#i cant say in words what this whole retirement thing means to me

[rafasbiscuits]

WHY CANT I COMMENT😭😭 BUT OH WELL HERE I GO- first of all before I start, trust me I fully understand where u r getting at and totally 100% respect it, but this is just,, an attempt to somehow defend Rafa and just, say whatever I want to cause I don't agree.

“Rafa has just been needlessly rude about it. Calling Novak 'obsessed with records' (as if he's not one to underhand tactics himself)”

this one, I never understood why people see Rafa's comments on this as rude and salty. It's a good thing. I might love to use other words than obsessed which seemed like Rafa was mocking, but he's not, but again he was speaking in Spanish and translation is free to the mind. Seriously, at the time, Rafa was fighting injuries while Novak doing the opposite. Winning everything he could, aka making new records and breaking old ones. Whatever Rafa said, it's true, isn't it? He's being honest about it and it's not a bad thing. Maybe for Rafa his motivation to go on for tennis is different, for every player it's different.

For Novak, as what can be seen from Rafa's eyes at the time are records as Novak's main motivation to go on. With Roger retired and Rafa injured the whole year, it was easy for Novak to grasp all of the records he could possibly get and he did. For Rafa maybe it's different, maybe he's still playing because of his pride or for his love of the game. We wouldn't know. Like how we wouldn't know what Novak's main motivation is, Rafa's merely saying it through his observations. And for me, I think it's true. It's not rude or salty or mean. It's the truth. Novak's obsessed with records, I like to rephrase it as..“Records are more important for Novak.” Same meaning.

“said 'tennis is about emotions' (yeah? since when? how does one quantify that?).”

it was an interview about him. For him. So, for him it's about emotions. It doesn't quantify anything. Does he need to say “for me, for me, for me.” in every single statement he says? No. Because the question was for him and he's answering it however he liked and felt like. It's his interview.

He brought up Roger and Novak about it. How he said he preferred to be with Roger than to be with Novak because of those emotions he felt. Well, let's be true about this yeah. A Roger vs Rafa match is always more preferred to by fans than a Novak Vs Rafa. Why? Let us be honest here, because Novak's not that well liked by fans at the time where the big 3 was still at the top of their game. And, people always loved fedal more, that's true. I sometimes feel bad about Novak too but again, fans. That's not the topic here. But still, more fans, more cheers, more "woos" and "awws" = more 'emotions'. The contrast in their techniques, one being rightie one being leftie, more competition more this and that. Rafa simply liked playing against Roger more than Novak. Also, a factor is because Rafa is a big fan of Roger before he was a rival and a friend. It's always emotional playing against your idol, shows how much you achieved.

Also, remembered the time where Rafa was sobbing his eyes out during Roger's last match? Maybe there was a connection to those emotions when Rafa was saying those words, maybe not. Again. We'll never know. So, be a little more open-minded about stuff and don't just simplify it to Rafa just being rude. It's not like he's mocking Novak.

“Novak has always respected Rafa, and goes to great lengths to call him his 'biggest rival'. ”

well, who else can he say? It's not really great lengths to be honest. Only had to choose either Roger or Rafa to be his ‘biggest rival’. But, in every trio there's a duo, some say. And sure it's a Big 3, but Novak vs Rafa had always been more well known and intense than a Novak vs Roger. It's clear for Novak on who to say is his biggest rival. But for Rafa, it's different, for Rafa he has Roger already. If Rafa were to say his biggest rival is Novak instead of Roger? It's better to say nothing at all because we all know Rafa is closest with Roger than he is with Novak. Despite their age being closer than with Roger. Rafa debuted early, and he had more time to be with Roger and create a bond with him before Novak even appeared on the bigger picture.

‘Was Rafa's famous humility just some front for the media? How does someone so stubborn undergo a total personality shift in such a short space of time?’

this one I don't really understand so I won't say anything about it. (Like, elaborate on the stubborn cause I don't get it..if u want to ofc)

‘Rafa used to congratulate Novak for big achievements, not anymore. Novak won the US Open this year - nothing. Set 400 weeks as Number One - silence. Finished 2023 as number one for the record extending eighth time - also nothing. And won his record seventh ATP Finals title - crickets. Not even a simple congrats tweet since Roland Garros.’

Correct me if I'm wrong but I think he did congratulate Novak on at least one of those?? Or maybe that was Roger's..but still, what change does that even do? Should Rafa congratulate Novak for the rest of his life? Maybe they had some sort of fall out, of Rafa had his own personal reasons. Or maybe what Novak fans said about him is right that he's being spiteful or whatever. Again, how would we know? You can't just hate on someone just because he's not doing what the fans want. Rafa's an adult, he knows what he's doing. Him congratulating Novak or not shouldn't be a big deal. If Novak wants to congratulate every single player in the world then go ahead, if he doesn't, go ahead as well. Mind you, Rafa was busy with his post-surgery and training and trying to get back on track. If he did congratulate Novak that would be a very nice sight to see, but he should do what he wants to. That's what he had always been doing.

‘But I also find it tasteless for Rafa to then wear green and yellow - Australia's national colours - to Roland Garros in 2022, waving his victory in Novak's face. ’

Okay so I think your dislike for Rafa is just making you think negatively about whatever he did. It's NOT a big deal, it's just colours!!! You're just trying to create drama with this bro. It's just colours, plus, his kit was made my his sponsors...ofc he had a say in this as well but you can't just create a whole drama and a reason to find it 'tasteless' just because he's wearing green and yellow. What do you mean waving it in front of Novak bro...it's not like Novak's always on his mind every single time. Maybe he's just trying to celebrate AO and his grand slam. Not everything is about Novak smh. This is so funny 😭😭

I don't understand the thing you said before this so, I'm ignoring that. (sorry mate English isn't my first language)

‘So, my question is this: Which Rafa is the real one? The shy, humble, simple man from Manacor? Or whatever the hell he's being right now? ’

uh he's the same person. full stop. Don't try to make it sound like a telenovela with Rafa having a whole facade and mask or whatever, he's being who he is. A person can have multiple feelings and personalities depending on the situation. Trust me, Rafa is still Rafa.

Sorry if you don't understand some stuff, like I said, English isn't a first language for me. And I also have some trouble understanding what you were saying so I hope I didn't go out of topic. This is in no way of trying to mock u or whatever, I'm just stating my opinion on this. Just like how you stated your own opinion. ❤️

Riddle Me This, please...

What the ever loving hell has happened to Rafa Nadal lately? When did he become so... bitter towards Novak? When did he go from being amicable and ready to praise Novak, to always having to make snide comments about him? What does Rafa have to possibly gain from this?

I've been watching tennis since Wimbledon 2019, my first match being the epic men's final of that year. And, as far as I understood things, the big three are far from besties with each other, but always hold a deep respect for each other. So, like, what's changed for Rafa? Why was Rafa so willing to train with Novak only a few short years ago, and now barely has anything good to say about him? Roger, who has had his (albeit valid at the time) criticisms of Novak over the years, but has since accepted Novak as the runaway Greatest Of All Time. And, Novak for his part, has always been respectful of Roger and his legacy.

I don't know, it seems to me like Rafa was fine to be nice to Novak while he was ahead, but now he's behind, the mask has slipped. Like, as soon as Novak pulled ahead with Masters, Slams, and YE#1, Rafa has just been needlessly rude about it. Calling Novak 'obsessed with records' (as if he's not resorted to underhanded tactics to win himself), said 'tennis is about emotions' (yeah? since when? how does one quantify that?). I just don't understand why Rafa can't at least pretend to be nice to Novak, they used to be quite close, didn't they? Novak has always respected Rafa, and goes to great lengths to call him his 'biggest rival'. Was Rafa's famous humility just some front for the media? How does someone so stubborn undergo a total personality shift in such a short space of time? Rafa used to congratulate Novak for big achievements, not anymore. Novak won the US Open this year - nothing. Set 400 weeks as Number One - silence. Finished 2023 as number one for the record extending eighth time - also nothing. And won his record seventh ATP Finals title - crickets. Not even a simple congrats tweet since Roland Garros.

I disagree with Novak's stance on not getting himself vaccinated, but I also find it tasteless for Rafa to then wear green and yellow - Australia's national colours - to Roland Garros in 2022, waving his victory in Novak's face.

We all know Novak is a proud man, but he'd never say or do the things to Rafa that Rafa has said or done to him. And, even with all the snide comments, Novak refuses to bite back, letting his legacy do the talking. With every important clay record, his Golden Slam, and the rest, why can't Rafa do the same? Roger's letting his own legacy speak for him, even if most of his important records are being eclipsed by Novak.

So, my question is this: Which Rafa is the real one? The shy, humble, simple man from Manacor? Or whatever the hell he's being right now?

And, don't tell me this is a translation problem, I've taken languages in school, and these people who translate his Spanish interviews into English aren't just making shit up - they'd get fired from their publications for that. He is saying some nasty shit in Spanish that sounds just as nasty in English.

[thatbritishactor]

Adventures in Success (part 7)

Adventures in Success (part 7)

Pairing : Ben Barnes x Reader

Warnings : None, this chapter’s FLUFFY AF.

Summary: Ben’s agent is retiring and the firm wants you to represent him. It’s going to be hard for you not to mix work with feelings.

Words: 3,000

Type: Slow Burn, Fluff

Part 1   Part 2     Part 3     Part 4    Part 5   Part 6   Part 8

gif by bnbrns

My masterlist

3 months later

Ben’s been back in LA for a few days when he receives a text from you. Ever since your text exchange while you were drunk, the two of you resumed on your usual banter, leaving the unfamiliar politeness behind, much to his relief. It feels like the emotional wall you’ve put up between you and him progressively came crawling down with every text exchange. You are scheduled to meet for dinner tonight, and he can’t wait to see you.

He’s surprised you haven’t contacted him as he received the best news he’s ever gotten in his entire career. He’s been nominated for the Volpi Cup, the award for best actor in the Venice Film Festival, for the Bong Joon Ho movie. When he got the news from the film crew, he almost cried tears of joy. He was incredibly proud, but most importantly, he knew you’d have to drop his contract, as you had agreed. He wondered how you felt about his nomination, and why you hadn’t contacted him right away. Had you found someone else? If so, was it serious? His heart jumped in his chest when he saw your name illuminating his screen. He opened your message eagerly.

You: Hi Ben, I know we were supposed to meet today for dinner, but I got the flu and i’ve been stuck home for the last two days. I’m still feverish and I can’t make it out I’m so sorry… :(

So, that was why you hadn’t contacted him. Selfishly, he preferred to know that you were stuck home with the flu than in the arms of another guy. He writes back to you:

Ben: I can come over and bring some soup, herbal tea and flu medicine :)

You: absolutely not Ben, I’d never forgive myself if you got the flu because of me.

He raises his eyebrows as he reads your message. He won’t let you get away with this.

Ben: I’m immune to the flu :) plus I have some verrry important news and I NEED to see you.

You: I cant let you see me this way :( I haven’t showered in two days and I look like shit.

Ben: I don’t care. I’m coming.

You: Fine, you’re the f***** worst.

Ben: see you in an hour :)

Ben can’t stop smiling as he gets in his car to go to the grocery store, he’s so gleeful he could break into a song and start dancing in the street.

* * * * * * * * *

He knocks on your door, familiar with your place as he’s already been here a few times, for movie nights mostly. He’s even slept on your convertible couch after some nights where the two of you drank too much. You open slightly the door and he catches a glimpse of your face.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you came” you sigh as you turn over and leave the door open. He laughs loudly.

“That’s no way to greet me after a six months separation” he protests.

He smiles widely when he notices that you’re wearing a blanket around your shoulders, sweat pants and fuzzy socks. You’re walking awkwardly around your living room, looking exhausted. Your hair his wet so you’ve definitely taken a shower before he arrived. You look pale, your nose is red, you have dark circles under your eyes. You definitely look sick, but still cute, he thinks to himself. He sets the grocery bag on the table while you sit on your couch, staring at nothing.

“So, I took some chicken soup” he announces “some herbal tea, honey for your throat, your favorite ice cream and some ibuprofen”. He looks back at you, you’re wiping your nose with a tissue. You look so precious, he wants to hold you close and kiss you. He resists the urge and sets the items on your living room table, before making a trip to your kitchen to set the ice cream in the freezer.

“Thank you, Ben, that’s so kind of you” you reply weakly when he enters the living room. “I think my temperature’s rising again, I don’t feel too good” you add in a weak voice. He comes to sit next to you on the couch and presses a hand to your forehead. It’s clammy and hot, you’re burning up.

“Yep, feels like you’re having a fever” he states “I’ll get you some ibuprofen” he says, getting back up and heading to your kitchen to get a glass of water. He comes back a few seconds later and you’re lying on your side, your legs pressed to your chest, softly whining.

“It’s okay, I’m here” he says in a smooth voice. He crouches next to you and hands you the pill and the glass of water. You stare at him with glassy eyes.

“I can’t believe you came” you say, repeating the first words you’ve uttered to him when he got here.

“I told you, I have some important news to tell you” he says, smiling.

“But you’re seeing me like this” you whine, gesturing towards yourself. “I look like a monster” you say, closing your eyes.

“That’s not true, you look sick” he protests “You still look pretty and cute, don’t worry”, he adds with a grin. You hide your face in a cushion, not replying.

“Come on, take the pill” he says patiently. You open your eyes again and slowly sit.

“Thank you” you whisper, your hands trembling a bit.

“Do you want to eat something?” he asks, concerned.

You nod to say no “I’m not hungry” you say, wincing.

“When’s the last time you ate?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You look away, thinking, scrunching your nose a bit. God you’re cute, he thinks, having to resist the urge to kiss you again.

“I don’t really remember” you reply “The fever’s making the last few days blurry” you add, scrubbing your eyes.

“I’m gonna get you some soup” he says, and he goes to the kitchen to get you a spoon.  He puts the kettle on to make you some tea as well, because he wouldn’t be a true British person of he didn’t.

“It’s still warm” he says, coming back in the living room. You nod as you patiently wait for him to bring you the soup, and sigh when he gives you the warm bowl.

“So, what’s the big news?” you ask.

“It can wait.” Ben answers, rubbing your arm to warm you up, seeing you shivering.

“But you came for that” you protest, drinking your soup.

“I came to see you” he replies, smiling softly.

You nod your head, closing your eyes “This is so good” you say.

“I’m glad you like it” he replies, getting comfortable on the couch. “Do you want to watch something?” he asks, gesturing towards your TV. “A comforting movie, perhaps?”

You look at him, smiling softly “Yeah, I could watch something” you say “I’ve spent the last two days in bed” you add.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, looking intently at you. Even when you’re sick, you still have the same effect on him. His chest feels a bit tight and he desperately wants to touch you. You think for a few seconds before smiling slowly, your eyes looking heavy. You look so tired and weak, it breaks his heart “Princess Bride” you reply, looking content.

He laughs “Princess Bride it is!” he replies as he turns the TV on. He goes back to the kitchen to fetch you your tea, adding a generous amount of honey to soothe your throat. He comes back in the room and you’re standing next to the sofa.

“Could you unfold the couch?” you ask weakly, looking up at him. “I want to fall asleep in front of the film” you add.

He has the resist the urge to cup your face with both of his hands and kiss you. “Of course” he replies, happy to feel useful to you. He expertly unfolds the sofa, and you climb on it right away, still wrapped in your blanket. He lies down next to you and launches the movie. He feels genuinely content in this moment, thinking that there’s no place where he’d rather be, because he’s with you. He thinks to himself that he simply needs your company to feel whole and happy, and he realizes, for the hundredth time, how serious his feelings are for you. He glances at you and sees that you’re shivering.

“Are you alright?” he asks, concerned.

“I’m so cold” you reply, hugging yourself.

“I’ll get another blanket” he replies, and you reach for his arm before he gets up.

“Can you hold me?” you ask, looking at him. His heart explodes with joy in his chest and he tries to control his facial expression.

“Of course” he replies softly with an even voice, and he’s impressed with himself. He slides closer to you on the sofa and opens his arms, and you snuggle against him, sighing, seeming satisfied.

“You smell so good” you say after a few seconds.

He laughs. Why do you need to be in an altered state to say these things to him? Drunk or feverish? What stops you from saying how you feel? Why do you have to control yourself this much? he thinks bitterly.

“Thank you” he replies, his heart beating fast in his chest.

“Why do you have to be so perfect?” you ask, your eyes closed. You seem like you’re slowly falling asleep.

“What do you mean?” he asks, still half laughing.

“You’re smart, kind, funny, unbearably handsome.” you reply, yawning, before snuggling your face against his chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself” he replies softly, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m not good enough for you” you reply, and your eyes are closed, your expression relaxed.

“What? That’s nonsense” he replies, frowning and aghast.

“Hmmmm...” you reply, your head falling a bit, and he understands that you’ve fallen asleep now. He looks back at the TV, distracted. Is that why you won’t date him? Using the excuse of being his agent? Because you’re insecure? He frowns as he ponders on this, still holding you against him. Your breathing is even and your face relaxed, and he feels happy and privileged to see you this way, unguarded and natural. He falls asleep before the movie ends, sill suffering from jet lag.

* * * * * * * * * *

You open your eyes, waking from the fever dream you were just having. You feel sweaty and cold, coming down from your fever. You look around you and find Ben lying next to you, asleep. You stare at his beautiful face for a few seconds, lit by the glowing screen of the TV. You usually can’t stare at him as much as you want to, so you indulge fully. You look at his eyes, his long lashes, the beauty spot you love so much. His nose, his mouth, his beard. His cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips. You heart aches in your chest, you find him so beautiful it almost makes you want to weep.

You close your eyes and sigh deeply, and decide to get up and take a shower to clean the sweat off yourself. You get up slowly, in order not to wake him up, and head to your bedroom. You set out a clean set of pajamas (the good fancy ones, because Ben’s here after all, and you’ll definitely look better in them than in your old sweat pants) and hop in the shower, happy to feel the warmth of the water on your skin. You close your eyes and try to focus to analyze the situation. It’s hard because you’re still feverish, and you feel groggy.

