? “And they say don’t meet your idol.”

You fucking remembered him!

You breathed a laugh, and Nate felt something in his chest splinter at the sound, only when he seemed to really look at you next, you shivered, teeth pressed together and shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before, considering you were standing in a cold aisle with shorts on, and him with full length sweatpants and a hoodie, but it was freezing. Really cold, and the guilt that came with that observation had him immediately stepping away slightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should let you get back to your shopping.” He rambled nervously.

“It’s okay, I’m not really in a rush.”

What was he supposed to say to that? What did it mean? Was it an invitation to stay longer? To keep chatting? He had no fucking clue, and he was sure the chaos of his thoughts was unfortunately also mirrored on his face judging from the way you were now looking at him (or was he overthinking that, too?); yet, the only thing that came out of his mouth was: “It was nice catching up with you–”

“I have three days left before I go back to Montreal.” You interrupted, and Nate blinked.

He blinked again. His heart was in his throat. What–Oh.

“Do you maybe want to get drinks before you go?” He asked, heart pounding so very painfully against his ribs. He didn’t know why asking that question was so nerve-racking, especially considering you’d half fone the job for him anyway, but there was something tugging at him that had his hands trembling slightly as he put his number in your phone. He looked over to see you doing the same on his phone, and though your fingers were shaking too he couldn’t say for certain if it was because of the cold or your own nerves.

“Tell your Dad happy birthday from me.” He muttered once he’d repocketed his phone and managed to make eye contact with you without a) smiling too hard and looking like a crazy person, or b) looking like he was constipated.

“I will.” You promised, “Have fun tonight, too.”

“I’ll try.” He managed a normal smile, “See you later.”

“See you.”

And he spent the entire walk back to his car trying not to scream out of excitement. He’d never been so giddy for later.

#nathan mackinnon oneshot #nathan mackinnon imagine #nathan mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon x reader #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey oneshot #hockey imagine

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honorarysimp · 2 months

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Chapter 4: Strangers in the Night

series masterlist

The Northern Edge: 1 Mile into Canadian Waters

The salty breeze of the sea blew over the deck of the sea-worn vessel, carrying with it the smell of salt water, fish, and hard labor.

The crew of the sea-vessel scurry about the deck, hauling ropes and supplies, calling to eachother as the ship rocks on the choppy waters of the open sea.

The waves splashed against the sides of the boat, spraying the salty water on the crew, causing a few of them to swear and grumble as they were spattered.

The crew haul up another load of scallops, the net on the end of the rope heaving as it was pulled up. Once the scallop-filled net was on the deck, Nunes rushes over to pull the release lever, dropping its load of scallops across the deck.

Shells covered the wooden deck in a sea of white foam, Skeemo cursing as he accidentally stumbles and kicks shells across the deck with his boots.

“I don’t know guys, I think she really likes me” Charlie continues to argue his case, tugging his gloves more securely on to his hands as the other two men begin shoveling the scallops into buckets.

“You’re delusional, my friend, black label doesn’t like anyone in the way you’re dreaming up” Skeemo says as he shoots Charlie a smirk, which he only rolls his eyes to in response as he joins them on scooping up the scallops off the deck floor.

“You’re better off focusing on choosing between law school and being a deckhand, Charlie” Costa can be heard chiming in as he crosses the deck to head into the Captain’s quarters, most likely to rejoin Tom in discussing their next spot to hit.

“What? You don’t think I have a chance?”

“You have to be lucky to have a chance with Mabel, that’s all I’m gonna say” Nunes adds in which only makes Skeemo bellow with laughter, sharing a fist bump like they have an inside joke Charlie is clearly missing.

He straightens up, a confused boyish smile on his face, “I don’t know I think I’m lucky, I mean she drove like a goddamn NASCAR driver to get me to the dock in time”.

“Finest kind” Nunes shouts in agreement, thumping his fist to his chest and pointing it over at Charlie, making his smile widen.

Skeemo shrugs, “look all we’re saying is you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble with that, Mabel is as good as they come but…”

Nunes gives him a look, subtly shaking his head. Charlie catches this and almost asks what it is they know and he doesn’t.

But then Tom is yelling from the Captain’s quarters, telling them to get a move on, how they don’t have all day.

The crew rushes to finish clearing the deck of scallop shells as quickly as possible, kicking the shells to the side of the ship and tossing the rotten ones overboard. They work with practiced efficiency, moving quickly to clear the deck and readying the net for another drop.

As they go about working, Charlie finds himself thinking over the conversation with the guys, and how their choice of words as well as their aloofness to the situation made him feel some type of way.

Charlie didn’t know it then, but lucky won’t be a stroke of fate in his favor, it would be a person.

____________________________________________

Despite knowing you should just leave it be, you find yourself on your way to Mabel’s place, a need to apologize burning deep in your chest.

You’d tossed and turned all night, your mind replaying your last conversation with Mabel over and over again. The words left unsaid, the tension between you, all of it swims through your head and keeping you restlessly wired.

That, and you couldn’t get comfortable, it’s like trying to lay with pins and needles. Everything fucking hurts.

The words and the tension between you two keep replaying in your head like a broken record, keeping you from finding any sort of peace.

It's early morning now and you find yourself on your way to her place, driven by a need to apologize, to bridge the gap that has grown between you. Lack of sleep isn't the only thing you blame for this unexpected visit - there's a heavy guilt gnawing at you.

You have no problem admitting on your own when you’re in the wrong, however, you do tend to do the exact opposite whenever you’re being called out.

You pull up outside her place, your heart pounding in your chest. A whirlwind of emotions threatens to drown you - guilt, regret, worry. You know deep down that you shouldn't be here this early, that she will definitely be angry with you for showing up unannounced at the crack of dawn. But the pull to see her, to apologize, to fix things, is stronger than your logical thinking.

Just as you cut the engine, your heart sinks as you hear the front door slams against the wall, the sound jolting you from your thoughts and pulling your gaze.

And then your stomach drops as you realize it’s Charlie, his expression twisted and his eyes rimmed, as if he hasn’t slept at all. His gaze then finds your car, and in that moment all thoughts of apologizing to Mabel vanish, replaced by a deep sense of dread.

“Shit” you mutter, tugging at the doorhandle and being quick about slipping out of the vehicle. You’d rather him take it out on you than your car.

You walk around the hood of your car, raising your hands in an attempt to calm him. "Charlie," you call out, your heart pounding in your chest “come on man take it easy we can talk about whatever this is-“

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER! This is YOUR fault!” he roars, now barreling towards you with vendetta.

A second later, you spot Mabel bursting out of her apartment, her face filled with confusion and worry at the sound of shouting. She stops at the sight of the two of you, her eyes darting between you and Charlie.

Just as Charlie swings at you, Mabel yells "Charlie, stop!", her voice echoes through the early morning air, laced with concern and a hint of anger.

Even busted up, you manage to sidestep his punch effortlessly, years of experience kicking in. You grab his arm and twist it behind his back, pinning him face down against the hood of your car with a firm grip.

You lean in close to him, your voice firm but calm as you say, "Charlie, I need you to chill the fuck out. I'm not trying to hurt you, but don’t think I won’t." You keep him in place, your grip unyielding despite his attempts to break free.

“LET ME GO, YOU PSYCHO!” You can feel the tension coursing through his body, the coiled energy of a fight or flight response, but you remain calm, your attention focused on keeping him still.

Mabel steps in, her voice raised in anger as she roughly pulls you away from Charlie. "What the hell is wrong with you two?" she scolds, pushing you back, eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and disappointment. "You're attracting attention and acting like idiots!"

As you're pulled away from Charlie, he instantly stands upright, rubbing at his twisted arm with a sullen expression. He pins you with a glare over Mabel’s shoulder, and it makes something that taunts the line between possessive and protective stir within you.

You start to open your mouth to protest that he started it but Mabel cuts you off before you can say anything. “I don’t care what bullshit you have to say!” she says, her voice raised and authoritative. “I don’t care who threw the first punch. You’re both acting like fucking idiots right now! Why are you even here, in the first place?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words catch in your throat. You weren't expecting this confrontation, and the intensity of her questions has you uncharacteristically taken aback. "I..." you start, searching for the right words as you wet your lips.

"I came here to talk to you."

Charlie can't help but scoff in disbelief, throwing his arms up in the air and shaking his head at you. "This is exactly what I was talking about, Mabel!" he exclaims, his voice sharp and angry. "Lucky just shows up at your place, like it's not a big deal! This asshole is playing you, and you just eat it up!"

You feel a pang of confusion and a small sting of hurt at Charlie's words. You had come here with the best intentions, but his anger and suspicion make you feel like maybe you've made a mistake.

Mabel on the other hand, whirls on Charlie and snaps at him, her voice filled with anger. "I meant it when I said this conversation is over! So fucking drop it" she says firmly.

Charlie starts to protest again, his voice loud and agitated. "You're my girlfriend! How you’re going about this is deflective and complete bullshit-" he insists, his face reddening with anger.

But Mabel cuts him off with a mirthless laugh, her eyes narrowing as she retorts, "Since when? You haven't exactly been acting like it lately, have you?"

Mabel steps closer to him, her voice rising as her pent-up emotions finally boil over. "You haven't been supportive of me wanting to go to community college, or did you forget about that in the midst of your self righteous quest to be the hero?!" she lists out, her voice growing more heated as she continues.

"This actually your fault, you know that right? I did YOU a favor, put myself in a compromising position. Now I’m fucked, I was gonna go to community college. Jesus, Charlie, you’re barely present in the conversations when I’m trying to talk to you about it!”

Charlie throws his hands up in frustration, his own emotions finally bubbling over. "I don't know what you want!" he explodes, his voice rising.

“What do you expect me to say, huh? Look where you come from and look where I come from, I don’t know what you want me to say to you! I have no place to do that!”

Mabel looks at him in disbelief, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. "The point isn't about giving me exactly what I want," she says firmly, stepping back and pinning Charlie with a steely gaze.

"The point is about you showing that you care, that you care about my dreams and ambitions. And clearly" she continues, her words stinging, "you don't."

You glance anxiously back and forth between Mabel and Charlie, feeling increasingly out of place as their argument continues. It's clear that their conversation is spiraling, with Charlie saying all the wrong things and Mabel's frustration and anger growing by the minute.

In your defense, you hadn't intended to witness this blowup. Charlie had brought their argument outside and kept on pushing all the wrong buttons.

You know Mabel can handle her own, but if he doesn’t check it, you’ll easily knock his teeth down his throat.

“I do care-“Charlie begins to protest, but Mabel cuts him off before he can say more, her voice laced with bitter sarcasm.

"Oh, you care? Really?" she retorts. "How exactly have you shown me that you care? Because from where I'm standing, you’ve been no where when I’ve needed you the last few days".

You step up, interjecting into their argument with a tentative murmur of her name, trying to defend Charlie. "Mabel," you murmur, feeling a pang of empathy for Charlie, despite your… reservations about him "don’t-"

Mabel pivots her attention to you, her anger now directed your way. She punctuates her words with a warning jab of her finger in your direction, her voice sharp and biting. "Stay the fuck out of this," she snaps, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. "This has nothing to do with you-"

Charlie cuts in abruptly, his attention shifting to you as he points at you, his tone accusatory. "It has everything to do with Lucky! What's with you always being there whenever something bad happens to her, huh?!” he accuses, his voice laced with suspicion. "You always happen to show up and play the hero, don't you? You’re fake as shit, I mean Lucky isn’t even your real name, does anyone know it?!-“

Wow, okay, so much for trying to defend him. This is why you’re never the bigger person.

Mabel pushes against Charlie's chest, her frustration and anger causing her to lose control. Her voice is a mixture of anger and desperation as she snaps at him, her words laced with a mix of hurt and anger.

"Lucky is the only person I've ever been able to count on! My whole life!" she exclaims, her voice rising on each word. "You're always late, or you blow me off, or you make me feel like my dreams don't even matter. But-" she gestures towards you, something a bit softer involuntarily slipping into her gaze.

"-Y/N has always been here for me, before you, and now clearly after you”.

It’s been so long since anyone has referred to you by your legal name, rather than the nickname you chose to start going by back in your adolescence. And the fact that it’s coming from her mouth makes it all the more meaningful.

The revelation lingers in the air for a charged few seconds, and as Charlie glances between the two of you with an unreadable expression. It’s almost like he knows he’ll never be able to compare to the history you two share.

Still, Charlie retorts, his voice strained with stress and responsibility as he defends his actions. "I have my brother to think about," he says, his expression earnest. "I'm doing everything I can to keep us both safe. You have no idea what I'm dealing with”.

The silence that follows his words is heavy and deafening, hanging in the air like a thick veil.

You and Mabel exchange a knowing look, both of you thinking the same thing. His excuse, no matter how genuine his feelings for his brother are, comes off as selfish and self-centered. It's as if he's using his brother as a shield to deflect criticism and avoid taking responsibility.

And considering the situation, where you stand, the danger you’ve put yourself in for her safety, this seems to be chipping the headstone of whatever is going on between Charlie and Mabel. Because as her face shifts to something venomous, a look you’ve had directed at you once before, you know he’s fucked.

Mabel's tone is cold and unforgiving as she utters her biting words, her voice laced with a biting sarcasm. "Unbelievable," she says, her eyes hardening as she looks at Charlie. "I should've known an entitled, rich jackass like you would be this selfish. Honestly, I called it. What a waste of my time."

The moment hangs heavy in the air, thick with tension and raw emotions. The slowly rising sun, its soft light bathing the scene in an early-morning glow, seems to do little to soften the heated confrontation. Mabel and Charlie stand facing each other, engaged in a tense standoff, each unwilling to back down or concede.

So, you take it upon yourself to try and help.

In an attempt to diffuse the tension, your arms raised in a mockingly serious gesture as you glance up at the sky.

"Excuse me, oh wise clouds above," you declaim, "is the elephant in the room with us tonight?" Your words hang in the air, the sarcastic question adding a touch of levity to the otherwise heavy atmosphere.

Mabel shoots you a sharp glare, clearly not amused by your attempt at injecting some humor into the situation. "I want you both to leave, I can’t think with all the bitching" she instructs firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. Without another word, she turns and heads towards the stairs leading up to her place, her footsteps heavy with the weight of her anger and frustration.

The tension between you and Charlie is palpable, neither of you willing to meet each other's gaze. The silence is thick with unspoken words and lingering resentment. After a few moments, Charlie breaks the stillness, his movements stiff and tense as he turns and walks away without a glance back.

The sound of a truck starting up fills the clearing, tires pushing along pavement fades into the distance, leaving you standing alone in the heavy atmosphere.

You turn towards your car, preparing to follow Mabel's demands and leave. But then you pause, your hand on the door handle, torn. There's something nagging at you, an itch you can't quite scratch.

Your mind begins to race, thoughts flickering through your mind like a slideshow of memories. You think back on all the other times Mabel has told you to leave, the heated arguments, the strained moments, the harsh words exchanged. The weight of each memory hits you like a punch to the gut.

