#how did i forget the block party tag .

[teethkid67]

lunch break :P

bp!tubbo and tommy sharing some rations in pogtopia for @sixteenth-day-event prompt "kindness" :3 i think about bptubbo risking his stupid skin to feed his loser bestie&co often

[lilacgaby]

i guess i'm stuck forever by the glue,

oh, and you.

pairing: spiderman!megumi x reader

synopsisꨄ: you and megumi have been on and off for a while, one situation to another has you two webbed together. not like either of you mind. wc: 3k

tags: fem!reader, cursing, fighting, use of she/her, drinking, yuuji is the goat, suggestive (kissing(???)), fluff, pet names, college!au, megumi has a lip piercing. yeah.

as megumi swung back from a night full of work, greeting his roommate yuuji with a fist bump and an exhausted smile as he pulled up his mask, he laid down on his bed exhausted.

his black webbed suit now discarded by the bed as he stared up to the ceiling of his room. his chest heaving slightly as he put an arm over his eyes, blocking out all light so he could sleep for a couple hours before it all began at nine.

not.

he had classes today, classes he dreaded for one reason. you.

something happened between you that should've never been given a single thought, never should've been conceived even in his mind.

he'd kissed you. and that was putting it lightly.

it was at some random college party he'd been convinced to go to by yuuji, he had been taking down cans of cheap beer mindlessly, the bottle now a bit crushed in his hand as he saw you walk in.

fitted dress, hugging you so right. jewelry shining in the dim light of the party, but this place was forgotten as his eyes settled on you. and yours in him.

a lot of the party was a blur in his mind, events playing together and becoming one because the only thing he kept focused on was you.

he thinks you drank a lot too, he can't quite remember. his hand slaps over his eyes in frustration, because the one part he thinks he'll never forget plays in his head on repeat.

your lips on his, you on his lap as his hand held you against him. you were on a bed, how did you get there? he didn't know but didn't care. his hand tilting your head slightly, with the feeling of your hands in his hair. the piercing on his lip rubbing almost addictively painful against yours, his tongue almost slipping in your mouth until–

todo. his stupid upperclassman barged in, a comically loud gasp coming from his lips as he yelled, “megumi and [name] are making out in here!”

safe to say you jumped off of him pretty quick, his hands ripped off your waist as he stood to attention, you shoving past him as you left. megumi shot an annoyed glare as he walked past him, only for yuuji to laugh in his face as he settled back onto the couch of the living room.

“what?” megumi grunted, he was already annoyed, he didn't need yuuji laughing at him right now.

“it's just..” yuuji pointed a finger to his face, before cracking an impossibly wider smile. “you have lipstick all over your face megumi.”

after throwing a pillow at yuuji’s face, he went home.

but you've been on his mind ever since, and he didn't know what to do about it.

you've been ‘friends’ for a while, only because of mutual relations between your other friends. but you'd always had this weird connection between you two. sharing wired headphones during school trips, lending a shoulder to sleep on, studying together.

he'd hate to think it'd be lost just because of a drunken— no it wasn't an accident. far from it. but he just wished he talked to you before it got that far.

with a groan, he shoves his head into a pillow, letting out a muffled scream.

he finally felt his thoughts calm down, his eyes closing as he fell asleep..

and awoke to the beeping of his alarm clock. he threw a web at it and stuck it to the wall. this was going to be annoying.

you seemed to be just as awkward as he was about this whole ordeal, fingers playing with each other as you avoided eye contact with him at all cost.

not like he fared any better, anytime he tried to start up conversation with you, his eyes would fall to your lips and make him flush red.

just two hopeless idiots.

class ended with no words spoken between you two and a voice screaming at him to do something. anything.

but he didn't, and you were already gone. he sighed before packing up and heading back to the dorm.

yuuji had become sort of like his intelligence.. though it wasn't the best idea megumi ever had, he was good hearted about it at least.

as megumi snacked on a bunny-shaped popsicle, yuuji looked shocked to see him. he looked at him blankly before starting, “i didn't think you'd be here.”

megumi squinted, “why wouldn't i be in my own house?”

“because doc oc attacked by one of the school dorms?”

a moment of silence passed, the bunny now miserably dripping down the drain forgotten, as megumi ran to put his suit on. “lead with that shit, idiot!”

he zipped out the window of his room, yuuji yelled out behind him, “dorm 5-C!”

megumi swung quickly, the black and white suit making him stand out in the broad daylight as he sped over there. landing a kick on the face of the man controlling the robotic suit, before landing perfectly on the top of the dorm.

“hey freak. don't you have anything better to do?” he mocked, before webbing down one of their arms.

“oh, nice of you to finally show up, spiderman.” the man spoke, attempting to grab him but slamming his hand down onto the building instead. “so slow, what if i'd killed someone already?”

“you think you're that good?” he sped over to land a kick on the main body of the mission, making the man keel over.

“no, i know so.” the man retorted, before slamming down three arms at once. he missed megumi entirely, but one section of the dorm was now completely cut off.

‘crap’. megumi thought, before attaching a string of web to the man's neck. “can you be more considerate next time?” before he could swat it off, a wave of venom passed through his neck, paralyzing him.

megumi, after breathing a sigh of relief, quickly did a once-over of the damaged area. swinging by only to see you, standing at the broken off chunk of what must've been your room with a horrified look.

you stared blankly at the outside, an odd look on your face. the boba that you stopped to get at the cafe now dropped on the floor.

megumi rushed over to you, moving you from the dangerous edge as he instinctively asked, “[name]! are you okay?”

you looked at him, tilting your head in confusion as he held you close. “..spider-man? why do you know my name?”

shit.

“uhh. i.. know one of your friends? he spoke of you once.”

“really? who?”

“um.. oops.. his name must of slipped my mind.”

“oh?”

“just– listen, you've got to find someone to stay with. sorry about this, but your dorm is wrecked.”

it seemed to get your attention off the topic for a second you looking over and mentally crying at all your lost things. “aw man, my stuff.”

he finally let you out his embrace so you could start calling up people to let you stay with them. “um.. i'm really sorry about this [name].”

“it's not your fault spider-man,” you said while texting, “i probably would be dead if you didn't come when you did. so thank you.”

you gave him a polite smile, before he nodded and swung off.

he finally made it back to his dorm, slumping over at his desk, changing quickly so he could just be done.

he walked out his room, sweatpants hung low as he went to go get another bunny popsicle, only for this one to meet the same fate as its predecessor when he saw you walk in with yuuji.

“hey megumi!” yuuji waved, his eyes wide as if to signal something.

“she's gonna be staying here, since her dorm was ruined by a villain. isn't that horrible?”

“why are you being weird?”

“i'm not?”

megumi stood jaw slack at the implications of living with you, his face flushed before he let out a small. “okay.”

weeks living with you weren't bad. you were a good roommate, you'd clean, do your part of the dishes, hang out as you three, it was all good.

he'd let you borrow his clothes, his sweatshirts and pants became you new style. since his fight with that villain had left you without any clothes.

everything had been fine, you'd even hung out in his room one on one once, lazing about as you laid on the silken sheets, not knowing how you were affecting him.

one day, an altercation with some random villain had left him bleeding from the stomach, stumbling as he walked in. he only managed to make it to the living room, before falling onto the floor. he didn't have his suit on thankfully, he had been caught off guard and had to fight without it, but he'd never missed the slight protection it gave him until now.

you saw him, keeled over on the floor, and rushed to his side. “megumi? what's–” you let a sharp gasp escape your lips at the sight of the blood puddle under him. you flipped him over as gentle as you could, pulling up his shirt and running to find a kit.

you didn't think you'd ever need to use your sewing skills for skin, but you were weaving the needle in and out of the huge wound with precision, ignoring the tears burning at you eyes.

you didn't know what was going on with him, why'd he'd leave at random hours throughout the night and come back bruised every time. but you couldn't find it in yourself to ask.

now you wish you did.

“megumi?” he was out cold, face still as you poked his cheek gently. you dabbed at his wound, cleaning it up before getting yuuji to help him into his bed.

he woke up alone, his wounds even from the months before having been taken care of. when he walked in to the kitchen, only to have you grab his hand.

“megumi.”

“ah. [name].” his eyes were wide as he stared at your grip on him. “what.. what do you do when you go out? you come back all.. bruised and stuff.”

crap.

“i.. i can't tell you.”

you gripped his hand tighter at that, before letting go completely. “‘kay. but,” you held up a finger to his face. “i'll take care of your injuries everyday.”

his eyes widened impossibly, before a small smile overcame his face. “yeah? sounds good.”

that's how he found himself, every night with your hand tending anything that ailed him. you'd make jokes about what you think he was out doing, beating up underclassmen or whatnot. until.. he left his mask in plain vision once.

“hey, why do you have spider-man's mask in here?”

his breath hitched, eye catching the object that fell out of the closet he shoved it in.

“uh.. i'm.. spider-man's friend?” he mentally face palmed.

…

“oh!” you said, eyes brightening. “now i get it! wouldn't you believe it if i said that i met spider-man when my dorm like.. got destroyed?”

“yeah. uh– he told me.”

“oh! he said he had a friend, i didn't know it was you!”

“yeah i help him. research and stuff, get caught in the aftermath a lot.”

“that makes sense. you're so cool megumi.”

he flushed, becoming hyper aware of your hands on his.

“yeah, whatever.”

your almost nightly ritual was only cut off by a party your friend was throwing. you were so excited, not having gone to one since your dorm room was destroyed.

until you needed someone to help zip up your dress. with your friends half an hour away, you wrapped a towel around yourself and knocked on megumi’s door.

“yo–” whatever he was going to say got caught in his breath at this sight of you, clad in a towel.

“hey megumi. can you help me real quick?”

he ripped his eyes off of you momentarily, before averting his eyes and gesturing for you to come in.

he almost freaked out when you dropped the towel, only to see a gorgeous dress underneath. “can you zip me up? i can't reach.”

he sucked in a deep breath, before putting a thumbs up.

with shaky hands he zipped up your dress, instinctively you turned around. “how do i look?”

he couldn't voice his words, but as you saw the gulp that came over him, you knew you looked good. with a pat on the back and a, “see you there!” you set off.

and you found yourself in the same position as the last time, except he was on top of you, your hands pulling him closer as your legs wrapped around him. same bed too, not that it mattered.

you felt the same pressure from his piercing from last time, you two weren't nearly as drunk as then though. it was bruising your lip, you two were breathless, his hands moved, about to hold your face when–

his phone rang. you both jumped, but when he saw who it was he knew he had to answer. it was yuuji, and he wouldn't have called if it wasn't important. “sorry.” is all he said before he went outside.

he always kept his suit near him, so he slipped it on and went to the site where it was reported doc oc would be. being he escaped prison and all.

you were upset and angry in all senses of the word. you stormed out into the streets, the cold biting your skin as you stomped away. only to find yourself… entangled in an iron hand.

“spider-man likes you, right?” a man asked, warped voice behind you. “stay still and i won't hurt you. too bad.”

you were dragged, silent as to not upset this strange man. he settled over a random building, holding you over an edge.

“stay quiet 'til he gets here, i don't wanna hear you scream.”

—-

all the information had been wrong, doc had been on the complete opposite side of the city. with a screaming yuuji in his ear, he now knew the villain held you in his grasp. great.

the guy was shaking you around over the edge, the one you were tumbling over mentally was now physical as the far distance to the bottom loomed under you.

his heart sped up at the sight of you, he made his presence known. “hey, how'd you escape from the psych ward?”

“it was confinement, and i don't owe you any answer spider-man! you'll let me beat you down or– or i'll throw your girlfriend off this roof.” the villain shook you slightly, making you yelp.

“you won't be doing anything.”

“oh, yes i will.”

the arm with you encircled in it raised, he sped over to web the base of his body to the ground, kicking the control in with his leg.

the dome surrounding the villains body shattered, leaving a shaking man in its wake.

“d-don't hurt me! or i'll–”

a punch by the side of his head shut him up. “put her down, before i put you down.”

“i– i can't! that arm is broken! t-the whole panel is!”

he looked and sure enough he was right, the control buttons were electrified and tweaking.

he scoffed. “stay here, actually.” he webbed him down, with a little venom just to be safe.

he walked calmly on top of the arm, seeing the relief form on your lips bruised from him.

“hey pretty.” he said, not knowing where the sudden confidence came from.

“spider-man! thank god.” you breathed a sigh. “yeah, don't thank me yet.” he muttered. “you have to trust me [name]. can you do that for me?” he asked, looking right at you as he stood over the only thing keeping you alive.

“i mean.. yeah.”

“okay then. you're going to fall. but i'm going to catch you, okay?”

you nodded, closing your eyes. “okay. don't worry, i got you.”

before you knew it you were falling, you screamed obviously, because you stupidly opened your eyes to the cars moving below. the lights blinding as you fell closer and closer, until you were suddenly in the embrace of him.

“are you okay?” he asked, looking at your face of pure shock at the feeling of being swung around. “yeah, now that you're here! this is so cool!” he smiled, the fabric of his mask wrinkling as he took you to your unknowingly shared home, though he took the long route.

he was a bit too happy when he dropped you off at your window, antsy as you finally settled in. “thank you, spidey.”

“ah, it's nothing. just doing my job you know?” he smirked, you nodded. you tilted you head slightly as you moved towards him, heart in your throat as you put your hand under the neck of his mask, lifting it up just to reveal his lips.

“what, you trying to pay me for my trouble?” he genuinely didn't know why he was acting on his impulses so much around you, maybe it was the freedom of being spiderman. but you didn't mind as you kissed him. sparks flew, almost literally.

a lightbulb went off in your head, you gasped when you felt the metal of his piercing nudge against the sensitive bruise on your lip from earlier.

no way. “megumi?”

he froze, before a small, “hi?” escaped him.

you pulled off his mask, green eyes greeting you and a messy bunch of hair that you have no idea how it fit being revealed. all you could do was laugh, before planting another kiss on his lips.

“you're so dumb. but i guess i am too, huh?”

a smile overcame his lips, matching yours as he let out a small laugh too.

“guess we are.”

the night ended with you two in each others arms, him speaking on his experiences as spider-man and you questioning him on it. his hands now playing with your hair.

“name slipped your mind huh?” you joked, reminiscing on your first conversation with spider-man.

“tch, shut up.” he grumbled, before silencing you with a kiss. he physically didn't want to be far from you anymore, he held you even closer. even if you poked fun at him.

a webbed seal of fate tied you two together, a web woven by cupid themself.

[dunmeshistash]

Hello!

I'm Cyan (or anything you wanna call me) this blog started as just a stash for Dungeon Meshi extras and worldbuilding details but expanded as people asked questions and I did my best to answer! Hope you find it as useful as I do. I try my best to categorize my posts so they're easy to find but sometimes I forget.

If you'd like to share something you compiled yourself feel free to send it to me and I'll reblog it! You can also send a submission if you'd prefer. The main goal is to share Dungeon Meshi information :3

Consider checking the FAQ before sending an ask!

FAQ

Spoilers are tagged as "Dungeon Meshi Spoilers"

Please support the author by purchasing the manga if available in your region.

TERFs and other bigots aren't welcome

Icon and Banner

Ryoko Kui's Blog

Tag list under the cut

Types of post

For referencing - Canon things and other information you might want to go back to. Now I'm also using art reference when relevant

Compilation - Posts where I compile lots of canon art/sketches about a specific subject.

Dunmeshi thoughts - My own non canon thoughts. I also use the tag speculation when relevant

Dunmeshi complaint - Tag for more negative subjects/discourse in case you wanna block that. I usually go back and delete the ones that don't seem productive

Asks - Since I post quite a lot of asks I decided to divide them into some tags so they're easier to filter: Lore ask | Character ask | Meta ask | About Cyan

Parties

Laio's Party: Laios Touden | Marcille Donato | Chilchuck Tims | Senshi of Izganda | Izutsumi | Falin Touden

Kabru's Party: Kabru of Utaya, Diamond of Sadena, Mickbell Tomas, Kuro, Rinsha Fana, Holm Kranom

Tansu's Party: Tansu Floke, Yarn Floke, Kiki Floke, Kaka Floke, Namari of Kahka Brud

Shuro's Party: Shuro (Toshiro Nakamoto), Hien, Benichidori, Maizuro, Inutade

Canaries: Mithrun, Pattadol, Lycion, Fleki, Otta, Cithis

Races:

Tallman

Dwarf

Elf

Gnome

Half-Foot

Ogre

Demi humans

Orc

Kobold

Sources (<- check this if you're confused where the extras come from):

Adventurers Bible

Daydream Hour

Monster Tidbits

Bluray

Other tags:

Worldbuilding

Maps

Magic System

Post Canon (Extras about the story after the story)

Clothing (Details about character's clothes and in world fashion)

Dunmeshi Extra (extra comics that aren't in the main story)

Rooms

Modern Clothing

Dunmeshi anime vs manga (comparisons or panels missing from the anime)

Monsters:

Red Dragon

Chimera Falin

Mermaid

I'll be updating as I add posts/figure out how to tag stuff

About me: Cyan - Adult - She/He - Brazilian

[luvmmarner]

PROMPTS OF ALL PROMPTS

I would definitely make intense smut prompts later! For now I hope you enjoy these fluff angst prompts instead! Requests are always opened!

For others that want to use these prompts! You're free to do so! Just tag me no need to credit. I would love to read it and see what you came up with! -- FLUFF PROMPTS 

“Can you hug me”

“My teammates gets annoyed because I talk about you 24/7”

“Can we have a date night tonight?”

“Do you know you're pretty” 

“Why are you being a pain?” 

“Stop simping for me you simp” 

“Your blushing you idiot” 

“Are you kidding me? I love cuddles” 

“Your hair smells good.” 

“I just want to lay here all day” 

“Can you wash my hair for me?” 

“I really need you right now”

“I like you.. well no… I love you” 

“I love your smile” 

“You sent me inappropriate pictures. When I was out in public” 

“Why are you so clingy?” 

“Fine. We can stay home tonight” 

“Dance with me in the rain” 

“Let’s jump in the puddles!” 

“Can I sit on your lap?” 

“Kiss me please!” 

“Can you rub my arm in circles?” 

“I’m wearing your shirt if that’s fine!” 

“This still smells like you” (long distant or for breakups) 

“Your mom gave me pictures of you when you were a baby.” 

“Stop you’re making me blush in public” 

“Don’t… I’m ticklish —“ 

“I can’t sleep can I stay here”

“I had a nightmare…”

“I care about you”

“You mean everything to me”

“You make me feel like I’m at home every time”

“Can I give you a hug? You look like you need one”

“Stop denying it! You need sleep”

“You’re so adorable.”

“You make me so happy.”

“I need pads”

“I don’t ever want to lose you”

“I feel better now that you’re here with me”

“It’s like we are meant to be”

“I’m not going anywhere”

“I feel safe when I’m with you”

“I can’t reach the top shelf.. Can you help?”

“Here take my jacket.”

“I just started my period…”

 “I’m right here baby, it’s okay”

“I’m so in love with you.”

“I’m never leaving you.”

“You're mine forever.”

“Should we make it official?”

BEACH PROMPTS

“Can you do my sunscreen?” 

“Why is your massages better than you scratching my back” 

“Please come in the water” 

“Stop it’s cold!” 

“I'm going to splash you!” 

“My sandcastle is better than yours” 

“I won!”

“Don’t throw me in the water!!!”

“I’m trying to tan”

“Stand in front of me you block the sun”

“Can you give me a piggyback”

“The sand is hot” 

“Come with me on the floatie!”

“Can you set up the umbrella?”

WINTER PROMPTS

“it’s snowing!” 

“We are locked in…”

“Let’s look at the stars through the window”

“Can we bake gingerbread cookies”

“You got frosting on your face”

“It’s so cold..”

“I love hot coco.”

“Look! I caught a snowflake in my mouth!”

“You got snow in your hair!”

“My snowman is better!”

“Whoever gets to the bottom of the hill first wins!”

“It’s freezing, could you turn on the heat?”

“Snowball fight!!!”

“I got snow in my boots, now my feet are cold.”

“Dw! I’ll warm you up!”

“Let’s build a fort!”

“This is the perfect time to set up the Christmas tree!”

“Ooh! I love sledding!”

“Woo! That was sooo fun!”

“Here! I made this one just for you!”

“You have such good decorating skills!”

SUMMER/CAMPING PROMPTS

“It’s so hot!”

“Can I borrow your hat please?”

“May you buy me a slushie? I forgot my wallet”

“The mosquitoes are killing me”

“Here let me spray you”

“Let’s go on a hike!”

“The sun is so bright.”

“Did you forget the sunscreen.”

“Baby, can you get my backside please?”

“I want to go swimming.”

“Can we just stay inside!”

“This is the perfect spot to set up our campsite.”

“I got the marshmallows!”

“I’ll help you set up the tent. But.. I don’t know how.”

“I’m already tired.”

“Let's roast marshmallows!”

“I made a smore just for you!”

“We can share.”

“Come swimming with me!”

