#i meant to reply directly but the stuff i wrote was too long

[qiu-yan]

[ID: reply from @bidet-of-evil: "i’m not sure what you mean exactly, but for me there seems to be a discrepancy btw what the story actually tells about the characters and the conclusion we’re apparently “supposed” to draw from it about those characters. and it maybe stems from the belief that ppl have an innate moral quality rather than that their actions should be evaluated on their own merit. so when good person wwx does bad things, it’s forgivable, but when bad person jgy does, it may be understandable but not forgivable." emphasis added by me.]

you bring up an excellent point about the protagonist centered morality. to a certain extent, it does feel like MDZS celebrates wei wuxian and lan wangji not because of what they actually did, but rather by virtue of them being the protagonists of the novel; were the story to be narrated from someone else's point of view, the moral assessment of these two characters seems like it would be...different, at the least.

as to what i meant by "the granularity of morality," i first had the thought when reading a MDZS fic (none lives forever, brother, and nothing lasts for long by eena), and i came across the following line:

The war and everything after it, it’s not a story. It was real life, and in real life there are no heroes, just people weighing outcomes.

this is an excellent line. "there are no heroes, just people weighing outcomes" does in fact describe both how i view the events of MDZS and also how i view reality. however, the more i thought about it, the more i realized that in the moral framework put forth by MDZS, this quote....actually isn't the case. according to MDZS itself, there are in fact heroes--and too there are people who are not heroes.

the granularity of morality in the above quote is the individual action, the individual decision. a person makes a decision by weighing the potential outcomes. the outcomes can be good, bad, or both; the decision can be good, bad, tragic, or all of the above. but no statement is made as to the overall moral character of the entire person--"there are no heroes."

but in MDZS itself, there are heroes. MDZS does not posit that [wei wuxian made morally good decisions], MDZS says that [wei wuxian is a hero]. the granularity of morality is not just specific actions, but has rather increased to encompass the entire individual. instead of making moral statements about specific decisions (ie. "this was a morally questionable decision," "this was the right thing to do"), MDZS instead makes moral statements about entire people.

from MXTX's interviews and author's notes:

I hope each of you who enjoys this book can be like Lan WangJi in virtue and Wei WuXian in character.

Jiang Cheng has many character flaws, but he is not a terrible person.

Jin GuangYao is a scum, but a scum with feeling.

all statements i don't really agree with. not even because of what they're directly saying, but rather because, in each statement, the granularity of morality is the whole person. a sweeping statement is being made about the entirety of one's moral character. even in cases where moral greyness is acknowledged, it's not about what you do, it's about what you are.

as you said, this is where the protagonist-centered morality comes in. when you assess each character's actions on a decision-to-decision basis, equally tragic decisions must be assessed on an equal basis. if wei wuxian was driven to do what he did by the extremity of his circumstances, then the same understanding must also be extended to jin guangyao. and just as the lives wei wuxian saved (at the cost of many other lives) cannot be ignored, so too must we not ignore the many positive reforms jin guangyao has achieved for the good of the world, no matter what other shit he also did. each specific action must be assessed, and actions cannot cancel out other actions.

but when you shift to a whole-person-based moral granularity--when you assess a person's entire moral character in one go, especially if you do so in the way MDZS does--things change. everything wei wuxian does is afforded more sympathy, because [wei wuxian is a fundamentally good person]. conversely, everything jin guangyao does, even if it was for genuinely selfless reasons and/or had a significantly positive impact on the world, is afforded less sympathy, because [jin guangyao is a fundamentally bad person].

moreover, the MDZS-specific brand of moral-character-assessment, rather than deriving an assessment of one's moral character from one's actions, seems to have already made up its mind. the argument shifts from [wei wuxian did XYZ, therefore he is a good person] to [wei wuxian is a good person, therefore when he did PQRS it was justified/understandable/forgivable]. the argument shifts from [jin guangyao did XYZ, therefore he is a bad person] to [jin guangyao is a bad person, therefore when he did PQRS it was unjustified/evil/unforgivable]. the cart has started to come before the horse.

then again, i could be conflating the book itself with the fandom. i think there is some nuance to be had in the book.

it's hard to explain exactly what i mean, but the overwhelming impression i got from my first (and subsequent) readthroughs of mdzs is that, in mdzs the novel, the granularity of morality is not the action, but the entire individual.

to put it in other words, what is being assessed in the text of mdzs is not merely a specific action performed in a specific context, but rather the entirety of the actor's moral character. it isn't just that [wei wuxian did something heroic in this one specific instance], it's that [wei wuxian is just fundamentally a good person].

meanwhile, with some more controversial characters, what is on trial is again not their specific actions or even the sum of all their actions, but rather their entire character. even when the text argues that someone's character contains shades of grey, the statement i'm getting from the text (and from mxtx's interviews) is still [this person has both good and bad in them] rather than [this person made both bad choices and good choices]. those are different statements with differing granularities of morality.

even though most genre fiction functions this way, this is still a rather uncharitable assessment of the writing quality of mdzs (at least by my own preferences). so perhaps i'm conflating the actual text with the fandom, haha.

[solangelover]

Could you do Solangelo cuddling (Fluff), but one of them has really weird mid-night thoughts?

A/N: This has been done forever ago, idk why I didn’t post it, my bad (^_^; )

Read on AO3 or FF.Net

“Ugh, I’m tired.”

“That’s why we’re going to sleep, Ghosty.”

Nico hummed noncommittally as he flopped down onto his bed. It was late, nearly midnight, and he was more than ready to be dead to the world. They had had a busy day of classes, training (for Nico), working (for Will), and dealing with the general chaos that came with living at Camp Half-Blood.

Will’s siblings let the head counselor sneak off to the Hades cabin for the night. While they all teased their older brother about having a “fun night,” they all really just wanted him to get a good night’s sleep, and cuddling with his boyfriend almost always did the trick.

After doing the minimal to get ready for bed, the boys hit the lights and shuffled beneath the covers. Immediately, their hands found each other, and they tangled their limbs together. It was easy, a comfortable routine they developed over the course of their relationship. They were hardly cuddly in public, so their private time together had to make up for that. And it was really just that—cuddling and sleeping together—and nothing more.

“Good night, Neeks.”

“Good night, Sunshine.”

Will shifted onto his back, giving Nico the space to move even closer so that his head rested on the blonde’s chest.

It was nice and cozy. Perfect for sleeping.

And yet.

Will laid there for a solid fifteen minutes, not thinking anything in particular as he stared off into the darkness. He tried not to shift restlessly so as not to disturb his boyfriend, but that just made him stiff and less than comfortable.

He tried to focus on Nico’s breathing for the next fifteen minutes. The boy’s breaths had evened out, but Will had a feeling that he wasn’t quite asleep yet either.

Why couldn’t he sleep? Was something bothering him? Normally, he’d have his to do list for the next day on his mind. When that kept him up, he simply got up, wrote it down, then climbed back in bed and was out like a light. But that’s not what was happening now. He squared away his to do list earlier, on a small note that sat on his desk in the infirmary.

What was on the list? Maybe if Will recounted it to himself, he’d fall asleep out of boredom.

Cut bandages. Well, that was a daily task, but sometimes it was nice just to check it off at the end of the day.

Check inventory. A weekly task, but sometimes Will would compulsively check it, just in case, or when there was nothing else to do.

Practice nutrition plans. Since the son of Apollo hoped to be a real doctor someday, he’d been exploring different medical fields to see how he liked them. He was currently exploring the nutritionist route, which could help as a family physician or pediatrician anyway. He would ask the Demeter kids about different vegetables, herbs, grains, all that stuff, and practice writing up specific diets for hypothetical needs. It was kind of interesting so far, but not Will’s favorite.

I wonder what kind of plan a child of Hypnos might need. If you consider the narcolepsy, possible lack of sunlight, there’s bound to be some nutritional deficiency going on, he thought to himself. Hmm, deficiency. De-fi-shi-en-see. That’s how you spell it, right? D-E-F-I—she-en-see—C-I-E—defishy—um where was I? Okay, wait, D-E—honestly, who spelled this word this way? It’s confusing. Why is C-I-E pronounced “she”? What—

“Will,” a stern voice pulled Will from his musings. He turned his head down to see his boyfriend squinting up at him in the dark, his eyes having adjusted long ago. “You’re thinking too loud. You’re practically yelling.”

“Wha—that doesn’t even make sense,” Will responded, his voice sounding loud in the quiet of the cabin.

“It does. It’s loud. You’re loud.” Nico shifted so he was more even with Will and could look him in the eyes properly. “What are you thinking about that’s making your head wrinkle?” He poked Will directly in the forehead to punctuate his point.

Will swatted his hand away. Nico kept looking at him and he sighed. Whatever. “Why are words words?” He looked back up at the ceiling, confusion clear on his face.

Not hearing an immediate response, he turned to see his boyfriend staring at him, his expression a mix of perplexity, incredulity, and amusement. The son of Hades simply raised an eyebrow, apparently not planning on giving Will the answer he so desperately needed.

So, he continued. “You know, like, words. Why are they what they are? Why is the word ‘word’ a word? Why is it spelled like it is? And why does it mean word? Actually, how do you even define ‘word’?” He tapped his chin in thought, once again staring at the ceiling. He saw Nico glance up at the ceiling out of the corner of his eye, probably mocking Will. But the son of Apollo was too preoccupied to comment.

“A word is a word,” Nico replied, like it was that easy.

“You can’t use the word being defined in the definition,” he rolled his eyes, like Nico should’ve obviously thought about this before and know that that’s not an acceptable answer.

Will took a breath to begin another senseless rant about language when his boyfriend cut him off. “Words are words, letters are letters, languages are way they are because people decided that’s how they wanted to communicate. Nothing more to it. Please sleep.” His deadpan words were probably meant to be patronizing or flippant in some way, but Will actually felt like that answered his wonderings quite well.

“Huh,” Will said, mostly to himself. He paused as the words processed in his brain. “That makes sense.”

“Oh my gods,” is all Nico said before he rolled over, his back to Will. “Go to sleep, idiota.”

Will beamed, throwing his arms around the dark-haired boy to hug him from behind. “I’m so lucky my boyfriend is a genius.”

“You’re dumb, now sleep.”

“Okayyy,” Will drew out. But now that his mind was satisfied, he remembered that he had an exhausting day and that he really really wanted to sleep.

He settled in further before whispering a “good night” to the air, the boy next to him already breathing deeply.

[emonaculate]

Kisses n Kick Flips

❥ AU: Highschool!AU

❥ Genre: Fluff/Comedy

❥ Rating: 16+ (Well anyone can read because there's no explicit content, I'm just saying 16 because Eren is gonna be 18)

❥ Pairing: Skater!Eren Yeager x Black!Reader

❥ Word Count: 2.4K

❥ Warnings Include: Puppy Love, Romance, Profanity, and Injuries

❥ Author Note: I wrote this shit because I'm depressed and in desperate need of tooth-rotting romance. Attack on Titan is somehow the best and worst thing that has happened to me in a long fucking time. Not to mention @eremiie and @erotisc gave me some inspiration to work with, so thank you guys! Anyways I hope this helps everyone who is sad over the newest chapter

"Armin you don't understand, she's the smartest person in this whole fucking school; there's no way I'm gonna catch her attention." Eren groaned slamming his head into their lunch table.

"I take personal offense to that; when I'm valedictorian..." Armin frowned not reacting to Eren's physical actions, meaning he was used to seeing it.

"Sorry. But you know what I mean; she's smart and I'm just..."

"A hot-headed dumbass?" Jean quipped, now interested in the conversation at hand.

"Haha. Fuck you, horse face." Eren snapped flipping his friend off.

"I'm just saying if you wanna catch Y/n's attention; you need to completely not be...." Jean looked Eren up and down grimacing as he gestured to his entire body. "Yourself."

"That's not that bad of an idea, Jeanboy." Connie butted in, leaning on the ash-brown boy's shoulder

Before Eren could retaliate, the lunch bell rang meaning it was time for his favorite class of the day, Physics. Without wasting any time, Eren grabbed his bookbag and sprinted out of the cafeteria leaving his friends behind. The excitement began to build through his body as he raced down the halls tightly clutching onto his bag, trying to beat the bell and the other kids walking around.

He made his way into the class extremely early and sat down eagerly, finally for the first time, he'd be able to sit right beside her. A happy smile spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair excitedly.

Damn it all, life was a never-ending cycle of depression and disappointment. All Eren ever knew was pain. He knew was being a tad bit dramatic but how come nothing ever went his way? All that running and dashing was for nothing, especially since Y/n showed up to class later than usual. The only good thing about the entire ordeal was, Y/n sat near the teacher's desk, meaning he could stare at her for as long as he wanted without it looking creepy.

"Yeager, what's the answer?" His teacher snapped, irritated that he was being ignored.

"Huh? Can you repeat the question?"

"As light from a star spreads out and weakens, do gaps form between the photons?" Mr. Shadis repeated, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Um... No?" Eren started having no idea what the hell to say.

"Incorrect. As usual." Shadis scoffed with a slight smirk, satisfied that he managed to crush and embarrass yet another student.

Eren looked down as his face heated up, now he looked like a moron in front of Y/n. Maybe Jean was right, being himself wasn't going to help anything. Or better yet, maybe he should just give up on crushing on someone so out of his league.

"Mr. Shadis, I don't mean to interrupt but actually, Eren is correct. Gaps do not form between photons as light spreads out. Light is made up of tiny fundamental bits called photons. A photon is a quantum object. As such, a photon acts a little like a particle and a little like a wave." Y/n explained looking at their teacher with a slight gleam in her eyes, silently daring him to correct her.

"Ah, Miss L/n. It's nice to see you join the conversation for once, of course, you join to protect your boyfriend."

"Well I couldn't just leave him hanging when he was in the right and knew what he was talking about, isn't that right Eren?"

The smile on the said male's face was entirely too big, he had died and gone straight to Heaven. All the misfortune he had experienced before meant nothing now that Y/n had acknowledged him. He had won at life.

"Um yeah exactly. I have to say, you explained it better than I could." He cleared his throat and looked directly at her, his heart pounding through his ears as she kept eye contact with him.

"Thanks but I just tend to over-explain things, so don't feel bad. Simplicity is nice sometimes."

"Okay that enough, anyways back to the lesson at hand." Shadis grumbled.

Eren waited for the bell to ring before he shot up and walked over to Y/n's seat, the tanned girl was still packing up her belongings. Now that he was close enough, Eren could smell the sweet aroma that radiated off of her body, strawberries, and coconut. Her long braids were pulled up into a half up half down style and her edges had been laid to perfection.

The male felt his palms grow sweaty as he continued to look at her, Jesus had she always been this beautiful? Y/n looked back up at him as her two-toned glossed lips morphed into a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Hi, Eren."

"Hey... um, thanks again for earlier."

"It's no trouble really, can't let Shadis bully his students right?"

"Yeah... yeah" Eren licked his lips and shoved his hands into his pockets now growing self-conscious about what he chose to wear to school.

A tight black wife-beater, grey and white flannel with ripped blue jeans, and finally black Air Forces. Granted it was usual for him, but he wasn't sure if his usual was something Y/n would even remotely be attracted to.

"So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today.." He blurted after gathering all of his confidence.

Y/n's face looked shocked for a moment before she gave an apologetic smile looking away slightly; Eren felt his heart drop to his stomach instantly knowing whatever she was about to say was going to ruin his happy mood.

"Sorry. I can't-"

"Yeah, it's cool. Nevermind forget I asked." Eren walked off, not wanting to act like a dick in front of her.

He knew his temper wasn't exactly the best, but the last thing he wanted was to blow up on her of all people. That's why he was now at the park sitting on a table beside Armin who was doing homework, which really made no sense to Eren since Armin was the one who suggested going to the park in the first place.

"I was so close man. Like all she had to do was say yes."

"So let me get this straight, Y/n defended your dumbass in class and you still fumbled the ball? Wow, Yeager, you surprise me every day." Jean laughed as he watched Connie roll the blunt.

"Say something else and I swear I'm gonna beat the shit out of you. Say something else, I fucking dare you." Eren glared as he furrowed his eyebrows.

"Ayo calm down, don't be getting mad at grade-a asshole over here because of your shortcomings. Jean is a dick don't get me wrong but beating his ass won't help your situation." Connie tsked as he gazed up at Eren.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go skate." Eren stood up and grabbed his board, moving away from his friends.

Sometimes skating was the only thing that could get him to relax, well that and his mother's cookies. But currently, the older he got, the more skating seemed to help him cope with all the bullshit he dealt with on a daily. This skateboard has been with him for years, despite how rough he was with it, it managed to outlast all of the crazy stunts he'd pull.

Eren got a running start and jumped on his board enjoying the feeling of the wind blowing on his face; his eyes fluttered shut as the wind continued to tickle his face. A peaceful sigh escaped his lips as he shifted his body, concentrating on using his other senses.

He would often skate blindfolded, there was something about having the trust all of your other senses to not wind up hurting yourself or others. More than he'd like to admit, usually it would be him that got the short end of the stick.

"Watch out!" A familiar voice screeched causing Eren to snap his eyes open.

His eyes widened as he saw a young girl sitting right in the middle of his path, usually stopping would be no problem for Eren, unfortunately since his focus was thrown off. He continued to advance towards the girl, but in the last second decided to perform a rather high Ollie. Luckily he managed to maneuver his trick perfectly, however, due to the altitude of his jump, the male lost his footing and crashed into the concrete.

"Fuck!" He hissed in pain as he knew he tore skin.

"Oh my god! Are you okay? I'm so sorry." A female voice called out to him as he laid on the ground.

"Just fucking peachy," He sat up ready to finally blow up only to come face to face with Y/n. "Erm. I mean yeah it hurt but I'm fine."

"You're bleeding and it's my fault. I'm so sorry." She panicked as she inspected his face, her warm hands darting out to grab his face.

Suddenly all the pain disappeared from his body, he was on cloud nine again. Eating shit on concrete felt like a piece of cake now that she was here pampering him.

"It's no problem, Y/n. I've felt worse." He replied trying to ease her worries.

"I turn away for one moment and then Gabi just disappeared."

"Hey, it's okay. Y/n look at me, I'm fine." He chuckled and placed his larger hand over hers.

Y/n stared at him for a moment before averting her eyes, seeming to be flustered as she stood up. She shifted awkwardly and stumbled backward, much to Eren's confusion.

"Stay right there. I got some first aid stuff in my car. I'll be right back." She mumbled as she rushed away.

Eren watched her silently with a shit-eating grin on his face, despite his nose and lip bleeding profusely. He watched her baby blue skirt flow along with the over-sized white graphic t-shirt. When Y/n came back, she held tightly onto a little girl's hand and dropped the first-aid kit clumsily as she made eye-contact with Eren.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry."

"Y/n, I never knew you were this uncoordinated." He hummed teasingly as she bent down to grab the kit.

"I'm usually not. It's just because-" She stopped herself and smiled at him. "Nevermind it's nothing."

She sat down in front of him and began to clean the cuts along with scrapes. Y/n bandaged them all up carefully whilst avoiding looking at the male who could nothing but stare at her. His turquoise eyes greedily soaked in the appearance of her face, after-all with how close she was, how could he not?

"And done...Now Gabi," Y/n smiled sweetly, backing away from him as she grabbed the little girl's hand again. "Apologize to Eren. He could have gotten hurt."

"Why should I care? I was there first. He almost messed me up and then I'd have to start all over with my chalk." Gabi sneered and crossed her arms.

"Gabi! Apologize now. Or I'll make sure Reiner, knows about your behavior recently." Y/n said sternly.

"Fine. I'm sorry. Sorry, that you got in my way." Gabi stuck her tongue out at Eren and blew a loud raspberry.

"That's it go stand by the car. Right now." Y/n snapped looking at the child.

"But-" Gabi started as her eyes widened, seeming to not be used to punishment from Y/n.

"No buts. Go. Now." Y/n demanded pointing at the car.

Gabi walked away grumbling to herself and Y/n looked back at Eren apologetically. He stared at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin.

"Charming kid."

"She usually isn't like this."

"Oh really? She seems like an angel." He sarcastically replied.

"I'm sorry Eren. Is there any way I can make it up to you?" She mumbled softly looking at him with her big brown eyes.

Eren stiffened up and silently began to recite the pledge of allegiance, there was no reason for how ridiculously attractive she looked when she said that little stupid phrase.

"Let me take you on a date." He blurted dreamily not realizing it had slipped out of his mouth.

"A date?" Y/n questioned curiously.

"Yes. A date, you and me." He responded despite his chest-beating heavily.

"...I don't know." She mumbled looking away from him.

"Y/n..." Eren stood up and looked down at her, cupping her face gently, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "I've had the biggest crush on you since sophomore year. I thought that it would just go away but no matter what I've always just thought about you. Despite the two other girls I've dated, I wanted you. I've never dared to ask you because you're clearly out of my league and I just-"

He was silenced by Y/n pressing her lips against his mouth and Eren was sure he felt his knees buckle, the taste of her vanilla lip-gloss was the tastiest thing he had consumed. He kissed back desperately not wanting the moment to end, his hands held her jaw a little tighter. Y/n broke the kiss first with a bashful smile.

"I like you Eren. I've liked you since middle school. I was just nervous because I thought you were out of my league."

"Bullshit, you're like an Earth goddess and I'm just a dumbass." He protested as his hands found their way to her hips.

"No, you're sweet, caring, friendly, and all-around a really good guy." She hummed wrapping her hands around his neck.

"Mm well, I guess I can say this shit was worth the wait." He leaned down their noses touching gently.

"Definitely," Y/n repeated before Eren captured her lips into another sweet kiss.