The thought of Mabel being alone, feeling isolated and abandoned, cuts through your thoughts. You know her better than that. You can picture her up in her apartment now, still angry and upset, struggling to cope with the fallout of her fight with Charlie.

This realization hits you like a wave, and with it comes a second realization that you shouldn’t have listened to her when she told you to leave.

Not now, not a year ago, never again.

Against your better judgement, you let go of the door handle, steeling yourself for what lies ahead. You take a deep breath and turn away from your car, facing the stairs leading up to Mabel's apartment.

It's a risky move, going against her wishes and potentially angering her even further. But the thought of leaving her alone, hurting and vulnerable, doesn't sit right with you.

This time, you'll stay, despite the potential consequences.

Personal growth? Perhaps. Or maybe you’re just done using her chasing you off as an excuse for not fighting hard enough for her.

You don't even knock. It's an unspoken agreement between you, your oldest routine. She never knocks either, because a door means nothing when a person is your home.

So, you open the door without making a sound, gently pushing it open and stepping into Mabel's apartment.

You step around the changing divider, your footsteps almost inaudible on the rug. Mabel glances in your direction, noticing movement from the corner of her eye. She pivots quickly, turning her head to look at you with a mix of surprise, anger, and resignation.

The atmosphere is heavy with unspoken emotions, a thick tension hanging in the air. Frustration, hurt, anger - they all churn within you, blending together in a bittersweet cocktail of feelings. Both of you are aware of the lack of communication that has led to this point. So many moments left unexplained, all the opportunities wasted.

It's a familiar dance. One you've both participated in before, each one taking turns in the lead. The silence between you is deafening.

Mabel surges forward, her anger and frustration bubbling over. She tries to push at you, her movements weakened by the maelstrom of emotions raging inside of her.

The words she means to muster up, words meant to tell you to leave, lodge in her throat, unable to escape. Instead, they come out as a strangled sob.

You catch her wrists as she lashes out at you, holding them firmly but gently. Wordlessly and without a second thought, you pull her into a tight embrace, feeling her body relax and sink into your arms.

For the first time in over a year, Mabel crumbles, her emotional walls finally crumbling as the weight of the past week crashes down on her. Her body trembles as she muffles her sobs into your chest, letting go and surrendering to the overwhelming emotions.

The feeling of holding her is both familiar and new at the same time. Your heart aches for her, each muffled shudder feeling like a stab to your chest.

But you swallow your own emotions, smothering them in order to be there for her in this moment. Your grip is firm, reassuring, even though your own eyes sting with unshed tears.

Mabel suddenly pulls away, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, trying to compose herself. Her voice is soft, a mix of irritation and vulnerability as she utters the question, "God, why do you always do this?"

The question hangs heavily in the air, loaded with the complexities of your relationship.

You stand there, stunned, your confusion evident on your face. You utter a soft and puzzled, "I don't understand."

The words betray your own emotions - confusion, hurt, guilt - all swirling together in a chaotic storm within you.

Mabel stands with her back to you, her arms crossed tightly over her chest in a defensive, closed-off stance. She gnaws nervously on her thumbnail, a nervous habit that surfaces in moments of stress.

After taking a shaky breath, she answers, her tone defensive. "You always show up, even now a year later, even after what happened" Mabel says tremulously.

"Whenever I'm upset, whenever I'm hurt, you're always there. You always show up when it matters, and you're always so fucking good to me in those moments," she adds, her voice catching. "And it just... it pisses me off, you know? You piss me off."

You listen as Mabel speaks, her back still turned to you. The mix of emotions in her voice is palpable, each word she says is laced with pain and confusion, a complex maelstrom of feelings that reflect the history between you two. You listen in silence, absorbing everything she says, feeling the weight of it in your chest.

She continues, her voice a mix of anger and hurt, "You’ve always had to be the one to save the day. What's your deal, huh? Why can't you just leave me alone? Why do you always have to do this?"

As you step forward, shaking your head, you utter a pleading, "don't do this."

But Mabel's emotions are already boiling over, and your words seem to only stoke the fire, rather than quell it.

She turns to face you, her eyes blazing with an intensity that matches the whirlwind inside of her.

"You know what, let’s fucking do this, it’s long overdue!" she practically snarls back, her voice sharp and defiant.

The flashback hits you forcefully, transporting you back to a time when similar words were exchanged, when the same argument erupted between you.

Your anger flares in your chest, mirroring the intensity of that moment in the past. You straighten up, challenging her with your own declaration, "fine! You wanna do this now? Wanna let it out on me again? Go ahead! It's about time!"

Mabel surges forward, her frustration flaring as she pushes at you with surprising force. You feel this one, body still aching from the other day, but you bite your tongue and swallow it down.

The last thing you need is to let her see you weak, or make her feel worse than she already does.

Her voice is sharp and filled with accusiation as she demands, "why didn't you tell me the truth about Weeks?"

You push her hands away, your own voice taut with frustration. "You already know the answer to that," you retort, your own emotions bubbling to the surface "I already told you why."

Mabel steps forward to push you again, only this time you step back, the motion forgotten as her voice rises, "in the four years we’ve known each other you never once told me, so don’t give me that same bullshit excuse about how you were ashamed." The hurt and betrayal in her tone is palpable, reflecting the weight of the secret you carried.

“I am ashamed, why the fuck do you think I stopped running with him after everything that happened?!” You retort back, running your fingers through your hair.

“You still had every opportunity to tell me, and you didn’t! I had to find out FROM HIM!”

Tears stream down Mabel's cheeks, raw and exposed. The disappointment in her eyes cuts deep as she shakes her head at you.

"I hate you," she whispers, her voice thick with hurt, "because you made me fall for you, knowing what you knew, along with the fact Weeks is the reason my mom got into drug dealing. Which you also conveniently forgot to mention”.

The anger roars to life inside of you as you throw your hands up and ask pointedly, "so is that why you ratted me out to him? To get even? Even after I torched his stash? I only did that because of your vendetta against him!"

Mabel points a threatening finger at you, "I never asked you to do that for me," she snaps, her words heavy with anger and guilt. "Even now after all this time, do you really still think I set you up? That I wanted to watch him beat the shit out of you?!"

“I don’t know what to think, you cut me out and disappeared before I could make you talk to me! I only know what he told me, he’s family Mabel-“

Your protest is cut off abruptly as Mabel's voice cuts through the air, her words filled with pain. "Yeah, well, I'm your family too!" she says, her voice rising in volume. "And the truth is, I didn't have a choice! My hands were tied!"

Your voice rises to a near shout as you insist, "everyone has a choice!”

But before you can continue your protests, Mabel drops a revelation that cuts through your need to be heard.

"He threatened me," she utters in a shaky voice, "if I ever told you the truth."

The anger that flared within you simmers down into a state of confusion. Your chest rises and falls with each heavy breath as a moment of silence descends upon you both, the weight of her confession hanging in the air.

There's a visible shift in Mabel's demeanor as the initial acrimony of the argument begins to subside. The fire in her eyes dulls slightly, replaced by a flicker of regret.

It's as if the impact of her words in the heat of the moment is starting to sink in, and she begins to feel the weight of the things she said.

You take a step forward, your face contorted from the tangle of emotions inside you. Your voice is quieter now, the anger softening into a mixture of hurt and a need to understand. "Mabel," you murmur, voice strained, "what truth?”

Mabel hesitates, her head shaking in a reflexive defensive motion. She tries to turn away, her body angling away from you. But you reach out, catching her arm gently, your touch light but firm, silently insisting for her to face you and tell you the truth.

Your eyes meet, and that's the moment when Mabel's defenses crumble. The weight of the secret she's been carrying for the past year comes crashing down as she finally utters the confession. "I told my mom," she whispers, her voice thick with guilt and pain. "I told her what you did and… she sold you out to Weeks”.

Mabel continues, her voice shaky and her eyes filled with a mix of emotions. She wets her lips, her mouth working nervously as she struggles to get the words out.

"I... wanted to get back at her, have her know the drugs she cares about more than her kids was gone" she confesses, her voice laced with a strange blend of guilt and bitterness.

"For everything she put me through, for the years of pain and neglect. It was a moment of weakness, the words just came out on impulse. I didn’t think it would spiral out of control like it did."

Mabel's eyes harden as they meet yours, a cold expression settling on her face. Her voice takes on a matter-of-fact tone as she continues. "Weeks found me the day before he confronted you," she says, her words cool and detached. "He threatened me, told me if I wanted my ‘bitch of a mother’ to still have his business then I needed to keep my mouth shut, and if I didn’t…”

Your stomach twists as the gravity of her confession sinks in, the hurt and betrayal from that day welling up inside of you once again. But this time, a hint of understanding begins to surface, a piece of the shattered puzzle slotting into place.

Even with the truth now laid bare in front of you, your mind races with question after question.

But the only coherent words that escape your lips are simple: "Why? Why didn't you tell me?" your voice cracks, a mixture of hurt, confusion, and desperation.

Mabel's frustration flares as she pulls away from your grasp, her voice sharpening. "Because you think you're invincible," she retorts, words laced with anger yet again.

"He knows I'm the one thing that makes you weak. That's why I couldn't tell you, because you would have barreled in, with no care for your safety, and gotten yourself killed”.

The words cut deep, like a sharp jab to your chest. Your own emotions rise to the surface, and you snap back, raw with hurt and betrayal.

“So you just clocked out and chose money over us? Over me?!" The disbelief in your voice is mirrored by the hurt in your eyes, the reality of her choice ripping through you once again.

Mabel throws her hands up, “it was never about the money!" she asserts, her voice sharp with emotion.

"I don't want to be the one who’s in love with you when you inevitably get yourself killed!" the words escape her lips in a pain-filled outburst, and the way she freezes right after only tells you it was an admission she didn’t mean to confess.

The tension in the room evaporates suddenly, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. You and Mabel stand there, facing each other, the weight of the truth now laid bare between you.

The air is dense with the enormity of everything that had gone unsaid for so long, all of it sitting wide like a gaping reopen wound.

Mabel's voice is soft and raw as she speaks, her words heavy with pain and weariness. "I can't keep doing this, with you," she says, her voice trembling just slightly. "I can't keep worrying about you, knowing that one wrong move could get you killed. I can't keep reliving the fear every time I think you're in danger."

Your jaw tightens, your gaze fixed on the floor as you mutter softly, the words a quiet confession filled with determination. "I can defy him and screw him over, Mabel, but… I can't abandon him after everything he’s done for me."

You’ve felt this weight for years now, heavy on your shoulders is obligation, loyalty, and a deeply ingrained sense of responsibility.

Your eyes meet Mabel's, and in that moment, you see the pain and hurt etched on her face.

Her voice is a broken whisper as she asks, "But you can abandon me, and that's okay?"

The question hang heavily in the air, a raw and vulnerable plea that cuts deep.

Your head shakes in vehement denial. The words are strained, a mixture of hurt and frustration twists your features as you retort, "I never abandoned you. You were the one who shut me out and told me to go".

Both of you stand there, the realization of your own shortcomings and those of the other dragging heavily on you.

However, with emotions running so high, it's clear that this conversation has reached a temporary stalemate.

Mabel turns away from you, her voice hoarse from all the shouting, uttering "just leave."

Her body language betraying hesitation, there's a hint of something in her voice that suggests she might not entirely mean it. There's a strained, reluctant look in her eyes, a flicker of conflict warring within her.

Which is exactly why she turned away from you, because she knows you’ll see it, you always see right through her eventually.

For the first time, you stand your ground, refusing to be pushed away. The hard part is over, the truth and lies laid out in full view. You're done letting her keep you at arm's length, done with the secrets that have torn you apart.

You’ve both made mistakes, even if they were with the right intentions.

With determination in your eyes, you decide that you won't let it continue, that you won't let the lies keep you apart any longer.

“No, not this time. We've spent too long dancing around each other, hiding behind lies and half-truths”.

Mabel glances back at you, her expression torn between surprise and a hint of stubborn resistance. But it's her eyes that speak volumes – there's a flicker of something there, a mixture of exasperation and something deeper, something more like hope.

She doesn't respond right away, the internal struggle playing out on her face.

Eventually, Mabel mutters something under her breath, finality in her voice.

"I guess you'll just have to stay then”.

previous, next

#mabel finestkind #mabel x y/n #mabel x reader #mabel x you

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eddiediazismyhusband · 1 month

Note

Omg 💒💒💒

💒 - the Fake Married Fic

Titled: "All They Keep Asking Me (Is If I'm Gonna Be Your Bride)"

or alternatively called: 3 times Eddie let people believe he and Buck were married, + 1 time Buck found out, + 1 time Buck cleared the air + 1 time it wasn’t a lie.

----------

The two of them made their way down to the field in a painfully awkward stilted silence. As they reached the bottom of the field, they both waved at Christopher who was standing in line. As the court was marched out onto the field, Eddie glanced over at Buck who was standing still- jaw clenched.

“Eddie,” he said softly. “Why did Mr. Willis call me your husband?”

“I- uh,” Eddie stammered over the lump in his throat. “I might have told him we were married.”

Buck stayed silent, still staring directly forward as Eddie watched him. The voice of Chris’s principal boomed over the field. He turned his attention towards his son, taking his phone out to record the moment. It wasn’t long until the Homecoming princes and princesses of both 6ht and 7th grades had been announced, and it was Chris’s turn for the 8th grade court. Eddie felt his stomach churning- both in anticipation for his son, and in fried nerves for his best friend standing next to him.

The tension eased a little bit when Chris’s name was called as homecoming king, both Buck and Eddie cheering him on as he gleefully accepted the sash, crown, and boutonniere from one of the teachers. He turned to face them, waving at them with the widest grin on his face.

One of the moms from Chris’s class leaned over to them. “He looks so handsome. You two must be so proud!”

Eddie couldn’t bring himself to reply, Buck swooping in immediately.

“We are,” Buck smiled widely. “Very, very proud.”

“You two did good with him,” she continued, almost rubbing salt in the wound she didn’t know was there. “My husband and I are always hearing stories from Molly about how funny and nice Christopher is… especially when other boys their age can be so cruel.”

“Well, we didn’t want him to be a heartbreaker,” Buck told her. “There’s nothing worse than someone you can’t fully trust, so I’m glad to hear that Christopher is living the way we’ve tried hard to raise him.”

It feels pointed- like every word drives another knife into Eddie’s heart. He should have known this would hurt Buck- that Buck would get weird and freak out. It’s exactly why Eddie hadn’t wanted to tell him. He knew Buck didn’t feel the same, and wouldn’t want to mess up their friendship like this.

Molly’s mom walked away, leaving the two of them alone. Eddie turned to face Buck, opening his mouth to speak before Buck cut him off preemptively.

“Did you do it to pick on me?” he asked.

“What?” Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“I mean- someone had to have told you,” Buck scoffed. “Was it Hen? Chimney? God, I knew telling him was a bad idea. I just guess I never thought you would play a nasty prank on me about it if you found out.”

“Buck, what are you…” Eddie’s voice came out broken.

“Save it, Eddie, I can’t-” Buck sighed. “I can’t talk to you right now, I- just… I can’t.”

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Make Me Write!