He’s here, you think to yourself, in awe. He came, only to take care of you. You shake your head as you realize how much he must care about you to have come all the way here. He could be anywhere, with anyone, and yet he decided to come to you. You nod your head as you take in the realization and try to calm your nerves. Once you’re done cleaning yourself, you step out of the shower, fold yourself into a towel and go brush your teeth, wanting to feel clean and fresh. You stare at your own reflection, unimpressed. What does he see in you? You simply don’t understand. He could have any woman, any beautiful actress in the industry, any gorgeous model, why does he waste his time with you? You shake your head, unable to comprehend what he sees in you. You step into your bedroom, put on a clean set of underwear before putting on your Pjs.

You tip toe in the living room again and turn off the TV screen. Ben shuffles in his sleep, sighing, and you lie down next to him. You could go back to your bed, but you can’t resist being so close to him. You’ve missed him so much these last few months, and your feelings for him are so strong. You reach for his hand and grab it softly, wanting to have a physical contact with him. He wakes up at the contact and your heart drops in your chest. He opens lazily his eyes, and they seem completely black in the dark.

“Hey” he whispers, smiling softly. “Feeling better?”

“A bit” you sigh back, your chest feeling horribly tight. You could kiss him, right here, right now. Nothing can stop you, except yourself.

“C’me here” he says, and he opens his arms. You don’t hesitate for a second, turning your back on him and snuggling close to him. He spoons you, holding you close, his arms around you. You close your eyes, thinking you’ve never been this happy before, and quickly fall asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

You wake up to the smell of pancakes and sigh happily. You stretch on the couch and slowly open your eyes, trying to assess how you feel. You’re still a bit sore and your throat hurts, but you don’t feel feverish anymore. You look around you and Ben’s woken up, probably in the kitchen judging by the sounds coming from it. You quickly get up, panicked, and run to your bathroom. You assess the mess as you stare at yourself in the mirror, and decide to brush your teeth first. You brush your hair, put fresh water on your face and breathe evenly to calm yourself. You’re not thrilled by the way you look, but at least you look a little more human. You tip toe to the kitchen and you hear Ben singing, bringing a bright smile to your face.

You enter and he’s cooking pancakes, and you think to yourself that the man has no mercy for you. First, coming to take care of you while you’re sick, secondly, making you pancakes in the morning. How is he even real? You ask yourself. He spots you and stops singing:

“Morning sunshine, how are you feeling?” he asks, grinning.

“A little better, thank you”, you reply as you take a sit on the counter.

“Ahhh, finally some good news”, he says, grinning. How does he look so good? You ask yourself. The man’s slept in his clothes, hasn’t taken a shower yet and he looks like the most beautiful person in the world. You grind your teeth, annoyed by him.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask, blushing.

“Never better” he winks, and you blush even more.

“So, what about these big news you wanted to tell me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He slides a plate with pancakes and a cup of tea towards you, and you grab it eagerly.

“Well, I guess you haven’t heard since you were stuck in here with a fever” he starts, and he looks intently at you. “I’ve been nominated for best actor at the Venice Film Festival” he announces.

You choke on your tea and slide off the counter “Oh my God, Ben!!” you yell, and you jump at his neck to hug him, screaming with joy. He laughs as he catches you, and the two of you stand here for a while, hugging. Your breathing slows a bit and you step back “Congratulations” you say, looking up at his face, and the expression on his face makes you weak in the knees. There is tenderness, and a hunger, a want that makes you quiver.

“Thank you” he replies “I’d never had gotten there without you” he says as he puts a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You blush and turn over to grab your tea, before facing him again.

“I have something to ask you” he says, “a favor”.

“Anything, Ben” you say, smiling.

“By my guest at the film festival” he asks. “Come with me, please.”

You stop smiling and you feel sudden dread.

“Ben, I could neve-”

“I don’t want anyone else but you” he cuts you off “by my side, on this day. Please” he begs, and you get lost in his charcoal eyes, unable to resist him.

“Fine”, you sigh, and he grins widely.

“Thank you” he replies “I’ll send you the details” he winks, quoting back to you one of your favorite expressions. You blush again, feeling self conscious.

“I have to go” he says, “I’ll talk to you soon?” he adds, seeming hopeful.

“All right” you reply, still feeling weak in the knees. He steps closer to you, and he gently cups your face with both hands, before placing a light kiss on your forehead. He releases you and grabs his jacket. “Have a nice day” he says, winking, before leaving the kitchen.

You stare into the void as you hear your front door slamming, unable to process what just happened.

Part 8

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[a03bkdk]

no quirks bkdk fic rec list (p 2)

thirsty gay wingman fic by lalazee

((smut-14130-1/1))

Oct 11, 2019 "Thinkin abt besties-since-birth BkDk goin to college together, Dk begrudgingly bein Bkg's wingman w/chicks & lamenting his big gay crush. One nite, Bkg cant get laid, hes drunk in a shitty mood, so Dk propositions him, which turns into the best night ever & the WORST consequences."

My tweet got 366 likes & 66 reblogs, so that was more than enough reason to write about it.

romeo and romeo by supercrunch

((10473-1/1))

There’s a nasally howl from the neighbour’s place. Izuku looks up – it’s the very loud, very blond guy living in the unit opposite. They’re technically in separate blocks but their balconies are close enough they can see into each other’s living rooms. He’s dancing around in his pyjamas. Yodelling at the top of his lungs off-key, swinging his Pomeranian around by the armpits like a furry ragdoll. “You’re a dog! You’re a fluffy little yellow dog and you’re a pain in the ass but you’re still my favourite shit-stain, yeah!”

Izuku bursts out laughing. The neighbour’s head whips around. He yelps when he sees him, tossing the dog on the couch and scrambling out of view to hide in the hall.

Izuku drops the watering can and runs back inside to find his phone.Small Might: Guys. I've decided i have a crush on my neighbour.

(quarantine baking: a balcony romance)

mechanical bull by warschach

((smut-27573-1/1))

Katsuki has a track record of bad choices, it's a condition, but Izuku might be the one choice that's right.

battle of the bands by roadtripwithlucifer

((smut-168158-26/26))

'The rules are simple. Battle of the Bands. Local bands send in a single track to the radio station, and ten tracks are selected. Over the coming month, the songs play on the station and listeners vote on the top five. The top 5 play a live concert as part of a music festival, then the top 3 at a larger, indoor venue. The top two have the honor of opening on the first stop of All Might’s retirement tour – here. In Izuku’s home town. And finally, the winner gets the ultimate prize. Getting to spend the rest of the tour, forty cities, across the country as All Might’s opener. Three months. Same tour bus. Shoulder to shoulder with the greatest musicians the world has ever known.'Izuku Midoriya is a broke college student presented with the opportunity of a lifetime. But winning isn't gonna be easy, especially when one band's aggressive blonde frontman seems to be dead-set on making Izuku's life a living hell.

oh my god! they were roomates! by phatye

((smut-79108-57/57))

“Don’t go through my shit, and if there’s a tie on the door, then fuck off!” Katsuki growled. “...what?” he asked. Katsuki glared at him. “This is fucking college, and I plan on getting laid a lot! I don’t need some nerd cockblocking me! And what is with all the fucking toys here!” Katsuki had moved over to his shelves. “Are you a fucking child or something?!” This was not what he was expecting.

shades of blue by young_crone

((smut-22525-1/1))

Echoes filtered down the white hall as he descended the stairs toward the locker rooms, reverberating from the pool. A whistle, the sound of breaking water. He swiped the towel over his face, paused. The sliver of cerulean catching the sinking sun pouring through the skylights, the red and white lane buoys, the burn of chlorine.Izuku ran a hand through his curls, snagging on a knot. The clock on the wall reminded him how late it was. A minute wouldn't hurt. He worried his lip. Just a glimpse.

k-9 by warschach

((smut- 18304-1/1))

Izuku takes in a stray on one rainy night, except it's not a dog, it's a dog shifter who goes by the name, Katsuki. After the initial wave of panic and embarrassment, Izuku thinks his new pet/roommate is pretty cute.

sucker punch by warschach

((smut-41551-1/1))

But, whatever, Disney Boy over there was—

Prettying up real damn good that Katsuki got kind of distracted—totally understandable, like god those CGI pine eyes—and didn’t see the straight path he made for the metal trash bin in the center of the area until he was tipping forward and waist deep in discarded bottles, plates, balled up tissues sticky with he prayed was chocolate ice cream and nacho cheese.

Mina howled behind the gate. “Look, Katsuki returned to his home.”

(or Katsuki works security at Six Flags and moonlights as a derby dude and continuously looks uncool around Izuku)

may I take your order, dipshit? by supercrunch

((6373-1/1))

So, like, maybe Bakugou wasn’t really the best choice for this whole pizza delivery shindig.

(Midoriya in love, Bakugou in denial, and way, way too much cheese.

A BakuDeku romance in thirty minutes or less. )

raise me so high (your sins become my pedestal) by stardust_painter

((smut-10804-2/2))

After his boyfriend cheats on him, Izuku wants to do something stupid. The question is how stupid does he want to be.

The answer is very stupid apparently.

eye for an eye or whatever by tobiyos

((smut-4049-1/1))

“I’ll make it up to you!” Izuku says brightly, lifting his head from Katsuki’s lap.

Katsuki’s eyes narrow but he isn’t still pushing Izuku away so. Progress. “Fuck are you gonna do to make it up to me?”

“Hmm…” Izuku says quietly, tapping at his chin. “Oh! You’re still a virgin, right?”

Katsuki chokes on his own spit and promptly renews his efforts of pushing Izuku away by the forehead. “Fuck off,” he wheezes, “get out of my room.”

leap of faith by ladyofsnails

((28771-4/4))

Midoriya Izuku is just a random kid who loves art, analyzes everything, and is obsessed with the (in)famous hero Mighty Spider. He's got a loving mother, a great uncle, and maybe not too many friends that aren't those two but he's working on it.

And then a random cute boy shows up at his school, a spider bites him, he meets his hero under the worst possible conditions, and it all goes to hell. Now he's got villains on his tail, a promise to keep to a dead guy, and a washed-up hobo as his mentor.

Here goes nothing.

green is the warmest color by gloriousporpoise

((smut-12287-2/2))

“Woah, someone call the fire department,” Eijirou says, elbowing Katsuki squarely in the ribs. “That guy is smokin.’”

“I literally hate you.”

Here’s the thing, though. Eijirou’s a certified dumbass, but his current observation isn’t even a little bit wrong, much to Katsuki’s displeasure.

“Think you can get his number?”

Or, Bakugou is a painter without a muse.

you and i collide by ethereals

((smut-20442-9/9))

And not that Bakugou’s the type to sexualize a potentially dead body; especially one that he just accidentally murdered, but the man has some pretty solid DSL’s. He would hit it, with more than just his car.

OR

in which rich fratboy! bakugou is a badass who accidentally hits poor med student!izuku with his car and chaos ensues therefore.

97.6 FM by jamjars

((smut-32249-3/3))

Izuku can’t stop listening to the radio host with the deep voice who sounds like he’s stuck in 2010. It’s a harmless crush. That is until he starts calling into the show under the pseudonym Deku.

Or Radio Host! Baugou x Listener! Midoriya

give me that sweet love by xsxuxgxax

((smut-32768-9/9))

Things Katsuki needs to excel at: be hot, be clever and pretend to be nice, let Izuku kiss him publicly, let Izuku fuck him privately…

(sugar baby katsuki and sugar daddy izuku pretty much)

dance with me by astralchaos

((30161-10/10))

Mina pulled up a video of a young man, seemingly teen, dancing to a popular new hit, and Izuku felt his heart drop to his stomach. His skin prickled and felt clammy as he started sweating nervously, not daring to move or make a noise. His eyes were glued to the screen but he didn’t see anything – his brain was too busy going into overdrive and freaking out.

Because Mina was showing him a video of himself. The one he uploaded last night.

How on Earth did she find this? He had barely a few thousand views, he wasn’t popular, and it’s not like he was even any good, especially compared to her or Kacchan–

“That move was sexy as hell,” Kacchan said, and that was when Izuku realized that his childhood friend – his longtime crush – also leaned in to watch the video Mina was showing him.

puppies puppies by Esselle

((15491-2/2))

"So after doing all that," Katsuki says, "you're just going to settle here? Tatting up wannabe bad boys?"

"You think all guys who have a lot of tattoos are wannabes?" Midoriya asks, so smoothly that it throws Katsuki.

"Wh—no, I mean—maybe!" Katsuki says. "You'd know best, wouldn't you? Are you a bad boy?"

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes it, and he regrets them immediately. There's a figurative list of things that one should never do, and probably high up on it is asking dark-haired sailors with ocean green eyes and black swirls of ink all across their barely concealed muscles if they are bad boys.

--

Katsuki thinks he has everything he needs in life: a successful pet shop, an occasionally reliable assistant, and the unconditional love of the twenty puppies he’s raising for adoption. But when the tattoo parlor next door hires Midoriya Izuku, a hot sailor with an affinity for dogs, it makes Katsuki wonder if he might need something more.

Like… a piece of that ass. Maybe. He’s figuring it the hell out as he goes.

im gonna make a part 3 later ergaegrggjnjuvuh

[coraskeeper]

 ⤑ 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘴/𝘰

⤑ ft: shinsou, tamaki, kirishima, denki, fem!r

⤑ warnings: facesitting, unprotected seggs (don’t try this at home), choking, oral(m&f receiving), dumbification, slight femdom themes (only for tamaki), mastrubation, crying, use of the word cock bc it makes me giggle

⤑ file type: scenarios, smut

⤑ wc: 2.3k

⤑ an: def wanna write a whole shinsou smut now :’)

⤑ last edited: 1.25.21

⤑ 𝘦𝘪𝘫𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘢

his obsession with his best friends girlfriend started out innocent 

he wouldn’t say he was in love with you, more like a kiddie crush 

just wanting to be around you and that heart warming presence of yours all it took was for you to simply ask him how he was or, what he wanted to do saying that his opinion mattered just as much as anyone else 

it might’ve been then he fell for you, your interest in him was genuine, not many people cared much for his input on anything really 

not that he minded- it just felt nice, to know that someone had what he would think in mind

he liked you and if he ever got the chance he’d give you the world, but your world was bakugo and he respected that

but all it took was walking in on you and bakugo getting hot and heavy for his thoughts of you to become way less than innocent 

bakugos large hands splayed across your bare ass cheeks as he helped you move up and down along his shaft

your chest pressed into his as you released the most heavenly moans he’d even heard in his life 

your wavering whines telling his friend how you couldn’t take anymore but your hips still hopelessly bucking against his

now anytime the poor boy seen you his face flushed red and he’d cut your conversations short out of the guilt of have seen you naked without your knowledge

he felt bad that just the sound of your voice made him so hard it hurt and he’d have no other choice but to relieve himself 

thinking of you large hand palming himself through his boxers 

his head falling back in relief in his mind you tasted so sweet, he’d always wondered what you tasted like, or what you’d look like sitting on his face begging for him. he just knew you’d look ethereal.

his gripped your hips hard, helping you move your sopping cunt along his mouth, one of your hands threading themselves through his bright red locks giving them a tug.

tears falling from your eyes as you whine asking him to let you breathe just for a second, yet your body betrayed you, your hips rutting against his mouth with the little energy you had left, “ please kiri, i can’t “

his eyes coming to stare up at you lovingly, his lips releasing your clit, “ ‘cmon sweetheart, i know you’ve got one more left “

ruby eyes staring up at you as he flattened his tongue against your clit again, your face was sinful paired with your pretty moans falling from your lips as your hips rutted down harder against his mouth, body shaking before collapsing with a sweet whine of his name.

his hands rubbing soothing circles against your pelvic bone, “ what a good girl you are “.

knees weak, his muscular back arched off the cold wood of the head board as he cupped himself softly, spurts of hot cum soiling the inside of his boxers, “ i want.. to taste her “

⤑ 𝘵𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘫𝘪

he was actually terrified of you for a while before you became friends

you intimidated him to say the least

you and your boyfriend were very like minded, which would explain your random relationship with mirio

your presence was warm, and you often jumped into things head first and took everything that came your way with nonchalant attitude

though, your temper seemed to be a lot shorter and you were a lot more, uh- assertive for sure

he hadn’t known when it was he fell in love with you but no can say he never tried to prevent it

maybe it was when you’d make sure he got home safe, putting his life before yours on missions and coming to save his ass even when you needed to be saved yourself

or it might’ve been something as trivial as telling a waiter they got his order wrong at a restaurant

he wasn’t sure, but he was in too deep now and he was okay with just being your friend because you and mirio loved each other

he did pretty well at hiding his feelings for a while, 

well-

until he received a butt dial from his dear blond friend

at first there was silence and maybe some ruffling here and there, he’d contemplated hanging up until he heard mirio’s quiet whimpering from the other side of the cellphone

in a flustered haze he continued to listen, hearing your sultry voice loud and clear

low and stern, saying that if mirio wasn’t patient you wouldn’t let him cum at all, the blond boy begging for you and promising that he’d be good

he hadn’t mean to keep thinking about the phone call after that day but he couldn’t help but imagine what it be like underneath you and those attentive hands in the heat of the night

he tried not to touch himself at first- the guilt being too much, but your frequent visits to his dreams were becoming too much to deal with on top of his soiled sheets

so now- tamaki relieves himself of you the only way he knows how

your warm hand wrapped around his throbbing length trailing teasing kisses up his thighs, edging closer and closer to where he needed you, “you can cum again, can’t you tama? “

his lower half was starting to tingle almost painfully, the line between pain and pleasure was blurring, his eyes unfocused and body flushed in sweat, but he was so eager to take all that you were giving him, eager to be a good boy for you.