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

"Okay, I need to go now." Y/n laughed as he peppered kisses down her shoulder.

"Mm then leave" Eren mumbled nipping at her skin softly.

"I would but you won't let me leave your lap." She retorted as she looked down at his hands that held tightly onto her waist.

"Then I guess you can't go." He grinned.

"Okay, you guys are starting to make me sick." Jean stood up, setting his controller down.

"Yeah me too, Armin why the fuck did you have to set them up." Connie mumbled as he painted his nails.

"What?" Eren paused his motions and looked at his blonde best friend, who was reading a book.

"You guys kept moping to me about liking each other and whenever I advised to just be upfront about your feelings, you guys just ignored me. What else was I supposed to do?" He questioned setting his book down, as it dawns on both Y/n and Eren; they had been manipulated.

"Dammit, Armin." Y/n mumbled despite the smile on her face.

Eren was definitely in Armin's debt forever after realizing he was the reason that Y/n was his girlfriend. The brunette smiled thinking of the perfect way to help his friend, and what better way could he repay him by setting him up with his crush as well?

[thatdoctorharvey]

Hi howdy ho neighborino! I’ve been reading some of your fics and I love them! I was wondering if you could write something where the farmer has married Harvey but Harvey gets jealous of the other bachelors that farmer has high friendship with angst. I saw the flowers fic and I thought it was super cool but it would be cute for things to work out in the end

Okay so for this one, I saw the perfect opportunity to do a little snippet of how my Harvey x Reader book is going to be. It’s not gonna be anything directly from the book but it will give you a pretty good idea as to how everything will be written.

Also, for the sake of Sam can’t pick out a name for his band, I’m going to use the name of my Uncle’s former band (I got his permission, don’t worry). This will be important.

I did kind of incorporate flowers into this as well. Gotta have the flowers prompt with a good ending too, right?

I also apologize. The pacing for this is a bit rushed and there isn’t much Harvey at the beginning but you’ll see why.

This was the last thing you expected. It had been years since you had been to the city. Yet here you were.

“You ready for this (y/n)?” Sam asked you, seeming to be pretty pumped up.

“Always!” You replied, brushing your hair out of your face.

You looked beside you at the equipment. It was just the mics and guitars, the rest being among the other band members. For once, you were nervous. The last time you performed in the city, you had made a fool of yourself. You silently hoped no one remembered as it was the reason you ended your musical career.

Abigail suddenly tapped your shoulder from the seat beside you, leaning into the isle and waiting for you. You quickly snapped out of your little trance and leaned to her, feeling like a teenager back in high school again.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Are you and Harvey okay? I didn’t see him talk to you when we were loading up and he’s all the way in the back.” She asked you.

You took a quick glance back to the crowd of townsfolk on the bus. Sure enough, there he was, the very back of the bus, by himself. He looked to be bored as he stared out the window.

“I mean, he’s been very meh lately with talking to me, but I’ve also been practicing with you guys a lot for the past couple months to prepare for this.” You looked back at her. “He wasn’t happy when I said I offered to sit with the equipment to make sure it didn’t break on the way there.”

Abigail looked to Harvey and then quickly back to you. “Shit. He saw me looking.”

“So, (y/n), I was thinking, maybe we could perform one of your old songs?” Sam suddenly interrupted. 

You and Abigail both looked to him. It didn’t take long to realize that, not just Sam, but Abigail and Sebastian were looking at you now. They had been talking about this for a while and had been practicing when you weren’t around.

“Wh..which one?” You asked, a little nervous.

“We won’t tell you until the end. That’s when we want to perform it!” Sam smiled brightly.

Abigail grabbed your hand. “Pleeeeease! It’s a good one!”

You sat back in your seat and let out a breath. Harvey had only heard you sing a select few times, but to hear one of your old songs with how he’s been acting. It just wasn’t a good idea...But it was just a song, right?

“What the hell, let’s do it.” You suddenly said, looking at your guitar case beside you. “But just one!”

All three of them fist pumped and looked to Pam, who was giving them a dirty look. Luckily, they had arrived at the spot they would be performing so they had a valid excuse to leave.

“Alright you four! Get your stuff and get off the bus!” Pam grumpily said in a semi-joking manner.

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.” You mumbled to yourself and grabbed as much equipment as possible. Kent and Demetrius helped get everything off the bus and onto the stage. Everyone riding was going to have some fun in the city until the concert, aside from a select few who would stay and help set up. Harvey was not one of them.

“Alright, (y/n), once we get set up, do you mind doing your thing while we check equipment?” Sam asked.

“Sure! I know none of you will sing into the mics to test them so I might as well.” You jokingly replied, taking off your hoodie to show the upper half of your band outfit. It was a bit revealing but nothing super intense. It also hugged your body fairly well. “Let’s get this going so we can get this show on the road!”

All three of your bandmates cheered. This was big for all of you. Sure, you’d had a few decent sized crowds in bars before, but this was a whole new thing. You were about to perform on a stage! A real stage! There weren’t just going to be drunk men and weird girls! There were going to be hundreds of people! Even your husband was going to be there!

...Harvey…

“Hey! Come on, you gotta help me with the mics.” Sam suddenly said, snapping you out of your thoughts. The sky had darkened a bit but not too much. Just enough to notice that time had passed.

“O-oh! Sorry! I got distracted.” You said and walked to your mic. “Just let me know when you have them all on.”

Sam nodded and went to the little booth, turning all the mics on and muting all but yours. “Good to go! Abigail, Sebastian, you know the routine.”

The three of you nodded and began the process. You had done this many times back at home. You had performed some of your more family friendly music during the events through the year, and of course, this meant you had set up the mics before.

So there you were. The middle of Zuzu City. The crowd began to form as your singing began to test the mics. Even though it sounded weird since you had to move from mic to mic, it still sounded good. You didn’t know that your husband was listening though. And the song you were singing was hitting him like a ton of bricks. Memories...Was he nothing but a memory now?

Soon enough, the time came. The crowd stood in front of the stage, the townsfolk among them. You couldn’t seem to spot your husband though, but you knew he was out there. Perhaps the lights were making you unable to see him. They were already affecting your vision.

“Hello everyone!” Sam spoke. “We are from Pelican Town!” He seemed to be oddly confident, something that everyone in town knew wasn’t right, especially for a first big performance like this. “And we are the Block Party Massacre!”

And just like that, everything began. Everyone began to play their instruments and you sang. The crowd cheered and clapped after each song. Once you reached the final song, you nearly cried. Some of the people in the crowd began to sing along. It brought back memories and it truly touched your heart to know that  your fans still remembered your songs.

But, like everything else, the concert came to an end. You helped get everything cleaned and loaded up before looking around. At last second, you saw Harvey getting on the bus. Immediately you went to Abigail.

“Hey, you mind sitting with the equipment? I...I think I should sit with Harvey.” You asked her.

“Sure! Just, go easy on him. He looked pretty hurt, especially during the last song.” She replied.

You simply gave a nod and hurried over to the bus. You took a breath before getting on and looking at the seats. Harvey was still in the same place, the very back. You made your way back there, slowly sitting beside him. He jumped a bit, seeming to have been in his own world.

“O-oh. Hi.” He said when he realized who had sat beside him.

You offered a smile. “Hi my love. Did you have fun?”

Harvey just gave you a look. Not one of love nor hate. More like hurt. Out of instinct, you gently grabbed his hand, turning your body to face him.

“Harvey. Look at me.” You said softly. “What’s wrong? You’ve been like this since I started practicing with them.”

The doctor looked at you for a minute and then to your hands. He wanted to say so much but his anxiety ridden mind wouldn’t let him.

“Do you love me?” He suddenly asked after a few short moments.

You offered a soft smile and rested your head on his shoulder. Was that why he was making a big fuss?

“Of course I do! I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t. What made you think I didn’t?”

“You...You just never talked to me and you always got home late and you were so close with Sam a-and Sebastian and Abigail an-”

“Harvey.” You placed a finger on his lips as you looked back up at him. “You are the only one I love. I tried making you breakfast and dinner but you always let it sit out. I tried to talk to you but you always ignored me. I thought you were pushing me away, so I started opening up my schedule to practices. That’s what I’ve been doing the past few months.”

The doctor didn’t know what to say.

“Answer me this; would I ever want to leave you, my comfy pillow and cuddle bug, for Sam?” You poked his belly for emphasis on the pillow part. “You are everything I wanted and more. Hell, I didn’t even know what I really wanted until I met you.”

“But...The song…”

“I wrote that a long time ago. Didn’t you hear? People were singing along. How would they know a song the band wrote if they had never heard it before?” You chuckled a little bit and hugged him.

“I…” Harvey slowly wrapped his arms around you. “I guess that is true.” His grip tightened slightly, but not enough to hurt you. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. It’s fine. We can cuddle when we get home. That always cheers you up.” You said happily. “Just, please communicate with me next time. I don’t want you to be hurt like this. It hurts my heart.”

He kissed the top of your head, looking up when he heard the bus start up. “Yeah...I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

And with that, you two headed home.

BONUS

The fire crackled as you rested on the couch. It was a rather peaceful night, the sky clear and the animals not too loud. Crickets could be heard if you listened closely, but you didn’t want to listen to them. You would rather listen to something else.

“(Y/n), are you certain you’re comfortable?” Harvey asked, a hand rested on your back. The other held a glass of wine that he’d been sipping on. “You don’t look to be.”

“Oh trust me Harvey, I am.” You assured your husband, nuzzling a bit against his belly as your arms slightly tightened their grip around his waist to indicate a hug. “I am always comfortable when I lay on my pillow.”

He blushed and took another sip of his wine before setting the glass on the side table. He was half laying on the couch, you on top of him. On the coffee table in front of you was a vase that contained a small bouquet of flowers. He had made it for you once you two had gotten home as an apology for his behavior. In return, you gave him some of your finest wine that you had planned on selling to make up for everything.

“I love you Harvey. Don’t ever forget it.” You half whispered, looking up at him.

The doctor couldn’t help but smile back, his face still red. “I love you too (y/n).”

“I will never forget it.”

[hotchnersbiitch]

Worth Fighting For

A/N: SEND ME REQUEST PLZ

Request: @jojosgirlkat1dluvr​

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader 

Category: angst & fluff at the end 

Warning: kidnapping, violence. Heavily based off the episode titled Revelations 2x15, so if for some weird reason you haven't seen that episode this will contain major spoilers I guess??

Word Count: 2,003~ 8min

-

You groan as you woke up in a dark room that smelt awful. Your face was throbbing in pain, you went to touch your face when you realized your hands were handcuffed to a chair. Where were you? The last thing you remember was being with JJ to talk to a possible witness but you both discovered that he was the unsub. Tobias? You think that was his name, he ran around back you and JJ split up to look for him. Next thing you know you were hit in the head, now you're in a dirty cabin. 

“Shit.” You mumble out of pain looking down at your handcuffed hands trying to see if there was a way out. 

“Watch your language.” A loud threatening voice called out, the man from earlier was standing in front of you, your eyes went wide. 

“Colossians 3:8; But now you must also rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips.” The man recited as he pulled out a revolver and one silver bullet holding the bullet up to your face. 

“This, this is God’s will.” He says loading the bullet into the gun and spinning the chamber before pointing it directly at your forehead.

“Y-you don't have to do this.” You stutter out, fearing for your life. 

“Yes I do,” he mumbled, next thing you heard was the pull of the trigger. click

The whole team was at Tobias’ house trying to find a way to get you back. Your best friend Spencer was losing his mind, he was so worried about you. You guys have been best friends before you even joined the BAU a few years after Spencer did. You both went to college together, you guys were inseparable. Hours passed with no luck, Spencer was worried sick but he was trying his best to stay calm and figure out where you were. Everyone was, you were the youngest of the group, everyone tried their best to protect you. 

“What are you doing? Don’t, please don’t” You beg as Tobias fills a syringe with a clear liquid, you had no idea what it was. 

“It helps.” He says calmly as he lines the needle up with your vein. 

“Please, I don't want it. I don't want it, please.” You were crying not knowing what was going to happen to you. 

“Trust me, I know.” He says as he sticks you with the needle slowly injecting you with the drug. You wince at the pain, you feel the liquid flow through your veins your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Y/N? Y/N?” you sat up off the floor in an empty, completely white room, you saw your mom standing across from you, how was this possible, she's dead. Are you hallucinating? Are you dead? 

“Mom?” 

“Don’t be afraid to let go, sweetie,” she said in an angelic voice, it all made sense to you now.

“I don't want to die.” You cry out to your mother. 

“Then fight, what's something worth fighting for?” She asks

“Spencer.” You reply immediately, you loved Spencer so much. You don't want to leave this Earth without him knowing he’s the love of your life. You don't want to hide your feelings for your best friend anymore. You wanted a life, with him.

“Fight for him Y/N. Don't give up on him, you love him. He loves you too. Don't give up on him.” She says her voice becoming quieter and quieter.

“I love him, I love him..... I love him.” 

  “Guys! Guys! Get in here!” Derek yells from Tobias's computer room where Garcia was working to find you. The team rushes in gathering behind Garcia, gasping when they see the computer screen. Spencer's face went white and he started crying, JJ placed a hand on his back to comfort him, but there was no calming him down now. 

“He’s killing her,” Garcia said looking away from the screen where you were being beaten. The team watched intently as the scene unfolded in front of their eyes. 

“Answer me! How many members are on your team not including yourself?!” He yelled, he broke you you couldn't take anymore beating. You didn't know how much longer you could hold out. 

“Seven” You mutter your voice weak. 

“The seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first sounding followed hail and they were thrown to the earth.” He says walking around you before standing in front of you again, you glanced at the camera that was filming you with a terrified look on your face. 

“Tell me who you serve.” He demands. 

“I serve you” You whimper out. 

“Then chose one to die.” 

“What?” You question your heart rate picking back up again. 

“Your team members- chose one to die.” 

“Kill me.” You meant it, you'd give your life for your team.

“Choose, and prove you'll do God's will.” He says as he pulls out the revolver again spinning the chamber before pressing it to your forehead. 

“Choose.” 

“I won't do it.” he pulled the trigger. Nothing. 

“Life is a choice, now choose.” 

“No.” he pulled the trigger again. Nothing 

“Choose.” 

“I...” You thought for a moment before a plan arose in your head. 

“I choose... Spencer Reid,” you utter out.

“He’s a classic narcissist, he thinks he’s better than everyone else on the team because of his intelligence. Genesis 23:4 “Let him not deceive himself and trust in emptiness, vanity, falseness, and futility. For these shall be his recompense.” 

Spencer shook his head, immediately knowing what you were doing. 

“That's wrong,” Spencer says. 

“She doesn't mean it, man, she's under tremendous stress,” Morgan says and Spencer shakes his head wiping his puffy eyes. 

“I know that I'm not a narcissist. But she does know that I know what she means.” He says the team gives him a perplexed look waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Y/N and I argued about the definition of classic narcissism not too long ago, and she knew that I would remember that, and she also quoted Genesis, chapter 23, verse 4. ‘I am a stranger and a foreigner with you. Give me property, forbear a place among you that I may bury my dead out of my sight.’ She wouldn't get it wrong unless it was on purpose. She's in a cemetery.” He explained in a broken voice. 

“She's telling me where she is,” he adds. 

“Okay, uh....” Garcia says typing away on the computer. Hotchner leans over her and points to the screen. 

“What's that patch of green there?” He asks. 

“Marshall Parish. I think it is an old plantation” Garcia responds. 

“Wait!” Spencer says running to get one of Tobias's journals flipping it open before rushing back in. 

“Tobias wrote in his journals about staying clean and keeping away from Marshall,” Spencer says passing the journal around to the team. 

“Guys, there's a cemetery on the grounds,” Garcia says. 

“She's there guys, Garcia send us the address. We have to go before its too late!” Spencer yells running out to the SUVs with everyone else. He was so scared he’d never see you again, he had to hurry. 

You woke up to the man taking off your handcuffs, you panicked, what was happening? 

“What are you doing?” You ask as the handcuffs dropped to the floor, suddenly he grabbed you by the hair dragging you outside. You screamed out in pain as he dragged you out to the cemetery, he drops you before throwing a shove at you. 

“Dig,” he says sternly, you sobbed and did as he said scared as to what may happen if you didn't obey. You hoped Spencer got your message and the team was on their way to come save you. You dug for what felt like hours but was only several minutes, you felt weak, you needed to escape. You didn't think your team was going to find you in time. You looked at the man before you swung the shovel hitting him in the leg. He fell to the ground and you took this chance to run the best you could, you could see flashlights in the distance, was that them? 

“HELP! I’M OVER HERE! SPENCER! GUYS!” You screamed with all the power you had hobbling as fast as you could, you saw them coming closer to you. Suddenly you felt something hard hit the back of your head and a gunshot echo through the night. 

You woke up to bright lights blinding you, you groan closing your eyes again, your whole body ached. 

“Y/N?” You heard Spencer’s voice. 

“Is she waking up?” You heard Derek ask. You were alive, you were safe, you felt comfort wash over you. You forced your eyes open. 

“Thank God...I’m alive” You mumble looking around seeing your team all around you. 

“Yeah, babygirl you're alive,” Derek says quietly, you look over at him and smile at him. 

“How are you feeling?” Emily asked walking over to you. 

“Like shit.” You say with a small chuckle. 

“Yeah, I’d imagine you were hit over the head with a shovel,” Emily says matching your vibe with a small laugh. 

“That's what that was? I thought I got shot, I felt something hit me and I heard a gun go off and then everything went black.” You explain, the whole team was standing around now listening. 

“No, you weren't shot. Spencer shot Tobias right after he hit you.” Aaron explains, abruptly everything came rushing back to you. 

“Spencer...” you mumble looking over to him tears pooling in your eyes you grabbed his hand. 

“I knew you'd understand. I knew you would.” You mumble before you started crying. Spencer started crying too and nodded. 

“Yeah, I understood immediately. That was brilliant, I’m so glad you thought of that because otherwise... We may not have found you.” He says with a sniffle. You look around at everyone tears flowing down your face. 

“Thank you guys, so much. I was so afraid, I thought I’d never see you guys again.” You admit, JJ and Garcia were crying now too. Derek looked like he was about to, you were so happy to be alive. After a while, everyone said their goodbyes and said they would all be back tomorrow to pick you up since you had to stay in the hospital overnight. Soon enough it was just you and Spencer, you were grateful you two were alone now. 

“Spence, will you stay the night with me tonight? I’m scared to be alone. I know there are doctors around and stuff but I'm scared.” You admit, Spencer sat next to you and grasped your hand. 

“Yes of course. You don't have to explain yourself, I figured you would ask anyways.” He says softly, he looked like a wreck from hours of crying and worrying. 

“You were the only thing keeping me alive.” You say softly looking down at your hands that were intertwined together, you resumed. 

“You're the only reason I didn't give up. I didn't want to die... I didn't want to die before I could tell you I love you... I love you so much, more than a friend.” You said not making eye contact with him, it was quiet for a moment before you heard Spencer crying, which in turn made you start to tear up as well. 

“I was worried I was never going to be able to tell you I love you either.” He says with a small smile on his face as tears streamed down his cheeks, he continued. 

“I love you too, I've been hiding it for so long. I was so scared I'd never get the chance to tell you.” He admitted you smiled at him as he brought your hand to his lips kissing it gently. 

“You're my hero Spencer Reid, I love you.” You say looking at him with eyes full of admiration for him he smiles softly kissing your knuckles. 

“I love you too.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Wonho

Pairing: Lee Hoseok x reader

Genre: paramedic – hospital au / co-workers to lovers

Warnings: naturally given the au of an EMT/paramedic there are more than one reference to accidents, a death and medical terms. Also there is a small fight, kind of a one-night stand but not and I wrote Y/N as on the shorter side, sorry if this offends taller readers.

Word count: 3525

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“Hey short stuff!” Hoseok greeted fondly and you rolled your eyes, looking over your shoulder briefly before turning back to cabinets you were stocking.

“You know, if you keep using that term, all the others are never going to stop teasing me for being the shortest here on the force.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! Great things come in small packages.”

Your gaze fell directly to his loins and smirked. “Do they just?”

“Y/N!” Hoseok warned with a hearty chuckle, helping you with your final gear check in the back of the ambulance.

Truth be told, he liked that he got a rise out of you most days. Hoseok had been in the paramedic industry for four years now and out of all his co-workers he had been paired up with, you were definitely the most compatible. You made the long hours worth it, with the endless banter and the equally deep and thoughtful moments too. Working in such a high-stress, life or death environment was never easy to navigate but you had become a well-oiled machine together. Some of his greatest accomplishments had been at your side.

“Ready to go?” you questioned and Hoseok nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat of the vehicle and moving out of the parking lot. Every day was different on the job. Sometimes he spent more time in the office than behind the wheel, not being on the active dispatch team. Today, however, you were on the road, waiting to be called towards jobs that needed their assistance.

You wound down the window and placed your arm on the doorframe. “It’s too nice of a day to be cooped up in here.”

“You say that every day it’s sunny.”

“The sun will be gone soon and replaced with a busy Friday night, I bet you.”

“How much?”

“You’re willing to give me your money so freely?” you teased and Hoseok shrugged. “Twenty bucks that we only deal with drunk people.”

“Alright, the same if we have at least one sober patient.”

It wasn’t the most ideal thing to be waging on what type of work you would have for the night, but it kept it interesting.

And it made you delighted knowing he had to pay up at the end of the shift. “Oooh, we’ve been around so many intoxicated people tonight I think we’re starting to smell like a brewery!”

“You’re not funny,” Hoseok replied as he pulled out his wallet and handed you the money. You grinned and waved it around, doing a little dance alongside it. “What’s fair is fair.”