“The water is sooo warm.”

“I rented a boat. You know how to drive it right..?”

“Don’t worry, of course I got the beer.”

“I love summer parties.”

“No… I didn’t steal your towel… Ok fine I did”

“Put me down – Ok ok fine fine! You win.”

“Can we go on a road trip?”

“You pushed me into the water, you jerk!”

“I couldn’t help myself… All the ice-cream flavours looked so good!”

“I didn’t buy any more ice cream.. The receipts are lies!!!!”

“Can we stay longer!!”

ANGST/ARGUMENT/BREAKUP PROMPTS

“You promised me.”

“You lied. You said you would never leave me.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know everything”

“Please don’t do this.”

“I loved you.”

“Why don’t you trust me”

“This can’t be goodbye.”

“Please don’t walk out.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t love you.”

“We were never meant to be.”

“I just wanted to be enough for you.”

“I don’t forgive you.”

“Stop saying sorry! It’s always ‘I’m sorry’. When you really aren’t”

“If you’re sorry, why did you leave me?”

“You thought I was dumb.”

“I know you’re lying.”

“Why did I fall in love with you.”

“I’m so stupid to think we had something.”

“You never cared about me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop being selfish.”

“I moved on.”

“You cheated on me.”

“This isn’t working…”

“No. We can’t… we are too toxic for each other.”

“Why me..”

“Us? There was never an ‘us’.”

“I’m done.”

“It’s better if we just stop seeing each other.”

“I can’t love you.”

“You broke my heart so carelessly. Now you want forgiveness?”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Your always mad at me.”

“What do you want? Because I could care less.”

“I was such a fool.”

“You talked to her and then lied about it.”

“You told people that you were single…”

“I thought you loved me..”

“How could you…”

“That’s not going to happen. I already told you.”

“What's wrong with you seriously?”

“You lost me”

“Where’s your new gf/bf?”

“Shouldn’t you be with your new gf/bf”

“I thought things were going amazing”

“I thought wrong…”

“This is goodbye.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“I can’t live without you.’

“What did you expect me to say?”

“Our relationship is in the past. I’m sorry.”

“I like someone else.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“How did you think this wouldn’t hurt me?”

“I think it’s best if we don’t meet again.”

“You didn’t love me, did you?”

“I hope you're happier.”

“At least you got what you wanted”

“I was miserable and I still loved you.”

“Stop pretending. You wanted me like this… You wanted me broken and you got what you wanted.”

“We can’t keep talking. This isn’t healthy.”

“It’s best if we stop talking… like forever.”

“You're not the same person I fell in love with.”

“You don’t own me.”

“You act like everything is fine when it’s not!”

“Can we not argue for once.”

“Not now. Not even in a million years. I would ever think to give you another chance.”

“I fell for your lies again, and now I’m not anymore.”

“I was nothing to you. I was only a toy for you to manipulate and I fell for it.”

“Why wouldn’t you admit to everything! This was all your fault.”

“I hate you.”

“I despise you.”

“You were my ride or die.”

“I don’t fall in love. I don’t want to be loved or love someone else.”

“If I leave you know you would never see me again.”

“I deserve better.”

“You were my first and would be my last.”

“Don’t – Don’t make me fall in love again.”

“You know we can’t..”

“I know this is random and we haven’t talked in awhile.. But can you stay with me one more night and just forget about everything.”

“It was indeed. The wrong place the wrong time”

“Good for you!”

“Why can’t you be happy for me for once?”

“We shouldn’t be together anymore. I’m supposed to hate you.”

“How could I be so oblivious..”

“Why did I even think I could be enough for you.”

“I needed to hold you once more.”

“I don’t understand.. Wha- what are you saying..”

“I don’t want to say something I’ll regret later.”

“Don’t bother to call me when you need something later.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was just mad..”

“Please forgive me.”

“Why are you suddenly coming back into my life after I just started to do good.”

“Do you not understand the words ‘I’m done’.”

“Haha! You think I love you? That’s pathetic.”

FICS/STORY IDEAS

Here’s some storyline ideas. You can decide if you want it angst or fluff or whatever! I don’t mind if you take this ideas. You don’t need to credit just a tag, so I could read it! Would be great!

All the promises were already broken. 

Just one more night with no feelings, nothing. After that we forget.

Reader finds out their relationship was nothing, but a lie.

He wanted her back. She moved on. 

Even after breaking up. They still find ways back to each other.

He manipulated her and she fell for it.

They are toxic for each other. But always end up in bed with each other.

He wanted her back but she isn’t giving him another chance.

He left her and she still wanted him back.

They were never meant to be and they knew that. They just can’t let each other go.

She just wanted to be enough for him, but he didn’t care.

He cheated and she found out. Now he realized he can’t live without her.

He didn’t deserve her. But her love for him is stronger.

They thought they had something. But then decided it was best if they stopped seeing each other.

She always forgave him, but this time she didn’t.

How could you be in love with someone who is always mad at you. She knew it was best if she just left. But after everything they've been through it wasn’t going to be easy.

She couldn’t love him as much as she wanted to. It was forbidden to sleep with someone you worked for. But she couldn’t help but ignore the rule.

He was such a fool for letting her into his life. But maybe it was the best thing to happen to him.

They broke up, but they can’t live without each other.

Their relationship was fragments of the past, but deep down their love was still stronger than ever. What happens when they meet again?

She thought things were going amazing. Well she thought wrong.

He got what he wanted and he was happy. Meanwhile she was still broken and miserable.

Their relationship was amazing at the start. But over time the person that she fell in love with wasn’t the same.

After years of talking. They decided it was best if they stopped. Maybe it actually didn’t stop in the end.

He didn’t listen and thought everything was fine. She knew everything wasn’t fine and just wanted him to listen.

She despised him. He was arrogant and only cared about himself. That was until he gave her a ride home.

She didn’t want to fall in love with him again until his touch made her do the one thing she didn’t want to do ‘fall in love again’.

They stopped talking, but he called her wanting just one more night to forget about everything.

No denying they loved each other. But this was their third breakup. It was just best if she left for good.

He was her first love and would be her last. (either she could meet someone else or something!)

He didn't care about any girls and most importantly. He didn’t fall in love. That was until he saw her and his whole life changed.

She knew he was pretending and she wasn’t falling for it.

After years of dating they finally said the 3 words. ‘I love you’

Maybe being snowed in wasn’t so bad after all.

He didn’t seem to understand the words ‘I’m done.’ If they were done, why was she in his bed again.

After years of apologizing. Apology accepted.

After she said don’t ‘bother calling when you need something’. Turns out it was her in the end calling for something.

Maybe jealousy is something that can reunite the flame that was lost.

He was jealous and she didn’t care.

She didn’t trust him. Until one night when drinks got the best of her, and waking up on his couch realized how wrong she was.

She thought he didn’t love her. Until he showed her how much he did.

He didn’t understand that she was breaking up with him. She wanted so badly to say no. But her desires got the best of her.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Someone New 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: Idk why but I'm so over dealing with people!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You swipe away another phone call. You have at least a dozen missed. Let them buzz in your pocket for another few hours. You try not to think about it as you turn your attention back to the plot before you, the tight foot by foot square, and continue to gently sift through the dirt. You stop only to make notes on the map and examine the odd bit of animal bones you find. 

Bzzzzzz. The constant vibration in your pants makes you anxious. You should put it to silent but keep forgetting. Whatever. You’re busy. Whoever it is will have to wait. You know who it is. He’s been calling for days. You’ve been ignoring him just as long. 

You should pick up. You should be there for him. You should be happy for him but your heart feels rotten. Years of pining and you can’t pretend any longer. Not after the party. Not after seeing him on his knee for another woman. That’s it. That’s the seal on the envelope. The dream is crumpled up and in the bin. 

He didn’t even notice that you left early. You don’t think anyone did. You spent all those weeks planning and fretting and laying awake at night and for what? To pretend that it could ever be all for you?  

You sigh and sit back on your heel, one leg bent under you as you rest your arm on your other knee. You blow an insect away from your face and push your hat back. The sun beats down, offering great light for the excavation but less than ideal temperature. 

“Eh, there you are,” Arturo waltzes up in his round tinted spectacles, “find anything good?” 

“Nah,” you shake your head and shrug. 

“You know where you’d find something amazing? Norway,” he smirks, hands on his hips. “So... you thought about it?” 

“Mm, yeah, been thinking,” you utter dully as you look up at him from under the brim of your hat. “When do you need a decision?” 

“The sooner the better. The grant proposal is all but approved, we just need a name on that blank line,” he says, “this could be really good for you. No, I know it will be good.” 

“Right,” you nod and stand up, dusting off your tan pants, “I know you said you weren’t sure but any idea how long? I’d have to worry about my apartment and telling my family...” 

“A year. That’s about right,” he proclaims, “could be longer but I’d plan for that.” 

“A year?” You wisp as your chest deflates. You put your hand on your pocket as your phone buzzes again. “Wow.” 

“You really want to spend another year in the city sweating for crow bones?” He asks. “Not trying to push you but these opportunities don’t come along often.” 

“Norway,” you suck your teeth and angle your chin as you think, “viking stuff?” 

“Possibly, could be an early Christian settlement too. How about I send you the proposal and you give it a look?” 

“Sure, I... I guess I should.” 

“It’ll all be taken care of; accommodation, travel, stipend,” he lists off with his fingers. “I know it’s not Ireland like you wanted.” 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you assure him, “I’ll keep thinking.” 

He winks and grins triumphantly, “tomorrow. I need to know tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” You echo back in a hollow murmur. 

He’s already walking away. Your phone starts to shake again and you growl. You shove your hand in your pocket and rip it out. Your gloves smear dirt on the screen as you press the red button. You pause before you can drag your thumb over. You inhale and push your finger the other direction. 

“Bucky,” you answer in confusion. He wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t an emergency. 

“Ah, there you are kid,” Steve’s voice comes in place of the expected timbre. You hiss. “You avoiding me or something?” 

“Uh, no,” you reply thinly, “I’m working,” you rub the back of your neck with your other hand, “it’s been busy and I’m sure you’ve been running all around with... everything.” 

You can’t bring yourself to say it. Wedding. Ugh. He’s getting married... to her. 

“Well, Peggy’s doing most of the planning, really. I don’t know,” he chuckles crisply, “you know, more a lady’s thing. She’s already knee-deep in the engagement party. Maybe you could give her a few pointers.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” you grumble as you bring your hand forward to rub your thumb with your index, scratching away more of the dust. 

“I didn’t get to say thank you. Again. That party was amazing. It was perfect, kid.” 

“Steve, we’re the same age,” you gripe at his pet name. 

“Yeah, but you hate it so much,” he teases. 

You can’t smile. Even as your cheeks pinch, you can only grimace. You drop your arm and close your eyes as you push your head back. 

“She loved it. I did too. We’re so happy and you made that happen--” 

“Steve, why are you calling? I’m buried right now,” you huff. 

“You are? I thought you’re supposed to dig stuff up--” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Well, you missed Opening Day so I thought maybe you’d wanna come watch the game. Sam’s doing his famous nachos and Bucky is... coming.” 

You hear the very man mutter in the background. Great, you even have an audience. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had you on speaker. Why would anything between you ever be intimate? 

“Tonight?” You wonder, “you sure you’re available?” 

“Me, I should be asking you,” he scoffs, “come on, how long’s it been since we’ve been apart a whole week?” 

“Work...” 

“Can you dig in the dark?” He challenges. 

“Steve,” you sniff, “I’m tired...” you feel your heart sinking. You feel bad. You never say no to Steve. It’s not easy. You tried but he’s right. You can’t remember the last time you didn’t see him at least every other day. “Fine, twist my arm.” 

“Good,” he chirps victoriously. “I wasn’t looking forward to driving up there and digging you out. So, seven?” 

“Seven, right,” you agree. “See ya then.” 

“Don’t make me come find ya, kid.” 

You hang up and cringe. You don’t even like baseball. It was just another personality trait you took on hoping to be close to Steve, hoping he might realise you’re destined to be together. Well, that’s not true. You’re just stupid. It took you too long to grow out of being that stupid college girl fawning over the blond hunk in his coed sweater. 

Still stupid, still alone. 

💟

You never show up empty-handed. Even when you were a poor sophomore. So it is that you delay the inevitable by stopping at your favourite local bakery. They’re closing and you get the eclairs for a discount as they’ll be on the day-old shelf in the morning.  

The owner, Marigold, knows you and puts in an extra one. You leave a tip as you listen eagerly to her rambling story about her granddaughter’s first soccer practice. Usually, you would be checking the time but today, you got more than enough. Finally, she sends you off as she turns off the sign. 

Fine, you’ll go. 

You find a visitor’s spot behind Steve’s building and linger in the car. You eat the extra eclair to keep from crying. Sugar is good for clogging up your tear ducts. You wipe your mouth and make yourself get out of the car. 

As you wait in the lobby for the buzzer to pick up, your insides squirm. You’re not ready for this. You’re not ready to face the truth you’ve been running from. The one you know you can’t deny any longer. 

“Hey kid,” Steve unlocks the door without awaiting a response. It’s typical; you have your patterns. Those little rituals are all going to end. 

You go through to the elevators and contemplate taking the stairs as you wait. The doors open and you step on, facing your reflection in the mirror doors. Your pants are still filthy from working in the dirt, your shirt is stained with your sweat, but at least you remembered to change your shoes. The elevator dings and you nearly let the doors close again before you can find your strength. 

You walk down the hallway and knock. You can hear their voices through the door. Steve opens it from within and gives you a strange look. 

“What’re you knocking for? You know you can come right in.” 

“Yeah, sorry, tired, long day,” you babble out the lazy excuses. “Here.” 

“Oh, nice,” he takes the box of eclairs, “you weren’t lying. You look exhausted.” 

“Ah, you really know how to talk up a woman,” Sam interjects as he appears in the doorway further down the entryway, “it’s a wonder Peggy said yes.” 

“Shut up,” Steve throws back as he turns to head back to the kitchen. 

You take your time in pulling off your shoes and sense Sam lingering, watching as you meander. You clear your throat as you stand and head down the hall. He nudges you as you step into the doorway next to him. 

“Where ya been?” He asks, “these jackasses have been driving me nuts.” 

“Work,” you repeat again, “lots going on.” 

“Right, yeah, now that you’re not spending all your time planning someone else’s girlfriend’s birthday.” 

You give him a sharp look and he shows his palms. You shake your head. He’s right. You wasted all that time. You’ve wasted years. All for nothing. 

“Fiancee, now, I guess,” he adds. 

“Yeah, the happy couple,” you snip and step into the room, “so we watching the game or are we giving him another pat on the back.” 

“What? You’re not excited? You’ll get to be a bridesmaid or whatever. Since I’m best man, I’ll be sure to save you a dance,” Sam chuckles. 

“You? Best man?” Bucky sneers from the couch where he slouches and flicks through a motorcycle magazine, “don’t think so, bud.” 

“Oh, you don’t think I’m better than you?” Sam challenges. “Let’s race for it.” 

“You cheat,” Bucky growls. 

“No, I have strategy,” Sam counters. 

You roll your eyes. Wedding talk, already. The exact thing you can’t handle right now.  Bucky sits up to glare at Sam as he closes the glossy pages. You let them argue and posture at each other. 

You leave the room and let yourself onto the balcony. The fresh air is chilling. You shiver as you step up to the railing and look across the city. You take in the skyline, each window, each peak, each speck of a car on the streets below. It feels so grey. Like it’s the last time you’ll be standing here looking over it all. 

Maybe it is. 

💟

You sip from the bottle of beer as Sam nearly drops his nachos off his lap in excitement. He hollers at the screen as Bucky gives him a look. Steve shakes a fist at the second base run. You’re happy enough to tamp down the heat of the peppers with the wheaty ale.  

Sam rights himself beside you as Steve reaches forward to set down his plate. He grabs the square of paper towel folded on the coffee table and wipes his lips. He sits back and slings his elbow over the armrest as the next batter takes his place. 

“So, how do you guys feel about a destination wedding?” Steve asks. 

You clamp your lips tight and scoop up more fixings with a chip. Sam swallows loudly as Bucky shrugs. No one says a word. 

“Peggy asked earlier. I wanted to do it at a cathedral here. Just how I always pictured it,” Steve says. 

Yeah, that sounds like him. He likes old-fashioned and elegant. Everything Peggy is and you’re not. Makes you wonder why she wouldn’t want the same venue. 

“Back home?” Sam wonders. 

“England? No. I suggested that and she was not into it.” 

“Somewhere tropical?” Sam prompts again. He’s at least trying. You’re too sick to open your mouth. 

“Sure, that’s what I was hoping,” he smiles, “especially if it’s a winter wedding. The date... yeah, that’s a big deal too. You know, I thought the ring was a pain.” 

You keep your head down, hoping the pain doesn’t show. Not only did he propose to her, he kept it from you. You’re best friends and you had no idea. How much had you been through with him? He had you plan that whole party but he couldn’t tell you that?  

No, no, you’re being dramatic. You’re friends. He doesn’t owe you that. It’s between him and Peggy. His future... wife. Ugh. You can’t even imagine that happening. You try and try but you just can’t stomach the image. Peggy in white, Steve in his tux, and you just standing, watching. 

“I can’t come,” you blurt out abruptly. 

“Huh?” Steve blinks and flinches as if he’s been slapped. 

Sam angles beside you to squint at you and Bucky’s brows pop up. Another silence, this one deadly. You’re suffocating as you search for words. 

“I won’t be here.” 

“Well, yeah, like I said, it’s gonna be somewhere else. You don’t even know when it is,” Steve blusters as his face creases in disappointment. 

“I’m going to Norway,” you blather and nearly choke at the realisation of what you said. 

“Norway?” Sam repeats hollowly. 

“Yeah, uh, work... offered me a grant contract and I’ll be going to Norway. For at least a year. So... yeah.” 

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Steve blinks rapidly, “how-- when were you going to tell me?” 

“I’m telling you now,” you push your shoulders up, “I just found out.” 

“You can’t...” Steve begins. 

“That’s awesome,” Sam speaks over him, “hey,” he nudges you, “that is so fucking cool. Norway. Vikings and shit.” 

Bucky nods and gives a thoughtful look, “rains a lot.” 

“So I’ve heard,” you utter dumbly, not sure how to respond. “I got a lot to do before then so I might be a bit absent.” 

“Don’t even worry about us,” Sam insists, “you need any help at all...” 

Steve stands up suddenly and slams his bottle down. Before you can speak, he twists on his heels and storms across the apartment. You stare after him as he disappears into the next room and you hear the balcony door slide back then snap shut just as quickly.  

You grip the beer bottle tight and look down. You didn’t think he’d be mad. You’ll be out of the way. He can get married and be happy. 

“What a baby,” Bucky grumbles, “can’t be happy for anyone but himself.” 

“Well, you are his best pal,” Sam snipes, “birds of a feather.” 

“So that means I’m best man,” Bucky intones mischievously. 

“No, it’s not best buddy, it’s best man--” 

They continue their banter and you get up. You put down your chips and beer and leave without notice from the bickering couple. You near the balcony and look through to Steve as he leans on the rail, his head down. Gently, you slide the door open and step out. 

Only the wind blows as you come closer to the railing. He roils in the cool evening air. You take a breath as you come up next to him. 

“Sorry, it’s... a good opportunity.” 

“No...” he drones, “I’m happy for you. I just... I can’t imagine my wedding without you. Or my life.” He lifts his head to look at you. “What am I going to do? You’re supposed to tell me what bowtie to wear and how to do my hair.” 

“Peggy can do all that,” you cross your arms, “Steve, I can’t pass this up. If I stay in the city...” you let your voice trail off into the wind. If you stay, you’ll have to watch his happily ever after while yours never comes. “I’ll never do anything.” 

“I know,” he dips his head again, “I’m proud of you. Really. But I’m going to miss you.” 

Your cheeks tauten and your throat clenches. Your voice is creaky as you speak, “I’ll miss you too.”  

He’ll miss you but he’ll never love you like you do him. 

[amywritesthings]

seven days. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: armin arlert x gn!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 3.9k Summary: Armin gets bamboozled into joining the annual Yeager family beach vacation — and accidentally meets you.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), beach house, summer vacation, eventual romance, alcohol, partying, Armin deserves a romcom, Eren & Zeke have zero braincells Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Zeke, you Point Break bitch, did you steal my boogie board?!”

Ah, yes. 

If he was looking for a week of tranquility and peace, then Armin Arlert should have declined the invitation to join the Yeager family for their annual summer vacation.

Time and time again, Eren has begged his best friend to tag along.

As far as he's aware, this has been a family tradition ever since his best friend was a toddler.

One week, the same week, every single year.

Not to mention it's the same beach house merely two blocks away from the boardwalk and sandy shores.

Home away from home.

It’ll be amazing!

(Eren likes to claim.) 

There is so much sick shit we can do!

(His words, not Armin’s.)

You’re gonna sit on your ass and read anyway, so why not do it by a beach?