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie 911 #buck and eddie #911 buddie #ao3 buddie #buddie ao3

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teddybearsandspaceships · 6 months

Text

Notes for another Cleo stream, this one from April Fools. (Cleo has been uploading VODs again \o/ so it will probably be available on Youtube soon! Still available on Twitch here.) Featuring Real Life talk and permit office shenanigans with Grian, Scar, Etho, and Pearl.

Cleo reads out a message congratulating them on the Real Life win only a minute into the stream [making life hard for the mods, who pin a message not to talk about spoilers, as usual ^^]

Cleo´s opinion on if their win is canon: “Why wouldn´t it be real? Why wouldn´t it be?” The test, going by TV series rules: if the special gets mentioned in a later episode it´s canon.

They discovered the allays having coffee at the kitty café that False put there :D

Apparently the group was initially concerned if people would be mad, but they were still making content. The “April Fools” part was just that it was a one-off.

In-game chat: Grian announces the permit office is open. Special opening hours for April 1st! Pearl and Cleo are immediately suspicious and say it sounds like a trap. Joel says that Grian is actually nice to day (but on midnight he turns back into a nightmare.) Cleo is not at all convinced.

About Real Life: ~"the first thing everybody did was wave to each other, and dance, and give hugs, and I think that says a lot"

Pearl apparently had a 0/10 experience at the permit office. The permit office is closed again. nobody is surprised.

After the recording, Scar mentioned that he was told he should get a lap belt too… Scar is not Scar-safe. Cleo is frequently concerned/worried about Scar, which is only appropriate. "I´m not worried he´s gonna hurt himself, I´m worried he´s gonna, just, tear down the fabric of society.” "He´s a special little sausage, and also needs poking with sticks on a regular basis. Like big sticks – not little sticks, massive, massive sticks."

ooh apparently three glass permits are up for grabs! Grian, Scar, Cleo, Etho, and Pearl have a discussion in front of the permit office. Very soon this involves talking about loopholes to the permit office rules, but Grian tells them to stop it, he will just make up more rules. Pearl says she might be an NPC, Cleo says AI is not that advanced. Scar has skins, hats, and plans for him and Skizz has permit enforcers, but no spoilers

They looked at the permit office and the backrooms, listened to some unsettling music, and then started talking about cooking (more specifically Scar started talking about his meat. That he cooked, as Etho was glad to hear him clarify.) Grian thinks Etho would eat grey sludge nutrition paste.

Etho´s daily sandwich: a foot-long baguette, provelone cheese, hungarian salami, lettuce, tomatoes, salt and pepper, balsamic vinegar-based dressing. With dill pickles on the side. Grian calls it the most gourmet sandwich. "The more I learn the more I both admire and get confused.” Etho doesn´t understand the big deal [tbh neither do I? It´s a sandwich.] Scar says it´s because of how mysterious Etho is. Etho considers dramatizing everything part of the job as a youtuber.

"being tortured by Grian is fun, right? Right?" - Cleo

What would be Cleo´s mission if someone had created her? Pearl: to burn things down? Cleo asked if she´s burned down things recently. Etho: "She´s a trap door flipper."

repeated discussions about if Pearl is an AI or not

"you don´t have to be an NPC if you don´t want to, you can break your programming" - killing Cleo, however, would not be unexpected. Pearl has already stabbed her in the heart repeatedly. Not in Real Life! They were together that series. [Is it just me or does Pearl´s “yeeah…” sound a little more hesitant ^^]

Bonus: Cleo contemplates stealing cOW

#zombiecleo #hermitcraft #hermitcraft streams #hc s10 #real life smp #watch Cleo´s streams they´re awesome #and have good mods #in other news I was tired and made a dumb comment that was deleted and I will now never say anything ever again #<- my brain in anxiety mode

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jessybarnes · 2 years

Text

Unintentional Distraction

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Rating: 18+ Only!! Minors DNI!!

Tags: NSFW TITLE CARD!!!!, SMUT, filthy shameless smut (Lord help me if Sebastian ever sees this lmao.), fluff, Sebastian’s hands (is that a warning?), some talk about Civil War but I don't think there are any spoilers, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, slight degradation, slight dom/sub, name-calling, hair pulling, biting, choking, overstimulation, explicit language, crying, teasing, and I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,805

Beta: T. Thompson

Title Card: Yours Truly

A/N: This was based on yet another TikTok and the encouragement of my amazing friend @madashatters18

It was way too early for your phone to be ringing, so you couldn't be blamed for the slight irritation in your voice. It was your day off and all you wanted to do was sleep past eight in the morning.

"Hello?"

So much for that.

"Y/N/N? I'm sorry to wake you up, love. I need to ask you a huge favor though."

You squinted at your alarm clock, propping yourself up on your right arm. "Sara? 'S like six-thirty. What's wrong?"

She sighed and took a moment before responding. "You know that Marvel panel I was supposed to attend today?"

You groaned and sat up against your headboard, "you need me to go and film it for you, don't you?"

Sara gave a sound of affirmation as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. "You owe me. Where is it and what time do I need to be there?"

She squealed and you were suddenly thankful you had her on speakerphone. "Thank you thank you thank you! The panel starts at noon and it's at the Hyatt Regency hotel. The one right outside of downtown."

You hung up with her and set an alarm for nine before sliding back underneath your covers. If you were going to endure a thirty-minute long panel with a room full of people then you needed more sleep.

Two and a half hours later you reluctantly crawled out of bed and shuffled to your bathroom. A hot shower and six outfit choices later, you finally decided to wear your black cocktail dress and a pair of red stilettos. You straightened your hair and applied some makeup before grabbing your red clutch. Checking to make sure you had your driver's license, debit card, chapstick, and cellphone, you locked up and took the elevator down to your car.

Traffic was light and before you knew it you'd parked in the hotel's parking garage. The gentleman at the front desk gave you your credentials and a seat number, which happened to be in the middle of the front row.

Great, I'm gonna be right in their line of sight.

Taking your seat, you crossed one leg over the other and prepared your phone so it was ready to record. It was about ten minutes until noon and the conference room was buzzing with activity. There were four chairs spaced evenly, and a man with dark hair and glasses sat on stage right with a microphone in his hand. He smiled at the crowd and gestured to the empty chairs.

"Please welcome the directors of Captain America: Civil War, Anthony Russo, Joe Russo, and Bucky Barnes himself, Sebastian Stan!"

Everyone in the room, including you, applauded as three other men took to the stage. The first man also had dark hair and glasses. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a beige shirt with a black vest. Next to him was another man, but this one was a bit shorter than the other one. He had salt and pepper hair and wore all black. Finally, Sebastian, who apparently played the character, Bucky Barnes, took the seat next to the host. He was tall, probably around six feet, with longish brown hair and cerulean eyes. He was also sporting all black, but his jacket was leather.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him. He was gorgeous, and you silently thanked Sara for asking you to take over filming this panel. Oh, shit! That's right! Your eyes widened as you fumbled with your phone, accidentally dropping it in the process. It slid across the wood floor coming to a stop right in front of the stage.

Sebastian smiled softly, bent down to grab it, and held it out to you. If you could sink into the floor, you would.

"Th-Thank you."

He winked and your breath hitched. "No problem, darlin'."

Things went smooth for a little while, mostly standard questions about the film itself: how the idea of Civil War came to be, the way they reversed the roles of Captain Rogers and Tony Stark, and the process of incorporating Bucky to be the center focal of the film. You noticed Sebastian’s sense of humor right away. His little jokes about Bucky's metal arm and how waiting on the Russo's is kind of like waiting for Christmas making you giggle.

You'd never seen a Marvel movie, but you had to admit Bucky's backstory seemed quite interesting. Characters with a good dynamic and a damaged past always seemed to draw you in.

About seven minutes in, you found yourself continuously watching Sebastian’s hands. He fidgeted a lot, sure, but the fact that they were so large, and the thought of them touching you, made you squeeze your thighs together with want. God, this man was sexy without even trying.

He'd occasionally make eye contact with you, offering you a little smile each time, and it made you think that he was aware of the effect he had on you. It wasn't until about eighteen minutes in that your previous thought became a reality.

A woman was called on to ask a question and she directed it towards the Russo brothers. It had something to do with location, but you couldn't really be sure because it was apparent that Sebastian was teasing you.

He had to be. His ankle was draped over his left knee while his right hand rested in the crease where his leg was bent. He had his middle, ring, and pinky fingers stretched out, the tips of them tapping a staccato rhythm. The moment his index finger curled inward and moved in a come-hither motion you nearly moaned out loud. You were so focused on his movements that you didn't realize he was staring straight at you, watching you worry your bottom lip with your teeth.

When you finally moved your eyes back to his, he was smirking deviously.

Fuck! There was no way he wasn't reading you like a book right now.

The last half of the panel continued normally for the most part. It was hard to focus on the questions, but you did recall someone asking Sebastian what he'd say to Bucky if he had a chance to talk to him before he became the Winter Soldier.

He chuckled and said, "don't worry. It's gonna be alright." Then someone else asked one of those hard-to-answer questions. It was something along the lines of what they wanted for Bucky's future. Sebastian shook his head and the whole room gasped when one of the brothers said that he didn't have one.

The last few questions weren't directed at Sebastian, so, of course, he kept stealing glances at you. He was clearly flirting now, and it made you wonder what his plan was after this event was over.

You didn't have to wait long because the host finally announced the panel's end. Everyone clapped as the guests walked off stage and you were honestly surprised that Sebastian didn't give you any inkling that he wanted to continue your little cat and mouse game.

Well, at least you could pair your disappointment with the bottle of rosé in your fridge. Sending the video link to Sara, you followed the crowd of people towards the exit. Before you were able to push your way out the door someone tapped you on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, miss?"

You turned and met the eyes of the host.

"I was told to tell you that Sebastian would like to meet you."

You blinked, "he um…he does?"

He nodded and pointed to the curtain they went behind just moments ago.

"Yeah, if you go through there and hang a right you'll come to a hallway. His green room is the second door on the left."

You looked at him for a few seconds before slowly making your way across the room. The closer you got the more your legs shook, and by the time you were outside the door all you could hear was the loud thumping of your racing heart. You knocked lightly, picking at your nails in anticipation.

"It's open!"

His voice made you shiver as you opened the door with a shaky hand.

The room was cozy, probably ten by ten, and was well lit. There was a table with an assortment of finger foods, soft drinks, and champagne, a flat screen TV mounted to the wall, and a coffee table surrounded by two chairs and a couch, which Sebastian was sitting on. The way he was staring at you made it hard to maintain eye contact with him. You weren't scared per se, but everything about his demeanor exuded dominance.

"What's your name?"

It was a simple question. You shouldn't even have to think about it, considering it's been a muscle memory answer since you were a toddler. The thing was, this was not a normal situation, and right now your brain has decided that it no longer wants to participate in this conversation.

You heard him get up, his shoes making a soft sound on the floor as he stalked toward you. He was so close now, the intoxicating smell of his cologne surrounding you making you dizzy.

"Look at me, doll."

As nervous as you were, you still did what he asked and slowly let your eyes travel up his body. Your gaze raked over his toned calves, thick thighs, narrow waist, broad shoulders, and finally his insanely beautiful face.

"There's no reason to be scared. I don't bite...hard." He chuckled and watched as you played with your hands.

"I um…Y/N…"

Three words. Three little words were all you could manage and when his fingertips touched your arm it made your knees buckle a fraction.

"Jesus, you're shakin' like a leaf, sweetheart. C'mere. Come and sit with me."

He brought you to the couch and sat down, pulling you with him.

"Would you like something to drink? There's water, Diet Coke, Sprite, and some champagne."

You looked at your lap and licked your lips. "Just um…w-water is fine, thank you."

He poured you a glass and handed it to you, watching as you sipped at the cool liquid.

"So, I couldn't help but notice the way you were lookin' at me earlier." He took the cup from you and set it on the table, his thumb and index finger tilting your chin up. "Especially my hands. You seemed…quite focused on the way I moved them."

Your eyes were hooded, full of lust, as you nodded. "Well," his baby blues flicked down to your mouth, "I can assure you they move well in other ways too."

You whimpered and held your breath as he leaned in. "Just say the word and I'll stop, but," his thumb swiped your bottom lip, "I don't think you want me to."

Sebastian closed the distance and immediately slid his tongue against yours. The hand that wasn't cupping your cheek wandered south, grabbing underneath your left thigh. The moment you whimpered into his mouth his grip tightened possessively.

He pulled away, staring at your kiss-swollen lips for a moment before meeting your eyes. "Can I take this off of you?"

He was obviously referring to your dress, but the reaction time of your brain was practically nonexistent so you just nodded dumbly.

"Oh, princess," he chuckled, "I can't believe how wrecked you are right now. Can't even speak and all I've done is kiss you. I'll bet," he curled a section of your hair around his finger, "you're absolutely soaked."

Your eyes fluttered closed as a shaky breath fell from your parted lips. He stood and pulled you to your feet. "Turn around, baby."

Once your back was to him, he moved your hair to one side. "You have such pretty skin. So smooth and soft under my hands."

He planted a kiss right where your neck met your shoulder and that was the moment you finally found your voice. "...please!"

"Oh," he cooed, "there's that sweet voice. Tell me what you need, sweetheart."

Instead of answering him, you reached behind you to tug at the zipper. "Patience, Y/N," he admonished as he grabbed your wrist. "I'll give you what you want, but it's gonna be at my pace. Is that understood, doll?"

Fuck! You'd never wanted someone so bad in your entire life.

"Y-Yes…"

He leaned down right next to your ear, "yes what?"

You whined as another wave of arousal made your panties even wetter. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

He slid the zipper down torturously slow, your newly exposed skin erupting in goosebumps. Sebastian made a low appreciative hum at the sight of your matching bra and panty set.

"I like this color on you, baby. Can't wait to see you in more though. I bet you'd look absolutely stunning in red."

Your mind was still trying to process the fact that he'd just insinuated there was going to be a 'next time', so you couldn't help the needy moan when he began peppering kisses between your shoulder blades.

"Mmm, that was a pretty sound," his teeth nipped at the base of your neck making you suck in a sharp breath. "Gonna have to see if I can make you do that again."

"Sir, please… please touch me."

He smirked against your skin. "I am touchin' you, sweet girl."

Now there was no doubt in your mind. This man was trying to kill you.

"T-That's not…I need…"

He laughed softly, "I told you to be patient, honey. I'm busy admiring what I've decided is now mine."

His words made your brain short circuit and you were about to start begging for more when you felt his fingers slide the dress over your shoulders. Gravity took it to the floor leaving you almost bare to him.

"As much as I love the way lace looks on you, I have to admit it'd look even better on the floor."

Once he was done undressing you, except for your red pumps, he turned you back around to face him.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

His kiss was bruising, possessive like he was marking his territory. His left hand trailed down over the pulse point of your neck, barely grazed your nipple, and finally came to a stop right above your clit.

"How bad do you wanna cum around my fingers, princess?"

You didn't answer right away so he got closer, his lips inches from yours. "I mean, if you don't want to then I can stop. We could watch a movie instead. How 'bout that?"