“You really do like giving your money away,” you stated, giving him a wink before going into the female changing rooms.

Hoseok waited for you to return out of uniform and jangled his keys. “Want a lift home?”

“You just like driving me around, don’t you?”

“I’m used to it, it’s not often you’re behind the wheel because-”

“Finish that sentence, I dare you,” you implored and Hoseok shrugged playfully, leaping away from your frustrated swipe in his direction. Chasing him out to his car, you just missed your chance to catch him when he slipped inside the driver’s side. Sighing and stalking around the vehicle, you slumped into your seat.

“Buckle up for safety!” he reminded as he turned the car on and you shot him an exasperated look. “Hey, everyone of any height needs to keep safe in a moving vehicle.”

“One day I’m going to get you so good and you’re going to regret every quip you’ve said to me.”

You managed to have him whining two days later before your shift, winning an arm wrestle against him twice. “It’s impossible!”

“Why, because your muscles are huge and mine aren’t? It’s called having a good strategy, you should look it up.”

Ducking his head as the other teammates in the break room laughed at his second defeat, Hoseok dived on the dispatch radio that went off on the table. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’ll show you just how good I am at my job instead.”

After attending a three-car pile up, thankfully all with minor injuries and only transferring one patient to the hospital for follow-up treatment, Hoseok glanced at you instead of pulling out of the ambulance bay.

You gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

“You did really well on that elderly woman’s treatment.”

“What are you talking about?” you muttered, picking up the tablet from its stand to log in more details of the event and close the report. “I just did my job, like you.”

“It seemed as if you got that leg injury stabilised before I was finished dressing the second car’s passenger though.”

“Did I?” You stopped tapping on the device’s keyboard and thought for a moment. “I guess I was efficient.”

“You’re a good partner to have in an emergency, Y/N.”

“What’s with all the praises, still upset about me winning earlier and trying to win me over now?”

“No,” he replied genuinely, and then frowned, trying to search for a reason for his compliment. When he started speaking, he hadn’t felt he needed one. But now, as he continued to look for an answer, he felt hot under his collar. Why were you affecting him today?

You looked at him and then smiled gently. “Thank you. I’ve learned from the best.”

“Me?”

“Chief Jung,” you corrected with a laugh and Hoseok groaned, leaping on another dispatched call and answering that they would take it.

The unease Hoseok was feeling towards you was fleeting and within a week it was back to the same constant bickering and comfortable nature you shared. The rapport you had together only strengthened after being faced with a fatal incident as well. It was never easy to be carrying someone in the back on a gurney headed for the mortuary, and the sombre silence in the cab only amplified this after driving back to the base. Hoseok gripped at the steering wheel at a set of lights, knowing somewhere tonight, a family would be grieving over the person they couldn’t get to fast enough to save.

“It’s the worst feeling,” you murmured as he began to drive off. Hoseok glanced at you briefly, your eyes stuck on the road ahead. “Even if it’s part of the job and not my first time, I don’t like it.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to like it.”

“I know it’s selfish, but I never want to be on the other side of the situation. I’ve had to treat friends before and I know it’s my job to remain calm and collected in a stressful environment like that was. However, say it was you; I don’t think I would be able to.”

Hoseok reached over to pat your hand lightly. “Hey, don’t go thinking like that.”

“It could happen.”

“It could,” he agreed softly, images procuring in his mind with coming up on a scene and finding you within it. He shuddered and blinked it away rapidly. “But I know you’ll do your best for me. And likewise, I’d give my all to save you.”

“Ah, we’re so emotional,” you stated shakily, clapping your hands together. “Does everyone crack like this after losing someone?”

“I don’t know, but you’re not alone in this tonight.”

You grew silent again until you climbed out of the cab and grabbed your things. Turning to look at Hoseok, you smiled sadly. “Want to go get a drink?”

“I was going to suggest the same thing.”

Once showered, changed and now seated in a bar with a drink in hand, you seemed a bit more alert. Hoseok smiled as he pushed the bowl of hot chips he had purchased towards you. You eyed the move cautiously. “What?”

“You need more colour in your cheeks.”

“I’m not feeling faint,” you replied sternly, though took a chip and blew on it lightly before chewing it.

“I know, but eating is a vital step in recovery for us.”

“I’d rather drink.”

“It won’t go away with the alcohol,” he reminded and you nodded distractedly. He could tell you were definitely more subdued than usual tonight. Looking around the bar, he pointed across the room. “Want to play a round of pool?”

“You only suggested that since I suck at it.”

“There’s always room for improvement,” he offered and you picked up the bowl of chips and your drink, standing up and gesturing to a free pool table.

It wasn’t until your second game where you had loosened up enough, laughing loudly at sinking the wrong ball than the one you were originally aiming for.

“At least you got one in!”

“I’m so ridiculously useless at this game!” you replied with another laugh, picking up your drink and taking a gulp.

Hoseok sunk the final three balls and you clapped at his triumph. He picked up his jacket and nudged you playfully. “Let’s call it a night, huh?”

“Good idea before you get drunk and start singing out of tune like you did last time,” you quipped and Hoseok reached out for you as you scooted out of his way. Accidentally, he knocked the man at the neighbouring table in the process.

And then, you turned around and let out a string of explicit words. Hoseok was conflicted. On one hand, his heart was thumping erratically at your instant defence for him, but with the way they acted towards him, he wasn’t exactly able to put in his best bid to protect you with the shock still keeping him to his spot.

“Sorry mate, I didn’t-”

A sickening punch came right for him in response and Hoseok was disorientated. He wasn’t expecting it at all and wobbled as he regained his balance. You came into his view immediately, examining his cheek.

He was in a daze, wondering if it was all a dream as he watched you twist the man’s arm who had just punched him now behind his back and made him drop to his knees. Details seemed to remain hazy even when you were helping him into the back of a cab and giving over your address. It wasn’t until you made him sit down on the edge of your couch inside your home and placed a bag of ice over his cheek that he seemed to snap out of his reverie.

“Did you just do all that?” he wondered out loud and you grinned at him.

“What, save your ass from doing something stupid?”

“I think you were a little too reckless compared, don’t you?”

“There was no need to punch you, and he had to apologise for it.”

Hoseok mirrored your grin as you rearranged the bag you were holding against his cheek. And then it faded, sliding forward to kiss your lips.

It had to be the alcohol, he concluded as he passionately continued to kiss you. There would be no other explanation for the hunger that you were showering him in otherwise. You had never expressed a desire for him like this. Although he had confused moments, you were impartial to dating and even frowned upon it in the workplace. So the events of the night and the alcohol consumed could be the only explanation for this.

Not that he needed one right now. He was all too immersed in running his hands along your curves, gasping when you hastily undid the buttons of his shirt. He enjoyed your instant appreciation of his exposed torso, the licking of your bottom lip urging him forward to capture them again, to continue making you his.

And then the fever cast over you caused you to press into his injury, a sudden hiss leaving him and ruining the mood. He panicked. “No, I’m fine!”

“More than fine,” you breathed, tenderly running your hand over his chest. “But you’re injured, let’s stop here.”

“Really?” he asked with disappointment as you puckered up your swollen lips and nodded sadly. You patted him on the chest before getting up, although Hoseok reached for your hand to halt your departure. “Where are you going?”

“To get you some blankets to sleep with, unless you want to uh… share my bed?”

He nodded then, following you down the hallway to your room.

The alcohol couldn’t hide either of your awkwardness now that the heated moment was left back in the living room. You looked at the space and then cringed. “We can’t, you know.”

“I know. Let’s just sleep,” he assured and you nodded, climbing into the bed first before Hoseok followed you in. Tense for a moment, you then rolled towards him, Hoseok slipping his arm after your neck.

Exhaustion washed over you both, pulling you into your dreams before you could question it any further.

When he woke in the morning, you were already up and making breakfast. Hoseok leaned against the doorframe and watched you move around the small kitchen, smiling to himself. He realised he could get used to this type of relationship with you. Those flustered moments and the unease he had felt thus far made more sense now that he had kissed you.

He was certain you could become better partners to each other on and off the clock.

His growing romantic notions were clipped short by your response over breakfast, however.

You smiled at him politely as you spread jam on your toast. “Your face looks a mess.”

“You did a good job of making me feel better.”

“It was a slip-up, it won’t happen again. Alcohol does strange things to people,” you replied and Hoseok’s expression faltered. You continued to eat your breakfast as if the heated embrace you had experienced wasn’t that special. Were you really that unaffected by it? Hoseok was sure you had felt what he had too.

Maybe you were only acting on impulse from the alcohol after all.

So he swallowed back the remnants of his feelings and chuckled. “Right, we had too much to drink.”

“Don’t go getting punched in any more bars,” you added on with a smirk.

And that was that. He had been lucid when it all happened, and he knew you weren’t even tipsy. Yet you both chalked it up as a drunken experience, working together as if you hadn’t had your hands all over his torso as his tongue wasn’t battling with yours all those weeks ago.

He had to admit, he was rather relieved when his planned time off rolled around. For two weeks, he wouldn’t have to endure through the unexpected moments where he’d catch himself thinking back to that night. Little things, such as you tying your hair back, were enough to give him a seconds’ flash of memory from that night.

Yet, you were unaffected, impartial even.

Or so he thought.

It was ironic how life worked in mysterious ways and if this was how he was going to get your attention, he wasn’t so sure he’d be willing to go through with it more than once. The impact of the other car hitting his was deafening, the screech of the wheels across the asphalt causing Hoseok to clamp his eyes shut momentarily.

He had attended far too many accidents but this was his first being involved in one.

When the noise all came to a halt, he opened his eyes again, assessing himself for injury. He had a few cuts on his arm from the glass shards on impact but nothing was substantially painful. Opening the door to his side of the car that thankfully hadn’t been the one to receive the impact, he went over to the driver in the other car, checking them for injuries as he called for emergency services.

Hoseok didn’t even notice it was you called onto the scene at first, too busy applying pressure to the thigh injury sustained on the other driver. However, he knew it was you who called his name out desperately, ignoring the other paramedic who was calling for you to calm down.

You dropped to your knees beside him, shaking visibly as you reached out for his face, looking him over as tears fell from your eyes. Hoseok smiled softly. “I’m okay, Y/N. We need to help Mr Laing here. He’s got three deep lacerations to his thigh and a suspected concussion.”

You merely stared back at him, still holding onto his face. “I told you not to do this to me.”

“Y/N,” he called, shaking you firmly. “Snap out of it, you need to help this man first.”

“I’ll do it,” Curtis announced and pushed you aside, stepping in to stabilise the patient. You seemed to snap out of your initial shock and assisted Curtis with getting the patient into the back of the ambulance. And then you came back to where Hoseok was now standing and took his arm with a tremble. “Come on, you’re getting checked out too.”

“I’m fine,” he told you but you ignored the response, guiding him into the extra seat in the ambulance. You seemed to have regained enough control over yourself to administer the correct care to the patient on the short trip to the hospital, and once you had handed him over to the awaiting medical team at the Emergency Department, you turned back to Hoseok, your knees starting to give way.

Lurching forward, he grabbed you before you fell. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No, I’m in shock,” you told him simply, staring up at him intently. “How dare you get hurt and be there when I arrive on the scene.”

“I didn’t quite expect the guy to hit me in the intersection when he did.”

You shook your head and thumped him on the chest. “What are you doing getting involved in accidents anyway?!”

Hoseok shot Curtis a helpless expression, who gestured for you to stay with him as he closed the back door to the ambulance. Sighing, Hoseok walked slowly inside to the bed a nurse called him to and sat you down beside him. You didn’t let go of his injured arm, staring at the cuts over his forearm forlornly.

“Y/N,” he murmured and you hummed in response, tearing up. “Why are you being like this?”

“Am I meant to be fine about you getting injured?!”

“No, it’s just…” He paused to take in a breath. “I’m okay, it’s just a bit of soreness settling in from the impact and some cuts. I’m not dying yet you’re acting like I’m critical right now.”

“You mean too much to me to end up here like this,” you confessed shakily, blinking as a tear slid down your cheek. “You’re meant to help those who get hurt, not be the one hurt.”

“I know. You really are in shock, huh?”

“I like you too much for you to be hurt,” you continued and Hoseok nodded and then stopped, widening his gaze upon your face.

“Wait, like me too much?”

“Of course, I do!”

“As your partner?”

“As a man,” you corrected, wincing a little when you brushed your fingers too close to one of his wounds. “I know you didn’t think much of that night but I did.”

“Woah, hang on a minute!” Blinking rapidly, Hoseok then grabbed your chin with his uninjured arm to pull your focus up to his eyes. “You were the one who brushed it off for being intoxicated.”

“I didn’t want to put you in a bind by my feelings,” you mumbled and Hoseok laughed. You gaped at him. “Why are you laughing?!”

“Because we’re idiots! I’ve liked you a whole lot too, I just thought it was one-sided.”

“Definitely not.”

“So it really scared you to find me there, then.”

“If you ever get injured without me being there again,” you started, heaving in a deep breath as you shook your head with contempt. “Actually, you better not ever get hurt in front of me again.”

“You’re really protective, you know? You saved me in the bar and now you’re asserting yourself again for my safety. It’s really adorable.”

“I would hardly call this situation adorable, Hoseok.”

He grinned despite your lamenting statement, leaning over to peck your lips. You froze and Hoseok kissed you again before pulling you in closer to his side. He sucked in a breath when it hurt a little to do and you snapped out of it enough to look at him with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, I have paramedic Y/N at my side to help me.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I might need extra treatment after we’re done here getting this sorted out,” he admitted and you tilted your head to the side in confusion. Hoseok smirked. “With how much you like me, I might end up becoming lovesick.”

“God, you’re hopeless,” you told him despite a smile tugging at your lips. Nestling into his side, you buried your head into his neck and pressed your lips into him.

“Maybe you’ll need treatment too. But that’s okay, we’re medically trained professionals. I’ll save you and you can save me, deal?”

Looking up at him with another smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “Deal.”

_________________

Next: Minhyuk

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[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Vaunna my beloved ❤

After your amazing Wels and Hels armorstand scene on my server could I get Wels and Hels story? Please? 👉👈

Oca my beloved ❤️

This is genuinely one of my favourite oneshots I’ve written. I just love the Wels/Hels dynamic so much. 

Also this is technically a sequel to the last one I wrote so go read it here if you like! This one does make sense without it tho

...

  It’s been a few weeks since the server has seen an evil hermit incident, and even though most of the hermits have let down their guard, Welsknight hasn’t. He hasn’t stopped being vigilant since his last encounter with Helsknight. He knows that his evil counterpart is out there somewhere, waiting for another chance to kill him. 

  Wels knows he can’t give him that chance. 

  One morning, while out in the desert, grinding for sand, Wels keeps spotting movement out the corner of his eye but every time he looks, he sees nothing. At first, he thinks it’s just the desert playing tricks on his mind. But his knight training tells him not to be so quick to jump to conclusions. 

  Eventually, he decides to put most of his stuff in a chest and go have a look, just in case. He leaves his valuables in the chest and explores the immediate area, looking carefully for any threats.

  He hears the sound behind him and twists to the side, a split second before a figure appears out of nowhere and attempts to shove him to the ground. 

  Wels jumps back a few steps and raises his diamond pickaxe, realising too late he accidentally brought it instead of his sword. “Helsknight.”

  His evil counterpart grins. “Hey, Welsy. Your face is looking great.”

  Wels’s hand automatically rises to his cheek, where the burn scar from their last encounter still sits. “Thanks. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for you, of course. It’s time we have another little battle, don’t you think?”

  Normally, Wels wouldn’t hesitate to stay and fight. But he doesn’t have a real weapon and his inventory is practically empty. 

  So he bolts back towards his chest, intending to grab his sword for a proper battle. But then he realises he may be running directly into a trap, so he changes direction.

  However, at that moment, the ground under his feet gives way, sending him tumbling down into the hole below.

  His fall seems to last only a few seconds but it must be far; when he hits the ground, pain explodes through his whole body. He’s fallen very far. 

  A second after he lands, he hears a splash from nearby and glances up. With the sunlight streaming through the hole, he can see a figure emerging from a single source block of water to his left. His heart skips a beat. 

  “You idiot!” Hels snaps, tossing the bucket at the wall. “You triggered the trap too soon! I wasn’t out of the way yet!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” Wels’s voice is strained from pain but his anger is unmistakable. “You’re right; I should have been able to avoid the secret trap you set up for me. Dang it. But hey, at least I’m not now stuck in a hole in terrible pain with next to no resources! That sure wouldn’t be ideal!”

  Hels glares at him. “Quit it with the sarcasm. This is all your fault.”

  Wels feels indignance boil inside him but he forces himself not to rise to the bait. His rational mind knows there’s no point arguing with Hels. “Whatever. I’m gonna see if my friends will come save me.”

  He taps out a message to the server asking for help, and within a minute, he gets replies from both Etho and Joe.

  “They’re on their way,” he says. “You may as well relax, cuz we’re not going anywhere ‘til then.”

  Hels huffs and sits down a few blocks away from Wels, crossing his arms irritably. 

  They sit in silence for a long time. The sun crosses the sky above them, marking the end of the morning and the start of the afternoon. 

  After a while, Wels decides to try and be practical. He checks his inventory; all he has on him is his diamond pickaxe, sixteen obsidian, a flint and steel, a single piece of bread, and some seeds. Nothing particularly useful. There aren’t enough blocks to pillar out, and Wels can hardly move while sitting, let alone standing, anyway. He could make a nether portal, but what would be the point? There’s no way he can survive better in the nether than in this pit right now. 

  He glances up. “Hels, do you have-.”

  “I don’t have anything on me, useful or otherwise,” says Hels immediately.

  Wels knows this means he doesn’t have food on him either. He can tell from the pouty expression on Hels’s face that his counterpart is hungry. Even though Wels’s hunger was reduced somewhat by the fall, he decides to be the bigger person. 

 He breaks his loaf of bread in half and offers the bigger part to Hels, who eyes him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

  Frowning confusedly, Wels replies, “Giving you some bread.”

  “Why?”

  “...because we both need food?”

  “Yeah, so why don’t you just eat it all? You’ll be fuller.”

  “But you won’t have any.” Wels shakes his hand. “Just take it.” 

  Hels continues to scowl at him. “Is it poisoned?”

  Sighing and rolling his eyes, Wels flicks the piece of bread into Hels’s lap and starts slowly eating his own. Out the corner of his eye, he watches Hels carefully inspect the bread before taking a hesitant bite. Finally satisfied that he isn’t being tricked, Hels starts to gobble the bread.

  Wels watches him curiously. “Why would I try to poison you, Hels?”

  Hels shrugs. “We’re enemies, isn’t that what we do? Try to kill each other?”

  “No,” Wels says. “That’s the way YOU see our relationship. I never wanted to be enemies with you, you know.”

  “Really? Wasn’t it you who started all this?”

  “No, you literally turned up out of the blue and dropped me in a hole one day. Then I destroyed you in a rap battle. Remember that?”

  “I remember the hole,” says Hels. “Don’t remember losing any rap battle.”

  “Uh huh.”

  The two fall into silence as they eat. Wels continues to watch Hels, who has already finished his half of the bread. 

  “Can I make an observation?” he asks after a few minutes.

  Hels huffs. “No but you’re gonna do it anyway.”

  “You’re not used to the concept of sharing, are you?”

  “Sharing?” Hels sits up straighter, a possessive look appearing in his eyes. “I don’t share anything! Nothing!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” says Wels. “I meant the concept of people voluntarily sharing things with you.” 

  Hels glares at him for a moment longer, before relaxing visibly. “No. Back in my dimension, it’s every person for themselves. You protect what you’ve got cuz if you don’t, you’re gonna lose it forever, so people hoard their stuff like it’s made of gold. I never got attached to anything cuz I knew it’d probably get snatched away from me sooner or later. I-.” He breaks off as he registers Wels’s expression. “Oh, don’t you dare pity me,” he growls. 

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes you are, you’re looking at me like I’m an abandoned baby dog or something.”

  Wels raises an eyebrow. “Baby dog? You mean a puppy?”

  “Shut up!” Hels growls again and huffily turns away from his counterpart. “I’m not a stupid puppy for you to adopt and train! If I get the opportunity, I WILL kill you. I would gladly leave you here to rot if it meant I could get outta this stupid hole. In fact, the only reason I’m not beating you to death right now is because you’re my best chance of getting out of here alive.”

  A pause follows his words. 

  Eventually, Wels sighs. “Sometimes, it’s so easy to see that you’re all the worst parts of me combined.”

  To his surprise, Hels doesn’t respond. His arms are folded but Wels can’t see his expression, can’t see that his counterpart’s eyes are misted over. 

  Hels is frustrated with himself; Wels has insulted him many times since their first meeting so why did that one little remark hurt him so much? Why has it brought him to tears like this? 

  Maybe it’s because Wels’s remark forced him to remember that he’s not his own person. He wasn’t born organically; he was brought into existence by a combination of Wels and a weird cloning machine. The nature of his “birth” means he isn’t a real person. He’s just a copy of Wels, made up of all the parts of himself that he hates.  

  Maybe that’s all he’ll ever be.

  A soft groan brings Hels out of his thoughts. He glances to the right and sees that Wels’s condition has deteriorated; his skin has rapidly paled and he’s clearly struggling to breathe. 

  As Hels watches, Wels reaches a shaking hand into his inventory and weakly throws an item to Hels, who catches it and turns it over. It’s a flint and steel. 

  Hels glances up in time to see Wels drop some obsidian down beside him as well. “Go, Hels,” he rasps. “Make a portal and go back to the nether.”

  Hels blinks, his mind racing as he tries to figure out the catch. “What are you doing? Why did you give me this?”