(...okay, maybe that sold him.)

Then again, nothing is more humbling than standing with your duffle bag in one hand, filled to the brim with ‘maybe’ shirts and ‘just in case’ medicines, and your pillow in another while the Yeager family chaotically dissolves into a panicked army of four battling to even get to said beach in one piece.

Chaos.

It’s their collective middle name.

“Armin, sweetie, do you want any snacks for the road?”

Carla Yeager — doting mother figure and matriarch of the family.

She’s the reason they’re taking two cars this year, too afraid she may forget something important at home.

From fresh tangerines to a plethora of board games, she’s thought of it all.

Shuffling his bag to give his hands some equal soreness — ouch, that's freaking heavy — Armin offers an apologetic smile.

“No, Mrs. Yeager, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“How many times do I need to tell you to call me Carla?” 

Every time, actually.

Although Zeke very easily calls his stepmother by her first name, Armin can't bring himself to do it.

Blah, blah, raised a certain way by his ever-traditional grandfather, blah.

The awkward blonde merely nods once and watches as Carla shuffles by to throw another box of napkins into the trunk.

“Here,” she gestures, waving her arms while she’s in front of the hatchback, “that looks bulky.” 

It is, but he’s a kindred spirit in the name of overpacking.

“I can find a spot for it,” he promises, but relents when the woman gives him that mom look that straightens out her son and stepson. “I— Thank you, Mrs. — Carla.”

Close enough.

He hands her his duffle bag, careful to spot the bottom of it in a sneaky attempt to help her ease his luggage into the first car.

Boom.

The front door bursts open to reveal Zeke and Eren, shoulder to shoulder, frantically fighting to see who can walk out first.

Grunting, Zeke tries to push ahead with his neon-green boogie board against his torso, but Eren manages to dip at the hip and rush down the steps. 

The momentum nearly knocks Zeke’s oval glasses off the bridge of his nose.

“Could you be normal for two seconds?” the blonde groans.

Eren merely answers by sticking his tongue out and holds up a hand, wiggling his thumb and pinkie back and forth. “Fucking loser.”

Carla immediately glares. “Eren, language.”

“Forking, sorry, forking,” Eren corrects with little remorse.

“Seriously?” Zeke laments as he walks by, squinting at his brother. “What are you, ten?”

“Zeke,” a voice chastises softly from the garage. "Be nice to your brother."

Grisha Yeager, father of the year, rolls out a large cooler to bring it towards the second yet-to-be-filled car.

He’s wearing a Margaritavilla button-down, his long hair tied similar to Eren’s. On his forehead is a tie-dye headband.

“We'll be within close quarters of one another for seven whole days," Grisha reminds in that airy tone of his. "We should hold off on the in-fighting until day four at the very least.”

"I'll give it until day three," Zeke mumbles under his breath as he passes by, shoving his boogie board into the first car and smushing Armin's duffle bag down to half its size.

Yeah.

This is what it’s like to vacation with the Yeagers.

Except when your grandfather gets a new girlfriend, and they go to Key West for the summer, you’re stuck without being able to say no to your best friend’s family.

Seven days.

He can handle the Yeagers for seven days.

.

.

— —

.

.

  It took less than three hours for Armin's pale skin to burn like an overcooked egg.

“It’s really not that bad,” chimes in Eren, mouth occupied by the hair tie between his teeth.

Invading his pessimistic mirror space, the taller brunette dips to look at himself while fixing his staple half-up bun hairdo.

The shorter blonde frowns even further as he checks out his tomato-red shoulders, standing shirtless and shoeless in front of him.

“It looks pretty bad, Eren.”

“Nah. Just slap some aloe on it, alright?”

Ruffling sounds behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, a bag of potato chips flies into view as Eren carelessly rips it from the cardboard variety pack — courtesy of the emergency snack stash in the corner of the room.

(The emergency snacks are, quote: So that bitch-ass Zeke doesn't steal the goods.)

The sun-kissed boy walks barefoot to the edge of the twin bed and flops down.

Right.

He forgot to mention he’s sharing a room with Eren, which only makes matters forty times worse.

Two twin beds with doily-esque blankets and flat pillows.

Thank god Armin had the sense to pack his own.

“Besides, the alcohol will make it feel better," Eren adds, chewing on a potato chip.

With a noise of defiance, Armin turns from the mirror to stare at his best friend.

“You do realize alcohol dehydrates a person, right?”

“So?”

“So—” Armin protests tightly, “—it’ll make it worse.”

Eren pops another chip in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“Nah.”

Eloquent as always.

Groaning, he slowly — agonizingly — pulls his pastel blue polo over his aching shoulders and breathes out through his nose.

That SPF 50 was supposed to work, but he must have lost track of time binge-reading his first book of the trip.

A spy thriller, actually, that fell flat right around chapter three and nosedived bad just at the cusp of act three.

The wildly out-of-left-field twist made him so mad that he missed his alarm to reapply another coat of sunscreen, and—

Well.

As a result, human lobster is now on the menu tonight.

Regardless, he promised to go out.

It isn't ideal, but a promise is a promise.

About ten or so blocks away from the beach house is the coveted spot known as The Point.

From what he could gather from Google, The Point is a tiki bar boasting high-top bar tables nestled in sand, recreational volleyball courts, and live music all week long.

It’s about the only lively place in this rather family-friendly beach town.

While not technically a dry town, bars are few and far between and there are approximately a whopping zero nighttime entertainment venues, so The Point was about as wild as any college kid stuck on vacation was going to get.

Earlier, Eren spent most of the car ride to the house hyping it up.

Zeke, in surprising fashion, seemed to hold the same sentiment.

(It’s probably the only thing the brothers could agree upon.)

Plus, Zeke apparently had some surfer friends he’d met online that were going on the first night of vacation, so that solidified the night’s plans.

After showering, dressing, and having family dinner with the parents, it's go time.

A little past nine at night, the three boys walk on the sidewalk in a triangle unit, with Armin trailing behind.

Ever a wallflower he keeps quiet, observing carefully as the two brothers figure out their game plan.

Zeke is anti-shots.

Eren wants shots or nothing at all.

“We’re on vacation, why the fuck wouldn’t you do shots?”

“Because,” Zeke explains, “if you start with shots, then you’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“Yeah, if you can’t hold your liquor.”

“Eren, you just turned twenty-one.”

Eren’s nostrils flare. “So?! I had plenty of practice at university!”

“Is he a lightweight, Arlert?”

Wait.

What?

Oh, shit, they’re including him.

“Be honest,” Zeke adds over his shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights, Armin blinks between the brothers. “Uh… sometimes?”

“What?!”

The yell out of his best friend is piercing.

“You goddamn turncoat!”

“You’re not exactly somebody with an iron stomach, Eren,” the blonde reminds softly as if calming a petulant child, only to wince when he's met with a look of pure anger. “But that isn't to say you can't hold a shot down.”

“Or five,” Eren challenges.

“Three at best,” Armin relents.

“Three and a half.”

Armin squints as they turn the corner leading towards the entrance of the bar.

“In what world does half a shot cou—”

“Wait!”

Eren yelps, holding out an arm to stop Zeke in his tracks.

Armin subsequently also stops — as does his wearing patience.

“I have a solution.”

Zeke pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “And what’s that?”

“Look at me, dude.”

The boy with the man bun demands attention, using his pointer and middle finger to gesture between him and his half-brother. 

“You know what I’m thinking. Give it nine seconds.”

Right.

Not ten, because Eren’s favorite number is arbitrarily nine.

Zeke squints with about as much confusion as Armin’s feeling, but Armin knows by now how this is going to go.

Although they’re born with two different mothers, they’re eerily in sync with one another when they want to be extra annoying. 

Some kind of Yeager sixth sense tying them together; they fall silent, staring—

Then the thought strikes.

Like two brain cells clicking together, they simultaneously grin at one another.

“Jagerbombs.”

Great.

So even worse than a shot or a beer.

That’s all it takes for the two to become best buds as they stroll into the tiki bar like they own the place.

The blonde and brunette zero in on an open spot at one of the several pop-up bar locations at this venue—

—leaving Armin in the dust to fumble out his I.D. to the bouncer.

It's nothing new.

Cover charge? Paid.

Hand stamp? Accomplished.

Careful not to get any sand in his sneakers, Armin treads carefully across the uneven landscape towards the same lively bar as his best friend.

Music thumps right into his ribcage. 

Flashing lights threaten to blind him if he so much as looks over his shoulder to the west.

It’s more than he’s used to.

More than he wants, really.

(What happened to the leisure part of vacation again?)

“We got you one!”

Eren.

Blinking back into his body, Armin glances at the shot glass filled to the brim of Jagermeister waggled in his face. Immediately responding with a grimace, he steps back.

“No, I’ll just grab myself a drink, alright? You two enjoy — that.”

“What?” Eren’s frown is immediate. “Seriously? How else are you gonna get wasted with us?”

I’m not, is what he’d like to argue, but he knows Eren by now.

“What do you mean us?” Arnin shouts over the music. “I don’t see Zeke!”

“He got a text from one of his dumbass surfer bros and ditched,” Eren answers, “but to be perfectly honest, I’m thinking of playing the field tonight.”

“The what?”

“The field!”

“Eren, it’s really hard to hear you when they won’t stop mixing Pitbull with ABBA!”

“What?!”

Oh, this is impossible.

He raises his hands to gently push the shot glass towards his best friend’s chest. 

“You take it and show Zeke you can handle it!” Armin calls back at the top of his lungs, his shaggy blonde hair waving in the wind as he nods with encouragement.

That: giving Eren a challenge.

(Works like a charm.)

Determination spreads across his face. Eren nods, hyping himself up for a double-fisted success story. 

Armin simply nods, too, using the chameleon effect to build up Eren’s trust.

(Maybe he shouldn’t be using his psychology notes against his best friend, but desperate times call for desperate measures.)

“Yeah!”

Eren shouts while dropping the shot into the energy drink left perspiring on the bar top.

“I’m gonna!”

“Okay!”

“And then I’m gonna talk to a girl! Or a guy! Or someone!”

Armin’s eyes shoot wide with surprise, but he chooses not to rain on his best friend’s parade because Eren is already chugging the drink, spilling a little of the Jagerbomb down his oversized black tee.

(Good call, wearing dark colors, unlike Armin’s poorly planned pastel.)

Slamming it down on the bar top with a howl of victory, he pats Armin on the arm and trudges forward to the dance floor to do…

Well, that’s between the power of Charli xcx and God.

“Oh, Eren,” Armin mumbles, watching the little man bun bounce in time with the beat of the music until it’s consumed by dancing bodies.

Turning back to the bartenders, the blonde debates.

Agonizes, really.

He doesn’t drink very often.

It’s not really his thing.

But… when on vacation, right?

(Alone, apparently, since Zeke isn’t coming back anytime soon and he’s going to need to deal with dragging Eren’s drunk ass home in the next two hours.)

“Vodka soda, please,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

The bartender behind the counter nods his way before pulling out a plastic cup. 

Within a few seconds the simple alcoholic beverage is concocted, and he leaves a reluctant ten-dollar bill on the sliver of the bar that isn’t covered in condensation or sloshed liquor.

He reaches—

Oh.

That’s not a cup.

Freezing in his place, his blue eyes zero in on a pair of fingers entwined with his, nestled on the very same cup.

He can feel them tense under his own slender digits.

Dread. Pure, existential dread.

Apologize, apologize—

“Shit—”

“I’m so—”

“Sorry!”

A stranger’s voice yelps with his in unison.

Before he can move, their hand rips away from his, leaving his fingers to meet with the cold plastic.

His neck cranes to his left and—

Oh.

Oh, no.

You.

Blinking several times to get his wits about him, he can feel his mouth growing dry.

The way the blinking lights illuminate off of your face completely force his train of thought off the damn tracks.

Flickers of blues, greens, pinks — they compliment your face so nicely as each shade seems to highlight another feature that he hadn’t noticed a second before.

He shouldn’t stare, but he can’t help it: you’re drop dead gorgeous.

“It’s okay,” Armin breathes out after holding his breath for some time. “That was my bad. I didn’t see you.”

Your eyes are just as wide as his. “No! No, it was my fault. I thought that was my drink.”

“What did you order?”

“Uh, a hard seltzer? I think?” you answer, scrunching your nose as you respond.

Mayday.

That’s a type of adorable he is not equipped to handle in his sunburnt state.

“You think?” he repeats with a small chuckle.

You move your head side to side, tilting with an uncommitted air about it.

“It’s bubbling, right? Means I’m on the right carbonated track.”

“Yeah, but don’t hard seltzers usually come in cans?”

“Not always at this place,” you correct, before pushing the cup towards him. “I also kind of panicked when I ordered, so sorry for almost being a drink stealer.”

“Trust me, I know a thing or two about panic ordering,” Armin admits with a huff, taking the cup into his hands.

“Yeah?”

You give a carefree laugh that causes his stomach to give an Olympian-grade somersault.

“Is that why you got a vodka soda?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“We’ve all been there,” you empathize, briefly pouting your lower lip. “I won’t judge.”

He’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with this (see: at all) but that doesn’t mean Armin is going to waste his opportunity.

He may be a wallflower, but he’s equal parts an opportunist.

“So you’ve been here before?” he tries instead, hoping you don’t suddenly snatch your seltzer can and walk away.

You do get your seltzer from the same bartender — a slender aluminum can, nothing fancy — but you don’t walk away.

The opposite: you angle towards him.

Shit, okay.

He can do this.

“My friends love this place,” you tell him over the music. He finds himself leaning closer, angling his chin down, so he can hear you better. “So I just tagged along to make sure no one got black-out drunk or made out with anyone weird.”

“A noble effort,” Armin teases, and your eyes sparkle with amusement. “My friends dragged me here, too.”

“Dragged?” you catch with a growing smirk as you take a sip. “I said I tagged, not dragged.”

“Oh.”

Idiot.

Recover.

“I mean, it wasn't — yeah, no, I was definitely dragged here,” Armin confesses, sipping his vodka soda for some liquid courage.

No use in lying to seem cool.

That facade would crumble like a house of cards.

“Partying at The Point not your scene?” you ask without judgment laced in your tone.

Armin nods. “I could be sitting on the balcony reading right now.”

Your brows slide high with intrigue. "Reading?"

Yeah, he should have expected a reaction like that.

The blonde shuffles, shrugging his shoulders.

"I know, lame."

"I don't think it's lame at all," you answer instantly.

His eyes widen. "I— no?"

"Uh, no," you snort. "If I had a choice, I'd probably be doing the same thing."

Oh, shit.

Oh... shit.

So he's not lame, and he found a possible fellow bookworm.

Armin sips his drink so fast that a little dribbles out the corner of his mouth.

Liquid courage; he needs it, badly.

"If you could be home right now instead of here, what would you be reading?" he decides to ask, knowing it's the most unsexy question he could offer.

You scrunch your nose again, seriously contemplating the question while bobbing your head to the music.

"I brought maybe two books? I should have brought more."

He nods eagerly, his blue eyes round with interest.

"I have a romance that takes place in the summer — I know. Very on the nose," you relent with a small huff. "And, uh, this thriller? But I'm not crazy about it, so I'm mostly reading the romance book on the beach."

"I brought a thriller, too," he admits. "Bounty Run."

"Shut up, you too?"

"Huh?"

You laugh, and it's a melody that makes the music at this venue pale in comparison.

"I literally bought Bounty Run last month and never got around to it until now! It's so bad!"

To whatever deity is smiling upon him today, Armin has to thank them.

Not only has he met someone who likes reading, but they think Bounty Run sucks.

Maybe he's hallucinating from the burn screaming through his polo right now.

"It's really bad," he agrees breathlessly with a chuckle.

"Like dogshit terrible!"

"I know. What the hell was Tracy thinking in chapter six?"

"Oh my god, when she decided to call the hostage guy?"

"Yes!"

"Like, I'm pretty sure that's not how those situations work."

"Not even close."

You both laugh, and all Armin Arlert wants is to know every miniscule thought of yours.

What other books you may have read.

If you have any recommendations.

If you're single.

Nope.

No.

He's not Eren Yeager.

He is not his best friend— 

"Are you from here?" you ask over the music, breaking his panicked train of thought.

Armin swallows more alcohol, shaking his head. "No, we're not locals. We're just vacationing."

"So are we!"

"With your friends?"

"My friend's family," you correct, leaning closer to stop shouting so loudly.

He can feel his blood pressure spike exponentially.

"I'm with my friend's family, too," Armin tells you. "Our shore house for the week is something like ten blocks from here."

“For the week? Which way’s your house?” you ask, before holding up your free hand. “Not in, like, a mega-stalker way.”

“Oh, I didn’t take it that way,” he promises, earnest intent pouring from his mouth. “It’s, uh… wait where are we — oh! That way.”

He swivels and points, like somehow that’ll triangulate where the beach starts.

Your chin turns, noting the direction. “So near the… beach? No fucking way, our house is that way, too, but more like a seven-block walk from here.”

Oh.

No fucking way, indeed.

"Seriously?" Armin asks, voice cracking just a tad.

"Yeah! Do you guys camp out on the beach by third street, too?"

He nods almost too eagerly. "We were just there this afternoon."

"So were we," you confess with a light laugh. "Small world! We were both being subjected to that god-awful book and could've warned each other to pick a less shitty book."

"Well, I brought about a dozen books if you want one to borrow."

Way to go, mouth.

Armin tenses instantly as the words pour from his mouth.

"I... you know, just in case the romance book doesn't work out! Or if you're a fast reader! Or if you—"

"Promise?"

Your question cuts through like a knife.

He is in awe.

Enamored.

He'll give you all of his goddamn books if it means you'll talk to him after tonight.

Suddenly your chin drops, and your free hand fishes for your phone in the back pocket of your jean shorts.

A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, causing the blonde to simply wait.

Stare.

Don't go.

Don't go, don't go, don't— 

"Shit, mayday with my friend."

You sigh as if you were expecting a disaster.

Hell, he's expecting one, too, but he's selfishly forgotten about saving Eren or finding Zeke.

"Are they alright?"

"Yeah, just..." You trail off, typing back a response. "They pre-gamed before we came here to save money. I told them not to, but... best laid plans, right?"

"I could give you my number?" he blurts, and your attention leaves your phone.

Your eyes round with surprise, and he feels immense shame in even offering.

Yet—

"For the books," he adds hastily. Shakily. "To borrow. O-Or if you ever want to just... talk about them."

"For the books," you agree, biting your lip between your teeth. "Yeah, sure, give me your phone."

His cup is empty, but he almost drops it trying to yank his phone out of his pocket.

Armin holds it out to you, unlocking the screen. He watches as you pocket your own phone and take his, typing your number into a new text chat window.

This is happening.

This is seriously, actually happening.

"Here," you offer, handing his phone back. "I put my name in."

He glances down, memorizing your name with newfound vigor.

"Okay, perfect. Oh — my name. My name is Armin."

"Armin?" You repeat. He nods. "I like that name."

Suddenly, he likes it, too.

"See you around?" he asks hopefully.

With a parting smile, you take a slow step backwards.

"...yeah, Armin. See you around."

You look just as sheepish as he feels when you turn on a heel, disappearing into the crowd.

For a moment he stands there, dumbfounded — phone in hand, slack jawed —

Hopeful.

Maybe...

Maybe Armin Arlert won't hate spending seven days at the Yeager shore house after all.

.

author's note:

Thank you SO much for reading part one of my little summer story! I've been dying to write a proper Armin fic for a while now, and a casual, warm vacation setting felt perfect for him. This is meant to be a cozy read, so I hope you enjoy my love letter to my favorite boy. xo

How are we feeling after part one? Let me know in the replies! (And thank you for any reblogs, likes, engagement, etc. Every comment gives this writer wings.)

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Masterlist

It's not pretty and a quick fix but considering the speed of my output I should probably have one I guess.

House Rules:

This blog is 18+, empty, ageless or minor's blogs will be blocked and also

Backup blog is @alwaysahotmesswithprivilege

Writing for: Jake Seresin; Bradley Bradshaw; Natasha Trace; Bob Floyd; Javy Machado; Beau Simpson; Tyler Owens; Rip Wheeler; Ryan (Yellowstone); Lee Dutton; Kayce Dutton

Jake Seresin

Happy Ever After Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 ||

synopsis: One could easily forget that behind all of Hangman's bravado and the cocky smirk there is an actual human with a beating heart. But Javy has been the one Jake ranted to. How he wished for women to see him, not the pretty face or the GQ body and the uniform. At Javy's suggestion that maybe Jake is looking for love in the wrong places he just throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes. That's when Coyote decides that it's about time for things to change. Sitting down with the rest of the dagger squad they create a profile on a dating website. One where the goal is finding a committed relationship. The general response to Jake's profile is overwhelmingly positive so now all they need to do is hand the account over and let Hangman do the rest...