“ y-your mouth- bunny please “

he felt almost ashamed, yet the twitching of his ear and the lustful voice you used when you spoke was enough to spur him and the swirling heat in his stomach.

he wanted to be grateful and take all that you were offering to give him, anything to please you. anything to make you praise him.

the wetness of your mouth was all too surreal, he could almost feel your warm mouth sucking his cock into your throat, losing control bucking his hips up into your mouth with a whine, “ fuck, yes- ‘s good “

your pretty orbs staring up at him as he let out loud moans, his feet digging themselves into the bed sheets to fuck himself into your mouth at a harsh enough pace to give you a sore throat later.

his free hand slapping over his mouth, shaking body arching off the bed and knees clamping shut as he came with a tired scream of your name under his hand.

hot liquid dripping down his stomach and leaking from the tip of his softening length.licking the head of his already overstimulated cock, “ what a good boy you are, isn’t that right tama? “

his body falling limp with a whimper, “ i.. feel so dirty “

⤑ 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘰𝘴𝘩𝘪 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰

you and his friend midoriya were polar opposites

you were smart mouthed and sarcastic, blunt and insensitive and you were always picking fights with him

though with time, he had begun to grow quite fond with you, a crush maybe

starting to indulge in petty arguments with you and push your buttons more often to see that cute face you made when you were frustrated

just when he came to terms that he developed a bit of attraction to you, you started to plague his mind in more ways than one

in all honesty- he did no more than merely acknowledge your current relationship with his friend

if he wanted you, he'd have you. it was as simple as that

he would never make passes at you simply because he liked you, he was fine with the distance between you both

but he’d figured his friend would have enough sense to know when and where was the right time to get hot and heavy with you

you sat between izuku’s legs, tongue lapping at his glistening cock pitifully, body shaking and tears streaming down your face

the way you could barely speak stunned him- you’d always had something to say

pleading the green haired boy to fuck you, give you some kind of stimulation

shinso watched you both shamelessly, retiring for the night with you and your submissiveness heavy on the brain

after the incident, he’d let you take control of his desires, taking cold showers to relieve himself of the stress you’d cause him from then on

he’d have his hand wrapped around your throat for sure, just barely cutting off your air circulation, hips snapping up into your ass in a pace that had your head spinning and spit dripping from the bottom of your chin.

desperately trying to turn your face away from the mirror in embarrassment, “ look at my pretty slut, drooling for me “, his fingernails digging into your cheeks and holding your head in place so you could watch how your body wreathed in pleasure from him and him alone.

he’d already made you cum with just his cock alone, not giving you time to collect yourself after each orgasm. his strokes deep and harsh, bruising the insides of your walls and his teeth leaving marks all over your neck- you had nowhere to run.

you were powerless and had no other choice but to take him whole, “ ‘nt t-take- no more “. your fingers grasping at the bathroom counter to prevent you from flopping face first into the sink.

“ he cant fuck you like this “, the loud wet smacking against your ass became impossibly louder, “ fucking yourself stupid on my dick- fuuck “

his teeth catching his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin, wet strands of purple hair sticking to his forehead.

thumb pressing down on the tip of his cock edging himself once again trying to control his moans of pure ecstasy at the thought of overstimulating you until you could no longer speak basic english, “ i wanna feel that pretty mouth of hers, too “

⤑ 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘪 𝘬𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪

he knew how wrong it was wrong but, it was his guilty pleasure

you were always so sweet to him, cradling his head to your chest when the others would pick on him and such

all of his friends took a liking to you as seros girlfriend and accepted you into their friend group

you grew especially close to denki, who happened to have a similar personality as you

the inevitable happened- of course, the classic love cliche

 he knew you loved sero and he’d never come between you two but he just couldn’t help himself

once sero had been trying to show him a couple of pictures on his phone, swiping too far 

accidentally showing denki a very vulgar photo of you

tears in your pretty eyes and your hands tied behind your back with your ass wiggling in the air

a godly arch and seros hand in the center of your back taunting him every time the image plagued his brain

the flash of the camera making your gorgeous cunt glisten 

so here he was, late into the night with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and quiet groans heavy in his chest

sweats and boxers pulled down just low enough for his erection to leak precum against his stomach

shutting his eyes and tilting his head back to let his mind run wild, stroking himself slowly

you’d looked so pretty laid out beneath him legs pressed into your chest and tears of pleasure falling out of your eyes. his tongue catching each one before they could trail down and mix with the sheer layer of sweat on your sweet skin.

your pretty whines for him spurred him on, crying and moaning for him to ruin you in anyway he wanted, to take care of you because no one else could do it the way he did. he thought it was so mean of him to make you cry but you looked so angelic to him crying tears of joy all for his cock, all for him.

“ please, kaminari “, your pretty lips swollen as he leaned down to press another kiss to your mouth thrusting himself deeper into your fluttering cunt, “ don’t worry princess- gonna pump you full of cum “

his cock hitting the special spot inside your warmth, filling you up so good you could just scream, he might leave bruise on the back of your knees and an aching pain in your hips from how rough he was fucking into you.

your scorching insides sucking him back in each time, just imagining the pulse of your pussy was driving him crazy, “ look at this pretty pussy taking me so well- gonna take good care of her “

he could almost feel your arousal dripping down his lower abdomen, your hands pulling at his messy blond hair in ecstasy, your lovely voice calling out for him, “ please kami, take good care of me “

“ kami “

“ kami “

his hips jolting up into his hand harshly as he came, cum spilling over his fingertips, releasing a heavy pant wishlist brushing stray strands of his blond hair away from his face, “ fuuck, please “ 

tags:

[failedintsave]

I tried the MTL pairing generator for rarepair month...aaaand it told me to stay in my lane lol. And then it told me to write some Rachel/Roy Cornickleson which I just don't think I'm ready to take on 🙃 So here's some Skwistok set just before Doomstar that I've been fiddling with.

(gets just a little nsfw near the beginning)

Stages

Everyone handles grief differently.

Skwisgaar groaned as muscular arms pushed him against the wall, the reinforced metal door to his room on the submarine banging shut as they cleared the threshold. Hands tangled in his hair, holding him in place while lips and tongue and teeth worked over his neck. He clung desperately to the body pressed against him, fingers twisting in blue cotton material and yanking it upward. The mouth latched onto his throat pulled away as the t-shirt was hauled over his head and Toki's fevered eyes found his before rushing forward again, mashing their lips together with sloppy abandon. He gripped Skwisgaar by the belt, half dragging him as they stumbled their way to his bunk and collapsed. Breathing came in gasps and sighs as Toki's weight pinned him down into the mattress, the pressure both exhilarating and mollifying, an anchor to hold onto as the life he'd known for so many years turned upside down and twisted away in the wind.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of innocence, loss of trust, loss of opportunities. It was all meaningless, really. In his experience, something new always came along to fill the space so why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

Boots thumped to the floor, kicked off in haste. His shirt was peeled away before sturdy hands lifted his hips to free him of his jeans, calloused fingertips gliding back up his thighs and making him shiver. Toki climbed up to kiss him again, hungrily, as if trying to swallow him whole, their teeth knocking against each other. Skwisgaar ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, the hard lines of Toki's shoulders, the raised ridges of overlapping scars on his back, hip bones where they ground down against his own. Heat pooled low in his belly like magma aching to erupt. He wanted this, needed this right now, more than he'd ever needed anything in his life. How long had they danced around this, stealing moments and blaming it later on booze or post-show adrenaline, walking right up to the line and peeking over before backing away again? In the name of preserving band dynamics? A lot of good that had done, they'd still ended up where they are now, Dethklok tipping over the precipice into self-destruction.

Another loss to add to the list.

Toki pulled back, glacier blue eyes raking over Skwisgaar's features with manic light, chestnut locks of hair falling in disarray to frame his face. Skwisgaar reached up and tucked a strand behind his ear and Toki's expression shifted, the wild yearning softened into something gentler, less wolfish. He sat up to kneel between Skwisgaar's legs, hand skimming from his collar bone to his navel and leaving a trail of fire, over the inside of his thigh and dipping beneath, pausing until Skwisgaar breathed his assent, whispered his name.

Fingers tested gingerly, gradually increasing in depth and pressure before he gripped him by the waist and hauled him onto his lap. Skwisgaar canted his hips, lip catching between his teeth at the feel of Toki against him, his pulse hammering in his ears. His head angled back into the pillows and a wordless moan escaped his throat when Toki eased forward, back arching as lightning raced up his spine. Skwisgaar's fingers knotted in the bed sheets as Toki released a shuddering breath over him, rocking into him slowly, building rhythm into a steady push and pull.

Loss of professional boundaries. Definitely not something to be mourned.

The devastating sensation of fullness where they joined drove all coherent thought from Skwisgaar's mind and his eyes rolled back under closed lids, panting nonsense and expletives, begging for release. His toes curled as Toki matched stokes with his hand to the tempo of his thrusts, coaxing him through his climax until tipping over the edge after him with a whining sigh. Call and response, Skwisgaar thought dazedly as his superheated skeleton melted into jelly. When he could open his eyes again, his gaze landed on Toki's face above him, watching him with an openly heartsick expression.

"I… hads to do dat… at least once before dis ams all over." The broken whisper settled over him like a burial shroud.

Skwisgaar shook his head, holding out his arms. "Come heres."

Swallowing thickly, Toki obeyed, winding his arms under Skwisgaar's shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. Skwisgaar shifted to find a comfortable position, their sweat-slick chests sliding against each other as he angled slightly onto one side, hand cradling Toki's skull to keep him near.

"Seem pretties stupids we aments been doing dat dis whole time, honestlies."

Loss of time.

Toki held him tightly and Skwisgaar felt the tremor in his grip. He rubbed his cheek against the crown of the other man's head, humming tunelessly as he waited for him to speak, knowing already the fears plaguing his mind. He'd faced them often enough in his younger days, even if the scenario now was more complicated. It was hard to compare wondering where your next gig, your next meal ticket, might come from to wondering where to go after you'd already stood at the top.

Sniffling preceded the feeling of wetness against his shoulder, Toki mumbling against his skin. "What happens now? Ams we all just gonna says 'fucks you, see ya laters' now dat de band ams done? Even now dat dey tells us we gots to plays music to saves de world?"

Skwisgaar fiddled with a strand of brown hair for a moment before answering. "Well, I don'ts know abouts all dis saves-de-woirld business. But whats I do know ams band break ups. And, euughh, ja dat ams a pretty standords opseratings procedures."

"But does it has to be likes dat? We coulds all stays pals, right?"

"Dat ams...compslickateds." He dropped the lock and let his hand fall to Toki's shoulders. "Somet'ing like dis...people tends to ezpecks yous to euughh, picks sides. It ams messy. And it never warks out, t'ings always comes apart in de end."

Loss of the longest working relationships he'd had in his life.

Toki said nothing, so Skwisgaar continued if only to fill the silence. "But it coulds be worse, you knows? We gots more moneys den god, what's so bad what cants be fixed wif dat?" The statement produced a cold feeling trickling down behind his ribs, like swallowing a heaping spoonful of snow. "Nones of it acktualies matters. Just goes on to da next t'ings."

"I just... don'ts know what to does if dere aments a Dethklok."

"Whatevors you wants! You coulds buy de whole stores of airplane models, or you coulds builds you own splasharoonies water parks. Hell you coulds probablies starts a new bands wif dose guys from dat T'underhorse group."

"No," Toki murmured, face still compressed against Skwisgaar's neck. "I don't wants a new band. Dis was da one."

The possessive satisfaction he felt at those words tied his stomach in guilty knots.

"Ja it ams was a pretty good gigs…"

Toki shifted, laying his head on the pillow next to Skwisgaar's, his forlorn gaze searching his face for answers. Skwisgaar rolled so they were laying face to face, legs still twisted under the sheets.

Not everything was tied up in the feud that caused the band to split. What if it didn't have to be a total loss? Surely there were parts here that could be salvaged.

"Okej...so who says we haves to do anyt'ings at all?"

Toki's brows cinched. "What you means?"

Maybe, just this one thing, he could keep.

Skwisgaar's lips curved with the ghost of a smile. "I's already mades it to de top, ams de fastest guitarist alives...coulds be I shoulds just quits while I gots de title, ja? Retires, takes my ball and goes home wif it."

Toki snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Builds mineself a giant house up in de mountains or somet'ing. Or travels and just fucks off on de resgiduals forever, not worries about a deadlines or demos ever again. Plays guitar just for funs."

He saw his grin mirrored on Toki's face as the other man nodded dreamily.

"Maybe you...comes wif me?" Fluttery nerves tickled behind his sternum. "If you wants to."

Toki's eyes widened. "Wait. Whats?"

Just this. He could be happy with this.

"Y-you means it? You aments just messings with Toki?"

He shook his head. "How long dids we waste before nows? For not'ing. I'm sick ofs waitings. Let's just goes."

A heartbeat passed, and then Toki's mouth was on his again. Less frantic this time, hopeful rather than desperate. He cradled Toki's jaw, taking his time as he returned his affections, deepening the kiss and tracing languid strokes over his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Their limbs wound together in a twisted bramble, bodies drawing tightly together, fitting like puzzle pieces.

A repetitive, discordant riff sounded from the pile of clothes abandoned on the floor and Toki's head jerked away. Flashing an apologetic grin, he rolled away to fish his phone from his pocket, sliding his pants up loosely around his hips.

"Sorries, be rights back!" He whispered, pressing the screen to answer. "Oh hei, Rockso!*

"Hows do you even has signals down here?" Skwisgaar called after him as he stepped into the hall, then flopped back onto the pillows to stare at the ceiling, counting the shiny rivets in the metal plating.

This was doable. Tomorrow they would bury more than just a mentor, they would lay to rest their careers as the biggest metal band in existence. The world at large would mourn their passing, but Skwisgaar wouldn't dwell on what's done and over. Not if he had new prospects to look forward to. Something always came along, and he never looked back.

"I tolds Magnus dat I woulds sit wif hims tomorrow." He heard Toki's muffled voice through the crack he'd left in the door.

A shadow passed over his thoughts at the name, like someone walking across his grave. It was uncomfortable to say the least, to have their former guitarist back in the fringes of their lives. Toki had a habit of finding friendship in questionable places, but where the clown was mostly an annoyance and sometimes a financial drain, his relationship with Magnus left Skwisgaar apprehensive. It didn't ease his mind when Toki insisted the older musician was different now. How could he know? He hadn't lived with the man, hadn't walked on eggshells during every rehearsal or songwriting session, hadn't watched as he plunged a knife into a bandmate.

But Magnus had also saved Toki with his insulin. He'd been there for Toki as a shoulder to lean on when the band had started to fall apart, too preoccupied with their own issues to spare a minute for their youngest member.

So maybe Toki was right. Things change; he'd never expected that a wedge could be driven between Nathan and Pickles far enough to end their friendship in such a catastrophic way, but here they were. And if Magnus still harbored any resentment for the band, their breakup was probably a balm to the old wound of rejection. What else could he wish on them? He was probably loving this.

The door scraped shut and Toki slipped back into the blankets gingerly, as if expecting Skwisgaar to be asleep. When he saw that he was still awake, Toki leaned in with a grin.

"Sorries...now, where was we…?" He murmured, capturing Skwisgaar's lips tenderly. "Oh ja, you was tellings me how we's gonna runs away togedders into de sunsets."

"Pfff. Dat am hardlies what I saids."

More kisses peppered his cheek and jaw. "Dats what I heards."

"Well I always knew yous was tone deafs, I didn'ts realize you ams just all de way hards of hearingks." His arm encircled Toki's back as the brunette nestled in again.

"Tells to me about wheres we gonna goes. Tells me about our house on tops of de mountains."

Skwisgaar snorted. Of the two of them, his was not the more vivid and fanciful imagination. But staring up at the blank canvas that the brushed metal panels of ceiling created, he envisioned a future for them to share. They squabbled playfully over locations and home design styles. They named off outlandish things they would fill their home with, like an even bigger ruby metronome or a trampoline room or an indoor pool shaped like a guitar and filled with champagne. They listed places they'd toured that they wanted to visit again, and locations they hadn't been yet but had always hoped to see.

"Can we gets a cat?" Toki asked suddenly, making Skwisgaar laugh airily.

"If we haves to?" He laughed again as Toki nodded against him. "But I'm not cleaningks up after it, dat ams all you, pal."

"Okei." Toki sighed deeply, settling in more comfortably. "Okei. I feels a lots less scareds now about all dis."

His hand glided up from where it had been resting at Skwisgaar's hip to lay warm over his heartbeat.

"I'll miss Dethklok. A whole lots. But now I t'inks I ams acktualies looking forwards to what comes next."

Still staring at the steel plates above, Skwisgaar grinned at the pictures they'd painted in his mind.

"Ja, me toos."

He covered Toki's hand with his own. However much they stood to lose after tomorrow, his heart felt lighter at what they were about to gain together. There was no reason to dwell on what was gone.

Everyone handles grief differently.

Laying on his bunk, Skwisgaar's eyes roamed the scuffed plate ceiling overhead, lingering on rusted rivets and water stains. The imperfections seemed to move and writhe like crawling insects under the influence of whatever handful of pills Pickles had given him. A half-drained bottle of vodka lay cradled against his chest, the mouth stoppered by his thumb. Fire burned in his belly from the alcohol, but cold fury pulsing through his veins tempered it.

He'd been prepared for Dethklok to end, had even accepted the idea that his career as a guitarist was over, diminished to a hobby. Playing guitar was his lifeblood, his purpose, and he'd been about to let that go. What had he been thinking? How had he gotten so wrapped up in fantasy that throwing away his entire self had seemed like a plausible course of action.

Loss of objectivity. Fortunately it seemed to be temporary.

He took a long pull from the bottle, dribbling a little and not bothering to wipe it away. Stupid Toki, needing to be comforted like a child with make-believe bedtime stories. He couldn't just man up and move on like everyone else, like Skwisgaar had been doing since he was a teen, finding his next audition, his next couch to crash on, his next temporary alliance with subpar musicians to make ends meet. It couldn't have been an easier landing for him either, no concerns about hunger or homelessness or deportation hanging over his head. He was set up for success and still couldn't handle it.

Fucking idiot needed so much attention, so much coddling, he'd even run straight into harm's way to try and make a friend. Of all people, he'd had to choose Magnus, that vindictive bastard. Of course he'd still been carrying a grudge, when had he ever let anything go in the past? And they'd known it.

A pair of divots on the ceiling stared back at him, one dark, one catching the light. Glaring back at him mockingly, winking at his impotent rage.

They'd known. They'd known, they knew, they knew.

Skwisgaar knew. And he'd said nothing.

Then he'd watched again, frozen, as Magnus drove a knife into someone close to him.

Skwisgaar thrashed upright, a strangled roar bursting from his lungs as he flung the bottle at the wall. He kicked at the bedside table bolted to the wall, denting it from below, then spun around to tear the sheets from his bunk and hurl them across the room. This wasn't the trade he'd prepared for, this wasn't the deal he'd made with himself.

His eyes fell on his Explorer propped in the corner. He reached for it, wrapping both hands around the ebony fretboard, holding it like an axe and swinging it against the wall. He bashed it into the floor, the dresser, screaming until his throat was raw and the guitar was cracked into useless chunks of wood and fiberglass connected by twisted strings. He dropped the pieces in a heap, sinking to the ground to lean against the side of his bed, his shoulders heaving with labored panting.