Your eyes shot open, the mere thought of him leaving you like this made your eyes fill with tears. "No! P-Please… I… I'm so… Sir, I can't… please. Just please!"

His right hand brushed a loose tear from your cheek, "oh, baby. Shh, I was just teasing."

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. "Don't worry about how loud you are. Let them hear. I want everyone to know who's making you feel this good."

He swirled one thick digit around your clit pulling a loud, desperate sound from your throat. "Jesus sugar, you're fuckin' dripping. Did I do all this? You really got this wet from watching me move my fingers?"

Your left hand gripped his bicep like it was a lifeline. "Yes! Yes, fuck, please! Please make me cum! Wanna cum so bad, sir! Want you t-"

He pushed your feet apart and cut you off with another kiss. "Breathe, baby. I'll take care of you, okay?"

Sebastian alternated between rubbing your clit to circling your entrance for a few minutes. It wasn't enough, but at least he was doing something. Finally, he shoved two of them inside you, starting a steady pace.

"Oh, fuck yesssss," you hissed and threw your head back.

"Yeah, honey? 'S that what you needed? Needed this pretty cunt stuffed full of my fingers?"

He quickly added a third one making your eyes roll back. "Oh, my god! Oh, f-fuck! More! Please I-I want more, sir!"

Sebastian took your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled. "You sure you can take all four, doll? I don't know if this tight little pussy can handle that much."

You dug your nails harder into the leather of his jacket, your moans now echoing throughout the room. "Fuck! Yes, just… - oh, god - … I can take it, sir!"

He stopped moving, his pinky rubbing along your folds until it was wet enough. There was a blunt pressure that made you squeeze your eyes shut, but soon Sebastian had four of his thick, long fingers buried inside you.

You clenched around them making him moan with you.

"Shit, honey. You love this don't ya? Love havin' me fingerfuck you like a needy little whore."

You cried out as he began moving again, the obscene sounds of how wet you were mixing with your desperate pleas for more. "Oh, god! You're gonna make m-me cum!"

Sebastian moved his hand faster, his fingers curling while he pressed his thumb against your clit. "Do it, Y/N. Drench my fuckin' hand, doll."

He scraped his teeth against the skin just below your ear and that was it. Your legs shook, his name a guttural scream as your cum coated his hand, your inner thighs, and the floor.

He held you up, kissing you breathlessly while aftershocks of the best orgasm of your life sparked through your body.

"That was so damn hot, baby. Got me hard as a fuckin' rock watchin' you squirt all over me."

You raised a shaky hand to his chest, "please I need it… please I need you inside me so bad."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Listen to you, sugar. You sound so pretty begging for my cock. You want me to fuck that tight little hole, hm? Fill it full of my cum?"

You couldn't take it anymore. Dropping to your knees, you undid his pants just enough to free him and wrapped your lips around the swollen head.

"Son of a-, fucking hell, Y/N!"

He moaned sinfully and it only fueled your desire to hear it again. Taking him down your throat, you looked up at him and swallowed while swirling your tongue slowly.

"Oh, my fucking god, baby! Stop, honey I don't wanna cum yet. Sweetheart, stop-stop-stop I- fuck - babydoll…"

As much as you loved seeing him a babbling mess, the need for him to stretch you open was much greater.

"Fuck me until I can't remember who I am, sir."

He growled and pulled you to your feet. "Bend over. Hands on the wall. Now. I won't ask twice."

You didn't need to be told twice. He kicked his pants off and took off his leather jacket before coming up behind you. Sebastian grabbed one of your ass cheeks roughly and smacked it hard.

"I mean it. I want this whole hotel to hear you scream my fucking name. 'M gonna absolutely ruin you, princess."

The part of your brain in charge of forming a response was rendered useless as he snapped his hips upwards until they met the back of your thighs.

"Fuck, Sebastian!"

He didn't give you time to adjust, his fingertips holding onto you tightly as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. It was so good, he was so good, and you were one hundred percent certain everyone in a five-block radius knew it too.

"This what you wanted, doll? My cock stretching you open? Fuck, you feel good."

He smacked your ass again, the action making your walls contract around him. "Shit! Yeah, baby. That's it, Y/N… take it. Take my fuckin' dick."

You could barely breathe, let alone think straight. His filthy words, the sounds he made, the way he was slamming into your sweet spot, it was all too much.

"G-Gonna...Oh, fuck Sebastian!"

He gripped your hair and pulled your head back, the new angle making your vision go white. "Yeah? Gonna cum, princess? C'mon, give it to me. Soak my fuckin' cock, Y/N. Right fuckin' now!"

He held you by your throat and applied delicious pressure making your second orgasm crash into you with the force of a hurricane. A gush of slick covered him and your legs as you shook uncontrollably in his arms.

"FUCK! You're such a good fucking girl." He didn't stop, but his thrusts slowed considerably. "I know you've got one more, sweetheart."

You whimpered. "I-It's too much… I can't… Please, sir…want you to cum."

Sebastian moved the hand that wasn't around your throat to your clit making you thrash from overstimulation. "You're gonna give me another one. I know you can do it, sugar. Can feel this pretty pussy tightening around me."

The harder he fucked you the louder you got, and when he bit your neck you swore you were going to pass out. "That's right, doll. Scream. Scream my fuckin' name. You feel like heaven, Y/N, so warm and tight. Swear you were created just for me."

Sebastian turned your head to the side, clumsily kissing you as he sped up his movements again.

"That's it, honey. You can do it. One more. Gimme one more, baby. Oh, shit...shit, I'm gonna cum! Gonna fuckin' fill you up! C'mon, pretty girl, let go one more time for me. Fuck, Y/N! Fuck, I'm gonna…"

He came with an animalistic grunt, the feeling of him coating your walls sending you over the edge a third time.

Both of you were panting wetly against each other’s lips, a thin sheen of sweat covering your bodies as he pulled out of you.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ that was amazing. You did so well for me, sweetheart. You're perfect."

Words failed you. Hell, you could barely stand up, but you still gave him a blissed-out smile anyway.

"C'mere, love. Come sit and drink some water. I'll get you a blanket too."

Sebastian got you situated before putting his clothes back on. He sat next to you and pushed a few strands of sweaty hair out of your face.

"You with me, babydoll?"

Your head turned to the side, your eyes fluttering open as you looked at him. "Mmhmm. 'M sleepy."

Sebastian chuckled and unlocked his phone, "I promise you can rest soon, but for now, I need you to stay awake for me."

"Kay…," you took another drink and licked your lips. "Whatcha doin'?"

He tapped a few times on the screen before he answered you. "I just extended my hotel stay for four more nights."

You downed the rest of the glass and let it rest between you and the couch. "Why? Big plans?"

Sebastian smirked and pulled you in for a slow, passionate kiss. "Yeah," he breathed. "Big plans to fuck you over and over into the king-size mattress."

#j snow writes #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebstan #real person fiction #rpf

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desultory-novice · 1 year

Note

heya dess!

about ten million years ago i sent you an elaborate ramble about galacta knight's moral status. this isn't calling you out for not answering (i literally sent you a wall of text) and my opinions have since changed anyway, but i remembered this recently and got morbidly curious about your own take on gk's moral status. dw though... if you don't want to answer this one either, that's ok!

I pride myself on liking every Kirby character. That said, I never loved Galacta Knight. Curse of the over-hyped character? He was too cool. Too beloved. "When's Galacta going to become canon??"

And, just to be petty/salty for a moment, that he had no concrete persona except "See something; kill it" but has been frequently (?) made into the softiest, gentlest woobie amongst the cast next to Kirby (also his existence influenced a lot about Kirby's portrayal in the fandom, ie: "When's he gonna get HIS wings???", and he and Meta together became the template for what everyone's Knight-sonas would look like, meaning that being a cool orb in armor became more commonplace than rare) just caused me to get bored with him real quick, I think? </SALT>

COUGH!

...But I did some looking back at Galacta for this ask and... I can see the charm! I still don't see the "wooby" part (Which I assume has something to do with the "wrongly framed" theory) but I'm growing to respect Galacta as a character of interest. With that out of the way, let's tackle some of the things you brought up in your old ask as well as my own feelings on where the Aeon Hero sits as "a hero!"

...

It's all very interesting, isn't it? One thing that stood out to me, doing some research on this matter for this ask is that Hyness's speech implies (at least, it implied to me) that one of Galacta's other great deeds alongside helping seal Void was defeating Nightmare.

("Nightmare of a Galactic Crisis" just seems too potently worded for me to believe otherwise. The Japanese even matches up.)

But if Galacta defeated Nightmare... what the HELL was Parallel Nightmare thinking by summoning him to fight on his behalf?! (Ignore the fact that Galacta immediately destroys him. The key is that Nightmare either thought he could control the Aeon Hero or that the Aeon hero would share his goals. Which is FASCINATING~!)

I can't help but think that Galacta's story has some serious twists...

There's another thing, that may be referring back to the "destroy a planet or two" thing and that's Galacta's sealing. He's sealed in crystal and of course some people have made the connection between Galacta's crystal cage and the fairies of Ripple Star. (Usually with the queen of the fairies having a MUCH bigger role than anticipated.)

But like, there's a thing I just realized was in his Planet Robobot flavor text that isn't in the English version. (I know it's a matter of the pause screen text not having enough room for the twice-as-long English but why's it always gotta be Planet Robobot XD )

"Records remain of his being sealed in many different eras."

One could argue that it's all the same sealing but why would multiple different eras need to record the same guy getting sealed if he were only sealed away ONCE. So, that's interesting. Galacta's seal was never permanent.(1) In fact, it seems to be frequently un-permanent. So they have room to cause villainous havoc between freeings.

(For a borb who looks like an angel, he's doing a really good job acting like your classic "Sealed for 100 years but never destroyed 'Demon King.'" I guess that's what makes him and Meta Knight such interesting compliments. The noble devil and the demonic angel? Well, we still haven't decided if Galacta's demonic yet.)

And speaking of the strength of Galacta's seal, I found a weird little detail looking up his fight in RtDL DX. (I had to watch a recording because I spent my whole fight with him screaming in terror and spamming guard because I had exactly one HP left and didn't want to die before reaching Magolor Soul. Thank you, Sand ability!)

In RtDL, the Crystal descends and Galacta slowly opens one eye and then the other. But this changed for DX! Galacta descends with both eyes open. Which shouts consciousness to me.

...I'm rambling away from the topic of whether Galacta is a hero or not. Don't mind me. I'll try to pivot back in good time.

Actually, let's pivot back a little now, because in USDX, he's not summoned from his crystal state, he's just summoned. Which makes sense because like... going entirely by the cutscene, it looks like Galactic Nova actually transports Galacta through time to fight Meta Knight. Like, Galacta in the middle of their villain phase!

We do see Galacta sealed in crystal immediately after this image is shown, but the Nova doesn't bring the sealed Galacta before Meta Knight. Star Dream does. I wonder if that's a difference in power between the two clockwork stars? But I think this "where Galacta was snatched from" is probably the real reason Gala utterly demolishes Star Dream but doesn't attack Galactic Nova. The Gala that Star Dream summons has already been sealed/betrayed/etc.

They don't trust anyone. The Gala that Nova summons is at the height of their "feared across the galaxy" phase but has not yet been captured or has reason to fear capture/re-capture.

...And then you have the Galacta that Morpho Knight absorbs. What's funny about that Gala, and kind of tragic, is that Gala seems to be the calmest of the three. I say this because they actually pause when Morpho comes near. They even look...cutely (!) confused.

So, did Hyness summon a Galacta that was even earlier in his timeline than the one Nova summoned? Which was earlier in his timeline than the one Star Dream summoned?

Although where in Gala's timeline is RtDL?? Galacta appears before us in crystal, is then released, and actually FLIES OFF after defeat without being resealed. Is this the Galacta that "destroys a planet or two?" The opening of the RtDL rift after the crystal prison reforms suggests that it was the Planet Robobot Galacta that would go on to appear in RtDL, who then flies off and... maybe it's that Galacta that appears in Star Allies, to meet his end at Morpho's hands...

By the way, I totally forgot that Morpho does the "friend heart"/"friend move" thing to Galacta before absorbing him! (Dess is beginning to think that maybe the reason I didn't have strong feelings for Galacta Knight is because I just never stopped to pay attention to all the little things that make them interesting!)

So Gala has an interesting timeline and we can see that their level of aggression really depends on where in the timeline you find them. I don't think they were a planet destroying monster when they were first sealed. At least, their most "murderous" incarnation (Robobot) is implied to have gone through some ~stuff~ even AFTER the sealing.

But the fact that (Parallel) Nightmare considers them a potential ally suggests that they were...hmm, "problematic" to certain people toward the tail end of their "Aeon Hero" phase. Those people probably being the Ancients.

La la la~ I smell a cover-up~ la la la~

And so, we're back to the "Galacta was framed?!" theory. To be honest, I don't know what was up with the image Galactic Nova shows us above of Gala in the smoking wreckage but it's important to note that we don't see WHAT it is that Galacta has destroyed.

And while the Magolor epilogue implies Halcandra was destroyed in a great meteoric firestorm of some kind, I would just like to note that Halcandra at that point would have also been potentially ruled (?) by a monarch who quite possibly wore The Master Crown. An object that has been as much as stated to have been poisoning/poisoned by the previous bearers so, yeah. I don't think Halcandra would have been in a good place, if a crown-bearer sat on the throne.

(And wouldn't killing a king and destroying their country/planet be considered something worthy of taking Galacta's title of "hero" away from them and labelling them a galactic level threat?)

So, yes. I think Galacta's "moral" status depends on where in the timeline you are. I don't think they were ever "evil" but I think they probably a dangerous sort of "good-hearted extremist" era in the past and in their later years, that devolved into an aggressive and paranoid "As far as I'm concerned EVERYONE is an enemy and you'd better believe I'm not letting them strike the first blow!"

There's some Gala thoughts to chew on!

Happy Birthday, Galacta Knight!

(1) Honestly, I wonder if the crystal thing is less of a "seal" and more of a curse? :Dess's mind hears "fairy curse" and starts vibrating: It could be something that affects them intermittently? We've seen Galacta be "destroyed" in USDX (amusingly, their wings "pop" off. Although that is the only time that happens so could be retconned) Anyway, it's not their destruction that causes the seal. Sometimes they just fly off after defeat too! (To destroy more planets??)

This implies there's another trigger for when they become crystal...

But speaking of the "crystal," RtDL DX in Japanese specifically mentions that their seal is actually made of "gem" - the same "gem" used in "Gem Apples." Which going by the Magolor Epilogue, gem apples appear to represent either a) magic power b) the soul or c) the Master Crown. I don't think it's made clear which exactly, because all three are kind of muddled together in Magolor's case. But the fact that there ARE those connections with "gems" + Galacta's "gem" seal activating intermittently is all just VERY interesting to me.

Now go and speculate away, my pretties~!

#Kirby #Galactic Knight #Dess Ramblings #Dess Theories #TLDR Dess continues to warm up to Galacta Knight!