Butterfly Effect (OS)

synopsis: Enyo and Hangman are known as the Top Gun power couple and after almost a decade of being with each other and Jake facing a 7-month deployment he asks you to finally meet his family in Texas. Knowing what kind of wealthy background he's coming from makes you more nervous than flying a mission in your old girl. And like you expected. The family dinner turns into a Seresin Family Inquisition interrogation and the garden party the following day is the worst warzone you've ever been in. All you want to do is leave, but then you overhear a conversation not meant for your ears and everything changes.

Aphrodite (OS)

synopsis: When Jake hears the voice of the new air-traffic controller he's a goner. If anyone were to ask him what the goddess of love and beauty would sound like, he'd play them a recording of your voice. And when he's finally brave enough to ask you out you turn him down. Little does he know that even with you refusing to meet him at the Hard Deck his life is still changing tonight.

Bradley Bradshaw

Never Alone

Part 1 || Part 2

synopsis: When Bradley stumbles out of the Hard Deck with a pretty tag chaser he has a plan for the night. Take her home, fuck her, kick her out. Not that this was something he did often but with the stress at work he needed to let off some steam. That is until he hears someone crying and his night takes a turn he hadn't expected at all.

Tyler Owens

Wildflowers (OS)

synopsis: When Tyler asks you to move to the States you know it's a batshit crazy idea. You've known each other for only 7 months, but then you look into those beautiful green eyes and you know there is no other place on planet Earth you'd rather be. So you do it. You move across half a continent and an ocean only to arrive in your new home, no longer knowing if the man you came for still wants you.

[maochira]

"Now we're throwing paper planes into the sky, knowing they will crash and burn."

Tags: middle sibling Itoshi!gn!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, listen to this song while reading for the extra pain❤️, all characters are in their early-mid 20s, reader isn't a soccer player

I recommend reading part 1 and part 2 first

Requests open. Itoshi sibling masterlist and regular masterlist

It's something they should have noticed earlier. Really, way earlier.

And when the reality hit them, they knew it was their fault.

All of you have moved out of your parents' home by now. You were the last one to do so, that was two years ago. You can count on one hand how many times you've seen your brothers in this time, while you can't even count the times you thought of your brothers and missed them, the times you've attempted to reach out, and the times they've ignored you.

Whenever you met them, it was either all about soccer or you would get treated as if you were still a young teenager. Even by Rin. Rin, who is a year younger than you. And Sae, who treated Rin appropriately for his age, but treated you so differently.

You even tried addressing your problems to them, but they'd either ignore you or talked you down in the "We're your brothers, we know what's best for you"-way.

Their behaviour, and the way they treated, ignored and abandoned you, but especially their ignorance, all of those things are what made you realize you should stop reaching out to them, for the sake of your own mental health. And as much as it hurt you, it's exactly what you did. It was painful, but it would be worth sparing you the ongoing pain of being ignored or treated like a teenager all the time.

As time passed on, you found joy in other things in life, making you forget about your brothers most of the time. But when you did think about them, you would always hopelessly wonder if they will ever notice the way they treated you was wrong.

And then, they did realize.

It was Sae's birthday party. He had invited you, but not Rin, due to their still ongoing rivalry. But when you didn't come, Sae started texting and calling you over and over. But you ignored all the calls and texts. Until you've had enough and straight up blocked him.

Something about this flipped a switch in Sae's brain. As he saw his chat history with you on his phone, he saw all the messages he left unanswered. It made his mind travel to the last few times he met you and how annoyed you were at some of the things he said towards you.

And then he remembered that one time you tried telling him how uncomfortable you were with the way he treated you.

At his realization, he called Rin, which he usually never did. Even in their early adulthood, their rivalry was still going on. But this was so important, he just had to talk to Rin about it.

Rin was confused why Sae would call him, but picked up anyways. When he heard Sae's reason for calling him, his heart almost dropped.

Because it was Sae's birthday party, they didn't get to talk for long. But they did on the next day. But Sae didn't get to properly enjoy the party anyways.

The next day, Sae and Rin had a long phone call in the afternoon, only talking about you. They don't remember ever having a conversation as serious as this one.

And the realization of how wrongly they treated you is painful for both of them. They might still have their rivalry going on, but you're their sibling, and they want to fix what they've caused.

But you're unresponsive to all their calls and messages.

Did they really lose you?

[kingconia]

hello! i was wondering if you could write prompt #2 with jamil? your one from just the other day is so good (and slightly heartbreaking), thank you in advance if you do!

Gn!Reader x Jamil Viper

2. “Why are you mad?”

”I'm not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

•

”So, truth or dare, Y/n?”

You stared at the empty bottle between you and Cater, trying to understand how you found yourself at this point of your life.

This kind of parties, loud and overwhelming ones, never were your favourites. But, still, you tagged along with others this time. Just hoping to see a certain someone.

A certain someone, who was indifferently staring at the ceiling, while he was sitting on the coach with his housewarden.

A very certain Jamil Viper.

”Dare,” you decided boldly, others supporting such a reckless decision—you could never trust Cater in these games, really—with low whistles. ”I am waiting, Cay-Cay. Do your worst.”

You always liked Jamil. And once, it seemed, he liked you, too. At least, he was willing to spend time with you, offer you some consolation, and share meals, if he had some time.

But then, he overbolted.

”Bold as always, aren't ya?” Cater leaned closer to you, eyes narrowing curiously. ”I dare you to...”

And everything went down the hill.

Suddenly, he started to ignore you completely, and if he didn't, you wish he did, because his mean words hurt you all the same.

”...Kiss the one guy, who you would trust your drink with.”

At first, you even thought about forgetting him. It seemed healthy. But it didn't seem right.

So, instead, you played dirty. By catching his attention and doing something stupid or questionable in an attempt to see when will he snap. Snap enough to look at you. To see you.

”That's easy,” you smiled, turning on your left, to Diasomnia students. ”Silver, can I kiss you?”

”Woah!”

”Wait, wait, why him?!”

”Damn, I hoped they would choose me...”

Silver's cheeks blushed as he furrowed slightly to your suggestion. Your smile grew wider, when you noticed how dangerously tight Jamil's grip got on his cup.

”I mean, you can. It is the game, after all,” Silver reassured you in a beat.

You beamed. Not wasting any more minute, you leaned closer to him, and pressed your palms to his cheeks, slowly connecting your lips. He gasped in your mouth, almost out of surprise, and you moved even deeper, stroking his cheeks gently.

”Ouch, Jamil!”

You didn't need to turn away to see what happened.

But Silver shuddered from a sudden sound, and so, you parted.

Jamil broke his glass.

”I apologise,” he muttered, never liking to much attention to his persona. ”I will be out in a minute.”

He caught your gaze accidentally, and when your eyes met, you slowly wiped your lips from the kiss.

And that was it.

That was the last straw.

It was now or never.

•

”Well, why are you mad?” You hummed tauntingly, baring your teeth in a smirk.

Jamil avoided meeting face to face with you.

He stopped in front of the table and you instantly appeared in front of him. He tried to leave kitchen, and you invaded in his space again by stopping in the doors. He turned around to open the fridge, and you pressed your back to its cold surface by blocking it.

He gave up eventually.

”I am not mad,” he said, almost sounding calm. ”I just think you can choose better people to kiss.”

”Who, for example?” You caught him by the collar gently, just to make sure you will not come out with another creative idea of leaving. ”You?”

But to your surprise, he became gloomier.

”No,” Jamil muttered under his breath. ”I don't think you need to trust me with anything at all, let alone a drink.”

A sigh escaped your lips.

Truly, when you tried to break his stride, you wished to see him angry; anger was a good way to express bottled up emotions. What you couldn't expect, it was to see him even more devastated than before.

Helplessly, you scooted him closer.

”Jamil.”

”What?”

”Perhaps, I wouldn't trust you with a drink,” you murmured in his thinned lips, ”not when you broke the glass like that.”

He scoffed.

”But I would trust you with my life. I only wish you could trust me with your heart in return.”

In this very moment, you witnessed Jamil being so... Shatteringly astonished for the first time. His face was ever soft, with watery eyes staring in your soul, and lips, slightly opened.

”I did everything to make you leave.” He whispered.

“It didn't work.”

”I can see that,” he sighed, slowly hiding in the crook of your neck. ”I am merely wondering why?”

”Because you never actually wanted me to leave.”

And that was it. That was the truth.

Whatever Jamil said or did, all of it, for you was only about his fear. His fear to be replaced and abandoned. His fear to hurt you. To be left alone.

You knew it all along, but he failed to realise that you did.

That he didn't need to hide anymore.

”Y/n,” he murmured softly against your skin, before detaching from you slowly. ”Take it.”

You hummed.

Jamil took one of your hands in his, and pressed it to his chest, where the heart beated mercilessly.

”Take it,” he repeated, offering you a small smile. ”I think, you will take care of it better than I ever did.”

Oh.

You shoved him down for a kiss, and late tears of understanding, and a relief that you got him back, finally touched your flushed cheeks.

You never realised how truly tiring it was, fighting for him all alone this time, without a hope to keep doing that.

”Jamil, just stay.”

It was a plea.

Gladly, his next words were an oath.

”I am not going anywhere. How else could I guard your life, then?”

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 15 - Have You Ever Seen The Rain

📖I need to make two apologies. First, I am so sorry for the long delay. While work was beating my ass, I actually received a rude comment on my Wattpad account for the last chapter that triggered a horrible writer's block. It was taken care of, and it didn't bother me at the time, but I didn't realize how much it affected me until I started to write. Then I decided to use it for inspiration!

Secondly, I'm so sorry for what is about to unfold. This one was planned from the get-go (which is also probably why I struggled because this is the one chapter I dreaded having to write).

(I'll be running from the pitchforks as they come, Woot Woot!)

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, Mentions of an original child, Shitty family dynamics, Angst, verbal fights, sexist implications, one slap across the face, and Jake being Hangman.

#6k words

Part 14 | Masterlist | Part 16

The story behind how you started ego-checking some of the cocksure pilots at Hard Deck is less interesting than one might think.

It all started with a game. 

You weren't kidding when you told Jake you were a library, loving geek who'd rather spend her time deep in the stacks. That was the plot of your entire post-secondary experience. You didn't know how to flirt. You stayed clear of frat parties and cliquey groups. And if a guy tried to flirt with you, you ran for the freaking hills without a backward glance.

You only decided to take that bartending job in building H's damp, dark basement because you were dead-ass broke. But the thing about being a bartender on a University campus, there were moments when you had nothing but time on your hands.

You had to get creative.

Looking back, you would blame the writer-orientated part of your mind that decided to create that little game of making up stories for the people who regularly visited the miserable bar.

The quiet girl, always sitting in the back corner, cramming for a test or writing a paper. Did she like the ambience, or was she avoiding the library? Or was she trying to work up the nerve to ask out one of the bussers, waiting for the perfect meet cute?

Maybe the nerds who gathered every Friday at the arcade-style game consoles playing Pac-Man needed to leave their dorm because Friday nights tended to be the one night everyone liked to party.

Those popular girls sitting around a table with their $5 cocktails, lowcut tanktops, and jean shorts, always on their phones gossiping over the latest social media post from their favourite celebrities. Did they have Regina George in their ranks? Which one was sleeping with the other's boyfriend? How much blackmail did they have on each other?

Which one would murder the other first?

That little game you invented for yourself got you out of your shell. It also made it easier to deal with the persistent football jocks who'd try to flirt with you for a free shot.

Ridley would always get a kick out of it whenever you told her. You'd always imagined her curling up in a ball and kicking her feet back and forth while she squealed in laughter over the phone.

"Be a character in one of your freaking stories. Or better yet, act it out! You're a damn writer, Lizzie."

She was right. So you did. 

You'd never forget the laughter of that football jock when your rejection of his flirting attempts to weasel a free drink out of you resulted in his childish reply of, "Well, nobody's perfect, Sweetheart, least of all you."

"I never said I was," you had said with a smile.

You must have said something right because a few minutes later, Penny was introducing herself and chatting you up, asking if you wanted a better job bartending.

You were all too happy to leave. But nothing could have prepared you for the hotshot, ego-driven, and stupidly horny Top Gun pilots who frequented the Hard Deck. 

Between remembering their drink order or what side of the room they tended to gravitate towards, you needed more than your little guessing game to figure out their tells. You did pick up little things about them, though.

The WSOs were the kindest; ironically, they stood out in the crowds. Always a kind smile, never a bad thing to say about anyone.

The female pilots were always badass. At least, you thought so. Strong. Always commandeering the room the second they walked in. Always nice, no question about it. But mess with them; you got schooled hard.

They were the literal definition behind the saying, 'Do no harm, but take no shit.'

And with each new group that came in, the male pilots, the single flyers you had called them, paled compared to those jocks. They never changed. A pair constantly vied for first place with each new group that came through the Top Gun program.

Always a pair of males. Women always knew there was more at stake than a freaking trophy.

Those guys talked to you. Well... properly flirted at you.

That's where your little game came in handy. Picking out the little things about them, letting your mind do the creative parts next. It's how you turned Jake down so quickly that first time.

But the guy currently approaching the bar? He did not fit the bill of any regular customer you had seen in a while.

Tourists came and went without question. They stood out like a pack of flies, unsure where to go, with friendly faces and always asking what the best places were. They tipped great, and they never returned.

This guy? 

Not a tourist.

He was from out of town. The plaid shirt, jeans and cowboy boots were unusual for a California bar. It was also how he gaped at the walls and ceiling, taking in all the Navy memorabilia Penny had collected over the years. If you hadn't been paying attention, you could have sworn there was a look of distaste on his face with each new item he saw.

But what irked you was the sense of familiarity you couldn't place while looking at him. Blonde hair and a sharp face. Something in how he carried that toothpick between his teeth, not in the way god forbid fucking Tyler had, but as if it was a piece of grass. Also, in the way he walked.

Then he openly leered at a woman's ass as she walked by, and it all made sense.

Ah, a Wham, Bam, Thank You, Mam.

He sat in the empty chair directly in front of you, still watching the women's retreating form. You didn't want to serve him, but a tiny part of you hoped your assumption had been wrong.

It had been a while since you had to rebuff flirty advances; the newer pilots going through the Top Gun Program hardly said anything to you except smile and relay their order.

You suspected Jake was behind it.

"What can I get you?" you smiled at the guy. He slowly pulled his eyes away with a sly grin. The second he caught sight of your face, his mouth stretched even wider as he leaned forward on the bar.

"Your number and the name of a good hotel."

You should have known better. 

If it looked like a duck, it quacked like a duck too.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you straightened the line of shot glasses under the bar, not once looking up as you answered him. "Well, I can answer one out of two of those questions, but I'm afraid the only hotels around here are resorts. There is a bed and breakfast about ten minutes down the road that will give you a good deal."

"Will they give me a good deal if I mention your name?"

"Only my friends know my name, and you are simply a customer sitting at my bar wanting a drink?" you raised your eyebrow, tapping your finger against the bar.

He made a show of thinking about it, rocking his shoulders back and forth. He finally nodded, leaning forward to answer you.

"Whiskey. Straight."

You recognized his accent as you reached beneath the bar to grab the bottle. It was more pronounced and slightly more profound, but without a doubt, he sounded like Jake.

Good old southern Texas Charm.

Normally you'd engage in small talk, but you wanted nothing more than to leave this asshole alone. Thinking he'd leave it be after you poured him his drink, you slid the glass forward, then made your way over to the other side of the bar.

The words he called out after you made you stop in your tracks.

"You must get attention all the time. Having your pick of the litter each year."

You whipped around, offended. " Are you calling me easy?!"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying a good-looking woman like yourself, in this place... you clearly aren't sticking around because of the pay."

Oh, you wanted this guy gone. That could have been one of the most double-standard comments you had ever received. Old Liz would have sputtered, maybe run into the back fridge and asked one of the other bartenders to handle it.

You now? No chance in hell. If he were going to give it, you would give it right back. You weren't going to play the boyfriend card. You could fight your own battles, and something told you even if you told him you had a boyfriend, he'd think you were lying. He seemed like the type that wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You've got some nerve." You crossed your arms, matching back to him from the other side of the bar. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not here because I'm looking for attention or have trouble finding a date. You've spent all of two minutes sitting at this bar, talking shit, while I've been fighting the urge to point out your confusion regarding basic anatomy." 

He raised his eyebrows at your reply. "My confusion?" 

You leaned forward, resting your arms upon the bar, eyeing him sourly. "Is your mouth your asshole, or are you just one?" 

It was one of the more cruder remarks you had ever responded with. But this guy was trying to go for gold. Unphased, he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up. "Hey, no need to be aggressive. You should take it as a compliment. I never called you anything derogatory." 

You huffed, pushing yourself away from him, rolling your eyes. "Calling me good-looking, then proceeding to say I'm only working here because it's 'easy to access' is still calling a woman a slut. You don't need to say the word to imply the meaning." 

You ripped the dishrag from your shoulder, running it under the tap, muttering more to yourself, "There's no way that shit works on women."

"It does on the women back home," he answered you.

"Oh, so are you staying? Don't tell me you're a new pilot at Top Gun."

They'll beat that attitude right out of you.

"Oh, I'm just passing through. I figured I'd scout out the area. I heard this was a Navy bar. Don't understand what all the fuss is about." 

You didn't answer him. Opening your mouth only led to him replying, and the quicker he finished his drink, the faster he'd leave. He took your silence as a means to continue. 

"Still playing hard to get?" 

"You ask me a question. I might choose not to answer." 

"Wow. Subtle." 

You turned, a hand on your hip. "You can't honestly expect me to speak to you, a complete stranger, after the way you just undermined my job because I'm not giving to your attempts. There is nothing to get." 

He smiled, holding out his hand. "George Seresin. There, not a stranger."

Well, shit.

You wanted to hang your mouth open like a fish. You were staring down Jake's brother.

Now you understood Jake's reaction to Janet's warning. His anxious behaviour in the back of his truck. His lost-in-thought stares or the way he couldn't stop looking at you and Sadie when he came home from work this week.

George Seresin was a very unwelcome, uninvited and long-awaited guest.

Something snapped in your stomach, a twinge of weariness that Jake didn't confide in you. Then again, your slight disappointment was overshadowed by something greater.

Clearly, you were fated to ego-check both Seresin brothers while standing behind this bar. Because the idea came without warning, without doubt, or any sense of hesitancy. 

George Seresin was at the Hard Deck.

He was right in front of you, trying to flirt with you without any idea who you were. 

And he was sitting in the best spot in the entire place.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You stepped backwards, turning to lean up against the bar. As you did with Jake all those months ago, you took the rag and started to wipe.

"So let me get this straight," you said, dragging the damp cloth around his glass, not once looking up. "I tell you my name in some effort to prove we are not strangers. I'm supposed to forget about your 'comments,' so you can use that good old Texas charm to woo me into your bed with a promise of a good time?"

You finally looked up, George only staring back at you with a heated smoulder.

"Something tells me none of those loose cannons cannot even promise you a good time. A quick roll in the sheets before they let some brass monkey in a fancy suit tell them where to shoot. You look like you could let loose for once in your life."

You froze, losing your grip on the rag and fingers twitching. Scanning Jake’s brother, you leaned against the bar, resting your weight on your elbows, throwing the fabric over your shoulder as you got inside his bubble. You never once broke eye contact as you pinned him down.

George bought it, hook, line and sinker. He was so focused on you and your face that he was oblivious to everything and everyone around him, including how your hand slowly reached up toward the rope hanging from the top of the bar.

The second he looked at your lips, you tugged.

Cheers and music flooded the Hard Deck when everyone heard the distinct ring of the barbell. You guessed the song right away, old habits dying hard.  Slow Ride, its distinct beat letting you know Jake was here and he had seen the whole thing.

George reeled back, shocked as a few people came up and slapped him on the back, thanking him. You laughed softly at his reaction, pushing yourself away to help the few customers you knew who would take advantage of the free drink.

You had never rang the bell for someone like him. George Seresin would be the only exception.

"What the hell just happened?" he called after you. You didn't bother turning around, flinging your hand to gesture over your head, "Read the sign!"

George followed the direction of your hand, landing on the piece of wood dangling by the silver chain.

You disrespect a lady, the navy, or you put your cell phone on the bar, you buy a round.

You had already helped a few customers when he managed to tear his eyes away to glare at you heatedly. You turned to face him with a gleeful grin. Instead of asking him which one he thought you rang him out for, you started teasingly singing along to the chorus.

You hadn't done that in a while. It felt good.

"What did he do to warrant that?" 

You smiled up at Jake as he approached the bar. He never took his eyes off you as he leaned on his elbow against the top of the bar beside George. 

"What do you think?" you laughed at him.

Jake smirked. "I'd say he didn't take no for an answer."

"He did a little more than that. Tell him to put his cell phone on the bar, and he'd get three out of three."

"Ouch," Jake dramatically drawled. He finally turned his head, nodding once in his brother's direction. "Hi, Georgie." 

You stiffed a giggle. 

George huffed, jutting his chin out in your direction. "This one is trouble."