The door of his room scraped open, and in his periphery he saw a figure standing, backlit by the dim red glow in the corridor. Broad-shouldered, straight hair dangling about their head. His heart seized for a moment before the figure spoke, shattering his hallucination.

"What are you doing in here?" Nathan's gravelly voice was cautious.

Skwisgaar didn't turn, eyes still focused on the debris ahead of him. The stainless steel guitar strings seemed to wriggle like worms in grave soil, consuming the corpse of his instrument. He waited until he caught his breath before trying to respond.

"What does it looks like I'm doingks?"

Nathan shifted in the doorway. "Losing your mind."

He chuckled mirthlessly.

Loss of sanity? Maybe.

"You've been locked up in there a while. Maybe you should, you know. Come out here. With the rest of the band."

"Fucks off."

Nathan didn't move. Skwisgaar felt the urge to rage at the other man rise in him, to shout in his face, demand to know why it had taken him so long to patch things over with Pickles, why he let it go so far that he'd upset all of their lives so horrifically. But the feeling passed, his body drained from his previous outburst and from trying to filter a pharmacy's worth of substances through his liver.

"We're gonna find him, you know. Charles has people everywhere looking already."

One shoulder rose and fell in a halfhearted shrug. "Whatevers. Who cares."

They could have been a four-piece. If he really wanted to rage at someone it would be his past self. How different would things be right now if he'd never given that gutter rat a chance after missing his audition time? How much of what they achieved would they have really missed out on? How many rerecording sessions and stupid arguments and publicized blow outs could have been avoided? What would they really have been missing?

He certainly wouldn't mourn the loss of a constant source of annoyance. Of an immature tag-along with a hair trigger temper. Of a loud and boisterous whirlwind of silliness and color and sincerity.

Loss of his shadow. Loss of his muse. Loss of his best friend. Loss of his future. Loss of…

Loss of…

He couldn't breathe.

"Just leaves me alone. Please." He gritted out, proud of the steadiness of his voice as his stomach began to roil and his eyes prickled with tears.

Nathan hesitated. "Should I...close this?"

Skwisgaar nodded and after another moment the steel frame clanged shut. His vision blurred as tears welled and spilled over, his breath returning in short gasping puffs which rolled over into sobs that rattled his frame.

They'd had one day. Not even a day. An evening. Hours.

He wept until he was sick, vomiting clear liquor and not much else onto the floor next to the remnants of his guitar. He wept until his tears were spent and his head throbbed in tandem with his heart, even though he didn't understand how the muscle still carried a beat when the rhythm had been taken away.

Eventually he had nothing left. His face felt swollen, his eyes were gritty. Skwisgaar rolled to his hands and knees, avoiding the puddle of sick as he rocked up onto wobbly legs. He looked at the door, wondering if the others were still awake. If they were sitting in the lounge, drowning their sorrows. He felt like he wore a lead weight around his neck, bowing under the pull of it. It might be better just to sleep.

He turned to the naked mattress, but a scrap of blue on the floor near the foot of the bed caught his attention. A faded cotton t-shirt lay where it had been discarded. Skwisgaar stared at it for several long moments. He stepped closer to the bed, to the shirt.

And kicked it underneath the frame and out of sight before turning for the door.

He'd never given much energy to grief. Life was just a punctuated string of losses in the long run. Loss of purpose. Loss of self. Loss of connection. Loss of…

It was all meaningless, really. So why dwell on mourning what you couldn't have back?

[an-echos-thoughts]

Master post of all my aus so you and I can easily find them. If you want to see more about a specific one feel free to send an ask otherwise I probably will forget about them until a sporadic stroke of inspiration comes along.

#Watchers Three au

Joe hills, Zedaph, and Grian are all Watchers. Each of them are a different type of watcher and through reasons end up acting as rulers of hermitcraft and its previous worlds.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641411763332677632/watchers-what-are-they-are-they-gods-that-rule

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641232081839652864/watcher-grian-has-always-been-a-fun-thing-to

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641414034207506432/three-watchers-reside-on-the-hermitcraft-server

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642762608659906560/non-traditional-sight-keralis-he-doesnt-see-the

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644074168509513728/ok-so-in-the-watchers-three-au-grian-zedaph

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643401758982438912/hey-so-you-know-your-watcher-three-au-and-how

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643938784911720448/watchers-three-au-how-does-zedaph-learn-that

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643489155608920064/so-in-the-watchers-three-au-how-well-known-are

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644222259461013504/i-love-your-watchers-three-au-i-kinda-wanna-know

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643651425691369472/just-gotta-say-i-love-the-watchers-three-au-will

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644758266518405120/so-with-the-watchers-three-au-im-thinking-that

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/645028038801817600/you-know-how-after-the-hermits-are-done-with-a

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641592155150991360/tango-with-hearts-in-his-eyes-zedaph-are-you-an

#Techno Raises Fundy au

Wilbur in grief after Sally died/left gives Fundy to Techno to raise as he has a stable income and he himself is a shapeshifter like Fundy.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641497891918249984/am-i-wrong-to-want-some-techno-and-fundy-soft

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641533081696829440/raising-a-child-was-unsurprisingly-hard-techno

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641930204997189632/the-child-was-clinging-to-him-and-sobbing

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641938466763161600/so-you-know-your-techno-raises-fundy-au-tho-i

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642946900056784896/because-i-cant-stop-thinking-if-angst-anons-ask

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643650062282539008/thinking-ab-in-the-techno-raises-fundy-au-what

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643580405255192576/fundys-first-word-was-tno-techno-didnt

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643838792338489344/fundys-trans-in-the-fundy-raises-techno-au-right

#Two Birds of a Feather au

Grian was chosen by the Watchers to replace their third, who happens to be philza. After ending up in hermitcraft he heals, but ends up meeting philza later who never even knew he existed. A version exists where where TBoaF is the prequel to Bodyswap.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643937541431689216/from-the-beginning-grian-knew-he-was-a-replacement

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644038327351345152/grian-meeting-phil-in-two-birds-of-a-feather-and

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644051215869788160/hi-i-just-read-your-thing-where-grian-is

#The Bodyswap au

Grian and Techno swap bodies. Each has to deal with the other's life and the fallout if their previous actions. Two versions currently exist, the soulmate body swap and the angst oops my powers acted up and now I think I stole your son's body and killed him in the process.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643760575577522176/new-au-grian-ends-up-switching-bodies-with-techno

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643842074989477888/so-the-bodyswap-au-yea-what-if-you-said

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644224321720598528/okay-so-its-time-for-that-angsty-grian-backstory

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644851587803758592/for-some-reason-i-want-to-smush-together-your

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/645484421514919936/some-shenanigans-for-the-body-swap-au-that-could

#Hermit Eret au

Eret becomes a hermit and is adopted by mama Stress. A chill au cause Eret deserves some love and free hermit therapy.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641721013259960321/i-love-dsmp-kiddos-becoming-hermit-kiddos-and

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643585815774150656/for-eret-i-think-they-would-vibe-most-with-stress

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641773341865361408/i-would-love-to-hear-your-thoughts-on-hermit

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644203483730509824/that-is-an-excellent-headcanon-one-that-i-whole

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642130375115767808/hermiteret-brainrot-time-he-is-the-baby-of

#Demi-god Ranboo au

Ranboo ends up in Hermitcraft, the home of runners and exiles, and Xisuma and their fiance Etho ends up adopting them. Angst and the hermits taking care of their new merchants and child.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643219936828964864/hermitcraft-is-the-home-of-exiles-and-runners-you

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643309661409378304/because-the-lovely-taryk-asked-more-of-my

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643403206393741312/while-ranboo-is-safe-in-hermitcraft-for-now-back

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643870134779412480/the-ranboo-awakening-for-my-demi-god-ranboo-au

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643858168654512128/unfortunately-mcc-does-not-exist-in-this-au

#Zedeath's Angel au

Zedaph is Death and adopts little ghostinnit as his new son and future angle of death. Philza panics on the background because he is a workaholic that just got forcefully retired after a couple millennia.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644554480384360448/usually-i-try-and-stay-away-from-creating-a-hermit

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644567784750186496/sorry-for-how-messy-these-thoughts-are-might-clean

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644613020193046528/the-interaction-between-dream-and-zedeath-for-my

#Hermit Mom au

Ghostbur remembers his adventurer mom that promised to always come back to him. Only oneday she left and never came back. Too bad amnesia after death runs in the family and ZombieCleo has no interest in prying into the life of AliveCleo.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642402359505469440/ghostbur-remembers-not-what-he-tells-the-others

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642587045973426176/cleo-doesnt-remember-much-from-before-joe-brought

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642673661150724096/cleo-refrained-from-asking-about-humancleo-she

#Demon Dadpulse au

Impluse was Sapnap's demon dad after his moms died. Sadly both think the other is dead after an unfortunately timed summoning ritual.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644668742050168832/and-just-as-i-say-i-want-to-work-on-one-of-my-aus

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644486533411389440/zit-as-the-recent-conversation-between-me-and-my

#Bdubs Bloodvines au

The vines in the jungle in s5 of hc was an young Egg. Bdubs managed to break free from its control and it could never grow strong. Now Bdubs is trapped in Dsmp and has to survive until he can find away back home or doc gets him back. The hermits better hurry up though, the whispers of the bloody vines are getting louder.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643755843327770624/the-thing-that-swallowed-up-bdubs-could-have-been

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643953040726081536/red-vines-covered-the-earth-where-he-arrived-it

#Cursed Princes au

Greek inspired fundywasfound. Both Fundy and George are princes cursed by the gods. Fundy starts to get jealous when his husband starts too spend too much time around George after he brought him home, his insecurities kick in. I want a happy ending goddammit so it will end with the blind hero, bless by the gods, and his two monster husbands, that was cursed by the gods, living out the cottagecore dream.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643675647742558208/okay-so-greek-mythology-inspired-fundywastaken-and

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643759421168680960/thank-you-so-much-for-all-your-suggestions-and

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643758575823601664/scream-omg-yes-they-are-absolutely-gorgeous-i

#Imortal Friends au

Etho and Phil are best friends and immortals who have very different ways of deal with their immortality.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641953700022222848/etho-is-an-imortal-by-what-means-changes-each

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/645208871673167872/so-time-for-some-imortal-etho-he-is-extremely

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/645304665687359488/imortal-etho-and-philza-being-friends-philza

#Ghost Hunter Techno au

Modernish au where Techno and the dream team plus Skeppy and Badboyhalo investigate haunted places on weekends. Techno can see and interacts with ghosts as his twin, Wilbur is one, but plays the skeptic. He is best friends with Skeppy. Both are dating Bad.

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641929520979509248/hello-i-just-had-the-most-amazing-idea-a-ghost

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/641963444188430336/so-further-on-this-topic-this-takes-place-in-a

Some other potential aus

NPG in DSMP au

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/645933713588404225/a-mishap-occurs-and-friendly-if-a-little-intense

Slow and Unapologetic Redemption au

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/645127074896658432/many-villains-have-slow-and-unapologetic-decents

Gecko Tommy au

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/644701327677669376/gecko-hermitcraft-stan-account

Changeling Fundy au

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/645026563721723904/fundy-as-we-know-him-is-a-changeling-wilburs

Unnamed mumbo adopts ranboo au

Gritho

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642038562938896384/yalls-know-what-ship-is-so-goddammed-cute

Watcher fundy

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642325140438401024/watcher-fundy-fundy-although-not-being-born-a

Hermitcraft is where herobrine goes to retire

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/642493177179389952/hermitcraft-is-were-herobrine-goes-to-retire-the

Insomnia buddies gritho

https://an-echos-thoughts.tumblr.com/post/643127144861564928/alot-of-hermits-find-it-hard-to-sleep-many-would

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

[iisuya-simps]

A Kings Coronation (Royal au – Otoya x Reader)

A/N: I've been trying to write this since his birthday celebration card came out

Klab please let me marry this man ~ I will give him my s o u l

God, I wish this were me...

Enjoy~

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Word count: 2458

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The day of Otoya's 18th birthday. Today he would be crowned king and take over the kingdom. You woke up early and rode all morning from your country to see him. A few hours later you woke to the sun shining in your eyes, seeing how you slept most of the way.

It was crowded when you got there. Guards lined up at every corner. People came far and wide to witness the crowning of a new king. You had to push through the crowd to even get close to the main balcony when a hand touched your shoulder.

“There you are! I finally found you!” You feel someone's arms wrap around your waist. It was him. “Otoya!” You turn and give him a hug, he squeezes you back. “Thanks for coming.”

“How could I miss my best friend's 18th birthday/coronation??” “Haha, this place is totally packed, huh? Just getting over here to you was crazy.” “They're all here for you.” You give a warm smile.

“Congratulations, King Otoya Ittoki.” You curtsy. “Gosh... Hearing you say it all formal like is kinda embarrassing.” He scratches his head. “Well, I'll answer as the birthday king should.” Otoya puts his hands on his hips puffing out his chest. “You have my thanks, dear Y/N.” Then bows. “Maybe that wasn't so regal...” you both laugh.

“Well, today is about to kick into high gear so stick close to me, ok?” “I promise I won't leave your side.”

“Still, I'd find you even if you vanished into thin air. We'll have lots more time to talk if we stick together, plus everyone can know about us right?”

“Know about us?”

“Let's go!” You follow close behind him but find it challenging with all of the people. You hesitate to grab his hand but he takes yours first. You look up and see his bright smile and wink as he guides you through the crowds of people till he sneaks you inside.

“Hey, there's something I'd like to show you.” “Oh?” “Close your eyes.” “Otoya...” You whine. “Come on it's a surprise!”

“Fine.” You close your eyes and he takes your hand guiding you slowly down the hall.

“Don't peek, ok?” “I wouldn't dream of it.” You go down a few halls then Otoya puts his hands over your eyes. “It's just up ahead, so put your trust in me. Keep walking straight.”

Continuing down the corridor you approach some steps and a large door. “There's a small staircase so watch your step.”

“Shouldn't I be the one surprising you?” “Maybe. But it's not often we see each other. Just a few more steps and we're here!” He takes his hands away from your face. “Open your eyes!” Revealed to you is a grand balcony with a gorgeous view of the land. “Ta da!”

“Wow, Otoya!” “Are you surprised?” “This is amazing! I've never been here before.” “This is the prettiest spot in the whole castle, so I had to show you! There's even an awesome view of the ocean!”

You can see every corner of the courtyard. You walk up to the railing and lean forward taking in the sights, Otoya joins you from behind.

“Beautiful isn't it? Wonderful weather, and a beautiful princess.” You giggle. “And a charming prince, soon to be king.”

You both heard a commotion from below. “Uhh, it looks like everyone is looking for me. They won't check here right?” He scratches the back of his head. “Maybe we should go back.” “Nah, it'll only be a few minutes, no harm done. Besides look!” Otoya shuffles in a bag behind his back.

“I brought us some cake for us to eat together!” You cross your arms. “Otoya isn't that for the reception?” “Well yeah but I want to eat it with you now... And it's my birthday so anything goes!” You shake your head and laugh. “Alright then, let's dig in.” “Yay!”

He places the plate on the table to the left of the balcony. “After you, princess.” He pulls out a chair. “How kind of you your majesty.” Grabbing two forks from his bag he sits across from you unwrapping the cake. “Waah, this looks sooo good. Itadakimasu!” You both took a bite savouring the vanilla cake and fluffy buttercream frosting.

“Mmm, I knew it.” “Knew what?” “That this cake is way tastier being here with you than at the party.” “Uh-huh.” “What? You don't feel the same way?” He pouts. “Everything's better with you, Otoya.” “Really? I think so too... With you I mean!” You both gobble down the rest of your cake not saying a word but simply enjoying each other's company.

“Ahh, that hit the spot. Shall we go?” “You have cake on your face silly. You'll look like a fool if you go out like that.” “Hmm? Where is it?” He licks around his lips. “No on your cheek, here.” You laugh stepping closer to wipe the icing with your thumb from his cheek. Sticking it in your mouth you then clapping your hands together.

“That's better.” “T-thanks...” He blushes but quickly recovers. “Well, the party's just getting started.” You place your hands on his shoulders. “Let's make this the best day ever!”

You and Otoya go back down to greet the people outside in the crowd. Staying closely by his side he never let you out of his sight. “Otoya there you are! I swear you have no sense of time. The ceremony is about to begin!” The queen crosses her arms. “Already?” “Yes, now let's go.” “But Y/N...” “I'll be fine.” You smile. He takes both of your hands in his. “I'll come to find you after, ok?” “Alright, now go get your crown.” You wink.

The crowning ceremony was lovely. Otoya took the coronation oath and made a speech. Afterwards, everyone gathered in the main ballroom then the celebration really began. You were wandering around near the edge of the ballroom when you felt a hand pull you around the corner.

“Hey.” “Oh hi.” You smile and fix your eyes on his crown. “So what's next, king?” “Hehe, come with me.” You spend the rest of the day greeting more people, enjoying the food at the banquet and listening to the royal orchestra. When nightfall came Otoya leads you away from the dwindling crowds to his bedroom to retire for the night.

“Wow, that was a blast.” You jump on his bed and sink into the duvet. “We hung out all day huh?” “Yup seems like it.” “Time flies when I'm with you. Oh! And did you hear the band? They were all like bweeh daa daa doooo.” Otoya mimics a violin shaking his head around.

“Ah! My crown is gonna fall!” He juggles it between his hands leaning over and catching it before it hits you. “Gotcha. Whoa!” The carpet slipping from under him he fell on top of you anyway. “S-sorry y/n!” There was a moment you stared into each other's eyes. You blushed a bright red then laughed.

“Cmon... no laughing. I just let my guard down a bit...” he pouts. “You're just a clutz, Otoya.” You scoot off to the other side of the bed. “Am not! I always act like a king should...” “Uh huh. So what does it feel like to be a king anyway?” He places his hand on his chin and ponders.

“It's not much different than being a prince yet I don't think. Though I guess a big responsibility falls on my shoulders now that I am a king. I have a whole kingdom to look out for after all. And you.” “I can look after myself.” “But you don't have to.” Otoya twiddles his thumbs together.