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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year

Note

Intimacy Prompt #2: Fixing their hair.

2. Fixing their hair

The people of Vesrah are putting together a shindig, a celebration of the end of Keyleth's Aramenté. The woman of the hour has been pulled off in some direction or another to get ready, so Vax is alone in the little room they've been appointed for their stay. There's a long mirror beside the armoire, and he can't help but laugh at the reflection he sees there: he looks like a wet cat half-dried in the sun. The feathers of the Deathwalker's Ward are stuck up in all sorts of weird ways, and he's got shit tangled in his hair, which is crusty from sea salt. He certainly can't go to a party honoring his girlfriend looking like this.

Before he can figure out what to do, though, there's a knock at the door. Assuming it's one of the Ashari from town, he calls, "Come in!" but to his surprise, it's his sister who opens the door.

"Are you decent? And I don't mean as a person, I just don't wanna see your dick."

"You came at the right time. Two minutes later and I would've been buck naked."

Rolling her eyes, Vex comes in, closing the door behind her. She looks around. "Keyleth not here?"

"Nah, I think they're getting her all gussied up for whatever's gonna happen later. Why, you need her?"

"No, actually, I wanted to talk to you." Her head cocks to the side, as if she's just now noticing him. "You look fucking terrible."

Vax snorts. "Yeah, well, dying does that to you."

"I would know."

"You would know."

Vex snags Vax's hairbrush from his bedside table and then goes to sit in front of the mirror. She pats the floor in front of her. "Come on."

Vax blinks in surprise. This is new. He settles cross-legged in front of his sister. "You've never done this for me before." And it's true. Growing up, the twins spent many evenings on the floor like this, but their positions reversed; Vax would sit behind his sister and carefully work out all of the knots and leaves and other detritus of her day outdoors, brushing from root to tip until her hair shone and he could braid it again for bed.

Now it is her fingers, nimble and strong from years on the bowstring, carefully combing through the mess of his locks, and Vax has to admit that it feels nice. She's gentle, pulling through small sections at a time to tug as little as possible on his roots. The bristles of the brush crackle through his stiff hair, and Vax could almost fall asleep to the sound.

"You know," she murmurs after a while, "she was kinda scary. Your goddess."

Well, that's one way of putting it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Said some shit about 'the service of fate' and meeting her beyond the Divine Gate. You really got yourself into it, didn't you?"

There's a sharp tug, and Vax winces. "What, do you want me to say I regret it?"

"Did I say that?"

Vax turns, knocking the brush and Vex's hand out of the way. "What are we even talking about here, Vex'ahlia?"

She's got that glint in her eye, the stubborn one that always got them into trouble in Syngorn. "My fucking brother died today, sorry for trying to make sense of it!"

They glare at each other for a moment, and then Vex shoves him back around so she can resume fixing his hair. "Look, all I'm trying to say is...she brought you back. She didn't have to. She's the goddess of death, so she can pretty much do whatever she wants. But...we did the ritual, and she honored it. So...yeah, she's scary as fuck, but...she's not on my shitlist. At least not today."

And that's Vex'ahlia, a shitlist a mile long with gods coming on and off it as easily as any man. "Well, I'm glad. And for the record, I've been a fan since she brought you back. As long as you're kicking, she's alright in my book."

There's a hesitation in her brushstroke, and Vax knows she's wondering if it was worth it. Gods, she's supposed to be the smart one. "Well. Good thing you're back, yeah? Kinda hard to celebrate Keyleth's Aramenté with her boyfriend's dead body hanging out on the side."

Vax laughs, and then twists around to pull his sister into a hug. "You know how much I love you, Stubs?"

Vex chuckles into the crook of his neck, but the sound is wet, like she's fighting back tears. "I love you, too. Can you maybe cut back on the dying, though? I don't want it to become a habit, darling."

"No promises." And that he means. It's hard to promise he won't die when he has so much worth dying for. Still, he kisses her cheek and says, "Now finish making me pretty, please."

She rolls her eyes again and he spins around, grinning. So much worth dying for, yes, but even more to live for, he thinks, as his sister begins brushing out his hair again.

#ask #tiamat-zx #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #vax'ildan #vex'ahlia #my fic

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anticomedygarden · 2 years

Text

Keeping the Faith

title from billy joel's 'keeping the faith'

Marauders Raven Cycle AU

also posted on ao3

part 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

Lily Evans was a psychic. Not the metaphorical kind that just had a knack for guessing. An honest to god, tarot card and palm reading, spirit talking, crystal ball using, touching and seeing, psychic.

She was 17 years old in her senior year of high school, a waitress in her father’s pizzeria Holy Rollers, daughter of Rose and Liam Evans, sister of Petunia Evans soon to be Dursley, best friend of Remus Lupin, and she was a psychic.

However, she didn’t need to be a psychic to know that the boy sitting in front of her was a dumbass.

“Potter, what the hell is wrong with you?” she said, giggling. While at one point, her words may have held the sting of hatred, James’ antics were a welcome reprieve after the summer she had had, not to mention she had grown close to the boys following her and Severus’ falling out a year and a half ago.

“Now, Evans, no one wants to open that can of worms,” James’ best friend and adopted brother Sirius offered from beside him. “We’ll be here for days!”

“Pads, you know that’s not true,” Remus said. He had just finished taking the order of three teenage boys at the only other occupied table and was walking towards them, skillfully avoiding the pale blue tables and black chairs. “The only thing that’s really wrong with him is the dumbass himbo disease.”

The sugar packets and empty salt shakers balanced on James’ head fell to the table with a clatter as the boy snorted violently and the table erupted in laughter. He put his face in his hands.

“The worst part is, you’re right,” he whined, voice muffled. His shoulders shook with restrained laughter. On the opposite side of the table, Peter was unsubtly trying to clean up the Pepsi that had come out of his nose off the glossy wood.

“He’s so right,” Sirius wheezed, holding his stomach.

Remus poked him in the neck. “As if you’re any better,” he accused, mirth in his eyes, plus a little something else. Lily had been noticing that look in his eyes a lot lately around Sirius.

The black haired boy looked up, offended, and opened his mouth as if to say something but was cut off by a shout from the other side of the restaurant.

“hey, Scarface, are we ever getting our food, or are you just gonna stand their talking?” the green haired one yelled nastily.

Sirius was already half out of the booth by the time Remus caught him. “It’s not worth it, Pads,” he said, pressing his friend back into the black booth.

“But he’s a bastard!” Sirius responded hotly, fighting against Remus’ hold.

“And what exactly are you planning to do? There’s three of them, and one of you,” Remus said matter-of-factly.

Of course, that was when another guy, hair dyed red this time, at the table decided to speak up. “Hello! Are you deaf? My friend asked you a question!”

This time, it was James that grabbed Sirius by the back of his shirt. “Leave it, Pads. No one cares about asshole customers.”

“Yeah, you know how many people like that we get in here everyday? You’d have to fight the whole town,” Lily added, earning herself a look of gratitude from Remus.

He walked toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right there!” he called over his shoulder.

Lily turned back to the boys. “For the record, there would’ve been two of us in that fight,” she told Sirius quietly.

James held up a hand. “Three.”

They looked toward Peter who gave a long-suffering sigh. “Four,” he said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling. “But I wouldn't be much help.”

“Nah, Wormy, you’re so short, you could weave in and out like a rat,” James said.

Peter sighed again. “You know, I really hate that nickname.”

James reached over to ruffle his short blond hair. “No, you love it,” he grinned. “Besides, you’re stuck with it forever.”

Behind the counter, Remus walked out of the kitchen, a serving tray balanced on his palm.

“Finally,” the green haired one complained.

Sirius didn’t hear whatever Remus said next, but if the reaction of the boys at the table was anything to go by, it wasn’t nice.

All three stood suddenly with an indignant shout, and the green haired one, evidently their idiot leader, said, “Fuck you!” and stormed out.

Remus laughed. “Who wants free food? Those idiots paid when they came in.”

Peter and Sirius both jumped up and ran over to the table. “I call the personal pan!” Peter announced.

Lily raised an eyebrow at James. “You don’t want any?” she asked curiously. James was usually the first in line for food of any kind.

“Nah, I had enough earlier,” he answered, though Lily had a feeling there was something deeper going on despite the two whole pizzas and double cheeseburger he had put away when the boys first came in. Perhaps she would try and divine something out of it later.

“Well-”

Abruptly, the door flew open, and all five of them jumped. There stood Abraxas Malfoy, white blond hair blowing in the breeze from the open door. One of Henrietta’s asshole upper class, he was a member of the Death Eaters gang and father of Lucius Malfoy, a spoiled brat and a school rival of theirs before he graduated. The Death Eaters had made it their personal mission to buy up as much property as possible in Henrietta, and Abraxas had been assigned to Holy Rollers.

Malfoy looked down his sharp nose at Lily. “I would like to speak to your father, girl,” he said nastily.

On the other side of the room, Remus rolled his eyes and mouthed big surprise . This wasn’t the first time Malfoy had stormed in looking for Mr. Evans.

It also wasn’t the first time a Malfoy had looked at her with such superiority or disdain. No. She'd been getting those looks all summer.

Lily leaned against the booth casually, picking at her nails. “Do you wanna try that again?” she asked dangerously.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. “Do you know who I am, girl?”

“Sorry, I only answer to Lily Evans,” she said, bringing her eyes up to meet his steely gray ones, disturbingly close in color to Sirius’. Because of the boy’s whole demeanor, personality, and political views, it was easy to forget that he was related to this jerk.

“Listen, girl-”

“Hey Abraxas!” Sirius said cheerfully. “How’s it going? Haven’t seen you in a while!” He shoved an entire pizza crust in his mouth. “How’s the family?”

Malfoy looked away from Lily and dragged his gaze to Sirius. “Well, if it isn’t the disgraced heir. I see you’re doing,” he sneered, “well for yourself.”

Sirius grinned and stood. “I am!” he agreed. “Speaking of, how’s Lucius? Last I heard, he was kicked out of Stanford.”

Abraxas bristled. “There was…talk of expelling him following the-” he hesitated “-incident, but after some negotiations-”

“Bribes,” Sirius said helpfully.

“ Negotiations ,” Abraxas snapped, “the board of directors decided to give him a second chance.” He flipped his long hair over his shoulder.

“And the sudden remodel of the law building?” Sirius pressed.

Malfoy shifted uncomfortably. “That was-” he paused. “Why am I telling you this? It’s none of your business.”

Behind Sirius, Remus stood to bring the pizza platter back to the kitchen. “That may be true, Malfoy, but we don’t allow loitering, and it’s past closing time, so get out.”

“I’m not a patron, I need to speak with the owner,” Abraxas said gruffly.

James smirked. “If you’re not a patron, you’re loitering.”

“Yeah, and if you don’t leave now, I’m reporting you for trespassing,” said Lily, phone in hand, ready to call the police.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But I’ll be back.” He took one more glance at each of them, sneered, and walked out.

Sirius caught the door. “Tell Walburga and Orion to go fuck themselves!” he called after him.

Lily groaned. “I wish they’d just give up already.” She sat down heavily next to James.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon,” he said gently.

She crossed her arms on the table and laid her head down. “I know.” The Death Eaters had been buying up Henrietta for years, but they’d really doubled down this past summer. Rather than waste time arguing with him once a week, her dad had taken to hiding whenever he heard Malfoy coming, which really meant he spent the majority of Wednesday in the kitchen helping out rather than at the register. Whichever waiter or waitress was working the counter was tasked with monitoring the businessman.

She wondered what had kept Malfoy from coming in at the normal time.

Liam popped his head out of the kitchen. “Is he gone?”

“Yep,” Remus confirmed.

Liam nodded. “Great! We can go now.” He walked the rest out of the way out of the kitchen revealing a giant pizza sauce stain down his shirt and the top of his pants, and that’s just what Lily could see from this side of the wood counter.

Lily huffed a laugh. “Uh, Dad-”

He raised a hand. “I know, I know. I had a bit of a spill.”

Remus snorted. “You’re leaving sauce tracks, Mr. Evans.”

“Am I?” he asked, glancing behind himself at the black and white tile floor. “So I am.”

“Mom’s not gonna let you in the house like that,” Lily giggled.

He waved her off. “It’ll be fine. I’ll just take my shoes off before I go in.”

“Alright.” Lily stretched her arms across the table and stood, then she untied her apron to hang it behind the counter.

Liam turned to the boys. “Does anyone want any leftovers? Peter? Remus?” All four shook their heads. “It’s just gonna go in the trash if no one claims it.”

James shrugged. “Okay.” He nodded his head at Remus. “Come help me.”

Remus tilted his head in confusion but followed James into the kitchen.

A couple minutes later, they reemerged, each carrying a take out box of food.

“Did you turn the lights out?” Liam asked.

“No, Mr. Evans, I thought I’d leave ‘em on, see if we could set a record for highest electricity bill,” Remus deadpanned.

Liam sighed good-naturedly. “Thank you. And how many times do I have to tell you, call me Liam.”

Everything now taken care of, Liam ushered the teenagers outside so he could lock up for the night.

James, Sirius, and Peter walked across the white gravel parking lot over to James’ car, the only one left besides the Evans’ family minivan. “Moony, you want a ride?” James called as he unlocked the car.

“Nah, I’ll walk,” Remus responded, the pale scars on his face standing out starkly against his tan skin. “Gotta start getting back in shape for basketball season.”

Sirius snorted in disbelief. “As if you could ever be out of shape. I could bounce quarters off that ass.” His smile faltered as everyone stared at him. “Too much?” Remus nodded, mouth gaping. “Sorry.”

Lily shook her head. “Anyway,” she turned to Remus, “when does practice start?”

Remus turned slowly, slightly dazed gaze still trained on Sirius. “Um,” he shook his head. “Practice starts next week, but Coach has had me helping out the younger kids since open gym started in August,” he answered finally.

“Yeah!” Sirius called from the passenger seat of James’ bright orange 1973 Chevy Camaro, lovingly named the Pig. “That’s because you’re the best, Moons! Everybody else wishes they were you!”

James revved the engine. “Kay, we’re gonna head out before Padfoot says anything else weird and inappropriate,” he said from the driver’s seat. “See y’all.”

“See you,” echoed Remus and Lily. They winced as the Pig kicked up a cloud of dust and tore away with a loud roar.

Holy Rollers’ front door opened, and Liam came out. “Remus, do you need a ride?” he asked as he searched for the key to the minivan.

Remus shook his head. “I’ll just walk.”

“Suit yourself.” He clicked the car open. “Let’s go, Carrot Top.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “My own father,” she muttered to Remus.

He chuckled. “See you tomorrow, Carrot Top.”

She punched him in the arm. “See you tomorrow.”

“Stop laughing at me,” Sirius groaned, head hidden in his hands. He made a sobbing noise when they continued to laugh. “Stop!” he whined again. He jostled a bit as the light turned green and the Pig accelerated.

James swiped a hand under his glasses to clear the tears from his eyes. “Sorry, sorry, just-” He had to stop as he broke down in a new fit of giggles. “Why?” he put a hand out palm up.