"Don't I know it," Jake said, looking back at you. "Pulled the same trick on me the first time I met her. Only she didn't ring the bell. Guess I did something right, considering she let me come back."

George glanced between you and Jake several times, and you could see the gears grinding in his head. 

"Hi," you beamed at him, walking over and holding out your hand. "Elizabeth Beck. Your brother's girlfriend. I guess we aren't strangers after all."

George stared down at your hand, then gritting his teeth, knocking back another gulp of whiskey. He spat out his following words with the glass still to his lips, "So you are real. Jake, there's no way you're dating her."

 You didn't try to hide the snark from your voice as you lowered your hand. "You thought I was imaginary? Sorry to disappoint."

George still chose to ignore you. "What's the matter, little brother? Need your girlfriend to speak for you?"

Jake stiffened, and it took everything in you not to ring the bell once more. Cause you knew if you did, Jake would be the one to help throw George out, and you didn't know what repercussions he could face.

"At least he has a girlfriend," you scoffed. "I can't imagine you've ever had a meaningful relationship with how you treat women."

You spied his empty whiskey glass, grabbing it firmly.

"Wham."

Sliding it across the bar's smooth surface, you caught it in the palm of your other hand.

"Bam."

Reaching into the pocket of your apron with your free hand, you slapped his bill down in front of him, rounds and all, attempting your best version of a Texan accent.

"Thank you, Mam."

Not wanting to waste more time on him, you turned to Jake, slightly worried. Some of you didn't know how to act around Jake when he was like this. When he was so... Hangman.

You gently touched his wrist, murmuring softly, "I'll see you in a half hour?"

He twisted his arm in your grasp, sliding his hand down so he could gently squeeze yours. But his eyes screamed a different, intense, unsettling story. As if he was assessing you for any threat.

"Sure."

You tried not to let it bother you, his non-chalent reply. Trying not to frown, you let go of his wrist to serve another customer, calling out as you walked away, "It was nice meeting you, Georgie!"

Jake watched you go with a slight turn of his head, proud you one-upped his brother but wishing you didn't leave him alone.

He knew why George was here. What he wanted him to do. No amount of smirk, cockiness, or even Hangman, could save Jake from this. George was the grave reminder that no matter where the Navy sent him, whether in California or on the other side of the world, there was no end to the metaphorical leash the 'hell bringer' had on both of his sons. 

George scraped his chair back to stand. "Come on, little brother," he gruffed out, tossing his credit card onto the bar. "We need to have a chat."

—-

With Ridley's Jean jacket in hand and your bag, you placed them on the bar as you greeted Jimmy after finishing your shift. "Can you watch these for a second, Jimmy? I'm just going to the bathroom before I find Jake. We're going to pick Sadie up from Penny's and take her out for dinner."

The older man smiled. "She's feeling better?"

You nodded. "Mild concussion. She was okay after a few days and back at school. Bummed about not being able to play in soccer playoffs, though. Hence the trip."

"That girl loves her soccer. What a shame."

"Jake's is making it easier on her. I don't know what I would do without him."

He tilted his head towards the bathroom hall with a knowing grin. "Go get ready for your date."

You blushed, walking away, calling over your shoulder, "It's not a date!"

After freshening yourself up, you took a few moments to stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You saw the famous callsign board hanging on the wall behind you. You scanned the names from the mirror, looking for Jake's, doing a double take when you couldn’t find it. You turned, properly facing the wall.  

Like the sign in the bar, it was a piece of wood with the words engraved into the top, “Ladies Beware: Navigate the Hard Deck with Care!” and underneath that, “Pilots who fly solo.” Several metal slots were glued to the surface, designed so she could easily slide plastic slate with a pilot’s callsign into place. 

You recognized a few, even Rooster's, though his was listed way further down, out of harm’s way. But Jake's was nowhere to be found. 

Then you realized - Penny had taken his name off.

She didn't do that for a lot of people. You could only recall one other instance when she removed a pilot's callsign from that board. She prided herself on it, so much so she never removed Maverick's at the top of the list, even after they got back together.

You needed to tell Jake. 

With a hint of a smile, you eagerly walked out of the bathroom to find him. He was standing with George at the pool table, the elder Seresin brother lining up a shot as he spoke. As you approached them, you honed in on Jake, realizing he looked uncomfortable. Stiff, shoulders square, and his fists were clenched tight.

The closer you got, the more you heard of their conversation, and when you heard Sadie's name fall from George's mouth, you froze. Hearing him utter her name, especially in that hardened tone, was a punch to the gut. The urge to hide behind one of the support pillars in the middle of the room at the last second was too great to ignore, and you made yourself as small as possible. 

You had stumbled upon a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. George’s voice accompanied the sound of the eight-ball scattering the balls across the table. 

"Come on, man," he said, his tone laced with arrogance. "Think about it. She threw her whole life away for her niece. She's tied down now, and you deserve someone who can give you more than that."

Jake remained silent. George continued, encouraged by his lack of protest. "You're a Navy pilot, for crying out loud. You could have anyone you want. Why settle for a girl with so much baggage?"

You weren’t stupid. You knew enough about George to realize he was the golden child, the favourite used to getting his way. George would only see you as Jake’s attempt to one-up him on something. 

“You know why I'm here,” you heard him say firmly. “Dad doesn’t approve. He wants you to know if you continue on with her, you will never be welcomed back home.”

You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your stomach. There would never be a time when you asked Jake to choose you over his family, even with what you knew. You wanted to go out there, but this was Jake’s battle. Storming out to threaten anything but a kick to the balls was out of the question. 

But when Jake finally spoke, his words were like shards of ice piercing your skin.

"Yeah, you're right."

A strangled noise escaped from you, a sound of raw pain and disbelief. You clapped your hands over your mouth, trying to muffle the sob threatening to escape. George’s reply triggered the blood rushing through your ears, the pain in your forearm from your nails biting hard into the skin. 

“You know I am,” he laughed, another clack of the pool balls sounding out. “

There was only one way you saw this - Jake played you like he played those other bartenders. 

You couldn’t hide any longer. You pushed yourself away from the pillar, swerving around to confront them. 

“So Sadie and I were just a game to you?” 

Jake turned sharply, shock in his eyes. “Liz,” he held his hands out in front of him. “It’s not what…” 

“Not what?” you said heatedly, tears streaming from your eyes. “I heard plenty!” 

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat, confronted with your beat red face and tears. You were not supposed to hear all that. 

The shock on his face was not enough to erase the sting of his words.

"Come on, Liz. You don't understand... it's..."

"What's there to understand, Jake?" you interjected, your voice seething with a volatile mix of pain and anger. "That I'm just another one of your bartenders?"

“Liz, don’t.” 

“Enlighten me, Jake.” You crossed your arms. “Tell me all the reasons why. That bringing me flowers wasn’t a game. That getting close to my niece wasn’t a game. Asking me to give you a chance, taking me out on a date.”

 You sobbed. “Taking me up in that damn plane.” 

The thought was erupt, tearing itself from the deepest part of your mind. You couldn’t help it, the words spilling out in blinded anger. “Was my grief an opportunity for you to get into my pants? Telling me it would be alright so you could leave me high and dry? Telling me it was going to be okay?” 

There was a sudden shift in his expression, his gaze hardening. As if a switch had been flipped, the warm, understanding man you knew disappeared, replaced by a stranger draped in defensiveness and sarcasm.

"Oh, excuse me," he declared. "I didn't realize I was your knight in shining armour, rushing to your rescue the second you need all your problems fixed. The girl who never had a relationship, thinking a man would solve all her issues."

The words hit you like a physical blow, your knees nearly buckling beneath you. Jake's harsh gaze didn't match his usual soft and protective demeanour. It was like looking at a stranger, someone you didn't recognize. The man before you was not the Jake you'd fallen for.

This man reminded you of your father. 

Was this his plan all along? You racked your mind, searching for any indication this had been coming. But what only stood out was Rooster's words echoing in your head where you found none. 

Did you really only add your name to the list of women Hangman had pursued?

Because here and now, those months of working through the trauma of losing Ridley didn't matter. 

Was anything about this past year even worth it? The moments you worked through when you would avoid anyone mentioning her because acknowledging her in the past tense was too much. Avoiding the things that reminded you of her. Till helped you through it.  

She would know what to say right now. She would be the one beating his ass with verbiage and scathing remarks. She would nail the moment and get it right. 

It hit you, the hidden weight of how desperately you missed her. 

Suddenly, you were that girl again, starting her first shift in that basement bar, wondering what to say to the students who saw you as a mere bookworm with no character or class - because you couldn't compare to the girl sitting in the corner writing her paper, actually having the courage to ask that busboy out. 

Or the geeks in the corner cheering as hard as they did when they beat their high score on the console, uncaring of strange looks. Or that girl, finally standing up to her 'so-called friends' when one had been spreading rumours and crude remarks about her to the others behind her back. 

He really did leave you out to dry. 

"Stay the fuck away from my niece," you managed to gasp through your tears. "And stay the fuck away from me."

You wanted to believe your assumption that Jake was merely putting on a front. Hangman, his alternate self, was his attempt at protecting himself. 

You had a hard time doing so.

There, plain as day, across his face was the most condensing grin you had ever seen as he dramatically drawled out slowly, "No fucking problem, sweetheart."

You didn't believe in thinking about everything you regretted throughout your life. Ridley was the only exception; if you had done more, moved back home after school, or gone to the police the day you kicked Tyler out, maybe she'd still be here. You couldn't change what had happened in your life, so spending time thinking about it in the present wouldn't do you much good. 

So it was no surprise to you when you followed through with your knee-deep reaction, your hand coming up out of nowhere, open and firm, slapping Jake hard enough across the side of his face, his head turning with the force of it.

You knew you shouldn't have. You weren't a violent person by any means. Next to Tyler, you never had raised a hand to anyone. You were too hurt to care you just slapped him.

That should have scared you shitless.

Rather than voice the obvious, you remained silent, allowing every repressed thought, every buried emotion to resurface.

Ridley - dead. 

Sadie - hurt. 

Tyler - lurking. 

Bradley - damaging.

It was all too much.

George's figure stood out from behind Jake amongst your blurry vision, tears creating a vignette in your line of sight. You tore past Jake, sticking your finger out only to push George square in his chest. He stepped back at the force, hand shooting out to balance himself against the pool table.

Jake wouldn't have done that had George not shown up. Had he not played with Jake's emotions.

"You need a fucking ego check and to grow the fuck up," you seethed at him. "I don't know whose got your balls on a very tight leash, but you have no right to go around and fucking up other people's relationships."

George didn't answer you, taking his hand off the table to stand properly. You pressed him again. "Does it give you some sick fucking pleasure to hurt your brother? Dad loves me best, so I'm going to remind everyone just cause I can?"

George was still avoiding your heated glare, fixating on his football ring, twisting the piece of metal back and forth. It only pissed you off further.

"My eyes are over here, Jackass! Have the decency to look me in the fucking eyes when I'm talking to you."

If nobody had been watching when you slapped Jake, you clearly had their attention now. Even with the music blasting from the speakers, every conversation in the Hard deck had gone quiet. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, but you couldn't care less.

You were too far gone.

George slowly cocked his head to face you. Your breath was harsh, your body jolting with each gasp as you gave in to the anger. "My sister died, and I took in my niece. What's so fucking wrong about that? That I threw my life away, that I have no future?" 

He shifted on his feet, about to transfer the pool stick into his other hand, when you reached out and snatched it out of his grasp, tossing it behind you with a clack. 

"You're damn right I did! That's what you do for people you love. I would sacrifice my entire life so she could have hers. And I would do it again in a fucking heartbeat. I will stay on the other side of that bar for the rest of my so-called miserable life, getting catcalled and dealing with assholes like you if it gives her the best shot with the shitty hand she's dealt. You, George Seresin, have no right to judge the choices I've made in my life." 

Your breathing was harsh, ribs aching with effort. Every vein, every pore, was consumed with pure white rage. And yet, you still found yourself growling out, "You have no right judging your brothers either." 

Even after breaking your heart, you still stood up for Jake. 

"He risks his life every single time he goes up in that jet just so the whole world can fucking survive. So you can go on day in and day out and let your father control what you want to do with your life. So you can gallant around letting someone who has lived their life decide what you do with the rest of yours? So Jake’s here for you to bully and control every time he comes home? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The burning sensation in your cheeks mirrored the fire in your eyes, unshed tears making them shine brighter. The salty sting of tears blurring your vision did little to diminish the searing gaze you levelled at George.

"My sister believed everyone deserved a chance. That people cared, regardless of what they did or who they were. I had forgotten that until my niece invited Jake to a barbeque, till she invited him on a hike because he was being treated differently. Despite what I heard and everyone telling me otherwise, listing off why I shouldn’t. That he will hurt me and my niece, and I still gave him a chance.”  

Squaring your shoulders and balling your hands to fists at your side, you take a step forward, a dangerous glint in your eyes. You lean towards him, your face close enough to feel his breath, your jaw clenched and muscles tight.  

"You are the first person ever to prove my sister wrong,” your voice is dangerously low, underlying anger accompanying each word. “You sure as hell don't deserve that sentiment." 

As you stepped away, George lifted his head to glance around the room, everyone's eyes pinning him down. The older Top Gun instructors had stood at their tables and chairs, arms crossed. Some of the current students in the program also stood, the others sending him the most scathing glares they could manage. Even some regulars who weren't aviators were casting him a scornful glance.

You spun, ready to leave him in embarrassment and escape this literal fucking mess, when you caught Jake's bewildered gaze, his mouth hanging open in slight shock.

You weren't sure whether it was that look or the dying embers of your outburst that made you spin back around to snarl, "So, leave your brother the fuck alone! Live your own goddamn life without judging others for the choices they make! Cause you sure as hell don't know what it means to sacrifice something for those you love. If you need an example, look around this goddamn room."

Jake reached for your wrist as you charged toward the front door. The second you felt his touch, you shook your hand loose, a wrenching sob tearing through your chest.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

You didn't bother seeing his reaction to your remark, rushing to grab your bag and Ridley's jean jacket off the bar.

The skin around your wrist burned from his touch, the rough callouses once a comfort but now felt like coarse sandpaper. You wanted to get under a shower or jump in the sea, hoping to remove the feeling of every memory, kiss, and word.

God, you let him touch you. Do things with you.

You were going to throw up.

God forbid you didn't want to walk home. But you needed to go, be anywhere but here, and you didn't have your car. Barely keeping it together as you took off toward the door, you had half a mind to look up to watch where you were going, deaf to Jake's shouts of your name.

There was Bradley, sitting in the first booth by the door. His brow furrowed as you made your way over to him, probably having witnessed the ordeal. You were too upset even to question why he wasn't marching across the bar, ready to knock Jake to next Sunday.

It had been weeks since the fight, with no communication in between. But it was a distant memory compared to this. 

It didn't matter what he implied. It didn't matter what happened in your hallway.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

You just needed your friend.

With each step you took toward him, your shame only grew greater. You couldn't even look him in the eye when you stopped, standing next to his side of the booth, hugging yourself tighter.

"Can you take me home, Bradley? I don't want to be here anymore."

Bradley's opportunity to act smug had finally arrived. But he didn't do anything other than frown. Standing up from his booth, he threw a few bills onto the table before blocking everyone's view of you. He placed a comforting hand on your back, gently pressing you forward as he uttered quietly, "Of course I can, Liz."

You kept your head down as you stepped towards the door, but Bradley, so willing to help you without so much of an 'I told you so,' made whatever resolve you had, crumble. Your knees wobbled, and your heart dropped into your stomach. You fell, and Bradley's arm whipped out, gripping your hip and pulling you tight to his side to support your weight.

Burying your head into Bradley's shoulder, you hid your face. You didn't want to see the looks of everyone in the Hard Deck, whether pity, concern, or applause, as another wave of tears wrecked your body.

Closing your eyes seemed better than reliving the truth.

And because you kept them shut, you didn't see George place a hand on Jake's shoulder, preventing him from going after you. Nor did you see the look of devastation wreck his face; the weight of every wrong decision he had ever made coming back to haunt him. 

Whether Jake turned on a dime to punch George square in the jaw, you heard none of it. You hadn't even bothered to turn back to look as Bradley carried you out the front door.

.... So... Who is going to pitchfork me first? 👀

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Part 16 - In the Blood coming soon

Wickett ;)

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 8)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: None (besides yandere behavior, but this is part 8 and you get the picture by now).

If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this series and block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as relevant tags such as 'one piece yandere'.

Remember, you guys (at least some of you) voted! And your actions have consequences 😘

Word Count: 1,268

To say Twin-Blade leaving for a ‘mission’ was dramatic would be an understatement. He cried woefully into your shoulder, picking you up several times as though he was going to take you with him.

“—and don’t forget to eat while I’m gone! My division is the best but I know it won’t be the same with me not cooking!” Twin-Blade cried out, receiving a smattering of offended blustering for his ridiculousness. Marco shoved his head away from you with an irritated sigh.

“The sooner you leave the faster you can come back, Thatch. Quit freaking them out.”

Twin-Blade pouted, arms still firmly locked around your shoulders.

“But they haven’t said goodbye yet! Or told me how much they’ll miss me when I’m gone! How can I leave my newest sibling in such conditions?!” Twin-Blade begged. You reflexively cringed.

“Yeah… I’m not doing that. Please let go, Twin-Blade.”

He froze, eyes wide as he blinked. Slowly, he looked at you with teary eyes.

“At least call me by my name!” Twin-Blade cried out desperately.

“No.” You huffed, pressing both hands against his chest to no avail until Marco shoved his finger into Twin-Blade’s forehead and pushed.

He stumbled back with a pitiful sputter before grabbing his pack. Taking a low stance and pointing at you accusingly.

“Fine! But I want a hug when I come back! With a happy smile and everything!”

“Why? Do I get to leave when you return?” You asked dryly, receiving an irritated sigh from Marco beside you as Ace cackled.

“No! Because you’re happy to see me, damnit!” Twin-Blade huffed.

“Oh…” His face brightened for just a moment. “Then no.”

He grumbled, waving to the rest of the crew that was seeing him off with a small party to retrieve medication for Whitebeard.

“…It’s kinda weird you guys don’t have a regular supplier.” You commented as the small crew sailed off with no additional fanfare or waterworks.

“We haven’t managed to get an island under our protection that manufactures the medicine we need. And it would bring undue attention to go to a specific pharmacy not well within our territory. This is easier, though a little convoluted. It’s not like it’s rare medication.” Marco commented.

You made a noise of understanding.

“The marines have several labs hidden away for all their research and medical needs. Never been to any of them myself, though they considered sending me there when my devil fruit was discovered.” You pondered what that would have been like. You’d… never heard anything too telling about it. But considering how intense the discussion was you gathered that there was some… issues with the labs.

“…Do you even know what they planned to do with you?” Ace asked curiously. You looked at him and made a ‘so-so’ gesture.

“I got the impression that I was going to be assigned to someone specific as a partner before they started wondering if there were side effects to my devil fruit. At that point, even I wasn’t sure what it could be. Whoever it was, they didn’t want to risk anything unexpected.” You sighed. “I went through a lot of partners, but they were all kinda dicks. Before and after being exposed to my fruit. I thought that maybe a side effect was like… an over-inflated ego trip but you both have been in contact with me for some time and you’re not—well, I mean—you’re weird but still weird? Maybe it depends on the person’s psychological profile…” You shrugged.

“Dicks? Hm… did your ‘partners’ have anything else in common?” you blinked at Ace.

“Actually, yeah. They did. None of them were high ranking or especially strong, likely in case something went wrong with their power, but there was one specific thing they all had in common with their devil fruits.” You admitted.

--*--

“Commander Thatch! We’re being followed by a pirate ship!”

“Heh! Well, let’s say ‘hello’, boys!”

--*--

“They had to do with heat.”

--*--

“Is that?!”

“No way!”

“C-Commander! That’s a devil fruit!”

--*--

“A-Admiral Akainu, sir! Here’s the file you asked for!” A nervous ensign stuttered out. Akainu looked over his shoulder, cigar butt grinding between his teeth as he hissed.

“Leave.” He growled, snatching up the remarkably thin folder. Despite his temper, he kept his hand cool—or as cool as it ever was underneath his leather glove. His opposite hand however, dripped small bits of magma onto the carpet. The fire snuffed out under his heel as he threw it onto the desk.

The file fell open, papers scattering across the surface with a picture clipped to the main page.

This glasses reflected light underneath the standard marine cap, a bright beaming smile captured for the record keeping boys.

Akainu had thumbed through a copy of the file several times, keeping a close eye on any updates as they occurred. Minor injury reports, transfers, the works. But none pissed him off more than the status box stamped in red.

CAPTURED.

WHITEBEARD PIRATES, XX/XX/XXXX – [-/-/-].

STATUS: UNKNOWN, PRESUMED COMPROMISED.

At his own insistence, there was an addendum added to the file permanently.

IF FOUND, REPORT DIRECTLY TO ADMIRAL AKAINU FOR RETRIEVAL.