  “So you can escape. My friends are coming for me but I’ll probably die before they get here. If you’re still here when they arrive, there’s no telling what they’ll do to you. Just go while you still can.”

  After a moment, Hels narrows his eyes. “Are you tricking me? What’s the catch?”

  “Nothing,” Wels insists weakly. “Just please, go, quickly.”

  “No, seriously. Why are you so insistent I leave?”

  “B-Because…” Wels hesitates, taking in a shaky breath. “Because it’s getting dark and the mobs will be coming soon and I don’t want you to die. If I die, I respawn. You don’t.”

  Hels stares at his counterpart in confusion. “You… don’t want me to die?”

  “Of course not. How many times do we have to-.”

  He breaks off as he tries to stifle a pained cry. The fall damage he took is starting to catch up with him now. 

  The groan of a zombie sounds from nearby. Hels’s eyes widen with fear.

  “Go, Hels!” Wels’s voice cracks. “Please!” 

  Looking deep into his counterpart’s eyes and finding nothing but fear and desperation in them, Hels turns and creates a portal on the very edge of the pit, lighting it up with the flint and steel. 

  He glances back at Wels one final time, before disappearing through the portal.

  Wels closes his eyes, breathing a shallow sigh. His counterpart should be safe; if he’s anything like Wels himself, he knows how to survive on his own. 

  As the mob sounds start to surround him, he feels a calm sense of relief. He knows he’ll respawn back in his bed, and at this moment, he doesn’t care that he’ll lose the items he has on him right now. He just wants the pain to end. 

…

  Hidden safely in the nether, Hels clutches the flint and steel his counterpart gave him. He can’t stop staring at it; it represents the sacrifice Wels made for him. The first time anyone has been willing to lay down their own life for him. He can hardly believe it even happened at all; the concept of loving someone enough to want to protect them even at the cost of their own life is completely foreign. 

  As he’s puzzling this out, a message appears on the communicator he stole from Wels during their last confrontation. A message he knew deep down was coming, but one that still catches him off guard. 

Welsknight was slain by zombie

[clonecest-bin-account]

Wolfpack!Dogma (after Umbara he gets smuggled into the 104th instead of getting decommissioned)/Wolffe/Tup? Maybe the 104th works together with the 501st for a mission, and meanwhile they celebrate the victory, Tup follows a familiar vod in the wolfpack barracks...

(Ooooh this was an interesting prompt. I gotta say I’m a fan of this ship now! Anyway, here’s what I wrote. Enjoy!)

After the battle is over, Tup doesn’t follow the rest of his squad back to the 501st barracks, instead he goes to where he knows the 104th is stationed.

He makes sure that nobody notices him, or else he’d be surely subjected to questions he doesn’t want to answer. He blends in quite well; after all that’s something Tup’s very good at, which turns useful during many situations, this one included.

He enters easily, going directly towards the barracks, towards which he’s seen two particular troopers go: Commander Wolffe and… a trooper that he still has never seen without his bucket. There’s something familiar about this trooper, however, and Tup wants to understand why that is.

 He just wants to take a peek, he says to himself once he arrives to his destination, finding Wolffe already bucket-less, and then he would’ve gone back to the 501st barracks; he wasn’t meant to be seen at all.

His plan fails, however, because when the trooper goes to remove his helmet he can’t hold back a gasp, which in turn causes the two to look back at him. It’s…

“Tup?”

It’s… It truly is…

“Dogma?”

He sounds so small, Tup, as he says it. He just can’t believe that he was right. Dogma is truly alive!

 For a moment they all stay still, frozen in place, then Tup moves closer - uncaring that he’s trespassing - drawn to Dogma. He gently cups his face between his hands.

“It really is you…”

He wasn’t expecting Dogma to pull him into a keldabe, but he gratefully accepts it.

His batchmate is alive, he can’t believe it.

 If only it wasn’t for the sound of someone clearing his throat that brings them both back to reality.

“Oh kriff,” Tup mutters then, realizing that he’s just being found sneaking into the 104th barracks by Commander Wolffe himself. “Right, I shouldn’t be here.”

“It’s fine,” Wolffe says, looking more fine with this than Tup thought he’d be, then he gets up. “Maybe I should leave you some privacy, you look like you have stuff to discuss.”

“N-no, I should be the one leaving,” Tup insists. Kriff this is awkward.

Dogma grabs Wolffe’s hand immediately, holding it the same way Tup has seen him do before during their off time; the intent behind it is unmistakable. Now Tup really feels like he’s overstepping.

Before he can’t take a step behind, however, Dogma reaches for his hand as well. His grip is so strong.

“You’re not leaving either.”

Wolffe huffs an amused laugh at that gesture, but he shakes his head.

“No, I think you two need some time alone. I’ll just stay outside, alright? I won’t be too far,” he says, kissing the top of Dogma’s head before making his way outside, though Tup can clearly feel his presence outside. He wonders if he’s listening to them. Oh well, he has more important things to think about now.

 He and Dogma settle on what Tup assumes is Dogma’s bunk. For a moment, they don’t speak, still surprised to have found each other this easily, then Tup finally asks: “How?”

“Well, when I was brought back to Kamino to… You know… General Koon happened to be there with Wolffe and he decided to take me under his wing.”

If that’s true - why shouldn’t it be? - then Tup will have to thank the General when he has the occasion. The fact that he’d save a clone means a lot to him.

 “How did you know it was me, by the way?” This time it’s Dogma’s turn to ask a question.

“I don’t know,” Tup replies, “You just felt familiar, you know? Even though you never took off your bucket and barely spoke, I know it was you.”

A bitter chuckle come out of Tup’s lips, and he shakes his head.

“At first I thought I was going crazy, that I was just looking for an excuse to believe that you’re alive… And now here we are.”

“I’m sorry,” Dogma mutters, looking genuinely regretful, “I’ve been told to lay low. It hasn’t been too long since… that happened.”

“Don’t worry, I understand,” Tup reassures him, taking his hand between his and smiling. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”

The shy smile that Dogma sends his way is enough to fill Tup with warmth.

There’s still something that they have to discuss however…

 “So, Commander Wolffe, huh?” Tup says. He can’t help but to use his teasing voice as he speaks, which causes Dogma to lightly shove him with his shoulder.

“Shut up! He’s been very kind to me…” he defends him.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” Tup apologizes, now looking uncertain. “So what does it mean? For us?”

He and Dogma have never been officially together, but there was something between them. Still Tup would never assume that it counts for anything, even if Dogma is alive, especially considering how things are between him and Wolffe.

“You di’kut, I haven’t forgotten about it!” Dogma immediately replies.

“O-Oh, I see…”

“Actually… I’ve been talking to Wolffe about you,” Dogma quietly admits. Was he really?

“And what did he say?” he asks, believing to understand where Dogma’s getting at, but still wanting to make sure before he makes an ass of himself.

“I still think we should discuss it all together,” Dogma replies, “But he’s not against sharing…”

Well, that’s reassuring, especially considering that Tup doubts he would’ve been able to even be a challenge to someone like the Wolfpack’s Commander. Besides, he doesn’t find himself that against the idea either.

 Tup has no idea what makes him act so boldly, but since they’re all there, why shouldn’t they discuss it now?

He gets up, walking towards the barracks’ door; there, leaning against the wall, he finds Wolffe. A simple look at him is enough to make Tup understand that even though he doesn’t act like it, he’s heard everything.

“Hey,” he calls him. Wolffe turns his head towards him.

“What?”

At that Tup smiles, inviting him inside.

“Why don’t we have a chat?”

[schrijverr]

Constant

After all those years side by side, no matter how begrudgingly, Midoriya and Bakugo know each other. Something that they notice more and more during their time at UA. And maybe just the fact that they know each other can be enough to rebuilt what had been lost.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings none really, but tell me if I missed anything!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Midoriya and Bakugo grew up together. This was a fact most of the class was aware off with the rivalry and all around weird dynamic the two had, but most of them forgot what it entailed to grow up with someone.

You see, Midoriya and Bakugo didn’t just grow up together, they grew uptogether.

The ‘they knew each other from diapers, spend most of their time together, called each other’s mom auntie’- grew up together.

It had only been recently that the bullying had really picked up steam. Around the time when they got into a bigger Middle School where just having a flashy quirk wasn’t enough to be the best in the school and Bakugo started to feel threatened.

That didn’t excuse anything he’d done, but that wasn’t currently the point. The point was that they knew each other incredibly well, even if they would deny it.

And the denying it meant others forgot. Sometimes, however, a little comment or action would remind everyone just how long of a history they had together.

Today was such a day. The class was fighting in an open field to practice in different environments and stealth. It was hot and all were tired and ready for a break, groaning in relief when Aizawa finally announced it.

Bakugo was also about to plop down somewhere, when Midoriya said: “Kacchan, ant hill,” as he pointed to a spot near Bakugo.

“Hm,” Bakugo just hummed in acknowledgment, not thanking the other, before deciding to sit somewhere else.

“What just happened, bro?” Kirishima asked.

“Ant hill,” Bakugo replied as explanation.

Kirishima still looked confused, so Midoriya explained: “The nitroglycerin smells sweet and attracts insects like ants. If he isn’t careful, he’ll be crawling with them. That happe-”

“That’s enough, nerd. I think he gets it,” Bakugo interrupted, before going back to ignoring them when Midoriya shut his mouth and turned to his own friends.

Uraraka said: “I always forget you two know each other.”

“Wha?” Midoriya replied, “We don’t know each other that well. I mean, we barely interacted constructively in Middle School.”

“You have your moments,” Momo said, “Just here and there, but it’s hard to miss and you’re probably right that it petered out with time. I mean, it barely happens now.”

“Yeah, Bakugo could glare anything you know about him away,” Uraraka giggled and the conversation moved on.

It didn’t particularly stick with Midoriya, nor anyone else for that matter and life moved on. Of course, it popped back up a few weeks or so later, when it happened again.

Midoriya wasn’t usually late for class, or just the morning in general. He liked getting up early and was usually the first one outside.

Today, however, had not been his day. He had a nightmare during the night, barely fallen asleep only to sleep through his alarm and nearly missing his station by almost falling asleep on the train ride over. All of this was topped off by the fact that he had forgotten a goddamn pen.

“Uhm, does anyone have a pen?” he asked softly.

A few people nearby held out a pen to him and he sighed. There wasn’t anything wrong with the pens, of course not, and it was real nice of them to offer at all. It was just- It was just that Midoriya wrote a lot, so he had done research into what the best pens were.

He was a pen snob! There, he said it.

He was a pen snob and he really liked the one specific sort of pen and none of his classmates had it, so he would have to make due with another pen for one day. That wasn’t even that bad, he was just being dramatic.

But his night had already been so shit and all he wanted was his nice little pen, but apparently that was too much to ask.

“Midoriya?” Fumikage asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He was one of the few holding out a pen and Midoriya sighed, before plastering on a smile to thank the other for the pen. However, his hand never reached the pen, because Bakugo sighed before turning around and shoving a pen in his hand while he grumbled: “I don’t even know why you think these write nice. They don’t.”

In his hand there was now a pen, his pen. Well, not his pen, but one like his and he nearly teared up over it.

“Thank you, Kacchan!” he bowed.

“Tsk, don’t mention it, it’s stupid,” Bakugo huffed, turning back to the front of the class.

Later, during lunch Iida and Uraraka asked what was up with that interaction and Midoriya shrugged as he explained: “I like the ways those pens write. It’s a bit embarrassing that I’d prefer to write with them, but I do. I guess, Kacchan must have remembered.”

It was at that point that Midoriya remembered the conversation from a few weeks ago and he hummed thoughtfully to himself. For as much as he knew of Kacchan, it seemed the other still remembered a lot of him as well.

He started to pay more attention to it afterwards. While he still walked on Bakugo’s right side since the hearing in his left ear was slightly damaged, Bakugo still took the same train as him even though there was a station closer to his house, just because Midoriya used to be scared of taking the train by himself.

When they walked, they unconsciously matched paces and even when they weren’t near each other, they were aware of the others position. Midoriya thought the latter one had only been him, but then Kirishima had said: “Oh, I still have Midoriya’s notebook.”

After which Bakugo had snatched it out of his hands and thrown it directly at Midoriya, even though he was on the other side of the room and Bakugo hadn’t paid him any attention. He’d caught it, only because Bakugo had thrown a lot of stuff at him during their childhood.

More small stuff like that stacked up.

Naturally there was also bigger stuff that others in the class caught onto, like with the muttering. He knew he muttered and no one could follow him, but he couldn’t help it. It always happened when they had to give each other feedback.

“Of course if he’s up against someone with a water quirk, they could render him practically useless by using the conductivity of the water against him, so he would have to invest in hand to hand combat, because there are probably more with conductivity quirks and he would have to be able to defend himself against them and know which materials are conduc-” Midoriya muttered.

“Oi, Deku, shut up, he gets it,” Bakugo interrupted him.

“Oh, sorry, Kaminari,” Midoriya apologized.

“It’s- It’s okay, don’t worry, Midoriya,” Kaminari quickly said, “I- uhm, I just didn’t quite catch that, sorry.”

“He says your useless against conductivity quirks and you need to work on your hand to hand combat, you idiot,” Bakugo said, before Midoriya could go on a tangent again.

“You can understand that?” Kaminari asked.

“What? Of course,” Bakugo frowned, “You should have heard him when he was little, I swear aun- his mom was going to pull her hair out for a while there.”

Midoriya blushed and said: “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You failed public speaking in 7thgrade, because the teacher thought you were swearing under your breath the entire time,” Bakugo raised a brow.

Some people in the class snorted as Midoriya got even redder, luckily Aizawa saved him by moving on to the next person giving feedback.

When they were walking between classes Kirishima bumped shoulders with Bakugo and said: “I always forget that you already knew Midoriya.”

“I don’t.”

“So, you understanding him and knowing in which grade he failed public speaking for mumbling, was just a freak accident?” Serogrinned.

Bakugo glared at him, but most of class 1-A had become immune to it, so hejust raised a brow in return. He looked away and grumbled: “Shut the fuck up.”

“Ahw, come on, don’t be like that, bro. I think it’s very manly of you to remember stuff about your friends,” Kirishima said, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“I’m not Deku’s friend,” Bakugo replied, shrugging off the arm before storming off.

He wasn’t that goddamned nerds friend, alright. They just used to be and the dumbass was always following him, it was almost impossible not the know things about him. And his mom was friends with auntie and it was boring to be the only two kids at gatherings, so they spend time actually talking to one another even after they stopped being close friends.

Sue Bakugo for being observant, which was a useful skill as a hero, mind you. So no, he wasn’t the nerds friend, the other had just been a constant.

Nevertheless, he hated how he noticed the other still had the stupid granola bars Bakugo used to enjoy as a kid, because he shared with the nerd and then he liked them as well or how he found himself looking in Deku’s eyes after he had managed to get himself hurt, because he would always say he was fine while his eyes would betray him.

Neither said anything about it of course, they were content to live with the truth that their lives had been interlocked and they knew each other well, without ever speaking a word about it. Well, until they had to move into the dorms that was.

Apparently all the years of familiarity got more obvious when living together.

They didn’t even get time to ease into that realization. It didn’t creep up on them like it had done before, but just happened on the first morning when Midoriya was up first and put on the kettle to make tea.

When Bakugo got up, he saw the tea Midoriya was making and just put a cup next to it with a small grumble that could be considered questioning, before he ambled off to make breakfast.

Midoriya just hummed in acknowledgment and made two cups of tea exactly like his mom used to make, because he and Bakugo had stood next to her with wonder in their eyes as she showed them how and neither had ever taken their tea differently.

Bakugo was making pancakes for everyone, like his dad used to do, because he was on the roster to make breakfast. He plated it for everyone, leaving it blank so that their could figure out their own topics, except for two. One he drenched in syrup and the other he put butter on to melt.

A few other were just in time to see them exchange a cup of tea for a plate of pancakes, while Bakugo grumbled: “All that syrup is going to rot your teeth.”

“Butter is boring though,” Midoriya mumbled back, both were tired and the whole interaction hadn’t caught up to them yet.

It did when Mina slid onto the breakfast table next to them and yawned: “You could have put butter on my pancakes too, Bakugo. Now it didn’t melt as much.”

“How the fuck would I know how you eat your pancakes, raccoon,” Bakugo asked.

“You knew Midoriya’s pancake order,” Mina pouted.

At that both were quiet for a moment, then they quickly looked away, a faint blush coloring their cheeks as they desperately ignored the others eyes. More people came to the table and Tsu asked: “Why are they looking like that, kero?”

“They realized that Bakugo knew Midoriya’s pancake order and Midoriya made Bakugo tea like he always takes it,” Mina informed her gleefully, having realized why her words made the two boys react like that.

“Ahw, how cute,” Hagakure said.

“I’m not cute,” Bakugo growled, before stuffing the last of his pancakes in his mouth and stomping off.

“Someone’s touchy,” Kaminari said. He was just walking up and had missed the conversation, luckily both Mina and Hagakure were there to inform him and he laughed at what had made his friend so touchy.

Before anyone else could be told as well, a still blushing Midoriya squeaked: “Can we please not make a big deal out of this.”

“Why?” Mina pouted.

“Yeah, it’s sweet that you two still know things about each other,” Hagakure agreed.

“It’s a bit embarrassing after so long,” Midoriya confessed, “It’s better now, but we kind of didn’t talk for a long while and Bakugo was kind of mean back then. So, it’s still weird to know that sort of stuff when we feel like we’re just getting to know the other again. And having it pointed out is a bit embarrassing because of it.”

It was quiet for a moment and Midoriya said: “Ah, sorry, it’s too early for rants like that and it’s not a big deal really, sorry-”

“Stop it, Midoriya,” Mina cut him off, “We’ll stop, or at least try.”

“Really?”

“Of course, it’s still funny, but we’re not going to be rude about it,” Kaminari said, “Though no promises.”

“Thank you,” Midoriya bowed before finishing his breakfast too and going to get ready for the day as well.

The others did try to keep that promise and it seemed even people who hadn’t been there caught onto it pretty quickly, because no one commented when Bakugo unthinkingly wrote down a snack Midoriya liked on the shopping list because it had become commonplace in the Bakugo household after Midoriya became a regular guest, nor when Midoriya knew which piece Bakugo wanted to be in aboard game.

It was just something that happened and no one commented on.

Time went on and Midoriya and Bakugo leveled a big part of a fake city and solved a bit of their issues as they got on the road to friendship again.

They had mostly been just friendly with each other, but they hadn’t made an effort to spend time with each other one on one when circumstance made the time for them. It was late, probably already 3 AM and Midoriya was in the kitchen.

A nightmare had woken him and he felt too jittery to truly try and sleep again, so he went downstairs and made himself some tea. He was just about to pour it when a rough soft voice started him: “Can I have a cup too?”

He turned around and saw Bakugo, who was looking worse for wear. Midoriya smiled: “Of course, Kacchan,” and put down another cup to pour.

It was quiet in the kitchen after that. They stood near the counter and sipped their tea, not really making eye contact while still being comfortable.

When he was nearly halfway done with his tea, Midoriya asked: “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really much to talk about,” Bakugo shrugged.

“Happens often?”

“Enough.”

“Never seen you down here before.”

“I usually stay in my room, felt a bit trapped today,” Bakugo explained, “I take it you’re down here often.”

“The tea helps,” Midoriya nodded.

They fell silent again, sipping their tea and not feeling the need to talk. Maybe talking about what woke them up would be good, but neither felt the need to relive what had shaken them enough to keep them from sleeping.

Before they were done with their tea, Bakugo put on the kettle again and poured them a new cup when they were done. Instead of staying quiet and just drinking the tea, however, he said: “Wanna watch something? I think I still have the All Might cartoons in my room.”

Midoriya grinned as he remembered all the sleepovers where they tried to stay awake, but ultimately fell asleep watching those cartoons. He nodded: “Lead the way.”

And so they ended up on Bakugo’s bed, with Midoriya on his right side so that the earbuds they shared could be in Bakugo’s right ear. Midoriya leaned on his shoulder and neither said more as they watched the drawn All Might beat up fake villains.

They woke early from Midoriya’s alarm, who always got up way too early for Bakugo’s taste. He groaned: “Why do you always do that?”

“Carpe diem, Kacchan,” Midoriya grinned.

“Go carpe fucking diem somewhere else, Zuku,” Bakugo told him as he turned around in his bed.

Midoriya grinned with the return of the nickname that had been long before Deku. He slipped out of the bed and smiled: “I will, Kacchan. Oh, and Kacchan?”

“What.”

“The next time, feel free to come downstairs again. It was better with you there.”

Bakugo lifted his head to look at Midoriya. It was a vulnerable look that he still managed to make judgmental and surprised, before he burrowed his head into his pillow again and said: “Sure, whatever.”

“Bye, Kacchan,” Midoriya left the room sneakily, not minding that Bakugo hadn’t replied.

Neither spoke of the night with anyone, nor each other. At least, not during the day. At night they drank their tea and watched cartoons, usually ending in either one of their rooms, to fall asleep next to one another and to be woken by Midoriya’s alarm.

Sometimes they talked about what kept them awake, about the memories that haunted them. But mostly they were quiet, knowing the other understood and they didn’t have to talk about it, that they could be them for a moment and it would be fine.

They had seen the other at their lowest points, they didn’t have to pretend to be strong.

Their nightly tea sessions didn’t really bleed over into their day to day interaction, since it was kind of their secret. They hadn’t planned on it, but it wasn’t something you easily shared, so they kept it to themselves.

The only difference was that they got more familiar with each other again.

Respected rivalsmaking way for friends.