Before he could say anything, Peter answered for him. “I think he finally realized the ‘ignore his feelings and hope Remus falls in love with him of his own free will’ plan wasn’t working and this was the backup strategy.”

James took a deep breath, attempting to control his laughter. “Is that what you were going for?” He turned onto the street leading to Monmouth, the abandoned factory turned pseudo apartment the three boys all shared.

Sirius paused. “He has a nice ass,” the black haired boy muttered, voice still muffled by his hands.

The laughter started anew, and James had to blink away tears in order to see the road. “I mean, you’re not wrong,” he gasped. “Is he also the best?” James snickered.

Quietly, Sirius said, “Yes.”

Somehow, Peter sobered. “Speaking of, it’s been, what, 3 years? Are you ever going to tell him you’re in love with him?” he asked. James was willing to bet that was a strong ‘no’ which was a real shame since Remus had also told James he was in love with Sirius. It was painful, really.

Having reached Monmouth, the Pig ambled to a stop in the gravel outside the building next to Sirius’ motorcycle.

Sirius’ face had gone blank. “I plead the fifth,” he answered.

James grinned. “Ah, I see we’re back to the ‘‘ignore his feelings and hope Remus falls in love with him of his own free will’ strategy.”

Sirius groaned.

Over at 300 Fox Way, Lily was just finishing dinner when she heard a blip. She glanced at her phone to see it was Remus letting her know he had gotten home safely.

She took her dishes to the sink and typed out a response, not reassured in the slightest. The text only served to prove to her he hadn’t died yet. Now that he was home, he would be making dinner, sorting through bills, doing chores, and staying up until the wee hours of the morning finishing homework only to wake up early to practice while the school gym was empty.

She really worried about him sometimes.

“Oh, Lils, would you mind doing the dishes?” her mother asked from the living room.

Upstairs, she heard one of her cousins or aunts moving around. “Of course, mom,” she answered. Thankfully, there weren’t too many since the rest of the family had eaten before Lily and Liam had gotten home, so it wouldn’t take long.

On the way to the sink, though, she happened to glance at the fridge and saw her sister’s garish wedding invitation.

Save the Date!

Petunia Evans and Vernon Dursley invite you and a plus one to their wedding Nov. 15 at First Baptist Church of Henrietta.

RSVP by Oct. 1 through email, text, or call.

And then it listed off Petunia’s email address and phone number.

Lily groaned internally, trying to figure out how she was going to get a date. When she’d RSVPed back in July, she had hoped she could go with-

No. There was no point in going down that rabbit hole. It was hard enough hiding it from her psychic family; it would do her no good to think about it on purpose.

She would just have to figure out someone else to go with.

On the other side of town, at number 12 Grimmauld Place, Regulus Black flopped onto his bed and groaned. “Fuck my life,” he muttered.

It had been a long-ass day of Death Eater meetings, classes filled with idiots, homework, and more meetings. He hadn’t even gotten to bring his phone with him anywhere, so he could only guess how many notifications had piled up throughout the day.

He dug his phone out of the slit in his mattress and rolled onto his back.

16 new messages

He smiled and clicked on the group chat.

The better ones

11:56 a.m.

Barty: who has the math homework please i’m desperate

Evan: *image*

Dorcas: really

Dorcas: that’s all it took

Dorcas: some whining

Dorcas: how do you feel about this reg

Evan: you didn’t have to sit with him in class meadowes

Dorcas: you still could have at least made him beg

Evan: oh, believe me, he did

Barty: i did

Dorcas: oh my god

Pandora: i think it’s nice that evan’s willing to baby his boyfriend like that

12:21 a.m.

Regulus: dora i love you but you’re wrong

Regulus: you should have made him suffer

Barty: thanks reg

Regulus: np

Pandora: alright i’m going to bed

Evan: good idea

Evan: barty

Barty: …fine

Evan: reg

Regulus: only if dorcas does too

Dorcas: only so reg has to

Pandora: :))) nighty night

Aaaaand that was the most exciting part of his day.

Quickly, he fired off messages to each of his friends individually as they had all sent him separate texts asking if he was ok since he’d missed the first half of the school day which also happened to be the only classes he had with his friends.

He’d only missed because his parents had called him out for ‘family reasons’ which, in this case, was sitting in on a Death Eater meeting while every single person attending barring some of the younger ones gave reports on what pieces of Henrietta’s real estate they had managed to snag in the six months since the last meeting. His parents, of course, had won, but that was only because they already owned half the town.

He was there ‘to observe’, but really, how much could one observe of the exact same speech over and over again?

His only solace was that the Evans and Potters were still fighting strong against Abraxas Malfoy, a fact that had angered Voldemort greatly.

Regulus had to hope that the last few properties standing against the Death Eaters held, because if they didn’t, they were all doomed.

#marauders #marauders era #raven cycle au #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #regulus black #dorcas meadowes #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #pandora lovegood #keeping the faith

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ldknightshade · 4 months

Text

pop culture (mantis + chester)

under a cut for length; from this post

1. Was your OC influenced or inspired by any particular fictional character(s) when you made them?

mantis: not really-

chester: he is literally a question parody.

2. What genre (not counting the one they’re in) would your OC thrive in?

mantis: horror? maybe a bit too hardened for regular comedy but could do a black comedy. actually, horror-comedy sounds about right for them.

chester: he’s both so pathetic as well as eccentric to a near-repulsive degree (for those that can’t handle it, anyway… which is most people), that the only option is fantasy. his only option is to be a wizard in some tower rambling about tomes.

3. What genre would your OC do badly in but it would be hilarious or interesting to watch?

mantis: romance/drama/fantasy

chester: LITERALLY all of them but romance/drama takes the cake.

4. What media does your character enjoy? (For characters in settings that aren’t modern Earth, could be media from their home setting or what they’d like in a modern Earth AU)

mantis: within canon, doesn’t really partake in much outside radio new vegas, except for having read the occasional classic. in a modern au, would enjoy classic lit + 80s horror!

chester: COMICS, my god does he love comics. no time for video games, nor much tv. however he does enjoy a good 70s/80s film every once in a while.

5. What song(s) do you associate with your OC?

mantis: dani california - red hot chili peppers, lay down - priestess, got me under pressure - zz top, cold as ice - foreigner, bad company - bad company, you’re gonna go far, kid - the offspring, one little slip - barenaked ladies

chester: super freak - rick james, private eyes - hall & oates, break my stride - matthew wilder, another brick in the wall pt 2 - pink floyd, make your own kind of music - cass elliot, every breath you take - the police, kiss - prince

6. Alternatively, do you have any OCs you associate with the song(s) I just sent you?

not applicable

7. If your OC had to cosplay as a fictional character, who would they choose?

mantis: assuming modern au… bride of frankenstein, maybe.

chester: you’d think it’d be the question or rorschach or even mr. a but NO, it’s discowing.

8. Has your OC ever had a crush on a fictional (to them) character?

mantis: no.

chester: yes. his comic crushes are dinah lance/black canary, ororo munroe/storm, wanda maximoff/scarlet witch…

9. If your OC wrote fanfiction (or if they already do), what type? (fix fic, ship, crossovers, AUs, smut, etc.)

mantis: probably fix-it fic? occasional crack, smut only if it’s crack or to piss a friend off

chester: he writes the most DEVIANT smut (within ethical reason) KNOWN TO MAN

10. How would your OC do in the last book/movie/tv show/game/etc. you read/watched/played?

mantis: in disco elysium… i mean they would the amnesia side, actual investigation, and politics alright but i think may struggle with that world’s strong personalities. like, would probably have a very hard time playing nice with other folks. which could be for better or for worse, considering the game. i haven’t finished the game, though, so take this with a grain of salt.

chester: in disco elysium, he’d probably care less about the amnesia and just focus on the investigation but would succumb to, uh, crazier thoughts. he would be so repulsively eccentric, he’d probably get his job done in record timing. i haven’t finished the game, though, so take this with a grain of salt.

11. If your OC was a superhero, what would they be like? (powers, title, general vibe, etc.)

mantis: they would have the power of sound manipulation, likely calling themself “soundwave.” as this persona, they would play it more cool than usual; perhaps to terrifying ends, inciting something strange and cold within them. or, more explicitly: they’d have the safety of the physical mask in order to completely drop the social masks and be unabashedly narcissistic. anti-hero.

chester: technically he… kind of already is one? he has no powers, he’s in the venture household’s vents, he wears a rainbow mask and goes by “god molecule” because he was mid-DMT breakthrough when he got the idea to investigate the activity in the area and try to assassinate Rusty… BUT if we mean a classic dc/marvel hero? he’d have the same name and the same crazy-ass vibe, but be a bit quieter due to the fact he’d have the power of telepathy! instead of calling himself “god molecule” because of a DMT breakthrough making him have this batshit revelation, it instead unlocks a part of his brain that dulls hearing others’ thoughts, so long as he’s under the influence of something. that said, this iteration of him would be perpetually stoned as a civilian and only sober in as “god molecule.” however, due to years of hearing others’ thoughts impacting his mental health, he’s still a bit off his rocker when sober. anti-hero.

12. What animal would your OC have as their His Dark Materials daemon?

mantis: either a mantis (obviously), fox, raccoon, spider, or snake

chester: either a squirrel, hare, peacock, goose, or grasshopper

13. What Pokémon would be on your OC’s team and/or what would be their preferred type?

okay so i don’t know many pokémon BUT this is from looking them up

mantis: their poison/fire/steel/bug team is salazzle, revavroom, heatran, scolipede, scizor, and centiskorch

chester: his electric/ice/fairy/bug team is arctozolt, frosmoth, dedenne, clefable, galvantula, and ribombee

14. If your OC was a Dungeons and Dragons character, what would their class be? And/or: If they were playing D&D, what kind of character might they play? (these aren’t necessarily the same thing)

mantis: would be a changeling warlock, acolyte background.

chester: would be a kenku ranger, urchin background.

15. How well would your OC do in a standard slasher movie?

mantis: luck 10!! final girl!! alternatively, survives because they decided to avoid the situation entirely, likely on a gut feeling.

chester: dies first, no question. wouldn’t even try to avoid the situation, probably dies for being too nosy.

16. What stock character would your OC be stuck as in a sitcom?

mantis: the wisecracker

chester: the goofball

17. Who would your OC main in Super Smash Bros?

mantis: samus

chester: sonic

18. Who would your OC play in Mario Kart?

mantis: toad

chester: waluigi

19. If your OC was in Star Trek’s Starfleet, what would be their role/position? Or, if that doesn’t really fit your OC: why would they get kicked out of Starfleet?

mantis: would not manage to be in starfleet and/or get kicked, more likely to be a part of the maquis resistance

chester: would not manage to be in starfleet and/or get kicked, more likely to be a part of the maquis resistance

20. What role would your OC play in a heist story?

mantis: the conman/the distraction

chester: the safe-cracker

21. What kind of classic horror monster (vampire, werewolf, alien, etc.) would your OC be?

mantis: frankenstein’s monster

chester: alien

22. What type of Avatar The Last Airbender-type bender (or non-bender) would your OC be? Any bending specialties?

mantis: waterbender; if able to learn blood bending, they would.

chester: airbender or non-bender with no specialties.

23. Your OC gets isekai’d to a bog-standard fantasy world. What does your OC do and how badly does it go for that world?

mantis: immediately ensures they’ve got food/water/shelter, starts seeing how to get involved with local politics, gets involved with adventuring. they’ve got opinions, and they will make them known. but at the same time, a guy’s gotta stay on the road.

chester: immediately gets into magic, becomes a wizard, gets so wrapped up in learning magic he forgets everything else for decades until he resurfaces and decides the fantasy version of the hatman (probably some type of old one or whatever) charged him with taking over the world.

24. In the Muppet version of your story, is this particular OC a Muppet or the one human?

mantis: human.

chester: muppet.

25. What would be your OC’s My Little Pony cutie mark?

mantis: a mirror

chester: red string

26. Your OC is stuck in a musical episode. What song(s) do they sing? (And how thrilled or annoyed are they about being stuck in a musical?

mantis: i think i’m going to kill myself - elton john; is very pissed about the random musical episode

chester: psycho killer - the talking heads; is only upset when he starts singing in the vents and gives away that he’s there

27. In a murder mystery, what role would your OC play? (e.g. detective, sidekick, wacky suspect, rival investigator who gets in thew way, red herring, true culprit)

mantis: sidekick that may or may not get promoted to lead detective, red herring, or true culprit

chester: detective, wacky suspect, or rival investigator who wasn’t even hired he’s just doing it for fun-

28. What is your OC’s Warrior Cats name?

mantis: mudfang (shadowclan)

chester: squirrelbark (windclan)

29. Gun to their head, what is your OC’s fursona?

mantis: ironically, a fox, as much as they’d hate it. luckily for them, vulpes is more of caesar’s dog, so while he may be a fox in name, he’s more like a really intelligent husky in practice… meaning the animal is theirs for the taking. i don’t think they perceive themself as much of a mantis, despite the name.

chester: sparkledog! but in a 70s/80s way-

#ldknightshade.txt #my ocs #♟️🌵🦊#💥⚗️🔪

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sarah-dipitous · 2 years

Text

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 76

After School Special

"After School Special"

Plot Description: Sam and Dean investigate a haunting at one of their old high schools where we will see what school was like for the brothers back in 1997.

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: Okay, so it wasn't cool for this girl to be bullied, she didn't have to go and bully the girl who felt bad for her...and that could have probably prevented whatever ghost shit happening here from killing her (I don't think the second bullied girl would have killed her for it). I wouldn't have bullied the girl

I'm so excited to see high school Sam and Dean

How does this even work? Like, I know they HAVE to have schooling and it's not like John's gonna be around to home school them, but Sam just said that this is their third school this school year and it's only November. I just wanna know how all the records transfer and whatnot to allow them to move up grades and graduate

It's not glamorous, but Sam going in as part of the custodial staff is smart. No one is going to question him being any where at any time. And since this was all Sam's idea, I'm...hey. Hey, what happened to the gym teacher that they had this opening that Dean could get this quickly?? That it was this urgent to get a replacement?? I should stop questioning the internal logic of the show and focus on enjoying Dean enjoying getting to wear a fun little outfit

Okay. They just explained the real teacher's absence (she's getting married), but that still doesn't explain Dean

I can't watch this...his kid just shoved another kid's fist in a blender

The tracksuit is a good look for Dean...FUCK. STOP. You are like thirty years old, Dean (I won't even count the 40 years in Hell). Even as a joke, you shouldn't be this excited that "three of the cheerleaders are legal."

Okay but watching young Dean have to cover up his abandonment issues by boasting about the setup they have at the motel...it's the Christmas of 91 all over again

Oh, Sam, having to salt and burn the bones of his friend from his time at that school. The friend Sam helped after he got bullied, the one Sam protected from bullies...and Sam had no power or control over his life at 14, had no way of stopping the family from moving around as much as they did, but he still feels guilt over Barry's death

This teacher sees that Sam could be something other than a hunter mechanic. Okay, okay, but hold on again. So, John's cover up profession is a mechanic...how does that even work? Maybe it's just me, but mechanics usually stay in one place. People bring their vehicles TO THEM. Did John Winchester almost invent the traveling mechanic gig economy in the 80s???