His cigar burned into nothing but ash on his lips as he sneered.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be back soon, my dear. And I’ll make sure it never happens again.” Akainu hissed, plucking up your picture with his melting fist clenched tight behind his back to prevent any damage. “We’ll bring real Justice to those filthy pirates. And I plan to make them scream for thinking they could corrupt you.”

He flicked his wrist, flinging molten lava against the far wall where a collage of Whitebeard Pirate bounty posters were pinned. The whole collection bursting into fire and falling to the floor in a rain of ash.

Soon.

--*--

Thatch watched as the Moby Dick came into view, their mission successful. Several months worth of medication in the hull as well as a smattering of general supplies to bulk up with just in case.

Marco promised him a party and Thatch was arriving with a whole new reason to celebrate.

The massive fruit nestled under his arm, purple spikes and green leaves poking into his clothes. He wondered if you’d know what it could do or if he’d have to look it up himself. He was hopeful you could both bond over it at the very least, though he was still on the fence about eating it. It was a big decision to make. And he’d made it this far without a devil fruit.

Who knows, maybe it did something really cool?

--*--

You looked out at the sea with a frown. You couldn’t see where it was coming from exactly, but you felt a devil fruit at the edge of your senses.

“What is it, my child?” Whitebeard asked. You had stopped rubbing Stefan and Kotatstu’s bellies, standing up straight as you shivered.

“…I-I don’t know.” Your heart stuttered in your chest as the devil fruit grew closer. Swallowing hard, you looked up at Whitebeard. “I think it’s a devil fruit? But…”

You looked back out at the sea again as Stefan whined.

“What do you sense?” he asked again, tone serious and almost worried.

“… It feels hungry. Hungry and dark. Like the shadows under your bed or at the end of a very long hall.” You replied faintly, cold sweat breaking out.

It felt like the edge of the void.

And the void was looking back at you. Reaching out with tendrils long and twisted and starving for more.

[lai-mar]

You know, I really appreciate that you’re out here defending this widely hated relationship. Maybe it’s because the anime-only fans are a very vocal majority right now, but I’ve seen people who ‘watched the anime then read the manga’ *still* shit on Laios and Marcille’s friendship. Like you don’t have to ship it but if you deny that they care about each other or deny that they have chemistry, did you even read the comic?? ‘Oh they’re just siblings/siblings-in-law!’ have you ever had a sibling. have you ever had a sibling-in-law. they do not act like siblings they act like *intimate* best friends. ‘Ridiculously comfortable around each other’ best friends. They have a relationship outside of Falin, that is what develops over the entire damn story. 90 chapters. What comic were you reading where you think Marcille can barely stand him.

Thanks for the ask! Very cathartic to see this. About to go on another rant again lol (will be repeating some of my old points but yeah I need to get it out of my system)

"Defending widely hated relationship" + "anime-only fans are a very vocal majority"

Okay, let me play devil's advocate for a second here. Let's say I despise L/M as a ship and it squicks me out greatly and I think it's a boring ship of pairing the male lead and the female lead. What should I do? Obviously go into L/M posts and argue about it instead of blocking the tag and stating my stance my calmly when someone asks me like your average fan who knows how to curate their fandom experience.

Okay, more devil's advocating. I despise L/M as a ship but I have read the manga and engaged with it critically and understood its themes. Which means I like L+M as a friendship in the same way I like the themes of eating and life cycle and the friendship between the party and the worldbuilding. Because all of these are core parts of the story told. So what I do is to block all shippers and ship tag and look for platonic fics and fanart like Your Average Fan Who Curates Their Experience.

Like I'm sorry. I genuinely feel some people are so caught up in the intense fanonisation of DM that they start forgetting about canon. And I KNOW I am not the only one feeling this way because I read the notes on my posts and other people's posts and there's a lot of good thoughts on this. Plenty of people appreciate them. But to some people in the wider fandom, are we reading the same manga? Our male lead and female lead are friends who save each other. They are not together canonically. So canonically, they don't even get into the way of shipping?????? People can have important intimate friendships outside of romance??? And it's a canon well established friendship? I would say it's one of the most well developed dynamics in the series that we see? We get shown and not told? We see images and words and interpret them in our brains?

Devil's advocate level 3. Let's say mainstream fanonisation of DM is real. F/M is a canon ship and they get together and they get married in the end and L+M become sibling in laws. Maybe L/K is a thing. This still does not erase the entire journey L+M and co went on to save Falin. This still does not erase their friendship and chemistry.

"‘Oh they’re just siblings/siblings-in-law!’ have you ever had a sibling. have you ever had a sibling-in-law."

Okay. I do have a sibling. At this point I've long accepted this much be some sort of cultural difference and some weird American / Western thing I am not used to. And the hilarious thing about DM is that we do get canon siblings!!! It's the fucking premise! Falin and Laios!! And they're fun!

I'm sorry but this must be some cultural difference. Like no younger sibling is calling their older sibling by their GIVEN NAME. The sheer disrespect. I'll be scandalised. As a person with a sibling I don't understand the fandomisation of making non related people siblings in fanon? I'm calling my friends my friends, not siblings. My sibling is like a sibling to me. My friends are like friends to me. Idk. I've written the word sibling so many times that it doesn't seem like a word anymore.

Obviously these are just my personal thoughts but I feel like objectively, there has been a fandomwide trend of grabbing a canon friendship between a man and a woman and going "THEY ARE SO SIBLINGS CORE XD" (not siblings in canon) (not related) (don't even look similar) (they're friends). A lot of times this is valid and even fun but sometimes I get the feeling people sometimes push the fanon sibling thing to show they're squicky about them romantically. To which I can only say: a man and a woman can genuinely only be friends. If you need to magically make them related so you / other people won't see their friendship romantically... it feels like a step back. Why are we doing heteronormativity.

I think I'm the type of person who enjoys and mains man + woman friendships in fandoms (which are, unsurprisingly, unpopular as ships and even as friendships until I start spreading propaganda and pumping fics on Ao3), and I think one of the things that get me is. A man who could be attracted to women + a woman who could be attracted to men having great chemistry but staying friends. I want to stress this is different from a man who is not interested in women / romance + a woman who is not interested in men / romance because there is almost zero chance of a reciprocal romantic relationship going on. But for the first case, which I feel like many people dumb down to "straight people shipping", it's even more precious for them to stay friends and not give into the heternormative expectations despite one or both of them possibly (but not necessarily) being heterosexual. Like, here are two people who could date each other but they're like "nah we work better as friends, so we stay friends". To me, this is one fantastic argument for friendship. Not everything has to be romantic. Even better if they considered and thought about the logistics, but decide their relationship is more special non romantically. Having a taste of how their relationship could go and going "thanks, but no thanks". Is this not a great display of sincere and stable friendship compared to people going "lol they can't work as a ship because they simply physically cannot tolerate the thought of each other romantically". I'm rambling here but I feel like this is what I feel across various dynamics and fandoms. At this point, I think somehow non romantic relationships genuinely fascinate me more than ships. Save me QPR save me.

"They have a relationship outside of Falin"

I feel like some manga readers have missed the point so badly when it comes to this. It's hilarious. They have a relationship outside of Falin it's the whole fucking point about coming to terms with grief and death! You know, one of the core themes of this story that you finished!

And of course this doesn't erase the love they have for Falin. Falin is clearly beloved and their main motivation, but hilariously enough (for the L+M deniers), the manga shows Laios and Marcille's "true" innermost desires being granted and it's not about reviving Falin even though they both clearly want her back and it's at the forefront of their minds. Laios turns into a monster. His curse isn't about Falin not coming back (even though that was his immediate thought), it's about him not being able to interact with monsters ever again. Marcille was traumatised by what happened to Falin (nightmare chapter) but when she turns into a dungeon lord, she goes about trying to fix the lifespans, showing her fear of loneliness and all her loved ones (NOT just a single person!!!!!!!!) dying before her. You can argue they didn't revive Falin with magic lord powers because they don't trust the lion / trust their own plan of eating her, but I think the manga focuses enough on their desires for the interpretation of "the lion fulfills their innermost desires that define their existence" to work. Marcille is the one who finds Laios first after he turned back and Laios broke Marcille free from the lion's influence etc etc we know they play a part in each other's arcs. Laios says they wouldn't be on this journey if Falin hadn't been digested. Marcille says in the end she was okay with Falin not being brought back this time. Laios invites Marcille to stay with him. It's in the text.

"Boring straight ship" or whatever

This comes from what a friend said about my main duo of another fandom but it's like "why isn't [ship] more popular" "because it's easy to fall into the boring trope of pairing a man and a woman together".

And this is a thing that does happen! But not to pairings with strong canon foundation and chemistry sorry. Don't look at me, look at canon. A male/female ship with good canon support is a good ship. Why are you surprised. People like shipping characters who spend lots of time together saving each other and all that. Dare I say: sometimes (sometimes) shipping "straight people" is more respectful to their canon friendship than shoehorning them as siblings. Which I believe is true in the case of L+M.

Anyways. Well that was a nice angry rant. Sorry I had to get it out of my system. I've spend too much time writing this so I won't be doing much proofreading lol. If you've reached this point, thanks for reading <3

[darling-i-read-it]

Survivor's Guilt Part 2

Part 1

Chris Redfield x fem!reader, Ethan Winters x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: angst on ethans side, re7 spoilers, canon violence (zombies, horror, guns), cheating kind of, near death experiences..i think thats it

Author’s Note: I felt like this story led organically towards Chris though that does not mean I don’t love Ethan to death. I felt unsure about the ending but am glad I was able to write a part 2 because people have been asking about it! 

Tagging: (i hope you guys dont mind I’m tagging you but you seemed interested in a second part!) @godihatethiswebsite @undeadfreak47 @hexaecana @elysiaaaaaaa

Summary: You and Chris search for Ethan in the ship and old feeling resurface. 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Chris’s voice was even when he spoke, even when he was scared. Especially when he 

was scared. There was no point in making everyone else react to something if he could just keep that all pent up, make everyone think he had it under control. Your face was so wide with terror, the kind he had never seen plastered on your face before. He didn’t recognize it on your features but he recognized it. He knew it from the civilians he helped, those that were so worried about their loved ones that they would do anything to see them safe. The look in your eyes dripped with self sacrifice. He wondered if he looked like that when he was with you. He wondered if despite what he thought, he looked like that even now, following you around and blocking you from danger. 

You had lost Ethan. Lost him in the house, on the ship. You were stuck walking around a shipwreck that was too large to case, too large to fully understand. 

Chris was trying his best to make you feel like he had it under control. He would find Ethan, return him back to you, never see you again. The more time he spent alone with you the less that became a priority so he was eager to forget this ever happened. Forget it happened for the sake of his sanity. Forget that there was likely a life where you and he were happy and normal and domestic. 

Even when you brushed past him in the tight hallways of the ship, he longed for your touch. 

“If Ethan’s here then so is Mia,” you muttered. Your voice was barely above a whisper. It sounded so loud but you were trying to ensure it didn’t echo down the hallway. You could never be sure that there wasn’t something watching you. 

“Eveline too,” Chris said, just as quietly. You were both tense as you walked around a corner. Chris hadn’t put his gun down in ages. It was starting to leave imprints in his gloved hands. 

“It’ll be a party,” you muttered. Your eyes caught a glimpse of something on the ground. You rushed forward in the near darkness to find a knife, a lot like the ones left at the Baker house. It had dark blood smeared on the tip. There was nobody to accompany it. 

“You think it’s Ethan’s?” he questioned, looking over your shoulder. You shrugged. 

“Could be. Could be Mia’s.” You pocketed it. You kept walking. Chris followed you, watching your six like his life depended on it. You glanced back at him. “How did things get like this? When I left, all the monsters were tangible. I could see them coming for me. Now we’re here with slime on the walls?”

"There's some sort of hive mind,” he explained. “There’s too much to tell you now. You’ll just have to trust me when I say it’s evolved.”

“Yeah well, I can tell that it’s evolved. But how?” 

“We don’t know.”

“You’ve been knee deep in this for so long and you still don’t know the reason it’s all happening? Is it Umbrella? Is it the world finally caving in?” You turned around to look at him. He almost ran into you. “Pretend I’m a civilian asking you these questions. How do you answer them? How do you tell people that you can be a perfectly nice family out in the middle of nowhere and still be targeted by something beyond your control?” His jaw set. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark so much so that you could see Chris’s stubble. You could see the look in his eyes, the challenge. 

He took the words as an insult. He took you being here, as an insult. He had done so much to protect you just for you to end up in the same place you would’ve even if he had kept you by his side. 

“Umbrella started something and they don’t know how to finish it,” he said finally. “But the world has assured us that there are other forces at work here. Eveline is not exactly an Umbrella creation.” You shook your head. 

“Of course not. Because that would be too easy. You defeat the big bad and it always comes back with more heads right?” You shook your head. “I’m sorry I’m coming at your throat. I just never thought I would be here again.” You had been comforted with the knowledge that people like Chris were out there protecting you. That was the only reason you let yourself go. 

“The world isn’t exactly fair.” 

“It never has been.”

Your eyes lingered on his. Remembering what it was like to touch him. Remembering what he looked like in the morning, the sun on his face, a gentle smile on his lips, a chaste kiss on your skin. The very thought made you angry. You had left all of this to have a life you weren’t even allowed to have anymore. 

It didn’t matter if Ethan lived through this or not. You would be right back where you had started years before. In danger. Always. 

There was a bang in the room before you. You turned around, gun raised again. It sounded like something hard had hit something metal. The conversation was over once again and you were back. 

You slowly slipped back into the you that understood how to use this gun well. The rust was chipping off. You were a soldier again. Had you ever stopped? Had your life with Ethan been anything except a distraction from who you really were? Had you been pretending this whole time to be something you knew you could never have? 

You shoved the door open. 

Mia stood at the end of the room. There was a large pipe surrounded by grated walkways. She was facing you. Even though she was hidden by her dark hair, you recognized her instantly. She was swaying a bit, twitching. 

“Mia,” you prodded. Her neck twitched. You saw an eye peek from behind her hair. “Mia, please put your hands in the air.” She didn’t make any movement, indicating that this was the Mia that took your boyfriend's hand off. Your face hardened as you approached her, gun raised, wondering if Ethan was already dead. “Mia.” 

She lunged at you without saying anything. She threw no insults, she didn’t bother to pretend. She just lunged. You shot at her but it only momentarily stopped her. It was like you had thrown a ball at her shoulder instead of a bullet. You kept shooting, even though it was doing effectively nothing. She reached you, hands on your sides with inhuman strength. 

You could hear Chris moving. You had never been more glad you had called him. You struggled with Mia, her snarls biting at air. You kicked her, you scratched at her, you used everything you could remember from training. 

She was thrown off you. 

You scurried away, backing away. You grabbed your gun which you had lost in the scuffle. You aimed it well, hitting her head in a clean shot. It went through her eye and out the other side. She stumbled. 

Someone was picking you up. You grabbed them, allowing them to help you to your feet. You recognized Chris as you stood against him, still shooting at her until the clip was empty. Your breathing was ragged and angry and worried. 

She fell to the ground. 

You knew she wouldn’t be down long. You had to leave. You had to lock her in this room and burn the place down. 

Chris did the thinking for you. He had your arm in his hand, dragging you past her and out of the room. He shut the door behind him, pushing down on the handle. He broke it. 

You stared at the clouded window and felt a pang of guilt mixed with anger. She was the reason you were here. Now she was going to die, infested by a virus that wasn’t her. 

You were still holding on to Chris. You might’ve stopped for a moment but now your hand was back on his arm, your brain blurry with thoughts. He looked down at you, eyes meeting. 

“Are you okay?” 

You didn’t think about kissing him. You just did it. 

Your lips were on his and it felt like home. It felt like you had never left, like you had kissed him yesterday and you would kiss him tomorrow. It was filled with the emotion of every single year you had been apart, by everytime you wondered if he was dead in a ditch, everytime you got drunk and swore not to think about him. 

His strong hands were so gentle when they held you. 

Though passionate, the kiss was short lasting. 

You pulled away and your eyes stayed shut for a moment, pretending you were home with him, like you had never left. Then they were open again and the nightmare remained. 

There was no regret in his eyes. There was no regret in yours. It was a mutual feeling, broken only by the duties of soldiers who had loved each other for a little too long. The bucket had overfilled and tipped over. 

“We have to find Ethan,” he reminded you. 

Ethan.

Guilt hit you like a truck. He could be dead. You looked forward, giving no other words to justify or break what had just happened. Chris let you be, let the kiss hang in the air. 

-

Ethan was not far. Chris had called for backup when you entered the ship and his friends arrived just in time. You helped Ethan finish off Eveline and were shot out of the ship, landing hard back in the outside world. Chris’s people carried you away in a helicopter as the nightmare of the Baker house erupted in flames. What had been a horror was now nothing but a burnt part of the map, something people would merely whisper about. 

Chris brought you back to where the BSAA had set up camp. 

You had a hand in Ethan’s. He looked exhausted. There was something off about the look in his eyes but you couldn’t place it and you didn’t feel like asking him about it. Questions like that came later, when you were less tired and more hydrated. 

“I’m sorry I lost the cars,” he muttered. He was sitting on the makeshift hospital bed. There was no one else there. People had gone to try and find Lucas, who had been lost in the fire and not confirmed dead. You were sitting in a chair beside him, in silence. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’m sorry about Mia.” He took a deep breath. He did not tell you it was okay. 

“We’re gonna bring in the best medical help,” Chris explained. He watched as Ethan’s hand left yours. “Doctors are coming in right now to look you both over.”

“What about you?” you questioned. “You were in there, just the same as me.” 

“I’ll get looked at. I have to go with my team back in and find Lucus.” Your jaw hardened. 

“The work doesn’t end,” Ethan observed. He understood why you left. 

“By yourself?” you questioned. 

“I’m a big boy,” he promised you. You purse your lips, glancing at Ethan. You had no idea the world was this bad. You had no idea it had gotten so much worse since you left the job. 

“Let me go with you.” He shook his head. 

“Absolutely not.”

“No.” Him and Ethan spoke over each other. You gave Ethan a look. 

There was something in your eyes that he didn’t recognize. He wondered if he had lost you the second he left your house without telling you. Had that been the breaking point in your relationship? Did relationships survive things like this? 

Yours and Chris’s did, Ethan thought. You and Chris slipped back into each other like puzzle pieces. It was like no time had passed. No kind of ill will had come between the two of you, from the looks of it right then. Ethan wanted to desperately grab your hand, beg you to stay with him, tell you that he couldn’t afford to lose both you and Mia. Instead he watched your face as you looked at Chris. 

“I’m a big girl Chris.” 

“You’ve been out of the game for too long. You can’t just jump back in like this.”

“I just did. I have knowledge of the interior, we were just there Chris. It would be smarter to bring me.” Chris and you stared at each other with looks that Ethan could be envious of. Challenging, protective, loving. “Let me go back. Let me back in.” 

This life was like a drug. You could be gone forever but the second you could come back it was too addictive to stay away from. You stood up. 

“You’re the captain now hm? You tell them I can help. You know I can help.” You walked up to him. 

“I almost lost you back there.” He didn’t specify that it was the fight with Mia that had him particularly worried but you knew it was. You knew that he was also thinking about the kiss that happened right afterwards. 

It hadn’t left your mind. 

“Chris I’ll find my way back here either way,” you muttered. “There’s no use in trying to stop me.” 

If Ethan wasn’t there he would’ve kissed you. Instead he dipped his head. 

“Talk to your boyfriend about it.” You looked back at Ethan. Chris left the tent. You were left alone together for the first time since before the whole ordeal. Conflicted, you walked back to him. 

“Go,” he said, voice strong.

“Huh?” Ethan’s face was soft and understanding. 

“Go.” There was a beat of silence as you stared at him, trying to read his expression. He had just been through everything and was letting you go? “I know why you left this. But this is your life, isn’t it?” Your face scrunched into a hurt expression. 

“Not necessarily-”

“The only reason you left is because you wanted to prove a point to him. You proved your point.” 

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I want to go home. I want to take you with me. But I don’t think that’s what you want and that’s okay.” 

“Ethan-”

“It’s not what you want, right?” You remained quiet. You couldn’t argue with that. He was right. You wanted to stay here. You wanted to get back into a fight you had once been so passionate about. He nodded once. You weren’t sure if he was numb or in complete control. “Exactly.” He grabbed your hand. “I dragged you back into this the second I believed that email.” 

“But the house,” you whispered. 

“We’ll figure it out. Just go. Please.” You nodded curtly. 

“Okay,” you breathed. He wouldn't look at you. You got up slowly, wondering if this was really happening. You tried to tell yourself doing it now was for the best. This is the only outcome that would’ve made any sense. 

You left the tent.

“Oh shit.” You looked up. You were met with John Perlman, someone you used to work with. He was older now but had the same slanted smile. “The rumors are true.” 

“Perlman,” you breathed, laughing a bit. 

“How are you doin girl?” 

“I’m okay,” you said and you meant it. You were alright. You were gonna be alright. 