Some others in the class caught onto it. It was hard to miss how they weren’t at each others throats anymore and how they sat next to each other when making homework, or how they didn’t get embarrassed about the fact that they knew how the other ate certain foods.

None, however, had realized how much closer the two had gotten again until Bakugo was annoying Midoriya. He was bored and Midoriya was doing homework. He started just saying: “Are you done yet?”

“No, I just started, Kacchan. Maybe you should start to,” Midoriya told him.

“Don’t want to.”

“Not my problem.”

A few of their fellow classmates raised their brow at Bakugo’s behavior. He always tried to be stoic and uncaring, but that had never been truly him. He just wanted attention and would be annoying to get it, especially with Midoriya, who had always given him attention freely.

Midoriya wasn’t giving him attention now. He had lost the fear for Bakugo and the starry eyed admiration also wasn’t so strong anymore, so he was writing down answers and ignoring Bakugo.

So, he poked him.

Midoriya stopped writing for a second and looked at him with a raised brow, he just looked back with a look that screamed ‘what you gonna do about it?’ and poked again. This time he got a tried sigh and look, before Midoriya went back to writing.

Poking didn’t work, so he turned to the thing he knew would work, the thing he had always done that annoyed Midoriya to no end.

When Midoriya put his pen down to write again, Bakugo smacked the top of the pen, causing him to scribble down something illegible. Midoriya exhaled annoyed, but was determined to ignore Bakugo as he attempted to write again, only for the same to happen again.

“Will you stop that, Kacchan.”

“Stop what?”

“Are you serious? Really?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re smacking my pen. It’s annoying, you know I find that annoying.”

“My hand must have slipped.”

“Just stop.”

“I won’t do it anymore, promise.”

“Hmm, okay,” Midoriya said, still suspicious, before turning back to his notebook, eyeing Bakugo as he put down his pen again.

True to his word, Bakugo didn’t hit the pen again. No, instead he pulled Midoriya’s notebook out from under his pen. A stripe crossed over the page and Midoriya whipped his head towards him, fuming.

“Are you a child? Give that back, you dick.”

“What? This?” Bakugo asked, holding the notebook above his head as he got out of his chair, “Why don’t you come get it.”

Midoriya was out of his chair, before Bakugo could even finish the sentence and running towards him with a battle cry. Bakugo, however, had seen it coming and was already running too.

“No fighting in the dorms,” Iida yelled after them, but was ignored by both.

Bakugo ran around the tables and couches with Midoriya on his heels. Bakugo was laughing, which was weird in itself, but Midoriya was cursing at him, which might be even weirder. Anyone who had been attempting to do their homework was now just watching intrigued as the two chased each other.

“Should we try to split them up?” Iidaasked Momo, “Or get a teacher?”

“They’re not using their quirks, so I don’t think any of the teacherswill have more success than us,” Momoresponded.

“So you want to break them up?” he asked.

Momolooked at the two again. Midoriya was attempting to grab the notebook, while Bakugo stopped him with a hand on his forehead. She sighed: “I don’t know if we can. Maybe wait until they’ve calmed down a bit?”

Right at point Midoriya screamed: “I will lick your hand, Kacchan, don’t test me.”

It was a weird threat to make, but it seemed effective, because Bakugo’s eyes got big and he snatched his hand back as he replied: “Don’t you fucking dare, Zuku.”

Midoriya quickly grabbed his notebook back, before he said: “Of course I’m not going to do that, I’m not stupid, Kacchan. That’s poisonous.”

There was a little pause and everyone thought it was over, but then Bakugo glared: “You little shit,” and the chase was on again.

Uraraka asked: “Was it just me or did Bakugo call Midoriya Zuku?”

“He probably said Deku,” Seroreplied.

“No, I heard Zuku too,” Hagakure said.

They discussed whether or not Bakugo had called Midoriya Zuku while the two ran around the room. Before anyone could ask, it was answered for them. Bakugo had managed to tackle Midoriya, but the other had twisted them around and had set in a tickle attack.

He knew all of Bakugo’s ticklish spots and he was showing no mercy. It had been sort of fun to roughhouse with Kacchan again, but he was also determined to win, so he didn’t yield when Bakugo pleaded: “Zuku, let me go. Zuku, please.”

“What? I don’t hear you, Kacchan,” Midoriya said the innocence in his voice not fitting the situation.

“Zuku, don’t- don’t do-hohoho this t- to me-he,” Bakugo managed through the giggles.

“I thought you wanted me to pay attention to you? This not attention?” Midoriya asked, pressing into Bakugo’s ribs, which he knew the other hated.

They were interrupted by Iida, who took pity on Bakugo. As a younger sibling he had been in that position many times before and he felt that as a responsible class president, he should step in. He said: “Okay, that’s enough, both of you.”

Midoriya blinked almost as if he’d forgotten other were there, before he smiled and let Bakugo go as he said: “Of course, sorry.”

Bakugo rubbed his sore ribs and groaned: “I forgot you were a little shit, Zuku.”

“According to auntie, you’re the little shit,” Midoriya countered.

“Mom didn’t know you were also responsible for the shit we did,” Bakugo huffed.

“Will you ever forgive me for the cake incident?” Midoriya asked.

“No.”

“But Kacchan,” he whined.

“No, I got grounded for that, you know how much it takes for the old hag to ground me,” Bakugo replied.

“To be fair, you didn’t disagree with it and I got a stern talking too as well,” Midoriya countered.

“Auntie couldn’t give a stern talking too if her life depended on it. It can’t have been that bad, Zuku.”

“You obviously have never had a talking to from her.”

“We both know I did, she just does the sad thing that makes you feel guilty, it’s not stern.”

“But you feel bad after!”

Bakugo thought for a second then gave in: “Yeah, okay, it does make you feel bad.”

“See, we both had consequences.”

“I’m still mad about it.”

“Okay, so I am not following any of this,” Mina interrupted, “But since when do you call Midoriya Zuku?”

“I don’t.”

“You literally just did. It’s not manly to lie, bro,” Kirishima backed Mina up.

Midoriya burst out laughing when Bakugo didn’t reply and just looked away as if not seeing them would make the question disappear. Midoriya was more than willing to throw his friend under the bus and answered for him: “Kacchan has always called my Zuku, I think he stopped in Middle School.”

“I started calling you Deku when we were eight, dumbass,” Bakugo corrected.

“Yeah, but you called me Zuku at gatherings with auntie and uncle until Middle School,” Midoriya said.

“Whatever,” Bakugo rolled his eyes, “The fact is that I stopped and don’t call him that.”

“You know that lying doesn’t work if everyone just saw you do something else, right?” Midoriya grinned.

“Shut the fuck up, they must have misheard,” Bakugo insisted.

“Why would you be embarrassed about this, kero?” Tsu asked.

“I’m not embarrassed.”

“Then why are you denying it?”

“Why are you all so interested?” Bakugo countered, not answering the question.

“Come on, Bakugo,” Mina whined, “You and Midoriya hardly talked up until recently and now you have a nickname for him and you bicker like you’ve always done it. Can’t we be curious what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Bakugo groused and everyone turned to Midoriya.

“Wha? Oh, uh, nothing happened,” he stumbled over his words to back Bakugo up, “We got over our differences. It would be weird for him to still call me Deku.”

No one reacted to that, though some shrugged in a ‘that’s fair’-manner.

When it seemed nobody was about to move, Iida clapped his hands: “That was enough excitement, we were making homework.”

People groaned, but everyone ambled back to the table, some stopping to get themselves a snack or tea or something. As everyone left, Midoriya hauled Bakugo onto his feet as he asked: “Going to annoy me again?”

“Nah, made enough of a spectacle out of myself today,” Bakugo grumbled.

“Ahw, areyou embarrassed?” Midoriya teased.

“Shut up, Zuku.”

“You are!”

“I said shut up.”

“Rude, Kacchan.”

“Leave me alone.”

“So you don’t want tea? I was going to make some for myself and ask if you wanted any, but since you want me to leave you alone...”

“… Make me tea.”

Midoriya giggled, but said nothing as he went to make them both tea. They studied silently afterwards, only breaking their silence to check something with the other.

They had come full circle from friends to strangers to friends once more. The fact that they had known the other so well - it couldn’t be erased even if they tried - had been the thing that rebuild their relationship.

Kacchan and Zuku grew up together, they knew each other and that was something constant.

[degenerate-otaku]

Another one shot of Future Gohan and Trunks for yall

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13896221/1/Before-the-Rain

(Links in case you prefer)

In the times that had followed the androids' destruction, younger generations were highly protected, as they were the earth's only hope. The government set up an initiative to get more children out of dangerous cities that housed gangs and violence.

Children and any family they had would move to countryside camps, wherein they would receive food, safety and education in return for doing manual labour such as farming and sewing, as well as taking care of the sick.

Trunks somewhat hated this, as it meant that many children in West City, including his own friends often moved away when things got too difficult, leaving him isolated, in terms of having friends his own age.

Sure, sometimes he'd visit, taking the underground railway system, or by hopping on the nimbus, or even flying when he had learnt to do so, but it felt like an arduous task.

However, when Gohan decided to volunteer as a teacher, Trunks thought it would be a good idea to attend full time, as the pair could go together. Trunks was surprised when the day before Gohan revealed he was rather nervous about it.

“C'mon, you're an amazing teacher to me, so I'm sure you'll be able to teach more kids!” Trunks reassured him, snuggling into bed. He always loved when Gohan would stay over at his house, it was so comforting to know he was right there beside him.

“Yeah...but that's you...and I've known you since you were born...and there's a lot of kids!” Gohan hung up his smart looking outfit, which Trunks remarked as being nerdy, on a hanger, before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Trust me, they aren't as annoying as me. You'll be fine...Good night.” Trunks smiled at him before switching off his light and pretending to be asleep before Gohan could worry further.

Gohan sighed and tucked the boy in a little more before heading to sleep himself.

The next day, the pair flew to the makeshift school building, and landed away from sight before coming in together.

To keep Gohan distracted from his nerves, which Trunks viewed as highly irrational, considering Gohan was also "The Golden Warrior", he inquired,

“Doesn't your mom cook for the kids here a lot? My friends said that a lady called Miss Son is the most amazing lunch lady ever.”

“Huh? Oh...yeah,” Gohan laughed, lifting his head from the book held in his hands.

“I mean...she's used to cooking in massive quantities for me and for when my dad was around...it's a chance for her to share her...motherly-ness.” He smiled, then stopped at the door, listening to the sound of children chattering inside.

“You can do this!” Trunks grinned, taking his bag off his shoulder as he stepped in, Gohan following, the class immediately silenced, intrigued by the smart young man, that was clearly strong looking, his muscles bulging even in his clothes.

“Uh...Good morning class!” He began, picking up a pen and writing his name on the board.

“My name is Mr Son...and I will be your new teacher!” He smiled politely, awaiting a response.

“Oh my god, are you married to the lunch lady?!” A girl exclaimed.

Gohan frantically shook his head, “N-no, she's my mom!” His face had gone red as the class giggled, but he soon regained composure, laughing it off.

“Gosh, she cooks like that for you all the time?!” Another kid chimed in and he scratched the back of his head,

“Yeah...I guess so! I just hope she doesn't come in and embarrass me!” He answered.

Trunks gazed up at him from where he was sitting. He was glad to see his best friend adapting so well to his new job.

“Alright! Our first task is going to be a written task, which I'll get you to read aloud at the end.” He instructed them, handing out some paper, taking a look at every one of his new students.

“I want you all to write about what you did during your summer. Which programs did you volunteer in? Did you visit anywhere?”

He returned to his position at the front and passionately spoke, “I really wanna know about you guys! Oh...maybe I should take the register to learn your names...tell me if I mispronounce any!”

Gohan sat down, getting out the list of names and calling them out, one by one, receiving a pleasant "Good morning, Mr Son“ each time. It was strange to hear Trunks call him that, and by the sound of it, the title was strange for the boy to speak aloud too. The two just had to pretend as if they didn't know each other, Gohan made it a priority not to show favouritism towards him, but he knew it would be difficult.

He loved that boy unconditionally.

”Sir, how long do we have?“ A girl named Cherri, who he knew to be Trunks' friend that used to live not far from Capsule Corp, asked.

”Oh...right, I forgot to tell you that! Uh...you have until half past.“ He answered, before scribbling down more lesson ideas in his book.

The truth was that he had no clue about what he was doing. He was planning his lessons as he went along.

The time passed quickly, and Gohan decided to pick out random students to read out what they had wrote. A few passed, and he made some notes about them in his book.

”Alright, last but not least is Trunks.“ Gohan called out to him, snapping the boy out of a daydream.

”Oh, ok...“ He reluctantly stood and read from the paper, ”Last summer, I mostly stayed at home, played video games and studied. I went to the beach with my mom a few times....uhh I watched TV and...uh yeah.“ He sat back down.

”...that's it? That's all you wrote?“ Gohan glared at his student, hoping he had a good response.

”Yeah.“ Trunks replied, thinking nothing of it.

”Trunks, you had half an hour and you wrote 3 sentences.“ Gohan sounded stern and the class silently watched.

”Well, you already know what I did last summer, Gohan-“ Trunks gasped and the class was confused.

”Wait, is he your brother?“ The boy next to Trunks, who was also his good friend asked and the whole class started chatting.

Gohan cleared his throat and sighed,

”Yes...well...I am very close to Trunks, our families are too...but this does not mean I favour him over any of you.“ He calmed the situation, then spoke directly to Trunks,

”I need you to show the same level of respect to me as everyone else in here, too, ok? It is the morning of the first day, so I will let this slide, but please give more effort.“

Trunks nodded, but rolled his eyes, slumping back in his chair, when Gohan turned to the whiteboard and wrote down the title of the next lesson, before collecting in the students' essays and handing out exercise books.

The next lesson would be a boring maths lesson, which Trunks sat through. He was ahead of his peers in scientific and mathematical subjects, thanks to his master's teaching, so sitting through a recap of something he found so simple was like watching paint dry.

Whenever Trunks raised his hand, he felt like Gohan always asked someone else. He didn't like being ignored.

He knew the answers to everything, it was incredibly annoying to hear someone who clearly didn't know something harder than expanding brackets in algebra, try to solve the equation on the board that Trunks could do in his head.

Gohan was encouraging and made sure the students felt no shame in making mistakes.

”Alright, Cherri, so now you need to get the unknowns on one side of the equation.“ Gohan advised her, writing on the board the step she just explained with his help.

The girl stammered, her face going a little red from the attention.

”The answer is 4!“ Trunks, finally fed up, called out the answer.

”Well, yes, that is correct, but I wasn't asking you, I was asking Cherri.“ Gohan put down his pen and his serious tone returned.

”She obviously didn't know!“ Trunks folded his arms, determined to not apologise for doing what he thought was right.

”It's rude to interrupt, regardless.“ Gohan told him, before moving on.

Finally, it was time for break and when Trunks decided he was going to talk to Gohan, he was surprised to find girls in his class talking to him instead, asking him tons of questions.

”So, you work out?“ One asked, taking a look at his arms.

”Of course he does, just look at him!“ Her friend cut in and Gohan blushed and nodded, explaining his reasons, which Trunks knew to be false.

”Oh, hey, Trunks!“ Gohan spotted him and took his opportunity to get out of that conversation.

”I wanted to have a chat about before.“ He approached his pupil, who was causing him some concern.

”Oh...same.“ Trunks fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper, something he always did when he was nervous, which Gohan took notice of.

”Why did you feel like you could do that?“ Gohan's voice was calm; it always made Trunks feel more at ease.

”I dunno...it just felt like...you were ignoring me. I just got a bit fed up...because I already knew the stuff and you weren't asking me.“ The teen shrugged his shoulders, not meeting his eye.

”Trunks,“ Gohan placed his hand on his shoulder, making the boy glance up at him.

”I just want to know what the others know. I know you're able to do this, but most of them aren't.“

Gohan did make sense, but Trunks was stubborn. His mother said it was a trait of his father, though she was stubborn too.

”I spend a lot of time with you...and I love spending time with you...but it's not fair to give you all my focus...

You know I really love you, right?“

That was enough to make Trunks smile.

”I know...thanks, Gohan...I mean Mr Son.“ Trunks giggled before running off.

Gohan watched as the other kids played together gleefully. It was heartwarming to see them be actual kids and enjoy their disrupted youth. It only made him more determined to fight for their safety and teach them well.

'I might be an even better teacher than you, Mr Piccolo...'

He smirked, hoping Piccolo could hear him somewhere, feeling proud of him.

[chaoticbi-cheesecake]

Paper Airplanes and Face Masks (Hournite)

Summary: Beth has Rick over for the night and is determined to get him in a face mask.

Warnings: Mild allusions to abusive gardian.

Category: Fluff

Note: this is my first attempt at fanfiction, please leave your thought about it below:)

Training lasted longer than usual that day. By the time it was over, the sun was already saying goodbye and slowly receded to the west. Pat had tried his best to make the obstacles more difficult in an effort to mirror what he believed was to come in the battles ahead.

The new JSA tried their best to work with and without their abilities, all while trying to work together as a team. It was challenging to say the least, not many of them had much experience working with others.

Curly blonde locks stuck to Courtney's face as she asked Yolanda if she needed to be driven home. The other girl thankfully accepted the offer before running off to grab her things.

Pat, hearing he was now driving Yolanda, went to the next girl who had no mode of transportation.

"Do you need a ride?" He asked Beth who faced away from him, her eyes instead on the boy leaning on the entrance of the building.

"Oh, no thank you." she replied sweetly.

"Okay, just make sure to get home safe." the man instructed, making his voice loud enough for the boy to hear him as well.

Rick turned his head to Pat, giving him a single nod before pushing himself off the wall and walking out toward the road.

"Will do Mr. Dugan." Beth replied brightly before briskly walking in the direction of the boy, goggles slung around her neck, the straps of her backpack gripped in broth her hands.

She found him standing still outside of the building, staring at his path home with a scowl.

He wasn't all that fond of going back to his house, knowing who would be there when he arrived, though with the hourglass he would be able to defend himself if need be. He quickly found himself sinking into his own mind, the multitude of reasons why that was a very bad idea taking over his thoughts.

His dark thought process was interrupted by a hand delicately brushing against his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Beth asked in her sweet, yet concerned voice.

Rick nodded curtly and turned his gaze to the ray of sunshine beside him. Beth wore her wide smile and big doe eyes, wearing him down and making him want to tell her everything.

But he didn't, thinking better of it.

"I'm just getting ready to walk home."

"Me too!" she shook her head eagerly.

He nodded once more, awkwardly, in a gesture of understanding.

The two stood in a thick silence, Beth's hands were now shoved deep in her jean pockets as she contemplated opening her mouth again.

Rick began to walk in the direction of his house when Beth let out a quick, "Do you want to come over to my house?"

The boy stilled wondering if Beth had actually offered.

"I mean, you can if you want to. My parents are working tonight, and tomorrow night, and most nights. They've been doing that a lot recently." she laughed in an attempt to hide her sadness.

"It's getting dark, my uncle won't like me out for so long."

He heard the girl shuffle closer.

"You know, if he tries anything, Pat can always take his robot and exchange some...words," she tried. "Or any of us could suit up and do it. Not just for this, just any time you need."

Rick almost laughed, the image of Beth in her costume coming to his door to threaten his uncle, huge goggles and all, entering his head.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm still not sure that's the best ide-" he stopped himself at the sight of Beth, shoulders slumped, but eyes still bright as ever.

He realized in that moment that she was just like him, lonely and in need of some company.

"Umm...maybe just for tonight." he gave in.

"Yes!" Beth squealed excitedly, hooking her arm through his and turning them in the direction of her house.

As they walked, Beth rattled on about everything from homework to superheroes. Rick had to hold back the smile that threatened to make it's way onto his face at the sound of her enthusiasm.

They made it to Beth's house quite quickly. The girl unlinked their arms and began to rummage through her bag in searched of her keys. Rick wouldn't admit his disappointment at the lack of contact, but he would make note of how he suddenly felt the warmth leave his body when Beth pulled away.

They entered into darkness, no one was home and all the lights were off, Beth haphazardly used her hand to search the wall beside her for the light switch. As she flicked it on, brightness washed over the two. Rick squinted his eyes at the sudden intrusion of light.

"Okay, you can put your stuff here, or you can take it to my room, or just keep it with you. Whatever you want to do." Beth supplied as she began speeding to her kitchen. "Alright, what kind of snacks do you like? We have a bit of everything, sweet, sour, savory. Unless you wanted some dinner, I should have some leftovers from the other day that I could heat up for you." she offered.

"No thanks."

"Are you sure, I have cookies." she called, walking out of the kitchen and holding a clear container filled with some cookies she had caught Rick eyeing the day prior.

This time he couldn't stop his lips from turning upward in a small grin, he nodded his head.

Beth pumped her fist in the air before grabbing Rick's arm and dragging him to her room. She plopped down on her bed opening the container and taking a bite out of the sweet.

"So what do you want to do first?" she questioned, extending the box for Rick to take from. "We can do homework, watch a movie, Chuck has this great karaoke setting-" she gasped. " Ooh, we can do face masks. I was going to do them with Court and Yolanda next weekend but there's no time like the present."

"No."

"What why?"

"Cause I don't want you putting anything on my face."

"But it'll be fun." she tried.

"Nope. Let's just finish the homework and then you can pick a movie." Rick countered.

" How about we finish the homework and then we do face masks."

"Not happening."

"I can help you," she sang "and Chuck knows all the answers."

"Still no." Rick shook his head calmly.

Beth's shoulders slumped but she soon fixed her posture and shrugged. She grabbed her backpack from the side of her bed. She shuffled through it and pulled out her folder full of assignments. She grasped her geometry packet and began working on it. Rick sat down at the foot of the bed, he too got out the homework and began start on the page.