Dean's watched Dead Poets Society? Doesn't seem like the kind of movie he'd like.

WHAT THE FUUUUUCK. Like. I knew it was too early for the ghost to ACTUALLY be Sam's friend (which means he salted and burned his friend's bones for nothing), but is the ghost the bully?? Is this one of those "school bullies are often people getting bullied at home" story lines? I know this episode is literally called After School Special, but that's a BIT on the nose, doncha think?

I don't wanna give this kid any credit or praise for this but Losechester......it's a little funny. Like, it's not funny to call a kid who's just doing the right and kind thing a loser, but strictly in the realm of name subversion making WINchester LOSEchester IS funny

OOF, SAMMY. Sucks that your nickname for Dirk (the Jerk) stuck after just one time. He wasn't being bullied at home, he had a different tragic backstory.

Look. I know it's for the good of everyone at that school, but it's awful that the Winchesters have to take away the one part of this old man's son, the one part of his family, he has left (a lock of hair).

I'm not saying that this kid didn't have a valid reason to come to hate Sam eventually, but I would not ONCE call Sam's treatment of him as bullying? Yes, the ripple effect of getting called Dirk the Jerk by some kid who'd been there for all of a couple weeks sucks, but let's not forget you were calling him Losechester and picking physical altercations all the time. Sam didn't wanna fight you, but if he didn't Dean was gonna absolutely fuck you up or "rip [your] lungs out."

DOES IT GET BETTER, SAM??? From what I can tell, it momentarily got better, but then your girlfriend died, your dad died, you died and Dean made a deal with a demon to get you back, then Dean died, now he's back but the apocalypse is coming.

"Been On My Mind...": Does 18 year old Dean making out with a girl in a janitor's closet count?? Why not? it's not like the countdown was at like 3. We can go back to 10 (oof. it was more than one girl............)

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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forbidden-sin-bin · 2 years

Text

By Your Side | Chapter 1

Summary: After your flight is delayed for an extra day, you decide to look around for what Detroit has to offer. A poster depicting the debut album of a rapper called Eminem catches your eye when you enter an certain old record store...

Word count: 3,728 words

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Three Years Later...

March 4, 1997

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“...Can I listen to it now?”

“No, Quinn.”

“...How about now?”

“Baby, no.”

“...Now?”

You sighed for the umpteenth time today. “Quinn honey, I thought we already agreed you can listen to it when you’re older.”

“But I am older!” The toddler argued, kicking the seat in front of him with both legs. “I’m four now. That means I’m older. You promised.”

"Three." You corrected. “And I did, but being four is not old enough.” You firmly stated, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from keeping your poor mother from waking. “When I mean older, I mean when you’re completely grown up, okay?”

Your nephew whined. “But I’m borrrrrred.” He threw his head back dramatically against his booster seat, staring at the ceiling of the van. “It’s boring.”

You looked at him sympathetically. “I know baby, I know.” Choosing to ignore his complaint of “I’m not a baby anymore”, you re-winded the cassette tape a few seconds back before hitting play, the opening to Salt-N-Pepa’s ‘Shoop’ bursting from your headphones.

You were gonna be honest: you hated having to wake up at 3 in the morning just to drive to Detroit for a slightly cheaper flight to New York City; and it’s not for you and Quinn’s first vacation trip there either, you had a callback to attend. If things went well, maybe another, and then you’ll see if you’ve gotten the unnamed part of some movie. You weren’t counting on it though, chances were few and far in between, actually getting the part were even fewer.

Still, it’s too late to back out now, considering you’ve auditioned once in Toronto, your hometown, and this trip to New York has been planned for months already.

You looked over at Quinn, who was tossing himself back and forth even while being seat belted to his booster seat. Usually you would try to get him to calm down, but you really can’t blame the recently-turned three year old for his mind-numbing boredom. If anything, he’s got enough problems do deal with as is.

Having no birth mom, a dad that hardly does much to help, and a suspecting future diabetic, your boy’s got more than enough on his plate. A few complaints and tantrums here and there really isn’t a big deal, but god, you really wanted peace and quiet after having only 3 hours of sleep yesterday.

Looking out your window to stare at the slowly brightening sky, your eyelids gently closed shut, drifting you in and out of sleep. It wasn’t much at all, but anything to keep your brain from swelling out of its skull, you suppose.

---

And just as your morning could not get any worse... it just got worse.

“Due to overbooking, passengers may be asked to leave the plane and await the next flight. We deeply apologize for the inconvenience.” The automated voice on the loudspeaker echoed throughout the waiting area of the airport.

Of course, of all the passengers they decided to involuntarily bump, it had to be yours.

So there you are, once again, slouched in one the many rows of seats at the gates, watching your parents argue with the airport staff with their increasing frustration, all while Quinn was quietly focusing on eating his cup of oatmeal your parents bought him for breakfast. Brown sugar not included, of course.

Hiding a yawn, you looked away from the ongoing drama and instead watched your little man enjoy his meal. Quinn catches you staring and raised his bowl to you. “Want some?” he asked, always polite to a fault.

You gave him a smile and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Nah, it’s all yours.”

He shrugged and resumed eating. “...What’s they doing over there?” He asked, mouth full.

“Oh nothing, too many people on the plane so we’re just gonna wait for the next one.” You had no reason to lie to him, not that there was anything to lie to him about anyway. You swore this kid had already unlocked his sixth sense and was using it like a superpower to detect lies and all that.

He hummed in response, swallowing. “When’s the next one?” You shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe in a few hours, or maybe tomorrow. If it’s tomorrow though...” You leaned forward, whispering. “You wanna take a trip around Detroit?”

“Yeah!” He paused before asking: “What’s Dee-troyt?” You stifled a laugh.

“It’s the name of the city we’re at.” You replied. “It’s like Toronto, except Toronto is so far away, we’re in a different place that has a different name. This place is called Detroit.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re in a different country; cities can only be in one country.”

“Why?”

“Otherwise there would be two Toronto’s, or two Detroit’s. That would be confusing, right?”

“...Why?”

“Well... It’s like having two different friends, but they have the same name. Isn’t that confusing?”

Finally seeming to get the picture (for now), he nodded vigorously. Seeing as the curious beast is satisfied for the time being, you took a sip from your water bottle and leaned back, trying to rest.

Unfortunately, Quinn had other ideas to ask. “Mama?”

Your eyes shot open. ‘Not again, goddammit.’

“Baby, I told you to call me auntie, okay? I know it’s hard, but I can’t be mama and auntie at the same time, alright?”

You almost caved in at the sight of his puppy-eyed look as he looked down. “But... all my friends have a mama? Why can’t I have a mama?” You winced, knowing how badly this would affect him. At the same time, you hated to see him cry, and him crying now would just be another problem on your parent’s workload.

“...Does... Do you feel better when you call me mama?” He nodded, pushing out his bottom lip.

“Alright, well, here’s the deal: I can allow you to call me mama, but in return, I want you to practice calling me auntie, okay?”

And just like that, his entire mood brightened. “Okay!”

“Good man. Now finish your breakfast, it’s already cold.”

---

A few hours later, you and your family are now unzipping your suitcases, taking out essentials to freshen up and clean yourselves. You too took out your toothbrush, cup, and face towel to place on the bathroom counter.

As you leaned down into the running sink, washing your face, you pondered on how you were going to spend the rest of the day while also managing to convince your family to even bother going out. As your mom would describe it; ‘Detroit is a messy, messy place,’ too much crime, too much poverty, too little safety for tourism.

Yet obviously, you weren’t going to be cooped up in this two-star hotel for the next 18 hours either.

Turning off the sink and lightly wiping your face dry with your face towel, you tossed it back onto the counter and clapped your hands once. “Okay, so, what now?” In reply, all three of your family members looked at you - with varying degrees of expressions - and blinked.

Yep, you saw that coming.

“What now?” Your mom said first. “I guess we sleep for a bit, maybe watch some tv, then get some lunch later.”

“Well that’s the true, but what about actually doing something?” You tried. “Like, are we gonna be staying in all day? Don’t you wanna go out and see the city?” She shrugged.

“Probably not. Have you seen the houses? Everything’s so run down, it’s not safe.”

“I get that, but we don’t know that for sure unless we try.”

“The moment we try is the moment we’ll be too late to get out of trouble.”

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts, we’re not going out.” Your mom told you in a firm tone.

You tried to look to your dad for backup, but he simply shrugged. “Just listen to your mom, okay?” He patted your shoulder, and you could do nothing else but sigh.

“But I wanna go outside.”

Your head snapped up to look at your boy, sitting on top of one of the hotel beds, crossed legged and bouncing on the spot. Suddenly, a devious plot began to hatch in your head.

“You see? Even Quinn agrees with me.” You walked over and patted his head while looking at your parents pointedly. “We can’t be cooped up in a hotel all day, otherwise we’d be wasting the day doing nothing, except maybe watching tv.” You looked towards Quinn. “Do you wanna stay here all day?” The toddler shook his head furiously, eliciting a grin from you. “Ha ha, exactly.”

“Y/N, no.” Your father scolded, pointing towards you. “It’s too dangerous, and we are NOT bringing Quinn to anywhere dangerous. You should know better.”

Still, you weren’t about to go down without a fight, now that you’ve got backup. Putting your hand on your hips and jutting your chin out, you retorted:

“I know. I do know better, and that’s making this a good vacation. Right now, day one is not going well at all.” Before your dad could speak up again, you continued: “Look, I’m not asking you guys to bring us to literal alleyways or the sewers or something like that. I just want us to take a drive around the city, okay? We don’t even have to get out of the car, we can just look out the windows.”

Your mom hummed suspiciously, not convinced. “And what is there to look at? Run down houses and abandoned buildings?”

“Every city has them, even Toronto has them, we’re not in a warzone, we’re in a neighboring city.” You argued. “Come on, I know Detroit doesn’t look like New York, but if it was too dangerous, we wouldn’t even be here right now.”

The room was silent and tense, neither side stubbornly glaring each other down.

Of course, you knew you were being a tad irresponsible, reckless even, but for years you were always the goody-two-shoes that followed your parents every whim. This was probably the first time in ages you’ve actually stepped up and suggested something that you normally wouldn’t do.

In the middle of the silence, the atmosphere quickly shifted at the sound of Quinn’s equally loud stare, innocently blinking between his grandparents and you. That of course distracted you enough to look at him.

“Hey kiddo,” You murmured, stroking his hair softly. “What do you think? Do you wanna go outside later? Look at the city? Maybe get some snacks?”

After making a face that look like he was thinking hard, your nephew nodded again. “Uh huh.” He replied, looking to mom and dad pleadingly. “Can I? Please?”

‘Yes,’ Your mind could’ve done an evil villain cackle for the theatrics. ‘Nobody says no to the “please” from my boy. He said please, I trained him well.’

To be more accurate, it was a family effort of teaching him manners. Still, no grandparent can survive the puppy eyed look of a polite grandchild just wanting to get some fresh air unscathed. Probably.

Seeing your dad shake his head and turn away, rubbing a palm across his face, while your mom gave you a look that meant you were about to get a stern telling off later today meant that you were absolutely grounded in some form. Despite graduating high school last year, you had yet to move out and find a job. Therefore, you were still under the house rules. Seems like a fair trade off, so you couldn’t complain.

You watched as your parents moved to the side of the room, whispering to each other seriously. Deciding to let them talk in peace, you sat down on the bed beside Quinn, patting the spot to your side for him to crawl over and mimic your crossed legs. “You doing okay, baby?” You asked. He shrugged without comment, looking down at his lap. A small smile crept onto your face. “Tired?” You tried again, receiving the exact same response. You let him be, the two of you staring off into space to await your verdict from mom and dad.

After what seemed like hours when it had been only minutes, your parents finally made your way over to the foot of the bed and looked at you two expectantly. Your head shot up quickly.

“We’ve decided.” Your mom’s voice was stern and final. “We can go outside-”

You and Quinn broke into smiles as you shared a tiny “Yesss!” and a fist pump.

“-But right now, we’re taking a rest.” She finished. Both of your shoulders slumped simultaneously as you shared a look.

“Eh... fair trade, don’t you think?” You asked him. He nodded in agreement. “Mm hmm.” Clapping your hands once, you hopped off the bed. “Alrighty big guy, nap time! Go get changed.” You watched as he followed suit, running to his suitcase on tiny little legs.

A harsh tap on your shoulder forced you to look back, finding yourself facing your dad. “You are so childish,” He whispered harshly. “What’s gotten into you today?”

You couldn’t answer that, to be honest. “Uhh...” Trailing off, you raised your hands in an act of surrender. “I have no idea.”

“Well, don’t do it again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Y/N. You JUST said you weren’t going to get out of the car.”

“I know, but-” You frantically gestured toward the record store with a worn out sign that read ‘Golden Jet Records’. “It’s a record store! It’s got music there that I probably haven’t seen yet! Five minutes, I promise-”

“Oh my god.” Dad leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, absolutely finished with you.

You heard a giggle to your right, and you gave Quinn a wink alongside a smirk before looking back at your parents seated in front of you.

“No, really. Just look outside! Do you see anyone about to hurt us? Do you see any gangs or crowds or anybody that remotely looks suspicious?” You raised a brow at them. “Look, I get it. I know this city’s got a lot of problems, but not the entire city is gonna be having violence or illegal activity at every corner, okay? Just a quick look, and that’s it.”

Hearing mom and dad mutter amongst themselves, you leaned back into your car seat, shutting your eyes and sighing through your nose.

“Fine.”

You shot up eagerly. “Really?!”

“You have five minutes.” Dad taps his watch threateningly. “If you’re not back by then, we’re leaving you behind.

While it may have been a threat, it completely flew over your head as you leaned forwards and gave your parents a kiss on the cheek each. “Love ya! I’ll be back!”

Practically throwing yourself out of the car, you heard Quinn’s voice in the distance as you jogged away: “Hey! I wanna go too! Can I go?”

You didn’t hear what your mom had to say as you stepped into the store and was met with the familiar old store scent.

---

The walls were painted with the old, unwashed white with the usual rectangular ceiling lights that would start making you think the whole place was dimmer than it actually seemed. And of course, there were rows upon rows of boxes and shelves filled with vinyl's, cd’s, and cassettes. There were only a few people here and there, with the store owner at the front desk of course, none of them paid any mind to you entering.

Five minutes to see if you manage to catch something good... time to get to work.

You scoured through the cassette section to find that they were ordered in both alphabetical order and in genre. Off the top you found the usual famous artists and albums; Hair metal bands like Metallica, Bon Jovi or Motley Crue, various levels of rock music - Alt rock seemed to be the trend this decade - like Nirvana or Pearl Jam, and obviously there were the pop artists who could always make it to the top 100: Michael Jackson, Céline Dion, Toni Braxton... the list goes on and on.