“Anyway... Today is special! After all, you're here with me.” He raises a brow. “Hey, why are you so far away? Didn't you promise not to leave my side? Come sit by me. You're making me lonely...” He pouts again. “Promise you won't fall on me again?” “Not on purpose.” “Haha.” You move closer and the both of you talk about the day's events. Though the whole time, you couldn't help feel butterflies dance in your stomach.

“I had a great time today, Y/N.” “Me too.” “Everything was so wild during the day, but now all I hear is you.” His hand caressing your cheek. You gaze, getting lost in his eyes. “Those lips hold the voice I cherish most.” His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. Leaning forward his lips meet yours as they come together in a sweet kiss. You stay like that for a moment, then part. You turn away embarrassed. “Wait what's wrong? Don't turn away.” He giggles. “You left yourself open for that.” You laugh too.

“Look at me.” He turns your head and your eyes meet once more. “I'm sorry I guess I just wasn't expecting that...” He places both hands on the side of your face slowly pulling you into another kiss. “Were you expecting that?” “Hehe.” You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back. You melt into each other drawing out each kiss for as long as you could. “I don't know, were you expecting that?” You both laugh and he pulls you into his arms.

“Oh, Y/N...” He sighs. “I just want you all to myself.” “So selfish, your majesty.” “Hey, a king's orders are absolute you know. That being said, I order you to stay and talk all night to me.” “I guess I cant disobey direct orders.” “Hehe, no you can't.” You lay back and chat in his arms, steadily getting more sleepy you yawn.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” “I did arrange to stay for a few days.” “Really? He beams then suddenly gets nervous. “W-what is it?” You ask, both looking serious and sit up.

“Y/N, would you stay longer if I asked you to marry me?” Your eyes widened. “O-Otoya I-”

“I know it's sudden, I just can't wait. I want you to be mine.” “Are you sure? There are plenty of other princesses that are dying for your hand in marriage.” “Well of course there are other princesses, but you're the only one I have my eyes on. You're too special not to be my beloved.”

“Otoya...” A happy tear slides down your cheek but he wipes it away and holds your hands. “Hows about I ask you again tomorrow? More formally.” “Okay.”

You're unable to hold back the grin from your face. Marry Otoya? Being his friend is one thing but this is a dream come true.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” You get up and grab your purse shuffling around. “Close your eyes Otoya.” “Ok ok... You take the little box from your purse and open it to place a small wooden triangle in his hand. “You can open your eyes now.” He looks down at his hand to see a small triangular pick. “A pick?” He studies it. “For your guitar!”

“Wha-” reaching under the bed you pull out a brand new redwood guitar. “Wow! For me?! Are you sure?!” “Of course! Otoya takes the guitar running his fingers over the frets and strings. “Happy birthday Otoya.” He sets the guitar down by the nightstand beside him. “Thank you Y/N!” He tackles you to the bed holding you tight.

You spend the rest of the night giddily talking about your goals, dreams and aspirations for the future. Eventually falling asleep next to each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning you wake to a blushing Otoya combing his hand through your hair and your eyes flutter awake.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Otoya presses a kiss to your forehead. “Morning.” You yawn. “Did you sleep well?” “That was the best sleep I've had in a while.” Otoya beams. “Good, are you hungry? Would you like breakfast? I could have the cook bring us something.” “That sounds lovely.”

“I'll be right back!” Otoya rushes off to the kitchen and has a special breakfast made. He returns with the cook serving both of you a buffet.

“Otoya!! We cant eat all this!?!” "That's ok, there's plenty of variety so just pick what you want!” You share a large breakfast together in bed. Otoya insists on feeding you dessert, but after the feast you just had you couldn't possibly take another bite.

After a quick rest, Otoya leads you on a stroll through the garden. It's early spring and the flowers are just starting to bloom. You're walking along when you pull Otoya to a stop.

“Hibiscus!” You wander over to the colorful display of red, yellow, white and pink flowers. “Hibiscus is my favorite flower.” You hold back your hair and take in the sweet almost fruity fragrance. “Y/N.” Otoyas hand takes yours.

“We've known each other since we were kids. As the years have gone by I've realized how special you are to me as a friend and something more. I promise to love and protect you as I will my kingdom. With you by my side, I feel as if I can do anything. I will give you each and every one of these flowers and more.” Otoya kneels down in front of you.

“My heart belongs to you and only you.” You gasp as he opens the velvet box to reveal a dazzling yet subtle ring. “Say you'll be mine, forever and always.”

“Otoya...” You tear up once more. “Yes, of course I'll be yours!” He stood and took the ring out of the box placing it on your finger. You leap to hug him almost knocking him over in the process. This was better than you could ever imagine.

"Otoya, I love you." Your heart pounds as you pull back to look him in the eyes.

"I love you too, Y/N." You share a very heartfelt passionate kiss.

Otoya plucks a flower from one of the branches and tucks it in your hair.

“There, for my beautiful bride to be.” You plant a gentle kiss on his cheek and walk hand in hand back to the castle where you greet the queen.

You feel quite foolish when you realize that it was your parent's plan all along to get you two together, but it worked out so naturally you didn't care. You were getting married to the guy of your dreams, and that was a miracle within itself.

Your wedding was celebrated with your family and civilians from far and wide.

But with Otoya by your side, this truly was a dream come true.

[samwritesforyou]

Booked (pt.2)

Summary: you decided to go grocery shopping since the amount of people in your house significantly grew and diego keeps you company. after that crazy hargreeves family prompts you for a beach trip?

Warnings: gender-neutral reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

A/N: this fic is making me feel things, i cant quite place it. like... whenever i write it i feel weirdly at home?? idk :D feel free to share your thoughts either in tags or comments! its Very appreciated and motivating, actually! have a lovely day! <3

part one can be found here!

“Okay but if we kill them, nobody will have any questions, will they? We just bought a house and they moved somewhere far away!” was the first thing you heard, as you have awakened from your “nap”, deciding to keep your eyes shut just for a moment longer, not to lose it again.

“Five!” seems like everyone else said that in unison, grunting and groaning.

Okay, they don’t want to kill you. That’s great. You think it’s safe to open your eyes now.

You were laying on the king-sized bed upstairs, all siblings huddled up around you, watching intensely.

All the chatter between them came to a stop when they noticed that you woke up.

“So.. you’re like all superheroes or something?” you said tiredly, despite feeling rested.

Your mind still felt fuzzy from that info, hearing about such thing only from the tv series or sci-fi genres.

“Guess so,” Luther piped up, shrugging his massive shoulders and offering you a small smile.

Your eyes slowly drifted towards the kid standing by the frame of the bed, wearing a serious expression.

He sighed and frowned at you.

“To be clear, I’m not a kid and I’m actually older than all of you here. I’m a time traveller and I witnessed more in my life than any of you,” his passive-aggressiveness was directed at you, but by the choice of words it felt like he was talking to everyone who was present in the room, “There’s going to be an apocalypse by the end of the summer and our job is to stop it. We failed once, but we won’t fail twice. We rented this house, thinking it would be a good place where we can practise our powers without anyone interfering with us, so please,” his face turned into an exaggerated, wide smile, “don’t get in our way nor mention it to anybody. Thank you,” and as he finished his angry monologue, the blue colour filled the space around him as he disappeared in the thin air, right in front of your eyes.

Hm. Okay?

Only two seconds passed after that, when another sibling started talking to you.

“And I can talk with the dead!” he said happily, spreading his hands in the air like so monk preaching.

“We have a dead brother who’s named Ben and one day I will definitely let you two meet once I learn how to properly conjure him,” he concluded, very pleased with himself.

“Hi, Ben,” you just said with a warm smile on your face, somewhere into the air next to Klaus.

He literally cooed at your action, coming over to you and giving you a quick hug with a pat on the back.

“Okay, maybe we can reveal all our powers later, but let’s leave (y/n) to rest a bit, alright?” Allison proposed, rushing everyone out of the room and then just sparing you a wave and an apologetic smile, closing the doors and leaving you alone.

Maybe you can get used to all this madness. To this family.

You really rested after that.

A room had a roof-window, so laying on that bed allowed you to look up at the sky and lazy, white clouds that every so often rolled along with the blue background.

Soon enough you heard muffled chatter downstairs, this old house being absolutely the worst in being soundproof.

It all reminded you of simpler times, actually, no matter the crazy circumstances.

But enough was enough, and closer to the middle of the day you managed to get out of the bed and descend to the first floor by the wooden stairs, looking around.

Suddenly it seemed quiet.

You shrugged at that and just made your way towards the door, energetically jumping down the few stairs from the veranda and felt your feet hit the hard tartan surface.

Since it was six (plus one spiritually) more people than you were used to having in your home, you decided it was only logical for you to go and buy more food into the local store.

You almost reached the gate to go outside of your property as you heard some fast steps behind you, catching up to you.

When you turned around, you saw a man with longer hair and almost expression on his face.

“Uh... hey, you’re going somewhere?” he asked, brushing the back of his neck.

“To the market, why?” you asked, tilting your head sideways at him.

“Well.. don’t laugh, but I wanted to jog a little, but got concerned that I might get lost..” the end of his sentence was almost inaudible already as he lowered his voice, “so.. mind keeping me company?”

That kind of surprised you and as you slowly realised the meaning of the said words that came out of his mouth you bit the inside of your right cheek *hard*, just not to laugh.

What a silly guy. Getting lost in this hole?

But sure, why not keep him company.

“Be sure to catch up with me though,” you teased as you basically broke into the run, opening the gate and hopping straight onto your bike and starting pedalling really hard to get as far away from him, finally bursting out laughing at the significant distance.

“What?!” was the only thing you heard from him and then you felt the breeze from the hot summer air caressing your cheeks as you were passing your neighbours in the well-known road.

“You seem happier than usual today, darling!” some granny said to you from her garden and you just waved in reply with a huge grin plastered on your face.

After spending last years of your youth more or less alone, you couldn’t even phantom the thought of people your age living with you for the eternity of one summer.

You could never complain about a life you had here, it was all you ever wanted, but the connection with the people of the similar age to you was really lacking sometimes.

And the absolute joy that was washing over you right now was the witness.

You slowed your pace after some time, pretty soon being followed by jogging Diego, beads of sweat rolling down his muscular hands.

Your gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary and you quickly tore it away from him, a slight blush creeping on your cheeks as you now looked straight ahead of you at the road.

“I’m not the best runner, but also not the worst, hun,” he said between the breaths as you continued your ride/walk and you just smiled.

“Pretty decent, I’d say,” you finally stopped at the market’s “parking lot” where there were two spaces for cars and at least a dozen of handles for bikes.

You put yours into one of them, not even bothering to lock it. Everyone knows each other here and everyone knows you.

A young person in the village mostly consisted of people in retirement.

“Alright, what do we have here,” said Diego as he followed you into the store that reminded him of something out of the 70s, really old school design and brands that he never heard of before.

“Everything is mostly homemade here,” you answered, making your way towards the fridge with cold drinks, opening it and throwing him a cola can, “except these bad boys.”

“Hell yeah,” he smirked and then looked around, but his gaze kind of kept wandering back at you, while you were too busy picking the right type and amount of groceries.

Why would you live here all by your lonesome?

“So..” you finally heard him say, as you checked out and we’re both putting the groceries into the deep basket on your bike, “you seem pretty chill with us being.. abnormal.”

You briefly looked up at him when your fingers accidentally touched between the cans of soda and glasses of milk and then your hand moved the other way, eyes too.

“Well.. who’s to say what’s normal and what’s not in this world, honestly?” you jumped on your seat when you were done with loading and started your ride back.

“I know,” he agreed, jogging way less intensely now as your pace appeared much slower, “but seven siblings all having some weird shit powers is... kind of crazy, don’t you think?”

That made you nod, “Yes, of course. But still, I’m not too baffled about this. What are the odds that a village person like me would even get into a situation like this?” you asked rhetorically, gaze fixed on the rocky-sandy road ahead, “You should accept life as it is! Confusion and denial are a waste of time,” you concluded and extended your left hand as you were driving past an apple tree and managed to rip two fruits at the same time, offering one to Diego - all while still riding a bike.

“I have my superpowers too,” you laughed a little and winked at him, making him flustered as he tried to hide it by biting into his apple.

.

.

“What do we have here?” Klaus welcomed both of you at the entrance to the summer house, topless and in a skirt.

“We just bought some groceries since we’re capable of eating the whole fridge out in a day,” Diego deadpanned as he - despite your protests - unloaded your bike storage and went into the house to put the bags there, his arms showing extra muscle that’s normally hidden when his body is relaxed.

Your stare lingered for longer than necessary and Klaus *definitely* picked upon that.

“Darling, if you want to get Diego, be a bit more straightforward with him. He’s a dum-dum,” with the last word he knocked on his own head with a finger and rolled his eyes, giggling playfully afterwards and smacking you on the shoulder.

You defensively did the same, blushing and looking anywhere but at Diego nor Klaus.

Hmmmm, such interesting trees you’re having at your own garden all of the sudden.

“But hey, we’ve all decided that before we start training for the inevitable doom of us all, we would take a break for at least a few days and just go to the beach. When we were coming up we noticed the sea behind all the forests, like.. four kilometres from here?” he looked at you with question, “Have you ever been to the beaches there? Could you guide us?”

You gave it thought only for a brief second and then nodded with a confident smile.

“Sure! I haven’t been there in a year or two but the beaches are still the same, I bet,” you answered and put your hands on hips in a cool posture.

“Thank god!” he impulsively hugged you and let go that instant, “otherwise Five said he wouldn’t let you go with us,” he pouted and then sighed, making his way towards their rusty turquoise-ish car.

You followed him, his words piquing your interest.

“Why does he hate me so much? And why is his name Five?” you narrowed your eyes, plopping yourself on the front seat and sat sideways so you could look at Klaus while talking to him.

“Well, darling...” he started, animatedly throwing his arms in the air, “Five was always a strict man, especially after he came from the future, where he spent like billion years and now he’s 50 year old and always shoves this fact into our young baby faces,” he clearly complained and with annoyed expression continued, “and he’s Five because my name is “officially” Four, but Five was the only one of us who disappeared from the house before our dad even bothered to give us names instead of numbers,” he finished but then remembered and continued, “Actually, it was our AI robotic mom Grace who gave us names,” now he was finished, from somewhere materialising a bottle in his hand and taking a sip from it.

“Anyways, beach trip, babeyyyy!”

“Huh..” you just blinked a few times at him as you heard a hoard of different voices going your way.

You wanted to get out of the car to let them sit however they wanted - you were the odd one out after all - but then they all hoarded in there so quickly that you couldn’t even react, being left in the front seat.

Driver’s seat next to you was empty for now.

As you looked back, Klaus was sitting right behind you, next to him Vanya and on the other side Diego, looking out the window.

Behind them was supposed to be a storage area but they apparently turned it into some diy seats as well, Luther and Allison sitting there, not minding the small space.

Soon the blue sort-of-teleport appeared next to you at the driver’s place and Five briefly threw his gaze at you, swiftly starting the car.

The whole inside of the vehicle roared and you were on your way towards the beach, with you as a main gps they had.

Lovely taglist: @radcloudenthusiast @spacenerdpascal @white-wolf-buckaroo @a-girl-who-loves-disney  @undead--ghost​

NEXT PART→

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

i beg of you, please feed us your favorite wangxian/untamed headcanons. please.

Oh my god my first untamed anon.

My favourite wangxian/untamed hc straddles the fine line of canon au, post canon au, and the infamous Everyone Lives/Some People Who Deserves It Die au.

Listen in a perfect timeline JZX and JYL lives and JZX is roped into the Cloud Recesses One Braincell Trio as an honorary member and the guy who pays bail money and that's how WWX and JC bonded with their future bother in law and no its not a typo and yes this also sets the pace of what it means to marry a Yunmeng Jiang core member.

In this perfect world JYL teams up with LXC to intervene with their respective baby brothers ala How I Met Your Mother because they cant stand another minute of these precious prodigious airheads fumble around with all these misunderstandings and gross error in judgement and LXC simply does not have the time to deal with intersect incidents that involves LZ not saying things and WWX misinterpret the Not Saying Things and JC being offended on behalf of WWX as a matter of principle also in JC's words "Fuck that guy honestly" (he never got over the whole Some Dude Is Taking All My Brother's Attention From Me And Now Shijie's Married Too I Hate It Here thing) He can't. Especially not when JZX takes it as a personal duty to defend WWX with grim determination in honour of his Goddess JYL and wow turns out if you hang out with the One Braincell Trio long enough you lose your braincells too.

Anyway.

Because JYL is a master multitasker and the real tactical genius who was never given the chance in this house, her day planner is neatly divided into Getting Wangxian Together (With Babies? Tbc), Murder Kitten JGY Rehabilitation, JGS Forced Retirement, JC + WQ = Avoid War? (kiv), Jin Ling's Baby Shower, and if she has spare time- LXC+NMJ Best Friends to Husbands Kick-Start Programme.

Ofc she succeeds in all and got a nephew out of it plus the honour of planning 2 weddings in a row and also a slightly less diabolical brother in law plus her mother in law now have Jin Zixun in a vice grip too so that's always nice. On the Wangxian front:

WWX married into the Lan sect (with only yelling and minor property damage when LZ asked JC in capacity as WWX's sect leader and brother for permission to marry him and take him off Yunmeng of course they don't know that JC sulked for hours at LXC because why the hell can't LZ marry into Yunmeng instead huh why do you get to keep your brother what makes you so special Xichen-ge) and wears lovely lovely fashionable clothes commissioned by his very very besotted husband (thanks, @stiltonbasket you got me into this now);

is a permanent member of the teaching staff with his night hunting slots the equivalent of that One Good Uni class that every student fist fights for (Lan disciples are above fist fighting, petty arguments, and favour brokering for slots and that remains to be true unless they get caught doing it which they don't. Ever. Jingyi hasn't missed a single hunt since he was old enough to join);

raises his son Lan Yuan Lan Sizhui as (ironically) the Strict Parent to LZ's Pushover Parent and sometimes he gets his nephew Jin Ling for weeks and with him comes Zizhen too plus Jingyi is always around anyway and oh wow is this how LQ feels when WWX is on his usual bs haha wtf wtf;

strikes a tentative truce with LQ that peaks at every Cultivation Conference as they join forces to Roast ™️ Sect Leader Yao; and

then make regular trips to Lotus Pier where his fav Ace married couple have made Yungmeng Jiang the center of medical innovation and also they host cultivation summer school or something because why not man CR can take the older disciples so Yunmeng can take the kiddies its perfect okay

This is my timeline I live here now.