“I hear you’re going back to the tunnels with the boss,” he observed. “You back in it?” Your eyes searched for Chris. You found him in front of a different tent, grabbing a box of things. 

“I guess so.” “He kept all your things when you left,” Perlman explained. “I’m sure he’s still got ‘em. It’s nice to have you back.” He pat your back before walking past you. The short conversation ended. Chris approached you with the box.

“Well?” he asked. 

“I’m ready Cap.” He nodded once and then handed you what he was holding. You looked down in it. The Dragoon you had used for years sat at the top of the box. “You kept all this?” 

“Just in case.”

“You broke up with me, you know that?” you looked back up at him. 

“If you’re gonna be in this I’d rather you be in this with me.” He gave you a curt nod. “We had out in 15.” 

He started to walk away. 

“Wait! Wait Chris,” you called. You put the box down by your feet. He turned around just in time for you to throw your arms around him. You kissed him again, this time like you weren’t about to die. He held you tightly to him, comfortably. 

He’d be okay. You would be okay.

[onlythebravest]

Writing Self-Evaluation 2022

I was tagged by @larrysballetslippers to answer some question about my writing in 2022. It’s very very long, so I did as Aaliyah did and put the long answers below the cut and the short ones above!

1. Number of stories posted to AO3 this year: 14 (+1 hopefully)

2. Word count posted for the year: 93 900

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction

4. Pairings: Harry/Louis (and a minor side Liam/Zayn in one fic)

5. Story with the most… (it’s all the same work)

Kudos: never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same

Bookmarks: never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same

Comments: never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same

more under the cut

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): 

I’ve answered this before during an ask game, you can see my answers here & here, but I’ll leave an answer here too.

I have two fics that I’m the most proud of; never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same and can you build me a nest?

I had a lot of fun writing both these fics. when I wrote never been a fan, I took all my favorite things (touch starvation, omega drop, scenting and nesting) about the omegaverse and put them into this fic. I can’t really say why I’m proud of it, I just am.

can you build me a nest? is my first published smut, and that’s why I’m so proud of it. it’s a proof of how much my confidence has grown, that I feel comfortable enough to publish smut. and that’s why I’m proud of that one.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

probably party behaviour. I really like the idea behind it, and when I wrote just the dialogue I liked it. but when I added body language and descriptions, it just wasn’t working the same way anymore. I probably wouldn’t even have posted it if it weren’t for the fact that I had teased about to to A and she was excited about it 😂

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

I’ve gotten some really nice comments by authors that I look up to and whose works I love. those meant so much to me. and boosted my confidence in my writing a lot 😂

but also comments that pick up on small details in the fic also makes me so happy. I got a comment on never been a fan where someone had picked up on how Louis slowly progressed to calling Harry his omega subconsciously. and I got so happy that someone picked up on that!

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

summer! if we’re talking mentally. physically, it was in May, because I had some problems with my shoulder/arm, so I couldn’t be on my computer or I would be in so much pain. I was barely able to finish dream about a summer night in time because of that injury, and the stress that gave me, gave me a writer’s block and to some degree is still here.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

there are a lot that surprised me this year. my characters have a tendency of writing themselves and do things I don’t really want them to. like in can you build me a nest?, i had to delete and rewrite the nest scene multiple times because those two kept undressing themselves to have sex and I didn’t want to write more smut. but the biggest surprise was probably the entire why can’t we forgive and forget?. I never would’ve thought that I’d write vampires, for starters. and then that they were arguing, where it took place, the “plot”. everything about that surprised me.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

I have too many!! and it’s impossible to choose, so I’ll add two that I’m proud of. but I have two more that I wanted to add too, a part of chapter 11 in snapshots of moments, and a part of can you build me a nest? 

this is from snapshots of moments (chapter 2: tiny is a state of mind)

At that, Louis locked his phone and put it aside, then turned to Harry and said, “Even if there were no videos like this, it wouldn’t matter. H, you’d still be my baby. I’d still carry you around. You know why?” He didn’t give Harry a chance to reply before he continued, “Because your legs are only this long so you’re able to wrap them around me. Don’t you know that?”

from never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same

Louis had never met someone who loved being manhandled the way Harry did, and he loved doing it for him. Depending on his mindset, Harry would sometimes complain about being too heavy or too tall for that, something that Louis proved wrong time after time. He thought it came from the fact that Harry outgrew his family and friends, almost getting taller overnight, so people just stopped. Harry had confided in Louis previously that there were plenty of people who stopped seeing him as an omega as soon as he hit his growth spurt, forgetting his needs just because he was taller than the average omega.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year?

confidence! I’ve gotten more confident in my writing, which in turn has made me more comfortable with going outside my comfort zones. 

13. How do you hope to grow next year?

I hope to get even more confident in my writing and push my boundaries even further. I am so proud over can you build me a nest?, the first piece of smut I published. and I was so proud of myself for feeling confident enough to do that, even though I was so nervous and scared. so I hope to be able to hit more mile stones like that next year!

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc)?

I’ve had multiple influences this year. I’ve gotten comments, both on fics and on snippets that I’ve posted, that have helped me a lot this year. those are too many to mention, but I have three amazing people who have helped me that deserves to be mentioned. 

@larrysballetslippers - an amazing cheerleader. she’s been so supportive and boosted my confidence whenever I needed it.

@paranormalbabydoll / @bottomhaztoplou - gave me so many nice, uplifting comments when they beta’d both never been a fan of change, but we’re still the same and snapshots of moments. super supportive when I bombarded them with questions and gave them huge jobs with my fics. and also, very much a cheerleader!

@hershelsue - gave me some great writing tips when they beta’d dream about a summer night, and they pointed out things I hadn’t realised about my own writing, that I now try and think about. such as not using the same words or phrasing over and over. 

15. Did anything from your real life show up in your writing this year?

it always happens 😂 there is so much of my real life in my writing. I have a WIP (that I’m not sure if I will finish) with autistic Harry who’s obsessed with learning stuff about plane crashes. this was me in august, september and october 😂 but also smaller stuff - Harry is scared of thunderstorms in dream about a summer night, that’s a piece of me that I gave him. 

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers?

Every writer works differently, but these are some things that I’ve learnt this year. 

Don’t force it when it’s not working. if it’s not working right now, don’t force it. I ended up hating/not liking the stuff I wrote while forcing myself to write on something I didn’t want to write it. either work on something else for a change, or just take a creak. 

sometimes it’s easier to write on unconventional ways. sometimes the notes app on your phone is less intimidating that a doc. sometimes it’s easier to write on your phone than on your computer. maybe it’s easier to write dialogue, then write only the dialogue. 

I often start my fics with dialogue, and it looks something like this;

H: love planes. Don’t know much about em but still love ‘em L: lucky for you, I happen to know quite a bit H: oh? L: I’m a pilot H: a pilot? L: yup

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year?

I have a few WIPs that I’m working on that I’m looking forward to finishing. but I’m the most excited about my omega gender confusion au. that’s my baby. you can read more about it and find some snippets of it here. but yeah, I’m so excited about this fic and I hope I can do it justice! and finish it during 2023! hopefully the first half, but we’ll see. 

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I’m sorry if you’ve already done this! I haven’t really kept up with my dash these last few days, but I tried to do a quick look! If you’ve already done this - just ignore it. and if you don’t want to do it - just ignore it.

@stylesthebrave, @neondiamond, @parmahamlarrie, @sun-lt, @kenniewen, @wabadabadaba, @alwaysxlarrie, @finelinegynandromorph, @hellolovers13, @brightgolden & @allwaswell16. and if you want to do this but aren’t tagged - just say I tagged you 😊

[ashknife]

A Cheery Lot

Here's my contribution to the 2022 Inklings Christmas Challenge (@inklings-challenge). It's a little cyberpunk, and I incorporated song as the major image. I tried to do something that didn't involve somebody dying or experiencing extreme turmoil. Also, first-person. Hopefully, it worked out. Story after the break.

"Merry Christmas!" "Woot! It's Christmas!" "¡Feliz Navidad!" "Happy Holidays!" "Happy Christmas to everybody!"

The chat on my HUD is a constant stream of holiday wishes. The 25th is just hours away. It seems every shop and house I walk by is full of revelry and cheer. Some dance as they walk to the next party. Some exchange gifts. Some do some last-minute shopping. Some are so caught up in the ecstasy of the moment that they forget to find somewhere more private to celebrate. It's just like a normal night in the city, but with twice the energy. People here like to celebrate, but they do it harder when there's an actual celebration.

Blinking lights cover every building. Businesses augment their signs with holograms of reindeer, trees, and Santa. The usual stable music is set free to stampede our minds until we get sick of it, and then they sing it some more. There's so much to buy, and the sales just make it all that much more tempting. That new air fryer I've been looking at is now half off, but I don't need to get it for myself. Someone else will get it for me, and I will get them something they want. That's how Christmas works. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Somehow, it's more rewarding to buy things for each other that we would have normally gotten on our own.

I am no different than the rest. I am on my way to a party thrown together by some coworkers. It's one of the few times we get to see each other. Oh, sure, we get a good look each day through our virtual meetings. These glasses we all wear really make that convenient. YumiCorp really did us a good turn developing these. I don't see how humanity got along without the steady stream of information these things provide. I like seeing what's in a building, having a map of where I'm going, being able to work while I go about my day, and watching the constant chatter of the city. Life without them is so boring and bland. Still, there's something different about talking to a warm body and not to a video.

And, like that, I receive a video call. It's Josephina, my manager, wearing a festive sweater and reindeer antlers, both with blinking lights.

"Hey, Henry! How's it going?"

"Hi, Josephina. I'm walking there right now."

"Great! It looks like you're on Broadway."

"Yeah. Just a few more blocks to go."

"You better hurry! The rest of the team is here, and the hors d’oeuvres are almost gone already."

"Should I pick up some snacks?"

"I ordered some more food, but a little more won't hurt."

The map of my walking route displayed a number of stores that were on the way.

"I'll pick up a few things, then."

"Thanks. See you soon!"

The video call disappears. I look at the suggested stores. Most of them are convenience stores, but this one here, Mitchell's, catches my attention. It looks like a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but the few who've been seem to love it. I think I'll give it a go.

The store is just a few blocks away tucked under an apartment complex. I see why not many have been there: it has a small, faded sign that would be barely visible on a clear, sunny day. I would have missed it if the glasses didn't highlight the sign and front door. I descend the shallow steps to the door and struggle to pry it open. The wood scrapes against the cement as it finally gives, yielding a packed shop full of all kinds of things. I think the owner stuffed an entire Wal-mart into the space of a 7-Eleven, but they also managed it keep it clean and organized. What manner of sorcery is this?

"Irasshai!" I jump at the sudden, cheerful greeting. Standing behind the counter is a thin, balding Asian man with a colorful name tag labelling him as Mitchell. The glasses confirm this. Mitchell nods with an excited tic and a wide grin.

"A new customer!" he says. "I'm sorry if I made you jump. It's a greeting my family used at home a long time ago."

"Where was home?" I ask.

"Japan. Kyoto."

"Is that how you know how to stuff all this in here?" Mitchell nodded.

"Yes, sir! I have just about anything you could need. What are you looking for?"

"Snacks for a Christmas party."

"Of course, of course! Let me show you what we have."

Mitchell nimbly navigates his shop the way a librarian could find a book. He points out different kinds of finger foods for sale, and there were even some hot items I didn't notice before. Never had I seen such efficiency of space. Within minutes, I was carrying bags full of crackers, spreads, and warm tamales. I tap my glasses and make a note of this wonderful find of a place. I started to thank Mitchell when the lights went dark.

"Oh!" Mitchell says. Without missing a beat, he strikes a match and lights a candle. With that candle, he lights a few more, bathing the counter in a sort of eerie, dim light. It feels oddly cozy and comforting.

"It's not often the power goes out," he says. "Hopefully it isn't for too long."

"Right," I reply. "Thanks, Mitchell. I'll be back again."

"You are most welcome, honored guest!" He bows as I step out through the stubborn door.

I step back up to the sidewalk when I notice something: my route doesn't show up on the glasses. In fact, nothing is there but blank spaces. The glasses are on, but they aren't receiving any data. I look around. Darkness. Everywhere there should be lights, there is only inky black. I can hear the indistinct protesting of the crowds. It's hard to see with camera lights. It's cold outside. Frightened people lash out at pranksters who pretend to be ghosts for cheap laughs.

I can't go anywhere by standing around here, so I start toward Josephina's place. It wasn't far, and I have a decent memory, so I try to navigate the streets from that. I'm pretty sure there was a left turn here, and then a right turn there, and it was just few blocks this way down 8th Street...

Wait. This doesn't look like the residential area Josephina lives in. This looks way different. Everythhing looks older, worn, run down. Is this...the ghetto? Was it always this close? I look around to see where I am at, but I cannot make out anything like a familiar landmark or a street sign in this darkness. Am I lost? I am lost. I don't know where to go from here.

Voices. Voices coming from around the corner. It sounds like singing. What should I do? I could ask them for help, but what if they're dangerous? But they're singing. It doesn't sound like trouble. It's risk danger for help or stand here and slowly freeze. I walk closer to the corner where the voices are coming from. I see the faint reflection of light coming from a building across the street. The voices are clearer, coming from a lot. The light flickers, and there is a scent of something burning, like Mitchell's match and candles, but somehow pleasant. I walk to the lot. There is a group of people standing around a couple of barrels. There is a fire in each, and a ring of people surrounds them. Some of the people hold out their gloved hands trying to absorb the warmth of the fires. A stack of logs sits in between the barrels. One of the larger men steps forward, grabs a couple of logs, and throws them into the barrels, one in each. Within a few moments, the fires blaze a little brighter. They're singing Christmas carols. I know them from the music that normally plays all day, but there are no instruments or bass dropping or anything normally broadcast. It's just their voices ringing out into the dark, dead night.

When they had finished their current song, someone pointed at me, and they all turned to see their intruder. They motioned me to join them, so I stepped closer to the fire.

"Hey, man, you don't look like you're from around here," one of the men say.

"Uh, no, I'm not. I live downtown," I say. Amazed chatter followed, accented with "oos" and "ahs."

"Get lost?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Where you headed?"

"Parker Street."

"You're about ten blocks off course."

"I see."

There was an awkward silence. A woman joined the group from the dark street.

"Joe's been called out," she says. "Someone got a hold of some fireworks and set them off by a substation. Power'll be out for a couple of hours."

"All that info, and not a lick of common sense," a man says. The group grunts in agreement and shakes their heads. I want to protest, but I wouldn't be here if I really knew where I was going and wasn't dependent on these glasses. I take them off and look at them.

"Hey, four-eyes," a man calls out. I look up. I feel a chill breeze and shiver. I don't belong here.

"Y-yeah?" I say.

"You got a favorite carol?"

"Oh, you don't need to worr--"

"No, man, you're our guest."

"Oh. I..." I had to think for a moment. I never really gave that much thought before. It all kind of blurs together every year. Everyone seems so blissful and happy and cheerful. I guess there was that one upbeat song about comfort and joy, but I never really heard anything but that part.

"There's one that's about comfort and joy, I think?" I offer.

They all nod their heads. Some say it's a good one.

The man who asked starts them off. "God rest ye," and then they all take hold and sing the entire song. A song of faith, joy at the coming of a savior. I never heard such things before. I tried to sing with them, but I couldn't keep up with them except at that chorus part. I looked around uncomfortably and noticed that there was a tree bedecked with a few ornaments and a string of lights. A real one, not something that the glasses tacked on. Next to it was a table with a small plate of food. I approach the tree as they sang. I touch the needles but jerk my hand back as they poke it. I didn't think they would be so sharp. I reach out again and grit through the uncomfortable feeling. It smelled of pine. Of course, it did. But it was a real scent, not something coming from a candle or spray. I could feel the weight of the wood and the sticky sap in each whiff. If the power had not been out, this tree would be illuminated by the pathetic string of lights and the star that crowned the top. It would have been a warm and welcoming sight, especially for these people. This was nothing like the celebrations I walked past earlier.

I could go to Mitchell's again later, or maybe some other store. I brought out the food I bought and set it out on the table. The tamales had cooled some but still held a little warmth, which I offered to the gathered crowd when they had finished singing. I've seen people excited over a meal before, but I've never seen such joy as each person caressed their warm tamal and peeled it open to eat. They hail me as some sort of hero, half-mockingly, and the other half genuine. I brought them cheer. No, that's not right. They already had cheer. I simply accented it.

They crack jokes, tell stories, and ask questions. They want to know what I do. They talk about their hard lives. I am far away from family, but they cherish theirs daily. Some say this is the finest food they've ever had. I don't know what to say. When they finish eating, more logs enter the fires, and the singing begins anew, well-fed and grateful for it. I keep up the best that I can, fully aware that I never really paid attention to music as anything more than background noise. Time loses its meaning, and for a short while, I am adopted into this community. I feel blessed.

After some time, the lights return to the city. People cheer as their tree also lights up with the surrounding buildings. Strings of bulbs alight overhead with no real pattern. They shine over the lot with the little bit of magic they hold. I feel a buzzing in my pocket. I pull out my glasses and put them on. A flurry of activity pours through, and Josephina is calling.

"Henry?"

"Yeah?"

"Oh, good! You're alright! Did you get lost?"

"No. Well, yes. I did. But I ended up at someone else's party while the power is out."

"We're still going here, telling ghost stories, if you want to come."

"It's getting a bit late out as it is. I'll have to take a rain check."

"I get you. Sorry it didn't work out!"

She waves bye and hangs up. I rejoin the party I found myself in. I think tonight, I found the better place to be.

[jazwritesalot]

Shaken, Not Stirred - Chapter 2: Blue Kamikaze

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/Kaminari Denki, ShinKami Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia, My Hero Academia Rating: Teen & Up Audiences Total Word Count: 22,634 Tags: Aged Up Characters, AU - College/University, AU - No Quirks, AU - Coffee Shops & Cafes, Barista/Electrician/DJ Kaminari, Waiter/Bartender/Psych Student Shinsou, Bakusquad Shenanigans, brief one-sided KamiJirou, side KiriBaku, background EraserMic, background CamieJirou, comedy, alcohol consumption, drinking, house parties, bar scene, implications of depression, cat cafes

Chapter 1

Written for the ShinKami Big Bang 2020

It seemed that Denki didn’t have to come up with a half-assed excuse to visit Cool Beans. True to Shinsou’s word, Denki received another call not more than 24 hours later from Hizashi in a panic because the lights in the dining area went kaput. That was another easy fix—just some faulty wiring that finally breathed its last breath. He wanted to stay and get to know Shinsou some more after that, but he promised both Kirishima and Sero he would actually go to Sugar Rush and have a talk with Sato about his absences, so he begrudgingly went and did that. But that was okay, because the next day he got another frantic call from Cool Beans about how their pastry oven wasn’t working. That repair was a bit trickier because he had to place an order at the local hardware store for some parts, so there was a delay in the repair, but ultimately it didn’t take too long once he was able to get to work. He was able to stick around a little while on the first day to talk to Shinsou some more, but not for long, since he had a meeting with Takeyama at Lurkers to secure a spot at the club for a Friday night show. The next day, he once again had to dip right after the repair finished because he picked up a shift for Bakugou as the beginning of his ‘eternal apology for being a flakey asshole’ as Blasty so lovingly put it. He was high-key expecting a flustered call from Hizashi for the fifth day in a row, yet he found himself both pleasantly surprised and slightly disappointed when the phone didn’t ring. 

“You know,” Kirishima said around a mouthful of cereal, “you can always go to this cafe just to eat, right? You don’t have to only go there because there’s a repair to be done.”

“But wouldn’t that seem, I don’t know, a little weird to just pop up out of the blue and be a patron after I’ve worked there for the past four days?” Denki pouted, resting his chin on the kitchen table. 

“I mean, you’ve been saying you need to work on your mixes since you’ve got this show in a couple days. Wouldn’t a change of scenery do you some good?”

“That,” Sero started as he entered the kitchen, “and it would give you more time to chat with this hot waiter that you haven’t shut up about since Friday.”

“You wound me, Hanta. I haven’t talked about him that much!” he whined. 

“Dude, literally every other word out of your mouth has been ‘Shinsou this’ and ‘Shinsou that,’” Kirishima snickered. 

“Like you have room to talk—I distinctly remember you waxing poetic about Bakugou from the first moment you met him. What was it again? Oh yeah: ‘I think I met the love of my life today, guys. He could murder me with just a look and I would thank him.’ Or did you forget about that, bro?” Denki teased and Eijirou gave him a playful shove. 

“In all seriousness though, I do think you should go. You’ve been doing a lot better the past couple of days, Denki. And if it takes a hot waiter at a cafe to do that for you, then why would you even think of passing up on an opportunity like that,” Sero said, leaning over and draping an arm around his shoulder. “Besides, who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky like Ei and he will give you his phone number.”