They worked in mostly silence for half an hour, Beth occasionally looking to Chuck for guidance, earning a long and extremely detailed account of every question and answer she asked about. Rick tried his best to focus on the paper in front of him, but he was just plain disinterested in the numbers, letters, and shapes on the page. He instead opted to scribble down the first answers that came to his mind, accuracy be damned, just wanting to finish as soon as possible.

He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to restore the little energy he had before taking out the assignment to no avail. When he looked back to the work, he was surprised to see a paper airplane made out of a sticky note set on top of his work.

He stared at the small plane in front of him before turning his gaze to Beth who was laying on her bed, appearing to be concentrated on the packet on her bed, tapping her pencil on the comforter as she looked over the page.

Rick moved his eyes back to the paper airplane, gingerly unfolding the wings to see in neat handwriting the words,

Face mask plz:)

He snapped his head to the girl who's face was now hidden behind her folder. She peeked her head out shyly only to see Rick rolling his eyes playfully and once again shaking his head no.

Turning his attention back to his homework, Rick wrote down the solutions to three more problems before an airplane landed on his lap.

He haphazardly opened the paper up to read the words,

Please. It'll be really fun. Please.

Before Rick had the chance to reply with a no, yet another airplane cascaded across his field of vision landing just beside his shoe. He leaned to pick it up and undid the neatly folded paper.

Pretty please with cookies on top?

Rick furrowed his brows and turned his body to face to girl, who was now at the foot of the bed, her chin was resting atop the box of cookies from before. Her big eyes and hopeful smile pleaded with him to reconsider.

He caved.

He let his head fall to his chest and pinched the bridge of his nose. He raised one hand and lifted his index finger.

"Once, we do this once."

Beth's entire face lit up as she squealed "Yay!" dashing off her bed she leaned down to give Rick a quick hug before running to get the supplies from her bathroom.

Rick begrudgingly made his way over to the side of her bed and sat down uncomfortably. But if he was being honest, he would do this a thousand times just to see the overjoyed expression that overtook her features at his compliance.

She returned holding a tube in one hand and a brush in another. Rick guessed to brush would be used to apply the mask.

"Okay, you ready?" she asked, popping open the cap and squeezing out a dollop of the mixture onto the brush.

"Why is it green?" Rick interrogated.

"Because it's matcha." Beth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. At Rick's confused face she explained sweetly, "it's a type of green tea that's really popular to use in face masks."

He nodded cautiously as Beth stepped closer to him. She was directly in front of him as she softly touched the brush to his face. He hissed and pulled back quickly.

"Why is it cold?"

"It's not necessarily that it's cold. It's just that you're hot." Rick's eyebrows shot up. Beth didn't even realize what she had said until he made the gesture. "I didn't mean it like that! Not that you're not, it's just that- ugh, I meant body temperature. The average human body is between 97 and 99 degrees Fahrenheit and this," she held up the face mask tube, "is very much below that temperature." she rambled. "Besides, would you rather this be warm?"

Rick just stayed silent.

Beth gently brushed all around his face, sometimes imploring him to stop scrunching up his face. Rick hated to say it, but it was actually kind of relaxing. There weren't many times where someone tried to take care of him for a change.

"Alrighty, all done." the girl announced, removing the brush from his face and stepping back.

"How long do I have to keep this on for?"

"Until it's completely dry."

"And when is that?"

"Ummm..." Beth searched for an answer. " once it's hard to smile, you should be good to wash it off."

"I don't smile."

"I'm well aware, you can just wait till I take mine off."

She moved over to her mirror and began applying the mask to herself.

"I feel like an idiot." Rick complained.

"You are not, you look super cute!" Beth chided.

"I'm not sure if that's worse."

The boy watched her apply the mask all over her face, he couldn't control the expression of love and adoration that graced his face as he observed her.

He stayed like that for God knows how long until Beth turned to fully face him. He could say with the utmost confidence it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life. Her face was green like his and a wide smile lit up her face.

There was no denying the smitten appearance he held as he gazed at Beth.

He was ripped from his trance when he heard the snap of Beth's phone camera. She smiled cheekily and clasped her hands behind her back.

"Beth." Rick began dangerously. "Don't do it Beth." already knowing she would share the photo.

"Just let me send it to Court and Yolanda." she pleaded.

"No, Beth."

Beth gripped her phone tightly behind her back as her eyes wandered to her open room door. Rick saw the plan forming in her mind and raced to beat her to the door. She ducked under his arm and ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Rick knocked on the door frantically, "Come on, Beth. What's the point?"

"The point is you look adorable and that is not something that should be hidden from the world. And by world I mean the team." she called from behind the door.

"Beth Chapel I will turn this hourglass over right now and take this door off it's hinges." he said in an attempt to sound threatening.

"We both know you won't," Beth stated matter of factly.

"Dammit." Rick grit his teeth knowing she was right.

He heard the door unlock behind him, Beth wore a wide grin. He groaned, knowing he was completely incapable of actually being mad at her.

"Was it at least a good picture?" he asked, defeated.

"You tell me," Beth instructed, handing over her phone to the boy before slipping past him and back to her room.

The screen showed a picture of Rick, covered in a green face mask. But that's not what really got him. Plastered on his face clear as day was a lovestruck expression that could rival that of Beth's favorite rom-coms.

He sighed, accepting his fate. There would for sure be hell to pay the next day. He was certain Courtney and Yolanda would never let him live it down. But at the moment he wasn't to bothered.

"Is it okay if I put on 'The Breakfast Club'?" He heard from the other room. He lowered the phone and walked back to the room, prepared to spend the rest of the night with the adorable being that was Beth Chapel.

The End ♡

Again I will reiterate, this is my first time posting a fanfic so I would really appreciate some positive feedback, or if there was something you saw that you didn't really like please leave it in the comments, politely please. I am but an emotionally fragile egg trying my best. If you want to see more hournite oneshots or headcanons let me know. Thanks

Sincerely, Tessa.

[wolffyluna]

Fic Writer Meme

 I was tagged by @thou-breath-of-autumns-being and @eldritch-elrics. Answers under the cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

135

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

387198

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

There’s 22 of them, using a sensible-ish count. There’s Age of Sigmar, MCU, Dragon Age, Dragonshield (yes, the card sleeves), Dungeons and Dragons, Fire Emblem Awakening, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Guild Wars 2, Warhammer 40k, Heaven Will Be Mine, We Know The Devil, Keychain of Creation, Overwatch, Revolutionary Girl Utena, The Adventure Zone, The Magnus Archives, Silmarillion, Undertale, Voltron, TGCF, MDZS, Nirvana in Fire

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

‘The Heat Talking’ - Overwatch omegaverse. It’s popularity is very explicable :P.

‘A Stained Glass Variation of The Truth’ - Xianle Trio sickfic, featuring Mu Qing have a lot of feelings about looking after Xie Lian. This is one of the ones where I look at it’s popularity and go “[nods] my audience has Good Taste.”

‘Let Bastion Say ‘Fuck’‘ - Overwatch crackfic. I wrote for Overwatch a while ago. Those fics are very much not my best work. And Yet.

‘though shadows fall’ - TGCF HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort. (which reminds me, I should really write some HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort where Hua Cheng is the one who has a nightmare.)

‘All That Can Be Done’ - Overwatch Genyatta angst featuring Zenyatta dying of a God AI virus.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, I really do, but... if I reply, the comment no longer shows up on the ao3 homepage. I do intend to reply, but the lure of having comments on my homepage wins out most times.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably either ‘All That Can Be Done’, the aforementioned fic where Zenyatta dies of a God AI virus and gets killed by Genji, or ‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ where Sazed successfully poisons and kills Taako.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t really write much crossover fanfiction?

...Though I am right now doing an rp featuring a character from a historical tv show set in the Tang dynasty accidentally time travelling into an AU version of the Handmaid’s Tale, so, uh, that’s probably the wildest crossover I’ve been involved in.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I’ve received a few “you’re characterisation is bad and you should feel bad” and “how dare you write something to your tastes and not my tastes!”

‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ got a... bad reaction. Including a popular blogger vague posting about in a way that made it obvious exactly what fic it is and how grody they found it. They may not have linked the fic directly, but, uh, everyone knew. (And I may have also sent an ill-advised ask along the lines of ‘you have the right to vagueblog whatever fic you like, but for the love of peace could you at least check who is following you, so you don’t put ‘oh god, isn’t this fic the creepiest thing ever?’ straight onto the dash of the author?”  And also a chunk of the TAZ fandom blocked me*.

And then several years later I found out ‘snuff’ meant something different than what I thought it meant (I thought it just meant ‘focus on major character death!) which added an embarassing glace cherry on top of that sundae of bad.

*This became sort of funny when some of these people got into the Magnus Archives. “Oh, so you draw the line at graphic depictions of poisoning, but someone exploding into a shower of worms is fine???”

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do, yes. As for what kind-- well, my ao3 exists and is a relatively comprehensive survey.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nooooot to my knowledge?

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if anyone wants to-- [makes ‘call me’ gesture].

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not yet. I’d be potentially interested in doing one, maybe one of those ones where one person writes one chapter and then another person writes the next. At the moment I have a friend who is also interested in maybe doing that, we just don’t currently align on fandoms.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

[whine] Don’t make me choose between my babies!

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

‘A Shattered Angel And A Broken Fist’. It was one of the earlier fics I wrote, back before I learned that if I wanted to write something long, I needed to have an idea of how it was going to end. I lost momentum and now... I honestly have no clue what should happen next? I have re-read and gone “yep, some stuff should happen. Not sure what stuff.” So while a lot of people like it and it would be nice to finish, its probably not happening.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm, I think I’m reasonably good at dialogue? I’m honestly not sure what my strengths are. I don’t mean this in a low self confidence way, more that I know I don’t have an outside perspective on my writing, and like a fish, I’m not super aware of the water I’m swimming in.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a bad habit of people have conversation in Blank Windowless Voids of No Description.

I also have a less bad habit of trying to fill those voids with a) geology and b) Australian fauna and flora. This causes problems when the pov character has no reason to know geology, and the story is not set in Australia.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I am one of those people who pretty much only speaks English, except for the a bit of “Je m’appelle Wolffy. Le chat est petit.” So I don’t write dialogue in other languages. Too much risk of embarrassing error, for not much gain, when you can just use italics or something.

I do have a lot of thoughts about translation conventions in fic where the characters would not be speaking English, and things like whether to live honoriffics. The thoughts are a bit unformed, but mostly revolve around being consistent at least within a fic (no characters being “Your Highness” in one paragraph and “dianxia” the next), trying to avoid the affect you sometimes find in anime fics were every third word is in Japanese, and also trying to maintain character voice. (I occaisionally have moments of “yes, there is an English translation for what this character calls this other character, but it’s not what they canonically say and it’s going to bother me deeply if I only use English.”)

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Depending on how you define ‘fandom’ and how you draw the line between historical fiction and historical rpf, my first fandom was the Bagoas fandom. Not the Bagoas what followed Alexander the Great around, no, the vizier who was around before him.

...I was like twelve at the time, just to make this weirder.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

[whines harder] don’t make me pick between my babies!

[chappedandfadedvds]

Dec 13th, Sunday 13:32

oh no, guys!!

I was out all day and just got back home to realise that I didn’t set the time when to publish todays’ clip... it just sat there in my drafts... so could everyone reading just imagine to be teleported back to this very early afternoon?

I’m so so sorry!! 😰

__ __ __

Hey Jens,

I know this may be a bit out of the blue as I hadn’t contacted you for over two years. I hereby do not ask for forgivness if any shape or form. A lot had happened and for a while it was close to impossible to have contact outside of work. Obviously it doesn’t excuse my absense. I am pretty confident that I may even not have written you yet, wouldn’t it have been for Helena.

Your mother was also the person to give me this email-address, I hope you aren’t too cross with her. She meant well.

I am very positive you aren’t interested to read of anything that had happened to me since our last meeting in 2016. Already four years have passed. It doesn’t feel that long ago. But obviously you may feel different about that.

So where to begin? 

Helena wrote me a long text, detailing the main events of the last year and her diagnoses. I had to read it a couple of times for it to settle. It still feels surreal to have to accept her leaving earth that early. I am most sorry for you. I wish I could have been of more support from the very beginning. But now I have the chance to do something and I hope you will consider my offer.

She told me of Lies and that she no longer lives in Belgium, which leaves you at home with your mother and Lotte. I can barely imagine how very hard that Must be on you. I do hope you have enough people who can take care of you, when you put your energy towards your family.

There isn’t much I can do from my position here. But be assured that I already signed the documents to waive my choice of guardianship over Lotte. You mother was strictly clear that that was your preferred arrangement and I am in no position to interfere in your affairs at home. So they should be on their way and at yours rather soon, hopefully in time early next week. Just in case, I attached a pdf scan. Should you need anything else, please do not hestitate to ak.

I also hadn’t forgotten that you turned 18 and unfortunately I haden’t yet congratulated you. I would like to do that now, even if it may seem shallow. But I send you all my best wishes and do genuinly hope that you will find success and love along your way. I am proud that you have the strenght in you to get through such a difficult and exhausting time and I believe with all my heart that you will make it to the other side.

Regarding my mentioned offer:

I want you to be able to persue your goals in life. Surely you must have some dreams about the future you’d like to see come true. It isn’t much, but I am obviously sending money into your mothers, and now your, bank account, for Lotte and yourself since our separation. And if you would allow me to increase the amount by whatever the house or the corresponding insurances may cost, I’d be more than happy to do that. As well as money for university. A good education takes you far in life.

This is not the greatest help of course, I know this. And I hope that you’ll understand that I can’t just leave my work behind, but I am already areaging to go visit Helena in January. I have to see her before I nay no longer have a chance, and she as well asked me to.

If you, for some reason, want to meet me as well, it would make me quite happy to see you too. I understand though if that is out of question for you.

I hope to hear back from you, so we can discuss the reality of help I can provide and anything I may have forgotten to bring up. I didn’t wanted this to get too long.

You’ll find my mobile number in the document as well, but as I said, a signal is a rare occurance.

With kindest regards,

Hendrik

— 

Jens, who had been hunched over his laptop for the better part of the email, leaned back, resting his head against the wall behind them on the bed.

Reading the long message hadn’t helped to clear up any conflicting emotions he had felt since the notification had arrived a couple days ago. Jens had expected the worst and the best simultaneously, and what he actually had received left him uncertain about the right reaction to such a message. Was it anger or gratitude?

„So? What does it say? Is it bad news?“

No it wasn’t really, was it? If it wouldn’t have been for the sporadic contact with his father, and the suddenness of this mail, Jens perhaps would only have a more positive attitude towards it. However it wasn’t that simple unfortunately.

Jens hadn’t told Robbe about the content of the mail or why he hadn’t opened it yet. But when he had announced that it had been his father, Robbe hadn’t asked anything else. Instead he had draped an arm around his back, before putting his attention on his phone, promising not to look. Jens trusted his best friend to keep his word and had thus quickly opened the message. Before he had a chance to change his mind.

That didn’t meant that the boy snuggled to his side wasn’t curious.

„I don’t know. I honestly don’t fucking know. I’m glad to hear from him, but I am so pissed about the way he wrote it. For example: Already four years have passed. It doesn’t feel that long ago. But obviously you may feel different about it.“ Jens read out loud, ending on a heavy sigh. He probably could have just quoted everything but that would be bringing up topics that Jens wasn’t ready to share.

„Or this bullshit of three sentences: I also hadn’t forgotten that you turned 18 and unfortunately I haden’t yet congratulated you. I would like to do that now, even if it may seem shallow. But I send you all my best wishes and do genuinly hope that you will find success and love along your way.“ He continued, almost mockingly, huffing an unamused laugh when he reread parts of the mail. „Like, fuck him. What am I supposed to do with that?“

„Seriously? That’s why he wrote you?“

It was very nice to know that Robbe seemed a little pissed off by it as well. It definitely validated Jens‘s belief, that this was a shitty thing to write given their history.

„No.“ Jens sighed again, this time a little deflated. His eyes darted briefly towards his best friend, feeling rather timid as he contemplated how to formulate his next words.

„I needed a signed document from him for the thing that is stressing me out.“ As if he couldn’t be anymore vague. „And my mom was so kind to get into contact with him first. So he basically just let me know that he send it off and attatched a pdf as well. That’s something I guess.“

„I see.“

Robbe’s second arm sneaked around his stomach, thus wrapping him into a tight embrace, as he rested his head against Jens’s shoulder.

„I think I would have preferred him to just let me know about the document and leave out the whole other stuff.“ Jens replied, leaning his own head into of his best friend’s.

He felt Robbe nodding, while his fingers stroked his back gently in an attempt to comfort his best friend.

„What did Lucas think?“ He asked Jens, receiving a soft snort in return.

„Nothing yet of course. I opened this for the first time here with you, dumbass.“

„Right. Sorry, my bad!“ Robbe shrugged a faint pink on his cheeks, as he instantly realised the his mistake at the same time Jens answered him.

„I think I’m glad that he wrote me. At least I know that he supports me in some way and I‘m not simply indifferent to him. It would have been worse, had I needed to chase him down for weeks to get the documents.“ Jens quietly said and swiftly closed the laptop. He pushed it away from them. Jens would definitely talk to his mom and perhaps let Lucas read the mail later on his own.

Robbe sat silent next to him. 

„He offered to pay for stuff if I needed him to. Don’t ask me why. But it feels shitty. It is good to have, and I may take him up on it. But it is not what I really need.“ I’d rather have him around, back then and now, Jens finished his thought unspoken.

It was the truth something that felt hard to say out loud. He wasn’t unaware of the fact that he close to never spoke about his father. It wasn’t an important part of his life for years now. He wasn’t even sure what people thought about his father, his friends included. He had met them all way after he left. Did they assume he was dead? No one ever had directly asked Jens before. At least he couldn’t remember anyone had before. There were only a couple of pictures that excist in his home that showed him, and they were almost all a decade old.

“If you want my opinion despite only getting the tiniest details from you, I’d tell you to straight up take the money. My father is always a little stingy if I need more for a month. So if your father offers you something, say thank you and accept it. It is the very least he can do for you. Don’t feel bad or sorry about it, as he should do much more for you. Honestly.”

Jens sat up straighter at his best friends words, Robbe following suit as the unwrapped themselves from each other. It definitely sounded like a shitty thing to do, but then so was the offer. Perhaps Jens would just as Robbe had told him. Why not?

“And if you don’t want to spend it on yourself, use it for Lotte or take out your boyfriend or help your mom with the bills. Whatever.” Robbe added and then shuffled of the sofa, as his phone was ringing on the desk calling for his attention.

Jens watched him, not paying much attention to anything but his thoughts and feelings regarding his father. He was glad that he had come to his best friend who simply accepted Jens withholding most of the details and still helping out. He appreciated it so fucking much.

“Alright, we’ll be there in fourty minutes, I think... yea... sure... okay see you then!”

Robbe told the person on the phone, his best friend’s hand reaching for him to pull him rather clumsy off the bed. Jens laughed at the sorry attempt. Robbe just wasn’t strong enough. But he gave in the second the other boy glared at him.

“Come on. Mayo is already on his way and I’m gonna text Aaron. You can bring your laptop and everything, or you can come back here later to get it.”

“Nah, I have to pick up Lotte at seven from her best friend’s place.” Jens replied, getting up while he packed everything as fast as he could around an impatient Robbe, searching for his missing board. As if a whole fucking skateboard could just vanish?

Seriously how did Sander managed to endure this daily?

Jens must have said that last question out loud, because he was hit in the chest, luckily not by the found skateboard, but by one of Robbe’s loose scattered sneakers.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[poptod]

Who The Stars Belong To (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

Description: You’re an angel. Congratulations! Now you’re a fallen angel and you crash land through the roof of a building and right into a man’s apartment. 

Prompt: Innocent Notes: I don’t usually do fics with real people. I wrote this one a very long time ago and never finished it, but it’s been a bit since I’ve posted (I’m working on something) and this was the best of my unfinished fics :)  I mixed a LOT of religions into this. I hope I don’t offend anyone - I myself am not highly religious, but some of my beliefs are in here. Gender neutral. Word Count: 8.7k

I am a storm. I am an oncoming battle, the thunders of a thousand wars, of a million bloodshed plains. I am the breeze of summer and the wisps of winter frost. I am a god beholden to you but nothing to your universe. And in the dead of night, I am your savior.

All you knew was life in the heavens. Being God’s messenger had its perks and all that, like getting to know a lot of the higher archangels, but you would never know what the earth held. Stories were your staple, and other than God’s word, it was what you existed on.

Before you knew it you were hurtling down to earth a hundred miles an hour, watching your home in the stars disappear from view as your eyes became human. The light of God faded away, the guidance disappeared, and you could feel your halo burn into the sky, dissipating into the darkness. Though panic pulsed through you, fresh blood appearing through once empty veins, your expression was calm. As you pounded an imprint through the clouds as you fell through them your wings began to burn, and you became a falling star, a child’s wish to never be granted.

Once your back hit the hardness of ground, you blacked out.

+

Drearily you opened your eyes, feeling for the first time something you knew to be pain. It floated all throughout your body, caressing you gently and holding you in a grip so unfamiliar. Your throat burned, eyes tired, and your back ached. Shoulders tense and knees stiff you sat up, letting your vision fully develop.

White walls, firm and rigid in their position, surrounded you. To your right was a glass wall, letting you see the massive buildings outside. They seemed to stretch to the sky, clouds drifting lazily by. Gulping you grasped at the sheets around you, clenching with sore fingers at the roughness they had. To your left was a closed door and an open door, one leading to something that just had to be what you’d been told was a bathroom, and the other one with jackets hanging off it.