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Rose Coloured Glasses - Part 14

A/N - OMG its been a while.... again!! Im so sorry i promise i’ll try to update quicker. 💕💕

Having no work meant i had no reason to wake up early....i slept in until 10am then went downstairs to grab some cereal and a cup of tea which i took out into the backyard being as it was a nice day out.

Andy had text me just before 9am saying good morning, so i quickly shot a message back to him. I checked my emails and quickly scrolled through the news before deciding to go shower and start my day of doing absolutely nothing!

The day had been dragging so bad, i had already cleaned the house top to bottom and done the washing etc and it was barely lunchtime! I never thought id say this but i missed work.

It was nearing 10pm when i heard my front door being unlocked, i had a sudden rush of fear until i remembered i gave Andy my spare key.

"Hey" he said quietly as he dumped his coat on the arm chair. I looked up from where i was laying on the sofa watching some cooking show.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Tired" he scoffed before climbing onto the sofa squeezing in behind me so he could hold me close.

"How'd your meeting go with Joanna?" I asked stroking my fingers up and down his arm.

"Erghh" he moaned as he buried his face in my neck.

"That good huh?"

"Jake told us Ben had been bullying him, thats why he didn't tell anyone when he found his body. He thought he'd get the blame.... then Laurie brought up the stuff about my dad....Jacobs now pissed at me for lying to him"

"He'll get over it, he's probably just lashing out...."

"Maybe" Andy nodded "then i went to talk to Duffy, i needed to know if they were still looking into Patz.... i asked her if she could get me a copy of his file"

"She gonna help?"

"I dont think so. I thought we were friends you know? But turns out she didnt agree with me" he said sadly.

"Really? I thought you guys we're friends"

"Apparently we're just work colleagues"

"Im sorry you've had a crappy day" i turned to press a kiss to his lips and he smiled down at me.

"Its getting better now"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah"

"You eaten? I could make you something..."

"Not since lunch, but i'm good i just want to hold you" he mumbled with his head buried in my neck, a loud rumble from his stomach made us both laugh.

"Okay so maybe i'm a little hungry"

"I'll go make us something" i chuckled as i slipped from his arms and headed to the kitchen.

"You're the best, i love you" he called out making me turn to him with a smile.

"I love you too".

Over the next few weeks Andy and Laurie tried to make Jacobs home life as normal as possible. They hired him a tutor, his 2nd grade teacher who had now retired....It had kept Jacob occupied.

When he wasn't working on school work he would be in his room playing computer games.

I had been spending a lot of time at the Barber house after Andy told me he felt better with me around, i also became good friends with Laurie. We'd often make lunch and evening meals together before Andy would drive me home. He would sometime stays the night if he didnt have to be anywhere early, It was nice just to have some alone time with him.

Laurie had decided to go back to work today so i had offered to help Andy get dinner ready. We were nearly finished with everything when Andy noticed the time.

"Laurie's usually home by now, i hope her day went okay" Andy said quietly as he wiped off his hands.

"Maybe she just had a lot to catch up on, she's been away for a while"

"Yeah maybe, i'm just gonna go check on Jake. You okay here for a few minutes?"

"Im fine, go" i chuckled shaking my head. Andy pressed a quick kiss to my lips and headed upstairs to check on Jacob. After a few minutes i heard Andy come back downstairs and head out to the front porch, Jacob came into the kitchen giving me a quick smile.

"My dad said to help set the table"

"Thats great, this is nearly ready" i smiled at him, Jacob had been a bit quiet around me when we first met but he was  more comfortable around me now.

"You okay?" I asked noticing that he seemed a little moody.

"Yeah, its just my dad...."

"Oh no, what did he do?"

"Got pissed at me for playing video games online"

"He's just looking out for you Jake, he knows how all this works. What they look into, the things that can go against you. I know you probably think he's being over the top but he just wants to protect you"

"I know, it just sucks" he said sadly.

While Jacob set the table Laurie came rushing in.

"Hey mom" Jacob greeted her with a smile.

"I'll be right there" she replied before rushing upstairs. Jacob shrugged and continued to set out plates.

When Andy didn't come back inside i went looking for him, Laurie had come back downstairs looking like she had been crying... what was going on?

As i walked outback to the yard i saw Andy standing in front of the garage door.

"MURDERER ROT IN HELL" had been spray painted in huge black letters.

"Oh my god...." i gasped holding a hand over my mouth, no wonder Laurie had been upset "Jesus christ Andy....."

"Im so sick of this shit" Andy mumbled under his breath as he tried to scrub off the hateful words.

"Have you got another brush, i'll help"

"You don't have to....."

"I want to" i smiled up at him, Andy pressed a quick kiss to my lips and then went to find an extra brush. We scrubbed for what seemed like hours and we still couldn't get it off, the letters faded to a dull grey but you could still see what it said.... at least it wasn't as visible to anyone passing by on the street now though.

I reheated some dinner for me and Andy and we sat down to eat together, Jake had gone up to his room like usual and Laurie had gone up to bed to read (i think she just wanted to be alone).

"Laurie seemed like she was struggling with everything today" i said quietly to Andy taking a mouthful of my beer, he nodded slowly picking up his own beer.

"Yeah, she was told not to go back to work..... they can't risk being associated with her"

"Thats rough, that would have been a great distraction for her for a few hours"

"It would have been good for her but i get why they done it. This whole thing with Jacob hasn't just ruined his life....."

"I know" i reached over taking Andy's hand "but you're handling it great"

Andy scoffed looking at me with a smirk.

"Im a mess....."

"You're not a mess, you're strong for Laurie and Jake, you support them through all this bad shit"

"Then i fall apart when i'm with you" he scoffed.

"But thats okay, they don't need to know that and i don't mind..... i'm here for you"

"I love you"

"I love you too" i smiled before taking a another mouthful of my beer "so, what was in the file...." i pointed my bottle towards a file Andy had placed on the table.

"Duffy came through on that Patz file" he cracked a smile.

"She did?..... huh maybe you guys are friends after all".

"Maybe".

The following day Andy and Laurie were meeting with a specialist in genetic inheritance and behaviour to discuss Jacob, Joanna had suggested it was a good idea just incase they tried to use everything with Andy's father against Jake. While they were gone i stayed with Jacob at the house while his tutor came by. I was sat on the sofa watching a rerun of Friends to pass the time when my phone vibrated in my pocket. When i looked at who was calling i was surprised to see who it was.... Frank.

"Hello?" I answered quietly so i didn't disturb Jacobs lesson.

"Hey beautiful, how are you?"

"Im good... how are you?" I hated how his voice still gave me butterflies!!

"Not too great, i miss you"

"Frank....."

"I know, i know. You're with Andy now.... i... i missed my chance...."

"Frank are you wasted?" I asked catching the sound of his slurring.

"No baby of course not"

I sighed shaking my head, if he hadn't been drinking that must mean he was high.

"Look i cant talk right now...."

"Can i call you later?"

"Im not sure thats such a good idea"

"Please? i just wanna talk"

"Fine, i wont be home til after 9pm...."

"Thats fine i'll call you then"

"Okay, bye Frank" i quickly ended the call tucking my phone in my pocket, that phone call should be interesting.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly @hiddelstannerbarnes

Rose Coloured Glasses taglist: @readermia @princess-evans-addict @jennmurawski13 @matsumama @ex-bloodjunkie @kaithezaftig @ms-betsy-fangirl

[mattzerella-sticks]

Spill

A Dean/Cas 2.7k stay-at-home pwp E-rated fic

Dean always thought it would take more to force him into retirement. Yet here he is, locked in the Bunker until the world figures out a cure for a deadly virus. It could be worse - at least they have a home. He cannot imagine how worse it would be if this happened years earlier, where he and Sam were trapped in a tiny motel room together. Here they have options, and miles of outdoor space they can stroll through if their options become stale.

And they were beginning to. Dean could only do so much indoors. Dean knew he needed to shake things up, but couldn't begin thinking how. Luckily Castiel has an idea, and gives him a new way of looking at their kitchen.

           Dean hears the faucet first. Slows his hurried steps into the kitchen once he realizes someone is already inside. Instead of the frantic jog, Dean enters at a normal pace. Although that turns into a stumbled stop when Dean sees who stands by the running water.

           Castiel glances up, brow raised. Dirt streaked across his face, up his arms, and all over his clothes. The gray fabric of his snug tee darkened by both that and sweat highlighting the curves of his muscles. Jeans hanging from his hips, a peek of orange underwear catching Dean’s eye. Dean cannot linger there so he forces himself down and notices how the fraying hems overhang on his bare feet. He spots muddied boots not far from where the other man stands, socks bunched up in one. “Hello, Dean,” he says, “are you looking for something?”

           Talking is difficult. His already dry throat worsens. He licks at the sand sticking to the corners of his lips. “Need a beer.”

           “Then by all means,” Castiel nods his head at the refrigerator, “I’m not stopping you.”

           Dean waits. Signals cross in their haste, his arms making an aborted reach. When they settle at his side Dean finds his legs moving. He walks two steps and pauses again at the fork.

           If he goes the shorter way, risks entering Castiel’s orbit, he will undoubtedly find himself trapped. But curving around the island would garner unwanted suspicioun. Why make the extra effort if the first route was quicker?

           Castiel watches him now, Dean taking too long in his thoughts. He chooses the former option and steels his will.

           All hope evaporates when Dean’s hand brushes against Castiel’s ass in an unavoidable collision. “Sorry,” he says, beaming, “I thought you were past me already.”

           “No, ah – not there yet,” Dean coughs, scratches his cheek, “but I’m close!” He chuckles lamely. Tapers off when Castiel stays silent. Dean turns and finishes the mission. Grabs his beer and shuts the refrigerator door with a sigh. But he doesn’t leave. Not yet. “What, ah,” he points at Castiel with the neck of the bottle, “what were you doing?”

           Castiel glances at his state and shrugs. “If I told you I was mud wrestling, would you believe me?” The image nearly causes a trip to the infirmary, his grip on the bottle tighter than necessary. Recommended if he wanted glass shards in his hands. “No,” Castiel continues, “I saw that today’s weather called for clear skies and sun. What with the whole stay-at-home orders forcing us into semi-retirement I figured now would be the perfect time to clear off that patch of space. You know, the one we talked about.”

           Dean remembers. Castiel’s eyes glowed without aid from his grace, picturing the different kinds of plants he could grow. Planning where they would go and how it would all look. From conception to helping him buy supplies at Home Depot, Dean helplessly followed Castiel. Lost in his excitement, the tides of it washing him further out into the bottomless seas of Dean’s affection.

           “What I managed to get done, however, was make a mess all over myself.” Castiel held up his one arm as proof, tan skin hidden by patches of filth. “I think planting will be better served for another day.” Castiel frowns, then, skewing his head. Eyes staring through each and every wall Dean built. “What are you doing?”

           “Oh, you know…” he waves his beer, “getting a drink.” Dean finally notices the scant amount of space left between them, Castiel drifting closer at some point. “That I’m… I’m going to drink. So…” He holds the bottle up higher in mock cheers, then opens it. Except his eyes stay with Castiel’s, locked together.

           Castiel has no problem breaking their contest. He glances down, frown deepening with a sigh. Dean trails after and sees what happened.

           His beer. Unknowingly, when he opened it, some of the drink bubbled up and spilled out of its mouth. With Castiel close, some of it splashed on his feet. “Shit,” Dean pulls the bottle closer, wincing, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

           “You really should be more careful Dean,” Castiel says. He gestures at the small puddle, “who’s going to clean that up now?”

           “I… I -uh…” Dean had an answer. He did. Then Castiel met his gaze again, this time with furrowed brows and piercing intensity, and the words joined the puddle on the floor. Dean grinned, expression dopey, and blew on the remaining fizz to ease the tension. “Ha?”

           Castiel rolls his eyes. “Idiot…” muttered fondly under breath. He folds his arms over his chest, shifting. Stares at the bottle. “Well?” he asks, “Are you going to drink what’s left? If you were feeling left out in being dirty, I’m sure there were other methods you could have used that didn’t waste beer.” Something glints under Castiel’s eyes after his comment, that startled him.

           A nervous giggle eases free from Dean’s lips before slamming shut into a half-smirk. He brings the bottle up to his mouth and drinks. Although only Castiel’s raven tufts stay in his line of sight, Dean feels the ever-warm gaze of his friend on him. Studying him, thinking.

           There’s more warmth, as Dean feels Castiel’s calloused fingers slide up his neck and squeeze under his jaw. Dean chokes slightly, beer swishing inside his mouth. Blocked, dammed by outside pressure. “Cas?” he asks, gargling his name.

           “Keep drinking Dean,” Castiel tells him. Whispers, his free hand stroking Dean’s hair, “Go on. Keep drinking.”

           Dean tries lowering the bottle. Where Castiel’s arm sat, he cannot bring it fully down. Concerned he switches course, searching for an answer in his friend’s face. Nothing he understands waits for him in the calm smile or unwrinkled skin. When he sees his eyes, Castiel’s normal blue a thin ring around large, black pupils, Dean gets it.

           He nods, wrapping his lips more firmly around the bottle. Beer flows from the glass and into his mouth, cheeks puffing up with drink that circles the drain without going down. His eyes water from the stretch. Dean feels his Adam’s apple bobbing, swallowing more on instinct than by choice. Darkness swirls at his vision as the need for air rears its head.

           With a single cough, it’s over. Dean splutters, bottle pulled away while beer waterfalls out his mouth and onto the floor again. Hacking, gasping, Dean wipes at his chin. Where he feels what little he caught there drying and leaving his skin tacky. Castiel hums, the hand on his neck featherlight while the other continues stroking Dean’s hair. “You happy?”

           “Are you?”

           “What?” Dean clears his throat, glaring at Castiel. Holding onto the island otherwise he would fall into the lake of El Sol.

           “Are you happy with your drink, Dean?” Castiel asks.

           He scoffs, coughing again. “Maybe if I had a chance to actually drink it instead of spitting it back up like some virgin…” Dean blushes, squeezing the empty bottle.

           Castiel shrugs. “How unfortunate…” The gentle scratching at his head turns painful when he grabs a handful of Dean’s hair, an edge of pleasure hovering behind the bite. “I guess the next mess we make… it should be enjoyable for both of us.” He winks, and then uses the hand that once held Dean’s neck to instead squeeze at his junk.

           There was no mistaking the message.

           Still, Dean glanced up at Castiel with wide eyes. He runs his tongue over already sticky lips, “You mean…?” Castiel tilts his head again, smiling wide enough his gums showed.

           Dean dropped with enough speed he made a splash. On autopilot, Dean works Castiel’s cock free with professional carelessness. A man with ten-thousand hours of experience, memories imprinted on the muscles over the years. A master.

           He pushes the jeans low at his knees, and then pushes Castiel up against the island. Castiel groans, tugging on Dean’s hair and coaxing a whine from him. “Good, Dean,” he slurs, one foot sliding forward because of the messy puddle they chose to do this in, “Please…” Dean guides his free hand, the one seizing at his side, up onto the island for support. Finally, he slides fingers around the other man’s cock.

           It’s difficult. Dried beer is not a good substitute for lube. So, after three unsuccessful jerks with his yeasty hand, Dean lets go and swallows Castiel whole. Castiel seizes under him, a leg jumping up and splashing more of the puddle everywhere. There’s another round of hair pulling, enough Dean closes his eyes and sees constellations forming in the shadows.

           “You’re such a good little cocksucker, Dean,” Castiel hisses, “know exactly what to do…” Dean pops off Castiel’s cock, licks a stripe up the underside – from base to swollen head – and then takes it. His length stretches Dean’s mouth, not wide enough that it hurts. Enough, though, Dean can feel the beginning aches in his jaw.

           His hands come into play again, now that the possibility of chaffing Castiel’s cock lessened considerably. One joins his mouth on the shaft, following when he slides up and letting Dean’s mouth push it back towards the base. The other first rests at Castiel’s hip. Thumb kneading the skin with enough force to bruise. When Dean finds the sounds coming from Castiel unsatisfying, it slides a path down. Dean holds his friend’s balls and when his lips are fully stretched, he squeezes.

           Castiel pulls Dean’s head by his hair with a grunt, sliding him away. Although his hips canted forward chasing the loving heat from his mouth. Dean unsheathes the cock from his lips. Instead he drops a chaste kiss on the head, followed by a quick lick at the slit. He hums as the taste of precum sits on his tongue. “You’re a sweet boy, Cas,” Dean says. Drunk with beer on his lips, his skin, and his pants. Everywhere except inside of him. “Love it… love how it’s all for me…”

           “It is. Only you Dean,” Castiel says, twitching under him. “Please, I feel it… please…”

           Dean chuckles, playing with his friend’s balls and eliciting another moan. “Might as well,” he tells him, “what’s one more mess…” Dean slobbers a few more kisses on Castiel’s cock, heart beating furiously at what pleasure it brings both of them. He feels his own length hardening in his pants, fabric tenting, while Castile grinds curses into dust between his teeth.

           Letting go of Castiel’s balls, he scrapples upwards and latches onto the sweaty, dirt-strewn shirt. Bunches it in his fist while he almost tears it. A few stiches ripping open reaches his hears in the midst of pleasure. Dean forgets them immediately with Castiel forcing his cock back into Dean’s mouth.

           “Almost… Dean, take me there. Please…!” Castiel gasps, slamming his hand on the island surface. Dean scoots closer into the open space of his legs, sucking on Castiel’s cock with increased fervor. Desperate for his come.

           Midway over Castiel’s cock, a new sensation joins the orgy. Someone screams, neither Castiel nor Dean. He opens his eyes and sees Sam standing at the entrance. “Sam –“ he says, choking on the hard cock. With teeth scraping the throbbing length, Castiel loses all control. Come shoots down his throat, Dean totally unprepared. He hauls off the other man’s cock, spitting seed onto the floor while more coats his hair and face.

           Sam keeps screaming. “Why are you doing this out here!” he says, back facing them. Frozen outside the kitchen like a guard. “We eat here – we make food here! You two… why? Why?”

           Dean remembers. He and Sam were in the middle of watching a movie in the Dean Cave. Nearing the end, Dean’s bladder could barely wait, and he paused the movie. Left Sam while he scurried off to the bathroom. When finished, Dean figured he had enough time for another beer.