“Oh yeah, like I want to be given the wrong number and then get immediately blocked once I get the right number,” Denki laughed, ignoring the noise of protest from Kirishima. “I kid. I kid. But you guys are right. I think I will head to the cafe! Thanks, my bromos,” he laughed, giving them each a sloppy kiss on the cheek before running to his room. He grabbed his backpack and stuffed his laptop and headphones in it before running out to the living room to shrug his hoodie on and slip into his shoes. He grabbed his toolbag, just in case, called out goodbyes to Sero and Kirishima, and made his way to Cool Beans, excited to get some work done. And, of course, to see Shinsou. 

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

Arriving at the steps of Cool Beans sent a nice little thrill down his spine, but he didn’t want to try and delve too deep into the intricacies of why that was. He was about to walk up the stairs when a small meow caught his attention. 

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Denki mused out loud as he walked to the side of the building and found a small black and white cat in the bushes. “Ah, you must be the escape artist! Better get you back inside!” The cat squirmed in his arms as he picked it up and he had to stifle the laugh as he looked at its face and saw that it resembled that of a vampire. He smoothed the fur down and gave the kitty a little boop on the nose before hugging it close to him and heading into the cafe.

“Welcome to Cool Beans,” Eri’s soft voice drifted out from the front desk and Denki gave her a small wave. Shinsou came out from the kitchen and gave a small groan. 

“Oh god, what could possibly be broken now,” he asked, running a hand down his face. 

“Oh! Nothing is broken. I just chose to come here. Also! I found your escape artist outside!” Denki smiled, thrusting the cat out toward Shinsou, who blinked at him and cocked his head.

“Um, Kaminari, I’ve never seen this cat a day in my life. Also, please don’t hold cats like that,” he pleaded, coming over and scooping the cat out of his arms. The cat stopped struggling once it was in Shinsou’s embrace and it started to purr happily. “Where did you say you found her?”

“Outside in the bushes; that’s why I thought she was the escape artist. Wait? How do you know the cat is a girl?” he asked, walking over to pet the happy ball of fur. 

“I mean, it’s easy if you look between the legs,” he shrugged. “So she was just outside?” 

“Yupp.” Denki hopped onto one of the barstools and kicked his feet back and forth. “It looked like she was trying to get in, so I just assumed she was one of yours. But, I guess she would be now, right?”

“Uh, no? We can’t just take in every cat that comes through the door, unfortunately. We are limited on how many animals we’re allowed to have in the cafe at once, and we’re at capacity. Believe me, I wish we could, but it’s out of my hands.”

“What will happen to her?” Denki asked, reaching over to give her a scritch behind her ears, which earned him a happy chirp. 

“Well, since there’s no tags on her, we would have to call animal control and she would be taken to the shelter until someone adopts her. And that’s the best case scenario.” The sad look in Shinsou’s eyes hit Denki right in his heart.

“Well, what if I take her home!” he exclaimed without really putting much thought into it. “She could live with me and I will be her new owner and give her a happy life.”

“You’re going to take her home?” Shinsou asked, arching his eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but do you even know the first thing about taking care of a cat?”

“I mean, how hard can it be? Besides! The internet can tell me everything I need to know! So, can she stay here while I’m here? Let her socialize with the other kitties?” Denki asked, giving Shinsou his best rendition of puppy dog eyes. 

“I know I’m probably going to regret this,” Shinsou started with a loud sigh, “but sure. Hey, Eri. Can you come take her, check her out, and introduce her to the other cats please?”

“Of course,” she replied, sliding off the seat and gently took the cat from his arms. “Come on, little kitty, let’s go check you out and have you make some new friends.” 

“She’s pretty good with cats,” he noted as he watched her walk away, happiness already thrumming through his veins at the prospect of being a pet parent.

“Yeah she is. She’s made mention to me once that she wants to be a vet when she grows up. I think it would be the perfect job for her. She’s always been super kind-hearted and attentive to others.”

“Man, you really care about her, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes,” Denki commented, pulling his laptop out of his bag and getting it situated at his place at the bar. 

“Of course—she’s my little sister. If anything were to ever happen to her, I would kill everyone in this room, and then myself,” he said in a deadpan voice, and Denki wasn’t sure if he was actually joking or not. “Anyway, what will it be today? Another Amaretto Sour?” The stare was replaced with his shit-eating grin that Denki had become accustomed to seeing on his face, and his heart skipped a beat (at least, that’s what he swears happened). 

“Nah, I think today I will just stick with a Coke. Need to get some work done. Oh. Could I also put in an order for gyoza? I’m starving.” 

“One Coke and gyoza, coming right up. So, what are you working on?” he asked as he punched the order into the computer and served up Denki’s drink. 

“Oh, just some mixes! I do some part-time DJing and performances on the side, and I’ve got one coming up on Friday night. Been pretty stuck on the latest song, so my roommates and I thought a change of scenery would do me wonders,” he explained, sipping on the drink and turning the connection to his headphones on. 

“What made you choose to come here? Didn’t you say you worked at a cafe yourself—why not just go there?” 

“What, is this twenty questions?” Denki teased. “Yeah, I work at a cafe, but right now one of the employees, well no, two of the employees are kind of pissed off at me. I feel like that would be too hostile of an environment for me to try and produce anything worthwhile in.”

“What on earth could you have done to piss off two people at once?” 

“What does the sheet music on your bicep say?” Denki shot back, trying to change the topic at hand. 

“It’s the notes for 'Friday, I’m in Love.' Nice deflection, by the way. Back to my question.”

“Stupid psych majors,” Denki grumbled. “Okay, so I’m going to sound like a total asshole when I say this, but I kind of was hitting on a girl at work. I knew her, of course. We have been friends for quite a few years, and I thought she was totally into me. Well oh boy, was I wrong. She got super pissed off at me and told me off during the middle of our shift and hasn’t spoken a word to me since,” he explained, sliding down in his seat and resting his chin on the trackpad of his laptop. 

“Were you being a fuckboy about it? Also, hold on one second,” Shinsou announced, walking off to go into the kitchen. He returned with the plate of gyoza and placed it on the counter next to him before taking a seat next to Denki. “Taking my break,” he said at Denki’s confused face. “Anyway, so were you?”

“I don’t think I was? I was just being my brand of flirty, which includes copious amounts of horrendous puns. Not anything she wasn’t used to, what with being my friend, and all. But I guess it was just too much for her all at once. And I feel like shit about it,” he groaned, shoving a dumpling in his mouth. 

“Okay, so you pissed off the girl you were crushing on, who happens to be your coworker. Give her some space—if she’s been your friend for a while, and you didn’t do anything super asshole-ish to her, I’m sure that time is just what it will take.” He snagged a dumpling off of the plate, ignoring the weak protest from Denki. “Now, that’s one person you pissed off. How about the other?”

“Oh god. This is going to be even more pathetic. I got really fucked up about her rejection, you know? So I started making up excuses for why I couldn’t come into work, since we work the same shifts. Each time I got called in, the same coworker got called in to work my shift, so now he’s super pissed off. And it’s even worse because he’s my roommate’s boyfriend, so now I’ve been screwing up their date nights and stuff because of my dumbassery.”

“Does he know you were faking each time you called in?” he asked while leaning against the counter with his elbow, resting his head on his hand.

“I don’t think my roommate, or boss for that matter, ratted me out to him. I just know he’s pissed because Ei doesn’t get a lot of free time with his work schedule, so they try to do as much as they can when their schedules align. And wait a minute; isn’t it about time I get to ask a question? I don’t think you’re playing this game very fair.”

“You should probably have a talk with him and apologize for your behavior. That would be a good place to start.” He stood and leaned over the counter to pour himself a glass of water before settling back down in his seat. “By the way, it’s your turn.”

“I’ve already started the atonement process with Blasty. He can be, um, very intense. So a simple apology won’t do. But thanks for the advice. Now,” he started, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Purple. That was almost too easy; I’ll give you another question.”

“Aww, just as a treat?” Denki snickered, and Shinsou rolled his eyes. “Okay, what’s your favorite hobby?”

“Don’t laugh, but I enjoy composing music,” he admitted with a shy smile. 

“Laugh? Dude, why would I laugh? I literally told you I’m a DJ and performer. Could I look at some of your stuff sometime? Oh! Do you play any instruments?” he yelled and slapped his hands on the counter. 

“Uh, I don’t know about that. My stuff tends to be pretty garbage, actually. And yes, I can play the guitar, but I don’t get to very much. Too busy with school and work. What I would kill to have a night where I can just go enjoy myself,” he sighed. “Enough about that, next question.” 

They continued on with their back and forth questioning, and with each one, Shinsou opened up a little more, much to Denki’s delight. He found out that he studied psychology because he has always been fascinated in the brain and how people could be easily swayed and influenced by the actions and words of others. He also found out that Shinsou was an insomniac—though Denki could have guessed by the bags underneath his eyes that that was the case. They had been lucky that all of the patrons who had come in the past half-hour had been there for the cat room and not for food or drinks, but soon enough, a stern-looking man with dark hair and eye bags that rivaled Shinsou’s came out and told him that he needed his help in the kitchen. Denki popped his headphones in as Shinsou gave him a small wave before heading off to the kitchen and he immersed himself in the beats that were going to star in his next mix, lyrics already forming in his mind. 

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Denki had lost track of time while at Cool Beans, and before he knew it, they were being slammed with their dinner rush. He had made a lot of headway in his mixes for Friday, which was his cue to head home for the evening. After picking up his cat, whose name was still undecided, from Eri in the cat room, he was met with a horrified look from Shinsou as he placed her in his toolbag. With the promise to get an appropriate cat carrier for her, and the reassurance from Eri that she was flea-free, he began his trek back home.

“Okay, Little Lady, I’m going to need you to be quiet now, you hear?” Denki whispered to his toolbag as he approached the front door of his house. He was slowly beginning to realize that declaring he was going to house a cat without actually talking to his roommates about having a pet may not have been the best idea. So, the solution was simple—sneak her in, warm them up to the idea of having a pet, and then, when the time was right, introduce her to Hanta and Eijirou. Well, it would have been simple, if she hadn’t decided to yowl loudly the moment Denki entered the house. 

“Denki,” Sero asked, lowering the magazine he was reading. “Did your bag just meow?”

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Denki laughed, silently praying that nameless kitty would behave and not give him away. Unfortunately, she had other plans in mind as she let out another loud meow and shoved her paw through the small opening that Denki had given the bag for her to breathe. 

“Dude! You got a cat? That’s awesome!” Kirishima shouted, running over to him. “Can I see it? What’s their name?”

“Ei! Don’t encourage this!” Sero shouted, closing his magazine and throwing it on the table. “He could barely afford to pay rent last month. How is he supposed to afford to take care of a cat?”

“Hey! I paid off Kirishima the other day. Yamada has been paying me good money to come and fix up his shop!” Denki protested, pulling the cat out of the toolbag, which was met with a loud exclamation of joy from Kirishima.    

“Okay, but what about cat necessities, Denks? Do you even have food for her? What about litter and a litter box?”

“Litter box? Why would I need one of those?” He cocked his head to the side as he held the cat how Shinsou instructed him to while Kirishima ran his fingers through her fur. 

“How else will the cat go to the bathroom, Denki?” Sero asked through his teeth.

“Oh! I just saw a video the other day where someone trained their cat to use the toilet whenever they needed to go to the bathroom,” Kirishima added, nearly vibrating with excitement. 

“Oh my god guys, you cannot and will not teach the cat how to shit in the toilet. On another note—why a cat? You’ve never seemed interested in pets before today.” Sero arched a brow at the two of them while leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. 

“Does this have something to do with this guy you’ve been talking nonstop about?” Kirishima teased as he gave the kitty chin scritches. 

“No! Well, maybe. But not entirely. She was lonely and I found her in a bush. I couldn’t imagine taking her to a shelter because what if she never got picked for adoption? I would feel awful for her. So please, Hanta. Let me keep her. I promise I will take good care of her. You’ll never even know she’s here,” Denki pleaded, holding her up so she was right in Sero’s face.     

Sero sighed, defeated. “Fine, Denki, you win. You can keep the cat. Besides, she is kind of cute,” he murmured, reaching out to pet her on the head. “But please, for the love of god, get her a litter box.”

“Thank you, Hanta! You won’t regret this at all!” Denki exclaimed. “Now come on, little lady. It’s time for you to go see your new room!” He took off to his bedroom, kitty in tow, excited at the prospect of being a pet parent finally.     

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Friday had rolled around before Denki realized it, and he had found himself being a healthy mix of excited and nervous for his first performance in months. And, in true Denki-fashion, he had been running late because it took him forever to find his lucky performance shirt. He was hopping into his black and yellow checkered Vans when he ran into Bakugou and Kirishima on his way out of the house. Seeing the confused look on Blasty’s face about his not knowing that his boyfriend was roommates with Denki was well worth being late to Lurkers, if he did say so himself, even if it did earn him a chewing out by Takeyama. All seemed to be forgiven, however, when the club was packed wall to wall for his set. 

The bass was bumping through the club, reverberating through his bones, as he sat at the bar. The silver-haired bartender silently slid Denki his beer, to which Denki nodded his thanks at him. As he sipped at the cool, frothy liquid, he leaned back in the chair with a huge grin on his face. The adrenaline of his show was still thrumming through him and he couldn’t believe that it had been months since his last gig. The rush of being on stage—a real stage (no shade to Tape Deck, however)—and looking out into the sea of people as he wove lyrics into the mixes he created was a high that he wanted to chase again and again. He couldn’t believe that he had put a pause on such an experience as this. He was halfway through his beer when someone shyly cleared their throat to the right of him, and when he turned to look at who was trying to get his attention, he nearly choked on the swig of the drink. The person he was least expecting to be there was gracing him with his presence: Shinsou stood before him looking every bit as nervous as Denki had anticipated he would look in a club. 

“What are you doin’ here, Stranger?” Denki purred, taking another sip of his drink as he eyed Shinsou up and down. Even dressed down in a black The Cure hoodie and dark skinny jeans that Denki was pretty sure were purple if he squinted hard enough in the darkly lit club, Shinsou looked as stunning as ever to him. Even more so with his hair up in a loose bun and that he was wearing all of his piercings—Denki had sorely missed seeing those when he had been working on the equipment for Hizashi.  

“Can’t a guy come to the bar to celebrate being done with finals?” Shinsou questioned, grabbing the beer he ordered for himself to sip slowly on it.

“Sure he can. But most guys who come to bars don’t look like their spine has been replaced with a steel beam,” he joked, finishing his beer and signaling to the quiet bartender for another round. Yet another wonderful perk about being a performer—the free booze. “I never took you to be one for the bar scene, my friend."  

“Got me there, I guess,” Shinsou sighed. “By the way, nice shirt. Rage is a great band,” he commented and Denki could see that he was visibly trying to make himself relax, but every time a person brushed up against him, he jumped and tensed, knuckles taut enough around his drink that Denki swore they could cut glass. 

“Thanks! They’re one of my favorites. Anyway, why exactly are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” He knew he was slipping into the flirty voice, but who could blame him? They called it liquid courage for a reason. 

“Curiosity mostly. I saw fliers on campus advertising for the show tonight and I wanted to know if DJ Chargebolt was the same person who keeps fixing up our shop. Very creative on the naming,” Shinsou teased and Denki snorted. 

“Hey, when you got something good, why change it? By the way, what did you think of the show?”

“Wish I could tell you. We got busy at the cafe, so by the time I made it here, the show was already over,” he admitted and Denki felt a small thrill run through him at the prospect of Shinsou still sticking around to see him even though the music was done. A slightly awkward silence filled the air, which made Denki pout. He had never had any issues with maintaining conversation with Shinsou before, and he wasn’t about to let it happen now. “So I have an idea, if you’re down for it?”

“Does it involve dancing? If the answer is yes, then that’s an automatic ‘no’ from me,” Shinsou warned cautiously. 

“No, no. Nothing like that. I was just going to suggest we do some shots; just a little something to loosen you up a bit.” Shinsou eyed him warily for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay, sweet! Bartender! Could I get a round of Blue Kamikazes for me and my friend here?” he asked, and the man nodded. “These are my favorite shots ever!” Denki yelled over the music that had started booming through the speakers while they watched the bartender mix the vodka, lime juice, and blue curacao up and pour them into the shot glasses before sliding them over. “Down the hatch!” Denki laughed, pushing his glass forward to clink against Shinsou’s.  

“Here goes nothing,” Shinsou muttered and they both tipped their shots back. Denki let out a small hum as the vodka burned his throat before licking his lips to get the faint citrus taste off them. He briefly wondered if Shinsou’s lips also tasted citrusy, but he had to shove that thought far away before it became a problem. He did have to say, however, that seeing Shinsou take the shot without his facial expression changing in the slightest was probably the hottest thing he had ever witnessed. 

“So, whatcha think?” he asked, invading Shinsou’s personal space. It didn’t seem like the other man minded too much, which filled Denki with delight. 

“Definitely on the sweeter side of shots I’ve ever had. I prefer some of the more sour ones, like Lemon Drops, but this is one I’d be willing to drink again,” he explained, a hint of a smile ghosting his face. 

“Well, why should I keep a good man waiting?” Denki smirked before ordering another round. One more round turned to two, which turned to three then four. The more shots they did, the more relaxed Shinsou became, moving from standing next to Denki at the counter to sitting in the chair next to him, their knees touching as they faced one another. 

“You were right, you know,” Shinsou finally said after they finished their fifth shot. There was a small blush on his cheeks and Denki would have given anything in that moment to place a kiss against them. 

“I usually am, believe it or not. But what specifically about?” Denki made a mental note to start weaning off the alcohol soon—he had to work a day shift at Sugar Rush the next day and didn’t need to go in with a hangover. 

“Just that clubs aren’t really my go-to when it comes to enjoying live music. Honestly? I try to avoid them as much as I can if I’m able to. Every once in a while my friend Monoma will drag me out to them, but I usually try to weasel my way out of it if I can,” he admitted. 

“First off, you’re friends with Monoma? You poor soul. And second, if clubs aren’t your thing, then what is?” Denki ordered another round, and a water for himself, as he awaited Shinsou’s answers.

“I feel like I should be able to get a question in here too, you know,” he laughed, taking the shot. “To answer the first question, yes, I’m friends with Monoma. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but he was the only one in high school that didn’t treat me like I was a complete outcast. We kind of clicked since then, though we don’t see much of one another since I went off to university and started helping around the shop more.” 

“That makes sense. But man, is it hard to picture anyone being friends with him. I swore to god that my roommates were going to kill him the last time we encountered him. Man just doesn’t know when to shut his mouth,” Denki complained and Shinsou snorted in agreement. “Before you answer my second question, feel free to shoot me one of your own.”

“You’re so generous,” he drawled. “So, do you have any tattoos or piercings of your own? I notice you’re always looking at mine whenever I see you.” Well, Denki sure didn’t expect to get caught with his ogling. Not that he regretted it one bit. “That, and you mentioned that your roommate had some too.” 

“No piercings; they’re too much of a liability with my line of work. Though, if I could get one, I think I’d look pretty hot with a belly button ring. As for tattoos, I do have one tattoo, but that requires at least a level three friendship to unlock what and where it is,” he finished with a shit-eating grin before sipping on his water. 

“That hardly seems fair. But, to answer your last question, I guess I would say my favorite music scene would be the underground one. There’s nothing better than going to house shows where local acts get together to unleash their angst and repressed teenage rage on the crowd while sipping on shitty beer and mixed drinks of questionable potency.” 

“No shit? I actually live at one of the underground houses here in town!” Denki exclaimed, sitting up straight and practically vibrating with excitement. “We call ourselves Tape Deck. We’re actually getting the acts together for our Holigay Bash next week. You should totally come!”

“Tape Deck, huh? I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of that one. It sounds like it could be fun though,” he mused. 

“Our shows are always a blast. I think you would really enjoy it. Besides, Yours Truly is playing, and since you missed tonight, what better way to get acquainted with my music than in my domain?”                   

“The offer is very tempting. I’ll have to think about it,” he laughed. “Where is Tape Deck, anyway?”

“Why don’t you just slide your number in here and I’ll text it to you. You know, for safekeeping,” Denki winked and pushed his phone across the bar to Shinsou, who laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of Denki’s proposition. It didn’t stop Denki from scoring Shinsou’s number, however, which made him feel like he was on top of the world. He sent a quick text his way, filled to the brim with emojis, so he could save his contact information. 

“As much fun as tonight has been, I need to get back home. Dad’s the one opening tomorrow instead of Pops, and he’s about as much of a morning person as an opossum, so I told him I’d lend him a hand with the open. I’ll let you know about the show.”

“You got my number now, so don’t be a stranger. Besides, now that we are at level one of friendship, I must let you know I will be spamming you with kitty pics and updates for at least the next twelve hours. So, be prepared,” Denki threatened and Shinsou chuckled, giving him one last wave before weaving through the crowd and disappearing. A pleased sigh escaped Denki—not only did he get to perform again, but he also scored his crush’s phone number. How much better could life get?