You tried standing up, feeling bile fill your mouth at the feeling. Was that normal? No matter - you stood, watching as the world began to spin.

That’s funny, you thought to yourself, before promptly blacking out with a nice, thick thud on the floor.

Upon waking up again, the light above you was dimmer than before, and looking to your right, night encompassed the sky. Blinking slowly you turned your head back to the ceiling, trying to get yourself to at least sit up. You were back in bed, you noticed, with white and blue sheets and blankets once more surrounding you. Grasping at the sheets you pulled yourself up, pulling your legs closer to you from their straight position.

From outside the closed door to your left came noise, a banging of pots and a curse. You raised your eyebrows, having never heard them before, but knowing them nonetheless. It was required information, as an angel. Which you guessed you were banned from being for a little while.

What you might’ve done wrong filled your head, but no matter how far back you went you couldn’t think of a thing. You’d done everything asked of you. Every single thing, even if you thought it to be morally wrong, even if you wondered why you had been chosen for the job, you did it. No questions. No hesitation.

Watching yourself in the mirror across from the bed, you tilted your head curiously to the left. You weren’t supposed to look like that. You were supposed to be… angelic. Strong. A storm, with the power of thunder and the will of hail. That was your form. Not this, with its’ flimsy hair, odd eyes, and dull skin.

Another curse from the other side of the door. You turned, watching as the handle jiggled. For a moment you remained unbothered, before very quickly realizing if this was a menacing force you didn’t have your angelic powers. Not to your knowledge in the least, and testing them out wasn’t really an option. If you used them for anything but official use then they would be taken away.

The door opened, and a man holding a plate came in, a concentrated look on his face, auburn hair falling over his face. He looked the least menacing thing you’d ever seen, and your shoulders relaxed. As the door shut behind him he looked up, smiling awkwardly as he walked forward, setting the plate on the small table beside the bed. You looked at him expectantly, still confused in all essence of the word.

He seemed just as confused, glancing to the side, unable to keep your eye for more than two seconds.

“You’re, uh. You should eat,” he finally said, gesturing with his head towards the plate on the bedside table.

You didn’t need to eat, right? Whatever eating really was it looked awful. Well, you knew what eating was. Sustenance to keep humans going, meant to distract them so they didn’t reach their full potential. Too much time spent doing stuff other than getting food, or getting means for food, would’ve been disastrous.

You must’ve been too quiet for too long as he kept going.

“I made pasta. I’m not great with food, but it’s not awful, I promise,” he chuckled, shifting his weight in his anxiousness. You kept staring. He cleared his throat. “Maybe you could tell me what happened to you?”

“What?” You asked, further confused.

“You know,” he said, clearly excited that you could talk, “why you fell through my roof.”

“What?”

He now looked exasperated that you only knew one word.

“You fell through my roof. I tried to take you to a hospital but you begged me not to. Said you’d, uh, ‘put the fear of god into me,’ if I did. Neat trick you did with your eyes, too,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed to be more relaxed, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“… details?” You asked further. He paused.

He’d just been home after a late night trip to the store after realizing he was completely out of Windex when you arrived. First was a whistling sound, and he looked up, wondering curiously what it could be. His first thought was that New York was under attack, but quickly proven wrong, you crashed through the roof of his apartment, going through the one empty floor above him, landing in his living room.

Staring at your crumpled form, surrounded by broken wood, dust, and concrete, his mouth fell open, dropping the two bottles of Windex in his hand. The most astonishing part was the fact that you were moving. That, and the giant cuts running down your back, bleeding openly and dripping all over his carpet. The one other surprising thing was the fact that you were entirely naked.

Stumbling only for a moment, he dropped to your side, helping you stand.

“Holy shit, okay, uh,” he breathed out, “what happened to you?”

“Arrghhhh,” you slurred meaninglessly.

“Never mind. Let’s get to a hospital, fast,” he said, and before he could even ask his brain to make the movement for a step forward, your hand was grasping the collar of his shirt, bundling the material in a tight fist, pulling him towards your face.

“I will tear your body apart till nothing remains but your soul and you will remember why you fear God,” you said, and in the moment he heard your voice in double, watching as your eyes rolled up into your head, the red veins glowing against stark white.

“Okay,” he replied immediately, almost dropping you.

He omitted many of these details when reporting this to you, not wanting you to believe him insane.

“You crashed through my roof, and I tried to take you to the hospital but you, uh, obviously said no, and after that you blacked out, so I put you to bed. Hoped you would wake up,” was what he said.

“Of course I did,” you said, miffed, turning to face your reflection once again. It looked… wrong. Where were your horns?

“Not… not of course. That fall tends to kill people,” he laughed nervously.

You swallowed, feeling your saliva burn down your throat. Pushing the sheets off of you you tried to stand once more, watching as the world began to swing into a dance once more. The man stood with a ‘woah there,’ holding his hand over your torso in case you fell. With lazy eyelids your head fell onto his shoulder, not quite fainting but halfway there.

“You’re pretty adamant about this whole standing thing, huh?” He said with a grunt, trying to help you stand on your own.

“I am stronger than the bones your king breaks,” you mumbled.

“I don’t - okay, you’re not hungry, so let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, heaving you across the room and into the bathroom.

The lights blared painfully against the mirror, reflecting directly into your eyes. You moaned, hiding your eyes behind eyelids and his shoulder. Behind you water rushed, falling into the silver and white tub. He sat you down on the toilet, making sure you would stay there, before leaving, promising he’d be right back.

You leaned against a nearby wall, eyelids drooping over burning eyes as you waited for him to return. The water continued rushing, filling the room in a warm haze. You watched as the mirror fogged.

With a creak the door opened, and he came through with a tight smile, putting a towel and a fresh set of clothes on the counter.

“I didn��t want to wash you or anything while you were out. Would’ve been a bit weird,” he mumbled, shutting the door behind him, sticking his hand in the water to test it after.

“Where’d I get these clothes?” You asked in a whisper, and he barely heard you over the water.

“Oh, uh, they’re mine. Yours were ruined.”

“I had clothes?”

“… Yes?”

“Lying is a sin punishable by an eternity of hellfire,” you muttered.

“Okay you didn’t have clothes. Happy? I was just trying to spare you the embarrassment,” he snapped, turning off the water. He glanced at you and in a second, his anger fell from him. “Let’s get you in.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling the shirt off your torso and throwing it into a corner of the bathroom. After that he tapped your hips, looking up at you expectantly. You cocked your head to the side, your brow furrowed.

“Lift,” he said, his face reddening with blood. Your nose twitched and, bracing yourself against the lid of the toilet, you lifted your hips. Off came two sets of pants, which confused you greatly.

“Why was I wearing two pants?” You asked, grasping his shoulders tightly as he made you stand, your legs failing you almost entirely.

“That was underwear,” he explained patiently, setting you gently in the warm water. You curled up, pressing your knees to your chest, feeling your rough skin brush against you uncomfortably. With bright eyes you stared up at him, watching him grab various bottles from the counter.

With a cup he poured water over your head, and a pleasant feeling washed over you as it ran down your back and over your eyes. He pressed two fingers to your forehead, tilting your head slightly so it wouldn’t fall into your eyes. He did this two more times, fully soaking your head before popping open a bottle. Out of it poured a white mixture, one he rubbed up against his hands before reaching for you.

You cringed backwards, baselessly fearing what it could’ve been. He paused, drawing backwards and explaining himself.

“It’s to wash your hair,” he said, and as you let him rub it into your scalp, you heard him whisper to himself, “what happened to you?”

You didn’t answer, assuming he didn’t really want an answer, and simply enjoying the pleasure his hands brought. As he dug deeper into your hair you keened upwards into it, letting your eyes close. He let his hands run the full length of your hair once, then twice, before rinsing his hands and pouring water over you to rinse the shampoo from you.

“Enjoying yourself?” He teased as he opened up another bottle. You waited as he turned the bottle upside down, pouring it now over your shoulders. From its cold temperature you shrunk, still letting him do what he thought he needed to do.

He rubbed the white soap into your skin, over your shoulders and neck, up into your cheeks. That was the most enjoyable part - letting him cup your jaw, one hand on either side as his thumbs rubbed your cheeks. Eventually he had to stop, gently washing your nose and forehead.

The silence clearly made him uncomfortable you noted as he washed the dirt off your arms. You, however, didn’t mind it in the slightest.

“Just one more,” he said, holding up the last bottle. You nodded.

This time, unlike the first time, he combed it through your hair. Relaxing into his touch you closed your eyes, once more leaning into him. You couldn’t trust him, not in any way, but…

“Feel better?”

You nodded.

The two of you tried to get your feet to work but they refused, and your wet body flopped uselessly into his arms.

“Sorry,” you said, noticing his own clothes getting soaked.

“It - it’s fine,” he stammered, his face growing hot and red. He held you up, grabbing the towel with one struggling hand and wrapping it around you. Half shivering you sat on the edge of the tub, watching as he leaned over you, draining the sudsy water away.

Eventually, all dried up and in fresh clothes that smelled very specifically of him, you sat on the bed eating the cold pasta he’d given you.

“I can warm it up you know,” he said, watching you eat by the bedside.

You shook your head, the food still hanging out of it. He shrugged, excusing himself for a moment, and coming back with a thin, silver block.

“What -“

“I thought you might want to watch a movie or something,” he said, setting it down and opening it.

Oh, you thought to yourself, marveling at the bright screen. I’ve heard of these computers.

Typing on the board he pulled up a website, clicking quickly on a movie and settling in beside you.

“If you don’t like it I can change it,” he said, allowing you your space on the bed.

White Christmas came up on the screen. The quality was grainy but colorful, the music wonderfully melodic. Music wasn’t a common thing in the heavens. That is to say, the music of the stars would hardly qualify as the music humans knew on earth.

As the movie came to a close he shut the laptop, sliding off the bed, the computer beneath his arm.

“Get some sleep,” he said, watching you shift downwards so your head lay on the pillows. You didn’t really need to sleep, you wanted to tell him. You never had, but for some reason you wanted to close your eyes anyway. As you did, the creak of the door signaled his leave. In the silence of night you wondered how long you’d be allowed to stay.

You didn’t wake again till the next day was halfway through. The man told you so, telling you it was 12, and with your confused face in return, he began to describe time.

“I really don’t understand why you don’t know this stuff. Are you sure we can’t go to a hospital?” He asked gingerly, his head tilted downwards but keeping your gaze.

“If you take me to a hospital -“

“You’ll turn me inside out. I know, yeah…” he sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Listen, I’m having friends over tonight. I think it’d be best if you just stayed in here. It’s a bit hard to explain, but I think it’ll be safer, okay?”

Slowly you nodded, half understanding that all you needed to do was stay in the room you were in. You were patient. Millenia of listening to Gods’ slow voice allowed for that.

“They’re coming over in about an hour. This,” he grabbed your wrist, latching a clock around it, “will tell you when that is.”

Examining the silver band, the light above you reflected into the glass, making you shut your eyes tight.

“Don’t do that,” he grumbled, pulling your wrist away from its position.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s fine. You hungry?”

You shook your head, knowing that you didn’t need to eat. You really, really, really didn’t need to eat, but your stomach growled loudly, your eyes widening as you stared down at it.

“You have no idea how your body works, do you?”

You gulped. How could he ever had found out?

With a sigh he helped you stand, and with his arm around your waist and yours around his shoulders, you limped to the door, heading out into the hallway and the rest of what you presumed was his home. It was nicely lit, with mostly white walls and rather comfortable furniture. You sat on the couch, watching him intently as he prepared some sort of food for you again. He finished, setting the plate in front of you.

“You eat it with your hands,” he told you, already assuming you’d never seen a sandwich before. He went to leave, but you grasped his wrist tight, forcing him to face you. Jarred by your strength his mouth hung open and he gaped at you, confused and alarmed.

“Thank you,” you murmured, staring directly into his eyes.

“Uh… yeah. ‘Course,” he stammered, wriggling free from your lessened grasp. With wary eyes, darting to you in fear, he left the room. Nose twitching, you grabbed the sandwich with your hands, taking a massive bite.

By your last bite, you still hadn’t seen him, but the door had been knocking for several minutes. As time continued the knocking got louder, more furious, till voices came as well, demanding that the door be opened. Pounding footsteps came from the hallway, rushing through the living room till the man, auburn hair flying as he ran past ran straight into the door, ramming his chin against the wooden door.

“Fuck! Ah, sorry, give me a - uh,” he turned to you, still jiggling the door handle, “room?”

“There’s room,” you replied.

“No, go to the bedroom!”

“I can’t stand!”

“What’s going on behind there?” Came the voice behind the door.

“One second guys, just, uh,” he helped you to your feet, “getting dressed.”

“I don’t mind you being naked,” another voice said, drawing a belt of a laugh from the man behind the door.

“They’re… joking,” he mumbled to you, kicking the door open and setting you down on the bed. Though rushed, he tucked you in, fluffing the pillow and quickly turning out the light. Disgruntled, you fidgeted under the covers, keeping your eyes open as you listened to the voices outside.

“I heard two voices,” one of them said, not your man.

“You’re crazy,” the other said.

You buried your nose under the covers. They continued their conversation, talking about things you couldn’t understand, things you knew you would get if you just had your angelic powers back. They allowed you to understand the non-understandable.

“Do you usually eat naked?” One of the men asked, and in an instant you recalled your nearly all-the-way-eaten sandwich.

“No,” your man replied quickly. “That was from a while ago.”

“Someone’s sloppy.”

“Yeah, Jesus Christ, clean up after yourself!”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him next,” your man said with a laugh.

They resorted once more into language you couldn’t understand, a switch clicking in the room and then the sound of many voices emanating from the living room. Your chest felt restricted, and your stomach still empty, so you dug yourself deeper into the sheets, hoping the uneasy feeling would soon cease.

A few more minutes clutching your stomach and it did not. Perhaps something was wrong with you? You knew very little about the complexities of humans. Maybe you needed to eat more. So, on shaky legs, keeping your arms on the bed you stood, being mainly supported by your arms. Stumbling you made your way to the wall, walking beside it towards the door. He had said not to leave the room, but something felt wrong, so terribly wrong, that you were sure he wouldn’t mind. Your logic was so: he would, most likely, prefer to find you wobbling into the living room rather than to find you dead on the bed. Could you die? You weren’t sure, but chances weren’t a thing you were ready to take.

Walking through the short hallway you kept your hands pressed to the wall, coming up behind the couch that three men now sat on, a large screen on the wall turned on to some sort of entertainment.

Which one was him? None of them were facing you, and you didn’t know if humans all looked the same. Supposedly they didn’t, but to someone like yourself who wasn’t accustomed to their faces, maybe they would all look similar. You went by hair color. The man in the middle had golden hair - that wasn’t your man. The one on the left was taller, with brown hair. On the right was the auburn hair. You tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to look up at you, fear and surprise burning right into your skin through his eyes.

His shock brought the other two from their entrancement with the screen, turning to see you as well. For a moment, everything was silent. They stared at you, you stared right back.

“Give me a moment,” your man suddenly said, jumping over the back of the bed and all but dragging you back to the hall.

“I feel wrong,” you said before he could get angry. He furrowed his brow, confused, but listening. “My chest aches. I feel empty here,” you said, bunching up the shirt you wore and pointing to your stomach area.

He sighed, an exasperated sound, his head falling to your shoulder.

“You’re thirsty,” he finally told you, pulling you with a more gentle touch back into the kitchen and sitting you down on a barstool. He went to grab a glass from the cupboard.

“So, uh, going t’ introduce us?” The blond asked, his voice deep and strange.

“Uh, this is, um,” he tried to say, realizing as he made eye contact with you that neither of you knew each others’ names.

“Mal,” you answered for him. It wasn’t your full, true name, as giving your whole name would give them power over you. That was something you couldn’t find yourself ever doing.

The two men on the couch looked at each other then burst out laughing, making you tilt your head slightly to the left, confused.

“Joey, you could’ve just told us you had a one night stand thing going on, he can join us,” the blond laughed, slapping the taller man on the shoulder. You looked back at your man, supposedly ‘Joey,’ with wide, bewildered eyes.

“Okay first of all, not a one night stand,” he glanced at you, “he’s just a… sick friend.”

“He?” You asked.

“She?” He tried out, but it didn’t help. A silence stretched as both of, utterly perturbed, stared at each other.

“Should we go?” The tall man asked, pointing back at the blond and then himself.

“No, it - it’s fine,” Joey stumbled, handing you a glass of water. “Mal just needs sleep.”

You nodded along. Whatever was happening could be discussed later. He tilted the glass to your mouth, and you opened it, allowing the water to slip through.

“Make sure you’re not breathing when you drink,” he whispered in your ear, quickly jumping back to the couch between his friends. You did as told, almost choking on it but swallowing nonetheless. Feeling your back hurt you stretched, reaching your arms for the ceiling. A sudden burst of pain flooded through your spine, electrocuting your head and tingling through your fingertips.

You let out a strangled, quiet cry, holding your shoulders with your hands. Joey turned to you in a flash, looking at you over the edge of the couch.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Probably,” you answered, shrugging, and gesturing to the screen when he wouldn’t turn away from you. Hesitant, he turned back, watching the delightful characters running around.

Every now and then, over the next few hours they’d go back to the kitchen, grabbing brown bottles from the fridge and downing them rather quickly. You watched from your seat patiently.

“You want one?” The tall one asked, moving to hand you one.

“Uh, that’s probably not a good idea,” Joey stopped him before you could make up your mind, pulling the tall man back by his arm. The man just shrugged, smiling at you, and popping open his own bottle.

“How’d - how’d you two meet?” The blond asked, and by that point you realized that the drink must’ve been doing something to them. They swayed in their stance, their voices clogged and speech dumbed.

“He - she, uh, fell… on the subway. Helped him - her - uh, them, up,” Joey responded, swirling his drink.

“Wait, wait wait,” the tall one turned to you, leaning in close and examining you. You remained rigid. “Are you a guy or a girl?”

“I am the heavens personified. I don’t fall into binary categories that you assign to know the others genitalia.”

All three of them laughed at that. You, on the other hand, found little humor in it. By the end of the evening the three of them became so intoxicated on whatever was in those drinks that you had to convince them, very sloppily to stop, which in the end, they finally acquiesced.

They insisted you come sit with them on the couch, trying to pull you from your seat.

“I want to avoid walking,” you informed them curtly, trying to get them to stop.

“Alright-y then,” the blond said, suddenly lifting you out of your seat and carrying you, laughing and giggling with his friends as he sat you on his lap on the couch. Awkward and confused you shifted, getting comfortable with where you now were.

“Okay okay so - Mal insists on no more drinks, so umm… no drinking games,” Joey slurred, holding his fingers out and counting ‘no drinking games’ on one.

“Beer pong!” The tall one suggested. The blond knocked him on the head as Joey laughed.

“Drinking is literally the main thing in that game, Gwil,” the blond wheezed out. Ah, you thought, so the tall one is named Gwil.

“Uh, Mal knows like, nothing about being alive,” Joey started, and you couldn’t entirely disagree. “So something simple?”

“Truth… or dare,” Gwil suggested in a dramatic whisper, pointing to the blond as he said truth, and to Joey when he said dare.

“What are we, seven?” Joey asked, sticking his tongue out in disapproval.

“You said simple!”

Both Gwil and Joey continued arguing as the blond whispered in your ear, telling you the rules of the game, keeping his voice low to avoid being heard by the other two. You listened intently, leaning into him. In turn, he kept his hand around your waist, keeping you from sliding off.

“Alright, fine!” Joey finally conceded, throwing his hands up in the air. “Do you know how to play?” He asked, looking at you.

You nodded.

“Wow, I’m surprised,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“I just taught him,” said the blond.

“Her,” Gwil corrected.

“Both!” Joey added.

“Or neither,” Gwil and the blond said at the same time, and the three of them broke into childish laughter again.

As it died, Joey asked, “what were we talking about again?” which really only spurred the laughter on further.

The rest of the night proceeded in similar fashion, growing calmer as the drink went through their systems. You never did get to play that odd game.

“Stay the night, won’t you?” Joey asked them, but they refused, saying they got a hotel room in the city.

“Besides,” the blond added, “looks like you’ve got plenty of company.” Along with this he wiggled his eyebrows, winking. Gwil snorted, saying his good byes along with the blond and shutting the door.

“Joey -“

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, stumbling only slightly as he came over to you. Arm wrapped round your waist he helped you up, walking you through the hall, into the room, and into the bathroom to sit you on the toilet seat.

“I’m not dirty,” you stated, watching him rub his face with water running from the sink faucet.

“Should change your clothes anyway,” he said with a sigh, drying his hands and helping you out of his shirt. “Ah shit,” he mumbled, suddenly remembering you needed another pair of clothes to get into. He left the room to look for clothing, door wide open, as you sat half naked on the seat.

Curious as to what your back looked like, hoping desperately that maybe if you just looked you’d get your wings back, you stood shakily, grasping the counter to turn around and look at yourself in the mirror.

Down your back ran two massive tears, open and cracked with blood. Surprised, you reached to touch them, shrinking away from your hand when you did so.

“Jesus,” Joey breathed out, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. You turned quickly to him, wondering if you’d done something wrong. “They must’ve cracked open when you were with me and my friends.”

“What?”

“They looked a little more put together when I last saw ‘em,” he explained, turning your back to him to examine them further. “Not bleeding at least. God…”

His finger traced the outline of them, causing spikes of pain to run through you whenever he got too close.

“You’re sure about the hospital?” He asked.