           Except Castiel was an unexpected obstacle.

           “Sam,” Castiel says, curled over, pulling jeans and underwear over his soft dick again, “Sam, what are – I’m so sorry. We’re sorry –“

           “No.” Sam points, as best he can, at them. “No, I… I need space. I need time. I need… a drink.”

           Castiel shrugs. “There are some in the fridge –“

           “Not those.” He sighs, turning partly towards them. Enough for his forehead to rest against the doorway. Eyes screwed shut, he continues. “I think I’ll be seeing that for the rest of my life… I’m – I am going to get drunk. Very drunk. And, if I still remember this in the morning, I will be looking up spells. In the meantime… clean yourselves up.” Sam speeds off, the sound of his steps trailing after him.

           Dean wrings his hands, the burning fire in his gut smothered by Sam’s interruption. It’s a low-burning ember. He intends to keep it like that, along with what’s left of his dignity. “That was… that sure was something,” he says, “really… something.”

           “Dean…”

           “We probably should start cleaning up…” He still sits on his knees. Dean tries standing, except a slight pressure on his chest stops him.

           Castiel lays a foot over his heart, smirking. The layer of blue in his eyes thinned further, barely a speck of color left. Dean is shocked into silence. “I enjoyed what we did very much, Dean,” Castiel says, head skewed to the side, “Did you?”

           Taking longer than Castiel liked, Dean feels the weight on his chest increase. Knocks him back on his knees. “I – I did,” he tells Castiel, “I really did.”

           “I can see.” Castiel’s gaze draws Dean down where his own cock rests, surprisingly half-hard.

           His foot pushes on Dean again, and suddenly his ass soaks in the beer-cum puddle. “What are you doing?”

           “Sam said he’s going to get drunk,” Castiel says, not letting up with the pressure until Dean’s back is on the floor and he stands over him. “And will, most likely, avoid this place until tomorrow morning. Meaning we have as long as we want before we need to worry about cleaning.” He pulls his foot away, a stain of his arch and toes drying on Dean’s shirt. Castiel lowers himself over Dean, lips an inch away from his. “Since we’ve already made this much of a mess… what’s a few more?”

           Dean huffs. His smile blossoming without choice. “That makes perfect sense.” Then he leans forward and kisses Castiel, tongue slipping past and meeting his. Somehow the flavors there mix with the taste of him already in Dean’s mouth, a firework of Castiel exploding and causing every nerve in his brain to melt into goo.

           When Castiel pulls away, Dean whines. His hands lazily tug him back, Castiel chuckling while he swats at them. “Relax Dean,” he says, brushing a thumb at the exposed skin above his hip. Castiel kneels between Dean’s legs, grinning. “I’m still here. Just thinking it’s only fair that I have as much a taste of you as you had of me.”

           Dean whines further, “Blowjob can wait… Wanna kiss –“

           “Dean. Who said anything about a blow job?” Castiel fiddles with the zipper on Dean’s pants, hiking one leg up over his shoulder.

           Dean hauls the other one over Castiel’s adjoining shoulder, kicking at his tightly laced boots. “Kissing can wait.”

           Castiel pulls at a lace, helping Dean with his right boot. After it hits the floor, Castiel presses a light kiss on the sock-covered ankle. While he works on the left boot, Dean hauls him closer and digs his heel into Castiel’s back. He chuckles, “Pushy…”

           “Less being an ass and more ass kissing…”

           “As you wish.” Castiel undoes his jeans. Dean watches him through hooded eyes, at peace on the kitchen floor. Even when he feels the remnants of the beer not soaked up by his clothes touch his exposed ass, Dean barely squirms. The mess doesn’t matter. What does is pressing butterfly kisses at his fluttering hole while a finger circles it. Dean sighs, and what was left of his mind fades into the comforting static of bliss.

           They absolutely fail to meet Sam’s deadline next morning.

[paradigmsofbrittaperry]

long rambly band thing under the cut lol

okay so I cant remember how much I’ve talked about this on here, but I’ve had a lot of Not Great Experiences over the past two years when it comes to band, despite the activity being my favorite in the whole entire world. the tl;dr is that my beloved director left my school after my junior year and left me in charge as drum major, but his replacement was awful and a bunch of bullshit happened and many of my close friends stabbed me in the back and then I went on to have a pretty bad season of indoor drumline that got cut short b/c of covid. that summary glossed over A LOT and the outcome of everything was that a lot of personal progress I’d made got undone and I was left with incredible amounts of baggage and lots of trauma to work through. this past year and a half has been HARD as fuck and I’ve swung wildly between trying to ignore everything and burying myself in trying to figure out what went wrong. problem has been that its infected every part of my life; I panic when I run into anyone who hurt me and my friends during that time, the most innocuous things remind me of the worst of these years and can send me into fits of crying, I’m plagued by thoughts of inadequacy and blaming myself for everything that happened, the works. ALL OF THIS EXPLANATION TO SAY yesterday was the start of a new chapter. it was the final competition of my first season teaching cymbals. it’s been a great experience and I’ve had the best students in the world, so I was really sad to see it end. over the second half of the day, I had three separate emotional conversations with my kids that honestly have given me the inner peace that I’ve been dreaming of since this bullshit started in the winter of 2019. before their final run, I wished them luck, told them I was proud of them, and thanked them for being such great students. they thanked me in return for being a great tech. after the awards ceremony, I got to bestow each of them with third place medals and reiterated how grateful I was for our time together. one of my kids went right for my tear ducts and told me that in their five years of marching, I was the tech that had taught them the most practical cymbal skills. another who joined after the start of the season said they hadn’t been sure if they were going to stay the whole season, but now, they planned on coming back for another. they all thanked me again and told me that I’d been an amazing tech after I gave them their medals and one of them gave me mine. our final conversation took place after our final goodbye meeting, and the two kids who aren’t graduating made sure that I would be back and said they’d be sad if I wasn’t their tech next year. I start crying after they left, which left the other two to find me crying in a corner of the room and hug me so that I would start crying even harder lol. 

so the takeaway of these conversations and how they gave me peace. for the past year and a half, there’s been some part of me constantly questioning if I’m actually a good person or not; the logic being that half a dozen of my closest friends wouldn’t have turned on me for no good reason, that I had to have done something to hurt them for them to try so hard to destroy my reputation and tear me off an imagined pedestal. at the end of my junior year of high school, I was comfortably in a place where I liked myself and saw my value and hardly questioned my character. the events of the next marching season changed all of that and nothing had fixed it since. but in these conversations, these kids told me that I was good. that I had made a positive impact on their lives. that I had changed their lives to an extent, that I had broken a pattern of shitty techs for them, that despite most of MY past techs letting me down, that only made me work twice as hard to show my kids that I cared and put my all into never letting them down the way I have been. that the people who worked so hard to tear me down were wrong; I CAN do good and I DON’T deserve to be in a constant state of hating myself for things that were entirely out of my control because I proved over the course of several months that in the right circumstances, I can thrive. I can do good. the little voice in my head telling me that I’m a bad person has quieted over the past 24 hours. telling people how much they mean to you is difficult, terrifying, near impossible sometimes. but I did enough good for these kids that they all were incredibly open and honest with me about how much they appreciated me and how much they wanted to see me again and how I had made their season better. and it was overwhelming!! after a season of being told I was responsible for every bad thing followed by one where I was largely ignored and underestimated? this was so, SO healing. I was able to look kids in the eye and tell them I loved them without fear of judgement. they did the same. it’s not forgiveness or an apology from the people that hurt me, but it’s closure. I was able to move past the past and use it as motivation to do good. I hate the idea that trauma makes us grow, because I’m still mourning the me that I lost due to mine. I used to value the fact that I was so gentle and kind, but those two seasons made me shed much of that. I don’t think I’ll ever be that kind again, but a kid told me yesterday that I was the sweetest staff member they’d ever known. I almost cried on the spot, because it means I’m healing!! these kids brought my soft side out of retirement!! and I didn���t fear getting hurt again when I was being gentler!! and my attitude came entirely from treating these kids the way I wasn’t, the way I wished I had been. I finally found a shred of joy and a positive outcome from all that I was put through. and it feels so fucking good that I’m crying writing this. my bitterness has largely dissolved, because I have proof that I’ve grown past everyone and everything that hurt me. not everything will get better overnight. but I know for a fact that my past won’t continue to consume me as much as it has.

this is a rambly mess, so props to you if you made it to the end!! I just. I remembered why the fuck I love band at all and I’m grateful beyond words to have found closure and made peace with events that have chased me around for almost two years now. it’s like letting out a breath that I’ve been holding for that long with no reprieve. I miss my kids so fucking much already.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 7)

Bakugo x Reader 

Who let the dogs out!

Words : 2489 

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

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

You had your headphones in. Listening to a podcast while you did your daily physical therapy. You were almost done. Only a week left and you could technically be cleared for hero work. Key work being technically. 

It was something you and Bakugo had been discussing at great length recently. For obvious reasons he would be totally okay if you retired from being a hero, but he knows that he can’t put you in a bubble nor should he keep you from your dream job. 

You were proud of him for even considering it an option. He understood what it was like to be a hero, and he understood how hard it would be to quit. He also knew first hand how hard you had worked to get to where you were and it’d be a shame for your career to but cut short. 

The thing was.... you weren't sure. You absolutely loved being a hero, but you were sill having a hard time with the psychological repercussions of being shot. No matter how hard you tried you still freaked out over loud noises and you hated going outside alone. You just had this weird irrational fear that they were going to come back and finish the job. 

You hadn't voiced these worries to anyone. You were nervous that if you said it out loud they would think you were unstable and then you would be permanently benched. Doomed to desk jobs and paperwork. 

You wrapped up your workout and headed back to the apartment. You kept your headphones in while you walked which Katsuki scolded you for constantly. Saying it was dangerous and anyone could sneak up on you. But you couldn't help it. Drowning out all the noises of the city that made you jumpy was imperative to make sure you got home without having an episode. 

Usually once you got within a mile or two of home you would just teleport. Ever since you woke up your range had been much larger. You decided that it must be like a muscle. The more you used it the stronger it got. Teleporting all those girls out that night had pushed you into the miles range now. Although you have no idea how you ever managed 15 miles, let alone how you did it on accident. 

Today was a nice day though so you decided to just walk. 

You were probably a block or two from home when a hand came out of no where and grabbed your shoulder. Panic seized you for a few short moments before your instincts kicked in. You raised your arm and swung out to hit your attacker. But it did no good because they just caught your arm with one hand and ripped your headphone out with the other. “And that is how easy it would be for someone to attack you when you walk around with headphones in.” 

You rolled your eyes at the familiar red head as you teleported to the other side of Kirishima. “And that’s how easy it is for me to get away... Did Bakugo ask you to do that?”

He just chuckled, “No he didn't, but he did send me to tell you his phone got destroyed today while he was chasing down an arsonist. He’s going to be late tonight and might possibly pull some extra hours and work a graveyard shift.” 

You pouted slightly at the thought of being home alone the rest of the night. “Well I was going to make some dinner, you are more than welcome to join.” 

Kirishima narrowed his eyes at you, “Say we can order in and I’m down. No offense but I’ve heard stories about your cooking and I’m not really in the mood for food poisoning.”

You leaned over and started slapping his shoulder repeatedly, “Bakugo is a fucking liar! I am a perfectly good cook! He just never lets me!” 

Kirishima started laughing as he acted like he was going to put you in a headlock, “Whatever you say Y/n. Lets just order anyways. It’ll be my trea- AHH!” 

Kirishima let go of you in an instant as you looked down to see a small german shepherd that was probably no more than a year old with his teeth sank into Kirishima’s pant leg. “What the hell! Where did he come from?” He shook his leg a few times. Not really bothered by it considering it didn't break through his hard skin. When he finally shook the dog off it immediately backed up until his butt was practically between your legs facing Kirishima almost as if it was daring him to come any closer. “Well would you look at that? I think you have a friend there Y/n.”

You tentatively reached down and scratched the dog on his head. He softened at your touch and his tail started to wag. “He must have thought you were trying to hurt me... He doesn't have a collar.... Maybe I could -”

“Y/n so help me if the next words out of your mouth are take it home.. Bakugo will flip.” 

You smirked, “Well thats what he gets for leaving home alone. You know I’d call and ask him, but wouldn't you know it, I don't think his phone is working.” 

“Oh boy... you’re lucky he loves you.” 

It took no coercion to get the dog to follow you home. In fact all you had to do was say “Come on boy” and he followed you the whole way home like the literal puppy dog he was. 

Once you got him inside you made a little makeshift bed for him out of and old blanket of yours. You used a damp towel to get some dirt off of his paws. Katsuki was very compulsive about keeping a clean and organized home. If he came home to muddy paw prints on his hardwood floors it would be game over. 

You sat on the floor and the pup ran over and plopped down in your lap. His tongue was hanging out the side of his mouth while his tail was going a mile a minute. “Who’s a good boy? Huh? Is it you? Are you a good boy?” 

He flipped over and showed you his belly and gave a soft woof as is to confirm that he was in fact a good boy. 

“He already seems to be attached to you.” Kiri had a worried look on his face. 

“Well good because I’m already attached to him too. And I’ve already decided I don't care what Suki thinks. We’re keeping him.” 

Kirishima just rubbed his neck, “If you say so. I’m going to order us some food. You want me to order him some white rice or something?”

“Oh! Good idea! With chicken too! Make sure you tell them no seasoning though. Completely bland. We don't want him to get an upset tummy. We need to make a good first impression and I don't think pooping on the floor would be the quickest way to Katsuki’s heart.” 

“Well if there's anyone who knows the secret access codes to Bakugo’s heart it’d be you. Just do me a favor and don’t get your hopes up too high. I know he loves you and all. But you and I both know he doesn't like surprises, or messes.... or anything that cant take care of itself...” 

You snorted, “Well I guess we’ll consider this practice for a baby.”

Kirishima dropped his phone... “Baby? Did you just say Baby? You're not like...” he motioned to his stomach with wide eyes. 

“Oh no! Sorry no I didn't mean like right now. But you know eventually I’d like to have kids. This could be good practice for him.” 

He looked relieved, “I hate to break it to you I don't think Bakugo has a paternal bone in his body.” 

You shrugged, “I didn’t think he had it in him to be a good boyfriend either yet here we are. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

He seemed to think that over a bit, “Yeah I guess that’s true. I always knew you two would end up together though. He never shut up about you at UA. He was always, ‘Did you see y/n today at training? She looked so good!’ ‘Hey do you think if I asked y/n to study she would think it’s weird?’ and my personal favorite , ‘If one more fucking extra looks at her ass I swear to god I’m blowing the place up!’”

Your eyes widened, “Okay fist of all that is probably the best Bakugo impression I have ever heard. Spot on my friend. And second of all.... NO FUCKING WAY? Was he really like that? All I remember is him pushing me around and yelling at me in training.” 

“Oh he was smitten from day one. He could hide it from everyone but me.” 

Your food arrived and you and Kirishima continued to swap stories from UA. You telling him all about the behind the scenes gossip you and Mina would get into about him and he told you about all the times Bakugo almost asked you out but chickened out. It was a good night. 

He walked outside with you as you let your new, still nameless puppy go potty. Then he took off to go home. Saying he couldn't wait to tell Mina all the new things he learned about her. You just chuckled and waved goodbye. 

Now it was time for the tricky part. Every time you would crawl into bed the puppy would hop up as well. He would curl up to your side and it was so cute. But you couldn't push your luck so you would pick him up and put him on his blanket on the floor. Then a few minutes later he was back in the bed. 

The cycle continued for a while before you finally just got on the floor and cuddled with him until he fell asleep. Then you gently go up and snuck into bed. Not that it mattered because right as you fell asleep he jumped up and laid down near the end of the bed. Keeping your feet nice and warm. Everything was going alright until around 5 am when your boyfriend finally got home. 

“OI! What the fuck is this?” 

You bolted upright to see your dog now standing over you protectively, head bowed low as he followed Bakugo’s every movement with his eyes. 

“Hey don't yell! He doesn't like it.” You gave the dog an affectionate pat on his head and he seemed to calm down a bit. 

“Oh well forgive me if I hurt some random ass dogs feelings. Where the fuck did it come from? Who does it belong too?” 

You started to look anywhere but at Katsuki. Mindlessly petting the dog as your nerves settled, “Well Kiri walked me home as I expect you asked him to and we were kinda play fighting and this dog came out of no where and basically attacked Kiri to get him away from me because he thought he was hurting me. But he's actually really sweet and he seems to really like me and -” 

“Y/n... what the fuck where you thinking? Do you know how much responsibility a dog is?” 

“Well Katsuki I was thinking that now that I’m basically at home alone all day, stressed the fuck out may I add, that it would be nice to have some company. Not only does he like to cuddle but he’s also a perfect guard dog! Wouldn't you feel better on overnight shifts knowing that he’s here to help keep me safe?” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Y/n....” 

“Please Suki... We’ve already bonded. Honestly I think he would really help with my anxiety. I haven't really told you because I didn't want you to worry... but I’ve been a little... uh nervous.. leaving the house. And I feel like It would be easier if I had him with me. Pleaaaaaaaaase”

He sat on the edge of the bed and scratched the dog behind the ear, “Have you named it yet?” 

You beamed at him, “No not yet, I wanted your help. I’ll name him Lord Explosion Murder if you want I don't even care I just want to keep him...” 

He smirked, “That won't be necucesaay... What about Lucifer? Because I swear this dog is the devil. He tried to corner me in my own apartment when I came home.. You were right about him being a good guard dog.” 

“Does this mean we can keep him?!” You practically held your breath while you waited for an answer. 

“Uh I guess. But you’re the one that needs to take care of him. I already have to take care of you. I’m at my limit..” 

You lunged at him and wrapped your arms around his neck, “Oh my gosh! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you so much! You're the best boyfriend ever!” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. So what are going to call him?” Katsuki climbed in bed next to you and pulled you to him. The dog settling in by your feet again. 

“Not that Lucifer isn't a great name babe but you know I was kind of thinking about Zuko. He’s our favorite character from Avatar the Last Airbender and he’s a fire bender kind of like you so... I don't know. I guess I just kind of liked it.” 