And of course, there was Hip-Hop. That one music genre you didn’t dare tell your parents you were warming up to. The controversial, thought provoking lyrical rhymes on a hard beat that kept you lip-syncing or muttering under your breath without even realizing it. Unsurprisingly, the store had plenty of it, from Nas, to Common, to Notorious B.I.G., to the Wu-Tang Clan, the whole nine yards more or less.

If you had the budget to buy more than one cassette, you would. Unfortunately you had to choose wisely... if you could.

Yet as the seconds ticked by and your hopes of purchasing another tape for the collection faded, a glimpse of the night sky, just brushing by the edge of your vision, caused you to take a second look.

A poster taped to the window, faded and worn, probably having been there for a bit, showed off a simplistic album cover; The dark blue gradient dotted with white specks of stars, with a violet line at the center that was probably meant to be either a horizon line or a beam of light somehow caught your attention. In capital letters, the name ‘EMINEM’ was displayed along the top half of the cover, with the bottom half titling the album as: ‘INFINITE’.

‘Huh.’

Having completely forgotten your browsing, you moved to take a closer look.

It was simplistic, no photo of the artist itself and no detailed graphics that would suggest it to have earned a parental advisory sticker on the corner. It was rather plain, yet oddly enough it somehow fits.

You couldn’t recall an artist by the name of Eminem before, assuming he was completely new and undiscovered, maybe this was his first release? Though the bent corners and slightly aged look suggests it was released a while back, or the person wasn’t very careful, it didn’t reduce the calming feeling that miraculously took a hold of you when you continued to stare, hell, maybe even admire it a bit.

Out of all the pictures, posters, and promotions in this store, why was this unknown little poster the one that had you wanting to know more?

Granted, if you hadn’t heard of this artist or album, let alone seen it, in Toronto, chances are it probably wasn’t even known anywhere outside of Detroit. There’s an even bigger chance it was hardly half-decent to listen to, and if it was, it would be a tape you would shelve and have it collect dust after the first listen. And yet... your gut instinct told you to give it a chance, and your mind was already set on making sure any other option was worth the same amount of curiosity.

“Are you looking for something?”

The bored, disinterested voice belonged to the middle-aged man at the counter, startling you out of your thoughts. Forcing a gulp down your throat, you replied with a slight stutter: “N-No... A-actually, wait- yeah; could... could you tell me more about that album over there?” You pointed to the poster.

The receptionist leaned over the counter to take a better look, before realizing. “Oh, that? That’s from one of the local rappers around here, nothing special really; He’s here pretty often.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh! Well that’s nice to hear.” A few seconds of silence passed before you spoke up again. “So, do you know where I can buy a cassette here?”

“Sorry kid,” the man shook his head. “I’ve only got the vinyl’s and the CD’s here. If you’re looking for the cassettes, you gotta wait for him to arrive. He sells most of his stuff in the back of the trunk of his car.” He narrowed his eyes at you with suspicion and curiosity. “Didn’t know Marshall had a fan...” he muttered.

You squinted back. “Who?”

“Eminem. His real name’s Marshall.”

“Ah... okay then... Do you know when he’ll be here?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Actually, he should be here any minute now. His shift ends at six, so...” Looking out the window, his eyes widened as he seemed to recognize a certain car backing into the parking lot. “There’s your guy.” He pointed to an old reddish car.

Thanking the man, you exited the store just as the engine of the car went silent. ‘Alright, just relax.’ You thought, trying to push down the nerves of having to talk to a stranger. ‘Put those acting lessons to use and don’t be a bitch.’ Easier said than done.

The driver’s door clicked open, and you blinked once, twice, three times as you finally realized that the guy was, in fact, Marshall.

He didn’t look much older than you, probably only a couple years your senior. Even from the distance between you, he probably stood to be of average height, if not a bit shorter. His hair was short, dark and buzz-cutted, probably his preferred look alongside the clean shaven face. Judging by his attire, a pair of sweatpants and a grey sweater loosely worn over his average, yet slightly chubby frame, he looked to have been around this side of Detroit for most of his life.

There was one thing you really didn’t want to mention... but you weren’t expecting a pale-skinned guy. He was white, for sure, and if your memory serves you right... there weren’t many white rappers in the industry. Aside from the Beastie Boys and the highly questionable Vanilla Ice, hip-hop was a mostly black oriented genre. But hey, you didn’t care about a person’s ethnic background in the slightest; as long as they could make music, whatever genre they chose, that’s more than enough.

You almost didn’t catch him looking straight back in your thoughts, looking around the parking lot to check for anyone else, then back at you to realize that he was the person you had your eyes on. Not knowing how else to react, you gave a small wave.

It seemed as if he wasn’t used to people waving him over, let alone someone that doesn’t even look like they were from Detroit. His expression was guarded and suspicious as he made his way over to you.

Finally reaching the curb, the pale boy jutted his chin at you - his blue eyes flashing threateningly - before asking:

“The hell do you want?”

---

(End of Chapter 1)

---

A/N: This took WAY TOO LONG. Holy shit I’m so sorry guys. I figured to end it at the very beginning of your conversation with Em after realizing how freaking long it got, so I’m moving the dialogue over the Chapter 2. I promise, updates will (probably) be faster.

But AYYYYY CHAPTER 1 IS OUT LETS GOOOOOO

Taglist: @eminemsorangejuice , @slimshay-castle

(Let me know in my ask box if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

#By Your Side Series #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #Sin Bin Books

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bizarrequazar · 2 years

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LLD CANDY SPACE!!!

This was a Twitter space hosted by Bluebird to talk about Zhang Zhehan and Gong Jun candy! As with all candy, take these with a grain of salt. [Recording]

This was an informal (and very silly) fan discussion and should not be taken as an official source.

One Night in Nanjing (October 31, 2020)

Zhang Zhehan was in Nanjing for an event (the very pretty half ponytail, white overshirt outfit).

Gong Jun was in Nanjing in the morning but went to Shanghai for an esports tournament. He was supposed to stay in Shanghai and had a dental appointment there the next day.

Instead, he drove back (4hrs) to Nanjing immediately after the tournament. In his vlog from that day, a Dairy Queen at a rest stop can be seen in the background that was identified as one on the road back to Nanjing.

The next day Zhang Zhehan changed to a later flight. At the airport he looked very tired and dazed, had an obvious hickey, and was limping (not on his bad leg)

Happy Camp (March 25, 2021)

There has been TONS of debate about whether Gong Jun and Zhang Zhehan really held hands under the table during the pre-show livestream. Last month-ish, a really slowmo’d gif of it was posted where it was clearer. At this point it seems like it really did happen.

When they were getting on the balance ball, Zhang Zhehan—who’s very competitive—asked Gong Jun if he wanted him to let him win.

The butterfly necklace Zhang Zhehan wore is very cheap, a lot of people questioned it since it was out of character for him. There’s a melon that Gong Jun bought it for him.

Zhang Zhehan was limping at the airport the day after. {Notetaker’s comment: I’m calling foul on this one because knee pain often doesn’t present immediately after activity. Not saying nothing happened, though.}

In his livestream the day after Happy Camp, Zhang Zhehan kept talking about Gong Jun and looked very distracted.

Three-Day Inspection Period (end of March)

Gong Jun lied to Zhang Zhehan in the Youku livestream about not having topless scenes in The Flaming Heart.

On the day it came out in an interview that he did have one, Zhang Zhehan posted a douyin of him smiling where the kadian was 7:48 (go die).

Zhang Zhehan then posted on Instagram an exerpt from a story about a princess and a dragon where the princess says “don’t let me catch you lying again”, then made another post saying “I’m gonna give the pimple a three day inspection period”

Gong Jun made a post about having three pimples.

Later that night Gong Jun stayed up very late liking douyins until he reached 521, the 511th one was a cat and dog. Another was of a sad dog.

Tom Ford Event (April 23, 2021)

It was (supposedly) meant to be two separate events, one for each of them.

Zhang Zhehan was filming in Beihai at the time. Tom Ford said they would go to him for the event, but Zhang Zhehan said he would come to Shanghai where Gong Jun was.

The day or so leading up to it, people weren’t sure if Zhang Zhehan was going to be present.

He disappeared the night before and no one could figure out where he was—he wasn’t at the airport, the flight info fans had was wrong.

Gong Jun arrived at the event first, Zhang Zhehan was late.

Very excited movements from Gong Jun.

No one knew Zhang Zhehan was there until Gong Jun saw him and his face visibly lit up.

There’s an additional candy that Gong Jun chose to go to Beihai for a photoshoot around the same time so he could visit Zhang Zhehan on set.

Afterwards, Gong Jun posted the “the stars and moon shine together” lyrics on his Instagram.

Stars and Moon

On the same day in March 2020, Zhang Zhehan posted a photo of himself holding a moon light and Gong Jun posted a picture with star lights in the background. Both of them had used the same tag and had the same location. This was before they had met and seems to have been a genuine coincidence.

April 23nd 2021, Zhang Zhehan drew stars in the livestream. He had a necklace with stars on it on the day he flew back to Beihai.

December 2021, Gong Jun posted a douyin with a 511 kadian. The first line of the song is “You are the stars and I am the moon, you are shining and I am bright.”

January 2022, Gong Jun posted a douyin for YA-MAN with the bgm that had the lyrics “The moon blinks its eyes and I put you in the palm of my hand.” The official YA-MAN video did not have bgm, Gong Jun had added it himself in his video.

Zhang Zhehan made a post of only a star emoji, the same day Gong Jun shot a vlog at a hotpot restaurant that Zhang Zhehan is rumored to have been present during.

While filming AnLe, Gong Jun posted on Instagram that the moon had hidden itself. It was a fairly clear night.

Concert BTS (May 3, 2021)

Sitting beside each other in the dressing room where Gong Jun was very obviously excited—moving a lot, sparkling eyes, watching Zhang Zhehan in the mirror.

They were possibly texting each other to be able to talk without the cameras picking it up {Notetaker’s comment: There’s a point where you can see Gong Jun send a text, then immediately after Zhang Zhehan looked at his phone.}

Zhang Zhehan said “Bao, look at the camera bao” to Gong Jun.

Gong Jun called Zhang Zhehan “Hanhan” in the pre-concert livestream.

BEAST Panda (July 4, 2021)

Gong Jun had no luggage when he arrived in Shanghai and no one could find where he was staying, fans joked he was staying under a bridge.

He had a hickey the next day.

Someone in a panda costume was used in the endorsement livestream.

Gong Jun was very happy and bouncy in the livestream in the way that a lot of people call his tell.

Rather than his usual goodbye, he said “I’m going home, byebye” then signed off very quickly, saying he had a flight the next day. He did not have a flight until the following night.

Afterwards Gong Jun posted pictures of himself with the panda. He was holding the panda’s hand on his thigh in one photo, which is quite uncharacteristic for him as he doesn’t like physical touch.

The panda in the official videos was noticably a different height than the one in the photos.

There was a video clip of someone walking to the panda photoshoot completely covered by bodyguards and umbrellas. It’s believed it was a man, but the gait didn’t look like Gong Jun’s.

Gong Jun showed up to his flight the following evening with Zhang Zhehan’s luggage, identified by the stickers on it.

Gong Jun’s birthday livestream (November 29, 2021)

Solos have said CPFs haven’t found all the candy yet.

Gong Jun’s outfit was from a line called “wave chasing light”, in March when people finally figured it out fans apologized to him for not doing their homework lol

There was a giant peach cake-thing that he grabbed rather suggestively

Misc. (not chronological)

Gong Jun’s double standard: He’s historically not very careful with his female co-stars, treating them like bros. Compare that to how he treats Zhang Zhehan: being careful with him during the Happy Camp balance ball game, picking things up for him, checking if he’s okay, etc.

Ace vs Ace, Gong Jun was careful not to push Zhang Zhehan’s bad knee after the pushups. Afterwards, Gong Jun said “We’re the same family!” even though they weren’t on the same team during the episode.

Ace Actress, while standing on the small platform, Gong Jun kept moving to give Zhang Zhehan more room, clearly worried that he would fall off. It was to the point where he himself was only half-standing on it while Zhang Zhehan was practically in the middle.

Zhang Zhehan may have visited Gong Jun on set during the Dream Garden wrap—lots of Coke cans present (his endorsement), Gong Jun wore a blue mask after.

When the two of them are in the same city, at least one of them tends to “go missing”.

During the AnLe wrap a white van picked up Gong Jun, the same colour and model car Zhang Zhehan usually used.

A solo fan was filming Zhang Zhehan playing golf privately from far away, then supposedly saw Gong Jun coming out of a car. The video cuts with her loudly saying “holy shit holy shit” while putting the phone down. Gong Jun’s voice can apparently be heard at the last second. Fans afterward said to not share it, delete it.

Chat log from a solo from the AnLe wrap: a car pulled up and she freaked out because someone (apparently not Gong Jun) was in it, then she left the chat.

Zhehan sometimes steals Xiao Yu’s shirts, one being a limited edition shark shirt. Gong Jun wore an identical shirt during the Word of Honor filming, on a day he was wearing a blue mask.

When the hexagon rings went on sale, the in-store clerks apparently knew the significance of the rings but weren’t allowed to talk about it since Gong Jun isn’t a brand collaborater.

Gong Jun’s Tiffany rings have been marketed as engagement rings for m/m couples. Also the one he wears most often is very similar looking to one Zhang Zhehan wore during the mini-concert and on the Surround poster.

Matching Givenchy lock jackets. A personal favourite of the notetaker’s. ♥

The post after Zhang Zhehan’s mini-concert had a caption with “The princess is waiting for the handsome (jun) knight.”

Gong Jun’s 521st Weibo post had a reference to the mobile card game Zhang Zhehan likes to play and had a cat emoji.

Valentine’s Day 2022, Gong Jun kadianed 1129 1314 511.

Hangzhou airport, Zhang Zhehan's elbow was injured in a fan stampede. That day Gong Jun posted a song “Let’s Escape Together” on Instagram.

Fans used to make bets about how they surely wouldn’t do xyz coupley thing, and they kept losing. There’s a saying now that “When it comes to betting, we always lose.”

June 18th, Zhang Zhehan’s True Love Night performance: he changed the lyrics in the first song (Unbreakable Love) to be about missing his lover, and he started crying. Then during Surround, there’s a key change where he gestured to his ear and paused for one line, some people think the background vocal was Gong Jun. He finished his performance by flashing the LLD sign.

July 2021, at the time both zzh and gj were being slandered left and right on Weibo. On the same day, their studios posted notices of them suing each other’s fans for slander.

Fan events happening this August:

Merch-sharing event (all month)

Lumi will be posting lld-related songs every day

Zhang Zhehan is Innocent hashtag event (August 6th)

Charity drive (August 13th-15th)

As we go into August, keep remembering and celebrating the happiness. Joy and justice and not mutually exclusive—joy is what keeps us going through the hard times, and those happy memories are what remind us what we’re fighting for.

#Zhang Zhehan #Gong Jun #junzhe #my zzh posts #my gj posts

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake.

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful.

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much.

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps.

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok.

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce.

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way.

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

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todoscript · 3 years

Photo

SEQUEL TO “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #bnha fic

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