He huffed, “I don't bend fire y/n. My sweat explodes. Hence the name Lord Explosion Murder.... but yeah.. I guess I could get on board with that.”

Later that morning you could hear the door softly close as you assumed Katsuki took Zuko out to go to the bathroom. Already doing exactly what he said he wasn't going to do. When he came back inside you could hear him talking to Zuko as if he were a human. 

“Alright so I’m only letting you stay because she likes you. As if she really thought I was going to tell her no. She took three bullets for me and thought I’d tell her she couldn't have a dog... yeah right. I’d give her ten dogs if that’s what she really wanted.” 

The sound of him filling up a bowl of water echoed from the kitchen, “But don't get too comfy because you have a job to do. You need to be the man of the house when I’m not around. And don't for a second think you can steal my cuddle time when I get home at night. You have her all damn day. When I get home it’s my turn... You got that?” 

There was a faint sound of Zuko panting as if they had gone for a run, “I guess you are kind of cute..” 

[papermoonloveslucy]

GRAFIC LUCY

April 26, 1953

On April 26, 1953, Lucille Ball appeared on the cover of the Chicago Sunday Tribune’s Grafic Magazine.  Inside, the article is titled “Lucille and Desi. $8,000,000 TV Stars” by Hedda Hopper.  

The photo on the cover is very similar to one that also appeared on this 1954 issue of Dell’s “I Love Lucy” comics. It is likely the phots were taken at the same time during the same photo shoot. 

By HEDDA HOPPER 

LUCILLE BALL, and Desi Arnaz. in their wildest dreams during their upsies and downsies, never imagined that one day they - a couple of strolling players - would be signed to a two-and-a-half year television contract for $8,000,000.

That's a heap of cash in any man's language, and in American money it's like finding the Glory Hole gold mine or stubbing your toe in your own back yard and starting an oil gusher. For actors to sign that kind of contract it's a Disney fantasy come to life. 

Lucy has used a lot of gold dust in her hair, but she's certain now that Peter Pan came to life and covered her from head to toe with pixie dust. But, being Lucy, her one comment after signing the fabulous deal with her TV sponsors was: "It couldn't happen to a nicer pair of kids. I mean our two children, of course." 

And those kids are as famous as their ma and pa. All over America last January, second in news importance to Ike Eisenhower's inauguration, was the birth of Lucille Ball's baby boy. The interest in the big event was fantastic. Tho they've been kicking around Hollywood for a long time, Lucille and Desi have grown into an American Institution in two years via TV. They've received more than fifty awards; their names have become household words. 

I was In Washington for the in inauguration, when Desidero [sp] Arnaz was born.

I’d like to straighten out one point. Lucy didn't have her baby by caesarean to please her sponsors. The operation was necessary. She had her first child by the same process, and since the caesarean operation could be set for a definite date, the birth was worked into the script of the show. The writers took full advantage of it. Since the show deals with an average couple, the pre-natal period reflected that of millions who have, or were having, babies. And to make sure that nothing in poor taste crept in, the Amazes had a Catholic priest a Jewish rabbi, and a Protestant minister check each script.

Lucy wanted a boy, and her doctor told her she'd have one. "I didn't pay any attention to his prediction," says Lucy. "He told me my first baby would be a boy, too. So I had a girl." 

Their show sticks to real life situations and mirrors the trials, tribulations, and fun of marriages enjoyed by millions of average men and women. 

Desi credits the success of the show to that fact "Its an average love story with humor," he explains. "Audiences believe I'm in love with Lucy, and I am. Lucy ' could be a straight dramatic show. In fact, I think there's no really good comedy that couldn't be turned into drama. I believe the average man gets a kick out of Ricky (the name he uses on the show), because he somehow always manages to dominate the woman, tho the victory is not great. Women love Lucy since she gets by with things they'd like to do, but wouldn't dare try." 

A fan wrote Desi: "I used to think my wife was crazy. But after following Lucy, I'm convinced all women are that way, so I'm reconciled to my wife's behavior." 

Desi is proud of the fact that he and Lucy help many couples in distress. “Lucille and I used to fight a lot," says he. "Then we discovered a sense of humor about situations that came up at home. We learned to live together and like it just as Ricky and Lucy do on the show. In real life, we still have our differences, but we never go to bed without speaking. We may have a peeve between us, but one of us will always say, 'All right What are you mad about? ' That either settles It or starts a real battle, which gets the beef off our chests." 

I wanted to know how much Lucy and Ricky resembled the real life Amazes. 

"A lot"  Desi laughed. "For example, we can never agree on the temperature of our home. I like it hot Lucy wants it cold. We put that In the show. For television the characters have to be exaggerated for the sake of comedy. But sometimes situations come up at home that give our writers ideas. For instance, our baby. Writing him into the script was completely natural. We knew what happened to couples expecting a baby."  

“It was the first nine-months' pregnancy that lasted only seven weeks," said Lucy, meaning that the baby business was only on seven programs. 

“And neither of our writers, Madeline Pugh and Bob Carroll Jr., is married," said Desi. 

"But they know whereof they write," said Lucy. "Within three weeks after the baby was born, we received 20,000 letters, 2,000 telegrams, and hundreds of packages.” 

"How many products do you indorse?" [sp] I asked. 

"It's easier to tell you what we haven't indorsed, [sp]" said Lucy. "We haven't indorsed [sp] locomotives or aircraft. We have art office now on 5th Avenue in New York just to handle merchandising." 

I asked how much money they could keep from their $8,000,000 contract.

"About four dollars and fifty-five cents," said Desi. "In the dear old days before taxes we could have retired for life In one year. But the government needs money. We're not complaining. Lucy doesn't have much business sense anyway. When it comes time to pay taxes, she doesn't bother trying to get exemptions. She just says, 'Bring me the check, and I'll sign it.' 

"And you're still expanding instead of cutting down?" I asked. 

"Yes," said Desi. "I put in 10 hours daily at my office." 

"I don't bother with business," said Lucy.  “That's Desi's department." 

“We've got over a hundred people working for us now," said Desi. "We'll do 32 television films a year, and I'm getting a man to take over the business management so I can devote more time to the creative phase of our work. We. plan to produce other shows. Then there are pictures." 

"I'm happy you two are going to make 'The Long, Long Trailer,' " I said. 

"That," said Desi, "is a dream. I read the book and tried to buy it But I didn't have the money to compete with Metro. So Pandro Berman called me up and asked if Lucy and I would be interested in reading the script I told him sure, to send it over. And It was 'Long, Long Trailer.” 

"It's a honey," added Lucy. "I once lived with my family in a trailer. It was all right until we all got claustrophobia. That's bad enough when you get it alone, but when it hits a whole family at the same time whew!" 

"We can make pictures any time we like," said Desi "But we'll concentrate on television. But if either Lucy or I wants to do a movie, we can always pile up a backlog of TV films that will tide us over." 

"I'm not particularly interested in going back to movies," said Lucy. "TV is my dish. We don't see a script at least I don't until 10 o'clock Monday morning. On Tuesday, we read from 10 to 12, then lunch. After that we start shooting. The writers usually aren't even on the set If I don't understand something, either the producer, Jess Oppenheimer, or our director, Bill Asher, explains it to me. We work four days and rest three. You cant do that in picture-making.” 

"Incidentally, Desi's malapropisms aren't written into the script. The script is written in straight English. But If Desi butchers the King's English during a rehearsal, it stays in." 

"Bill Frawley and Vivian Vance are wonderful additions to your cast," I said.

"We were lucky to get them," said Lucy. "When Bill's name was mentioned, I almost dropped dead. He was a big star and we couldn't afford him. But somebody said it wouldn't hurt to try to get him. Remember this was two years ago; and everybody here was scoffing at TV. Nobody knew." 

People didn't know many things. For years I've watched Lucy's work and considered her one of our finest comediennes. She has versatility and great timing. But nobody gave her break. Tho he'd done several pictures, Hollywood just couldn't see Desi for dust. He had to make a living with his band, and this put him on the road for long periods. Result: "I Love Lucy." 

"When we got the idea for the show, people said audiences wouldn't accept us as husband-and-wife team," said Lucy. "They didn't think audiences would believe that a girl like me and a Cuban like Desi could be married. I remember telling you this, Hedda, and you yelled back, 'But for Pete's sake, you' are married!'". 

Because the Amazes finally decided to portray life as they found It regardless of how dizzy it was, they found their way of life, says Lucy. "If you have a hunch, back it," is Lucy's advice.

The headline of April 26, 1953. 

[capricornus-rex]

Playing Pretend (8)

Requested by: @calkesttiss | Prompt:

Hi! I just watched isi & ossi (rich girl and poor boxer boy AH) on netflix and now i cant stop thinking about cal and fake dating. Do with that what you will

Additional prompt: ❛  I wasn’t pretending with you.  ❜ [x] 

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Next: Part 9 | Masterlist

8 of ?

You strode through the empty, lifeless hallways. Thunder rumbled from the outside, you hoped that Cal could get back home before the rain falls. When you reached the open arch that leads to the living room, you discover your parents in there. They appeared to be stiff as statues; your mother was positioned like a queen on the throne as she sat on the velveteen armchair, whereas your father stood by the window that overlooks the garden. You wondered how long have they been staying there.

“Mom, Dad…” you dryly greet.

“Sweetie, sit down,” Sorhan gestures the couch to you. “We need to talk.”

You obey. You toss your jacket to the empty space next to you as you lazily bounced down on the couch, back slouched, arms crossed over your chest, and your leg propped up on your knee.

“You’ve got to stop seeing that… boy,” Yasina evidently had to struggle in finding the right word to use in addressing Cal.

You roll your eyes at your mother, “His name is Cal. Would it kill you if you say his name?”

“Sorry, dear. But, listen to me,”

“To you?” you cut off, but your mother continued nonetheless.

“This charade isn’t healthy. These past few days, you’ve been staying outside more often than in the house. A woman of your stature deserves better.”

“A woman of stature,” you repeat the words mockingly. “Really, Mom? And what kind of guy is good for a woman of my stature?”

Your mother stood her ground, “A man with good reputation, upholds a good imagem and has a good grasp of influence.”

“No, Mom. You’re speaking about yourself. That kind of man you’re talking about… is Dad. I’m afraid you don’t know what’s good for me, you just think you do.”

You’re astonished with the act your mother is putting up. You couldn’t look at her in the eye, you could not bear to listen to her voice for long, because when you do—all you can visualize is how she talked her way into making the Ithrels think that marrying her own daughter off to their son was a good idea. You imagined her thinking of you like some kind of livestock to be sold to the next owner, and it disgusted you straight to the bone. Just thinking about it made you hiccup as you fight back the tears coming on.

“Do you understand [y/n]? This has got to stop,” Yasina firmly said.

“Not until you postpone my engagement with Logan,”

“At with that again, [y/n]!” Yasina hissed. “Why can’t you understand that what we’re doing is only for the best for you?” Yasina sighed but deliberately dodging the engagement subject.

You’re not sure how long you could endure this charade.

There was a resigned look in your mother’s face, but you couldn’t empathize with it because something valuable to you was at stake—your own freedom to choose.

“Don’t you understand? I have your life figured out for you!”

Thunder bellowed over your house.

That sentence didn’t sound right to you. In the back of your mind, your conscience—that tiny but loud voice in your head—was violently thrashing like the wild lightning flashing through the windows, throwing questions left and right until the words would reach the tip of your tongue. That’s when your mother has crossed the line. You jolted up from your seat on the couch and that’s when you let it all out for the first time in your life.

“You know, Mom, just because you think you got my life figured out—with all the decisions involving me that didn’t have my consent or anything—that doesn’t mean it’ll make me happy and content by default! And now you’re suddenly caring about me ever since I started being with Cal? I have been with him for weeks and you’ve only noticed just now! I’ve never been this happy until I found Cal!”

“That boy will do no better than the Ithrels in securing your father’s winning step to the Senate election! We need the Ithrels!”

“And in exchange, you sold off your own daughter as a dowry for that!” you clap back.

“We need their money and influence!”

Your mother’s outburst was a bitter epiphany for you. Your heart sank. Tears welled up behind your eyes and your stomach cramped as you tried to fight back the tears.

So, they’ve chosen that instead of my happiness. So be it. The voice in your head said in a sullen tone.

“I have my answer now…” you choked. “You never cared for me at all. I’m not your daughter.”

A single tear rolls down on your cheek, without waiting for your mother to explain herself, you walked out of the living room; at that moment, you know that it’s hopeless to expect anything from them. You slipped into their bedroom, you located the small safe inside the closet and cracked the code. It never probably crossed your parents’ minds that one day you would pry the vault open and take the money inside. You took enough for you live off from and the debt you’d promised Cal.

You quietly returned to your room and lock yourself in, barring the doorknobs with a chair.

Bags and clothes spilled out of your closet and drawers after rummaging them wildly in a fit. You looked for the best backpack you could find and stuffed it full of your clothes and other daily things.

Two knocks on the door startled you and the muffled voice of your mother on the other side can be heard. You ignored it as you continued packing. Seeing that your primary way out has been blocked by your parents, the window was your next option. Upon opening the shutters, you assess your escape route—the blossom tree’s branches were conveniently near enough your window for you to reach.

You carefully dropped your bag to the hedge below your window. You were next. You balanced yourself on the windowsill and kept your focus on the branch, your mother’s calls to you fell to deaf ears, you blocked out the sound of her knocking so you could concentrate.

“Okay, [y/n], you can do this,” you pep-talk yourself out of it.

A leap of faith.

You gripped onto a sturdy, thick branch extending to a close distance to your window. You make your way down the tree as quickly as possible, another hedge broke your fall, and you snatched your bag right where you dropped it.

You made a run for it and then you were out of the manor’s premises. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, hoping that the path you’re following could be the way Cal is going from your house to Mobara Palace.

Little by little, cold droplets landed on your cheeks until they all fell in succession. The rain was the least of your problems. Fog wafted out of your mouth each time you exhale and the cold air seeping into your lungs was starting to slow you down, but no, you tell yourself that you must keep going.

You arrive to the city. Lampposts lining the streets in the dead of the night was your guide in finding Cal.

“Cal!”

Your voice was nearly drowned out by the rainfall, you went straight ahead, following the directions leading to Mobara Palace but you never stopped calling his name.

“CAL?!”

Under the light of a lamppost, someone walked past it in the darkness of the streets. A sliver of hope convinced you that it was him and so you come running to it.

“CAL…! CAL!!!” you cry at the top of your lungs until he turned to the direction where his name was coming from.

He stopped in his tracks, turned around and saw you.

“[y/n]?”

Cal shielded your head from the raindrops with the flap of his poncho. He puts his arm around you as you walked together through the rain. When Cere saw you drenched and cold, she offered you shelter in their ship without a second’s notice.

You and Cal took turns in using the shower to get changed into warm, dry clothes. It was already late and most of the crew have already retired to bed, except for you and Cal both settled in the couch below the galley.

“How’s the tea?”

Your only reply was a gentle grunt. Your hands clasp the curvature of the mug, letting the heat radiate from the ceramic to your flesh. Cal reaches for you and gently places his hand on your thigh. He was getting tired of your silence, you haven’t spoken ever since you got in the Mantis—except for saying “thanks.”

He decided to sit by your side, scooching closer to you until your sides touch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know, really… I mean, I still can’t wrap my head around it,”

He didn’t push it, he kept quiet, though it was a comforting kind of silence. The muffled sound of the thunder and rain while you were in the confines of the Mantis was surprisingly relaxing; leaning against the couch, the two of you began rambling to one another, shifting from one random subject to the next.

“Look, I have the money. I’d rather not have you ask me how I got it—”

“I don’t really care about that,” Cal cuts you off, looking into your eyes intently.

You blinked and stammered as you tried to regain yourself. All you could ever do is take another sip of the tea. You stared into the dark, transparent liquid in the cup and saw your reflection. You sighed.

“My parents and I had a fight earlier,”

“Is that why you ran away?”

“Partially. What convinced me to leave was that they made me realize that I never mattered to them as their daughter. Perhaps to them, I was an asset that they can use for their own benefit—the engagement for instance. Not once, did I ever hear from them that they considered what I’d feel if I knew that I was being married off against my will. I’m afraid to think that they never cared about me. They tell me that they care for me, that they only want what’s good for me…” you bite your lip, your grip around the mug tightening.

You continued on rambling, Cal still stood there by your side, listening. Perhaps, that’s all he could ever do to help you right now. You just needed a listener.

“But all this time, my whole life—it was just a big, nasty game of pretend. A game I never wanted to be part of.”

You sniffled and resisted the tears, chugging your tea so that the tears won’t fall. You apologized for suddenly rambling. He noticed that your voice was trailing off, your eyes were drooping, and you could barely hold the mug securely in your hands.

“Aww, look at you, you’re beat,”

“I’m fine,” you stammered.

Cal wasn’t taking that for an answer, he takes the cup away from your hand and scooped you up from the couch and right into his arms. He brought you to the quarters, he asked if you were claustrophobic and apologizes in advance for the condition of your would-be bedroom.

He settles you down on his bed, but you stretched out your arms to him—gesturing him to stay and lie down with you—he gave in and cuddled you. His musk entered your nostrils, you nuzzled your nose on his chest as you cuddled. His hands softly and smoothly glided across your arm, his fingers danced on your sides to exposed tummy back and forth. He felt a chuckle vibrate from you.

“What is it?” he hummed.

“Nothing. I just think this feels nice—even if we’re just pretending,”

“But I wasn’t pretending with you,”

“What?”

“Somehow, I thought you always knew. Back at the park, at the fountain—everything just started to feel different with you.”

You angled your head up to face him, your grip on his tightened a little that his shirt crumpled. He didn’t see it coming—you inched closer to him and you were the one planting a kiss this time. His hands crawled to your neck, he shifted in bed—standing on fours over you—and returns with a more passionate kiss.

Trapped in this intense embrace, you gave in and let go. Cal’s free hand wandered down your side, tracing your curves, his fingers sank into your flesh as he groped you by the thigh. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your nails left red marks as you scratched the skin of his back; you rake his hair back with slender fingers as tender kisses mark your neck. Your back arches as his lips crawl downward from your neck to your chest, Cal’s eyes fixates on your expression and listens to the sighs that escape your lungs.

For the first time in your life, you’ve allowed yourself to give in and let go. No words were spoken, but your emotions were loud enough. Secret smiles revealed themselves as you and Cal gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.