“I will -“

“Yeah, okay,” he interrupted you, getting your point without your threat. For a few moments more you let him touch you, gently trying to see how bad it was. “I have bandages,” he said as he withdrew. You turned around expectantly.

He sighed, bending down and opening a door underneath the sink, pulling out a long, thin cloth, all rolled up. Slowly, aware of your careful watch, he wrapped the fabric around your chest, starting right beneath your arms and going down to the end of your ribs.

When he finished you grabbed his wrist, tugging him down to you.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, slowly realizing that that was just how you thanked people.

In silence he undressed and dressed you, wondering to himself if you’d ever be able to dress yourself. Would he have to teach you? You, on the other hand, were thinking about his friends. They all felt oddly intimate.

He put you to bed after that, brushing the short hair out of your eyes, noting quietly to you that it had grown slightly longer.

“It sure grows fast,” he said, pulling the sheets over your bed. He made to leave, stopped by your grip on his wrist once more capturing him.

“Where do you sleep?” You asked quietly.

“On the couch.”

“Is that comfortable?”

“Yeah, I think it is,” he said with a shrug.

“Alright,” you murmured, releasing him and tucking yourself back into the blankets. He smiled, patting your shoulder and leaving the room.

Routine proceeded from that day on. You would wake up by afternoon, and he would force you to eat and drink, every so often leaving his home, but never telling you why. On those days, he’d usually come back with bags, and oftentimes would help you with bathing.

“You need to learn how to do this yourself,” he told you one day, rubbing soap into your cheeks and neck.

“I like when you do it,” you responded, making him choke on his breath.

“Whatever you want,” he responded, his words rushed out.

One morning when you awoke, he wasn’t there. First you called for him, as he usually noticed when you stirred, but you earned no response. You then stood, walking with a nice cane he’d gotten you a few days ago. ‘Just for now,’ he said, ‘’till you heal.’ Still, no sign at all of him, except a note taped to the door. You couldn’t read it, as all you could really read was Enochian. So you sat. And waited.

It wasn’t long till the sound of his key at the door came, turning the gears of the lock till it opened, revealing him and a man behind him.

“Mal, hey,” he said, opening the door to allow the man behind him in before closing and locking it. In a small motion you waved at him. “This is my friend, Rami. Say hi Rami.”

The man, Rami, glared at Joey (who you’d learned recently was actually named ‘Joe’) before approaching you with his hand outstretched.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, waiting for you to make a move. Hesitating only a second, you slapped his open hand.

From the kitchen Joe snorted, laughing at what you’d just done.

“What?” Looking up at Rami, he looked equally amused and confused.

“You’re supposed to shake his hand,” Joe explained, waking over and demonstrating the proper greeting movement with his friend. Slowly you nodded, shaking Rami’s hand, feeling the warm roughness of his palm.

“You may call me Mal,” you said, looking him in the eye. He chuckled, nodding.

“He’s flown in from L.A. to stay a few days. I don’t -“ he turned to Rami, “- did you get a hotel room?”

“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be a problem getting one if need be,” he said, setting his bags down near the door.

“I only have one bed, but I guess someone could share,” Joe said with a shrug, pulling two beer bottles out of the fridge and relaxing next to you, Rami on the other side of him as he turned on the television.

After a while of being rather annoyed by a plot you couldn’t understand, you nudged Joe, telling him so.

“Take this,” he said, handing you his laptop. “Go wild.”

You fiddled with it, grabbing your cane and walking back into the bedroom. Sitting on the bed you opened it on your lap, immediately coming face to face with a search tool. If Joe had only known what you would do, he would’ve never handed you the laptop, as this was most definitely one of the worst decisions in the world. Instead, he left you to your own chaotic devices, and the first thing you looked up was ‘do i need to eat?’, which lead to ‘how do human organs work,’ to ‘what are sex organs,’ and, one can guess where that led.

Eventually that led only deeper into the Internet, to what drugs were, into drug arrests, and every sinful thing put on the news, to odd songs about sex and drugs simultaneously, and movies about rockstars.

“Hey, you doin’ okay?” Joe asked, his hands on either side of the doorway, leaning into the room. Silently, you turned the computer around to a headline reading, ‘Florida Man bites off his brother’s penis after he walks in on his brother having sex with his cousin on his favorite Dragon Ball Z blanket.’

“Jesus Christ, I can’t leave you alone for two seconds,” he grumbled, shutting the laptop and tucking it under his arm.

“It’s been an hour,” you reminded him helpfully. He ignored you.

“Rami can’t find any affordable hotel rooms, he needs to stay here for the night. He’s got a room for tomorrow onwards,” he informed you, helping you up and back into the living room, setting his computer on the bar counter.

“I told him I can sleep on the couch but he won’t listen to me,” Rami said, tapping his fingers on the back of the couch, watching as you sat on a barstool.

“Absolutely not. I won’t stand for it,” Joe responded, flopping onto the couch to sit beside his friend.

“Then where’s your friend going to sleep?” He asked, gesturing to you.

“We’ll work it out. It’s late, you’ve got work to do in the morning,” Joe said, tugging Rami off the couch and pushing him to the bedroom.

“Right, of course Mom,” he grumbled as the door shut loudly behind him. You simply watched, stoic and silent, as Joe returned into the living room, hands on his hips.

Mumbling mostly to himself, he helped you over to the couch.

“Are we sleeping together?” You asked as he stood. Stammering, he attempted an answer.

“Uh - sort of I guess? I mean, you - you don’t have to, you’re always talking about how you don’t need sleep, but I still think you should, not necessarily with me, but I just mean you need to sleep, and I guess since there’s only the couch left you could sleep there and I’ll just… sleep on the floor?”

“Is the floor comfortable?” You asked.

“Um, not really?”

“Then sleep on the couch,” you said, pulling the back cushions out to make room for him.

“Uh….”

You patted the couch and, stumbling only a second, he sat beside you. Reaching behind him, you grabbed a pillow from off the edge of the cushions, setting it up for his head on the end of the couch. Gently, you made him lie down, wrapping him up in a blanket hung over the back. He stuttered something incoherent, watching and only protesting mildly as you stood, taking the short trip to the light to turn it off. Setting your cane down, you crawled in next to him, pressing your body against his in the tight space.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, his voice cracking as you put his arm around you for your own comfort, “where did you come from? Do you even remember?”

“I was an angel,” you answered honestly, fully believing that he’d take your word. What you didn’t expect was for him to hold back a laugh, looking down at you.

“Really?”

“I fell from heaven. My form changed. I’ve never been to earth before now.”

“Well that certainly explains a lot. If it was believable,” he muttered, shifting under the blankets you’d gotten to be more comfortable.

“It’s the truth. I am bound by ethereal powers to never lie so -“

“You could just as easily be a person lying,” he interrupted, now unwilling to meet your eye.

“Ask me a question about God, or the world... something you’ve always wondered,” you tried, hoping he’d ask something you knew about.

He waited, his head now facing fully away from you as he thought. Outside a storm grew, but the only thing you could think about was him.

“Which religion is right? Is it the Christians?”

“All of them are right. Every god or goddess to ever be told of exists. They congregate every now and then. I sit by Gods’ side during those meetings. The god Jewish, Muslim, and Christian people believe in, that is.”

“What happens when we die?”

“Whatever you think.”

“What?” He turned to you.

“If one believes they will become the clouds, they will become the clouds. If they believe nothing happens, they die. Their consciousness is wiped. There is a heaven, reincarnation, and a hell, but not much happens in hell.”

“Wait, what happens in hell then?”

“I haven’t been there often,” you said, recalling the last time God had a meeting with their son. “Lucifer is actually rather calm. It’s just… imagine if a bunch of criminals and people who thought they were awful were put into one area. There isn’t any torture or demons, just people who believed they were going to hell.”

“Okay, lots of questions about that -“ he laughed, “- so it’s basically Afterlife Australia?”

You shrugged. In honesty, you had no idea what Australia was, but he was probably right. You trusted him as far as you could.

“And if someone who was a good person, but just really hated themselves and thought they would go to hell, would they go to hell?”

“That’s what the angels Kiraman Katibin, Phanuel, Nakir, and Abathar Muzania are working together for,” you said, and in that moment you realized you probably shouldn’t be trusting this information to a human. Nonetheless, you continued. “They… judge, sort of. Like Ma’at and her 42 judges for Egyptian afterlife, for those that believe in that.”

“… interesting.”

He left it at that. You snuggled in closer, his breathing grew harsher, but the both of you fell into easy sleep. By morning, he awoke first, jostling you awake when he reached for a note on the table. Leaning over to look, your cheek resting on his shoulder, you asked what it said.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his face warm. “Jus’ that he’s left already.”

“Oh.”

“God, I need to get off my ass,” he muttered under his breath to himself. He stood, stretching his hands to the sky, before releasing the tensions with a deep sigh. Plodding into the kitchen, he turned on the sink, pulling down another glass and drinking from it once it filled to overflow. You picked the cushions back up off the floor, putting them back into place.

Making his way back over to you, he collapsed back onto the couch, relaxing into the cushions.

“Really hoping you don’t kill me for saying this, but I’m half convinced you’re insane,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. The whole situation with you was clearly stressing him out - even you could tell.

“How may I settle these worries?”

“Prove it. But if you’re fallen, you probably don’t… have any powers, or whatever.”

“I have scars down my back from my wings,” you reminded him.

“It could just as easily be that you were tortured, badly, and to cope with it you’re imagining that you’re an angel. All this information you’re giving is just personal beliefs. Stuff you could look up on the internet.”

“I… don’t know if I have any power left,” you said quietly, and your heart began to ache, weighing heavily through your body. Your touch possibly had power - humans loved to touch. It was essential to their lives. Maybe, just maybe, your touch had power.

“You think of ways to get the truth. I’ll make breakfast,” he said, grunting as he stood and patting your knee.

You sat, the crackle of frying eggs in the background as you buried yourself in thoughts. Your wings and halo were gone, you knew that for absolute sure. The feeling of them leaving you, how it tore you from yourself, stretching and pulling till it finally ripped, burning as everything you knew evaporated away. What was left when all was taken from you? Even your eyes, the ones that allowed you to look upon Gods, that let you return home and fully see the truth, the heavens and all that you loved, they were gone too.

Your soul. You still had that, didn’t you?

Grabbing your cane from the fallen position it had taken on the floor, you came to stand behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned down the heat of the stove, turning around to face you, jumping back when he saw how close you were.

“I still have my soul. I’m… I’m not sure what I can do with it, but,” you looked up at him, eyes glittering a very suddenly bright blue, a change from your usual color, “can I try?”

“Af-after breakfast. Eat something first,” he stammered, grabbing plates from behind him, filling them with the eggs and toast, before setting it down on the table and sitting down. Your nose twitched once, but you sat down across from him, eating what he’d prepared, all the time wondering what would happen.

As the two of you finished he grabbed your plates, and from then on, essentially ignored you. Dodging you, not speaking to you, telling you to get more sleep, all of it you knew was more of an avoidance of the subject of your soul. In your weakened state, there was little you could do but let him force you to sleep.

So you slept. Into the next week, you slept. By the second day when you hadn’t woken up Joe began to worry, sitting at your bedside, making sure you were still breathing. Every evening his friend Rami would come over, asking where you were, and he would say you were sleeping.

“You should take them to a hospital,” he said, worry lacing his tone though he did not know you.

“I want to, but whenever I suggest it they pretty much make death threats.”

By the time you woke up, he was prepared to call the hospital, and Rami had already left, heading back to L.A.

“What are you doing,” you asked, monotone as you sat up, watching him about to dial the number on his phone.

“You’re awake!” He exclaimed, dropping his phone and rushing to hug you. “I thought you were dying!”

“I can sleep for extended periods of time. It’s to accommodate for my life span,” you informed him curtly, your arms plastered to your side as he squeezed you.

“That’s called a coma,” he spoke right into your ear, sighing as he released you, sitting beside you on the bed.

“Sounds like your problem.”

“It certainly feels like it. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“You were trying to get me to sleep, so I did.”

He glared at you, mentally noting to himself that you were petty in a very special way. Helping you out of the bed, cane forgotten, he kept you upright, leading you into the living room and onto the couch. From there he fed you, made sure you drank, and suggested a bath. You agreed.

Hoisting your arm around his shoulders, the two of you made your way slowly to the bathroom. There he did the usual; undressing you, filling the tub with warm water, and pushing up his sleeves to his elbows. Helping you into the tub, he sat on the edge, pouring shampoo onto his hands.

“You’re sure you’re okay with me doing this?” He asked, still unsure about the whole nudity you had.

“It seems to me you’re the only one bothered by it.”

“Wow, okay. Called out,” he said, chuckling to himself. “The tea is scorching.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said with a snort, still smiling to himself as he rubbing the shampoo into your scalp. You let yourself enjoy it, pushing into his touch with a blissed out expression.

“You should join me,” you mumbled as he pulled away. He halted, staring wide eyed at you.

“I should what?”

“Join me,” you repeated, watching carefully as a sudden smile grew on his face. He turned away, shaking his head, but still smiling in a dumbfounded way.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said, ignoring your request to rinse his hands, “considering how little you know about human etiquette. Wouldn’t be too surprising if you never visited earth.” He mumbled his words, voicing his thoughts in an airy fashion.

“If you would just let me show you -“

“Mal,” he interrupted you, facing you with a sudden seriousness. “If souls are real, and if what you’re saying is real. Don’t you think it’d be dangerous? I don’t know what you’re planning, but using your soul has to be dangerous.”

“Might be. I need your trust,” you pleaded. “I will go to great lengths to get it.”

“Why?” He asked simply, tired of wondering quietly.

“Just for a moment, believe me,” you asked of him, and he nodded. “As an angel, we are built to never make our own decisions. God’s guidance is bright, and our halos blind us. Physically, we can trust no one but our God. When I fell, I… I was left alone. No longer blind, but able to make my own decisions, but in the way that I’d never done that before, I was still blind. Wh-What I’m trying to say is, I’m not built to trust anyone other than God. Joe, I trust you.”

Sometime in the middle of your speech he had stopped breathing, staring at you as unmoving as you usually were. Knowing his silence was filled with his thoughts and not his passiveness, you waited, watching for his movement.

“Okay,” he said. “Prove it.”

Moving slowly, you sat on the edge of the bathtub, naked as the day you fell from the sky. You reached for him, starting at his hand and moving up. Breathing unevenly, he kept his eye on your hand as it moved, up to his shoulder and up his neck, resting on his cheek. Pushing your other hand underneath his shirt, you came up to where his heart would rest. Closing your eyes, you let your head rest on his shoulder, pouring all the energy you could right into where your hand was.

In an instant you could feel his heart beat harshly through his skin, fast and powerful. Intaking a deep breath, you continued to try to intertwine your souls, or to at least let your own soul burn through his skin, enough to leave a mark. Anything to prove yourself.

As you withdrew he finally began to breathe again, taking deep breaths as you drew your hands back into your lap. Slowly he raised his shirt, having felt the intensity of what you’d just wrought, showing a soft golden glow emanating from his chest. His breathing started to pick up, growing faster as he realized you were telling the truth.

“I -“

“Don’t scream,” you said as his mouth opened wide.

“I wasn’t gonna scream,” he said, his voice choked and tight.

“… do you believe me now?” You asked softly, looking up at him earnestly.

“Don’t think I have a choice,” he murmured.

As his breathing slowed, an urge ran through you, one you allowed. Hesitantly, you moved closer, resting your forehead in the crook of his shoulder, closing your eyes and relaxing your muscles. He wrapped his arms gingerly around you, letting you lie still in his hold, running his touch down your spine. 

“You’re really an angel, then?” He whispered, a rhetorical question you both knew the answer to: yes.

“I was. I’m human now. I belong to you,” you mumbled against his skin, your lips warm from the heat radiating off the soft skin of his neck. 

“You belong to yourself, now. No one can take that away from you, especially not me.”

You remained silent, contemplating your words as you matched your slow breathing to his, your hand pressed against his chest.

“I want to belong to you.”

Moving from your position against his shoulder, you met his eye, close enough to feel his breath. He waited for you, patient as your gaze flickered from his lips and back up to his eyes.

“I need to be yours,” you murmured, leaning further in, a distance he met you in the middle for. 

It was a strange sensation, his lips moving against yours - alien and familiar all at once, and when he pulled you closer to him you could feel yourself melting. Your chest shuddered with the force of your emotion, one you might’ve identified as love, had you known the words’ meaning. 

I love you, he murmured against your lips, loathing to part from your warmth, but the desperate need to speak his mind overpowered his hate. You hummed when he kissed you again, cradling his jawline in your hand and rubbing your thumb over his cheek just as he’d done to you. 

And in every way you allowed yourself the comfort of belonging, just as he held tight the reverence you gave him. 

[soldierswar]

Competition

Mostly smut, a little angst.

Bucky/Reader

Synopsis: You and Bucky have very opposite opinions about something, and you begin to argue with no end in sight. How do you two find a way to work it out?

Notes: It’s been a HOT MINUTE since I wrote a smut. I hope you like it because I’m a little rusty. Send requests if you’d like. I love you guys. Enjoy!

         “It’s not that big of a deal, Bucky!” you exclaimed.

         “Not that big of a deal?” he replied.

         “You want to infiltrate some of the most dangerous organizations out there right now, and you think it’s going to turn out ‘just fine’?”

         You rolled your eyes and very audibly groaned.

         “It’s a good plan, and they were minutes away from approving it until you stepped in and got held it back for weeks for review! Do you know how humiliating that was?”

         “Y/N do you know-”

         “Do I know what, Bucky?” you interrupted.

         “I know a lot. A lot more than you do about this organization that you do. I’ve been researching and reviewing what we know about them, and forming this plan with Natasha for MONTHS.”          “You’re not even going with her! You plan on going out there by yourself with little to no contact for however long it takes!”

         “You really have no faith in me, do you?” You said quieting your voice into a tone of that hit a lot harder than shouting.

         “Y/N that’s not what I’m saying. You of all people should know that.”

         “No,” you said.

         “You undermined me. Not even to my face, but behind my back. And why? Because I’m not the big, strong super soldier like you? You do know that I am capable of doing things out on the field successfully without you, you know? Even if it was my plan. A very smart fucking plan.”

         “You know why I had it put under review Y/N?” he asked.

         “Why?” you spat.

         “You’re smart. I’d say even brilliant. But you’re cocky as fuck. Which at times has served you well. But this plan that you have concocted opens up way too many scenarios for you to exploit that trait. One of these days, especially on this assignment it could be your downfall.”

         “And you think that this could be the one?” You cocked your head to the right.

         “Take that statement however you want.”

         You stormed out of the living room and made your way to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you and screamed in frustration.

         You violently removed your shirt and bra and threw the items across the room wishing that they were items made out of glass. Something that would shatter into a million pieces. You wanted to smash stuff. You wanted to throw every dish you had and watch them explode against the walls and the floors.

         Bucky quickly followed and slammed the door behind him.

         “You know the slam wasn’t exactly an invitation,” you snarled.

         “Oh, we’re not done here,” he replied.

         “Really?”

         He stepped closer to you, subconsciously giving your exposed torso a one overglance that hardly lasted a second. You stepped even closer to him so that you were barely an inch away from each other.

         Your breaths began to pick up, as you stared intensely into each other’s eyes, not trying to turn away in defeat.

         Suddenly, the tension turned into something else.

         You both simultaneously pulled the other closer and violently crashed your lips together into an intense rage-induced, lustful kiss.

         When you pulled away, anger overtaking your mind you realized that you had been taken over by a ravenous lust.

          You climbed onto the bed, resting on your knees, and pulled his shirt up; basically ordering him to pull the rest of it off.

         He complied.

         He pushed you to the middle of the bed as though you were light as a stuffed ragdoll and placed himself on top of you.

         You began moving your hips, rubbing your crotch against his already feeling him start to get harder and harder against you by the second.

         You laughed darkly and moved your face away from his to his neck giving him love bites on the exact spot that drove him crazy. You heard a slight moan; a result of the intense grinding that was going on, and what I was doing to his neck.  

         You made your move and flipped him over so that you were sitting on top of him, not giving up on your movements. He glared at you the same way he did before giving in to desire. He looked as though he were looking directly into your livid soul, and unexpectedly flipped you over on your back into the same position that you were in seconds ago.

         That’s when you realized. This was a lust-filled fight for dominance.

He pushed his body up, straddling your upper thighs, and ripped your jeans open, popping the button off so hard that it flew across the room; and proceeded to swiftly pull your pants down. You did the rest of the work and maneuvered your feet to kick them off.

He then moved your thong to the side and alternated between rubbing the little nub between your legs and pushing his fingers inside you feeling how wet you already were. His eyebrow raised.

         ‘Oh no,’ you thought.

        “He was not going to win this one,”

You weren’t even sure what you meant when you had that thought. As though it were a competition on who could make the other climax first. But even if he wasn’t thinking the same thing, you weren’t going to let him win.

You pulled his hand away, removed your underwear while still under him and unbuttoned his pants, partially pulling them down along with his underwear signaling to finish the motion. And he complied.

Score.

You flipped him over again just like before, and moved your way down and started sucking the head of his cock. You knew that beginning this way made him so sensitive that he could explode in no time. You could tell that he was growing more and more sensitive by the pleasure induced groans escaping his mouth.

You then moved further down his shaft all the way to the base and swallowed around him, the head was encompassed by your throat. You hoped right there he would spill his hot cum down your throat. But to no avail, the game was not over.

He then flipped you over again, spread your legs and pressed his mouth straight to your core. He alternated between sucking on your little nub and licking up and down your pussy right before pushing his fingers inside you curling his fingers at your G-Spot while continuing to keep his mouth on your more sensitive than ever clit. Something he knew could a lot of the time result in screaming orgasms before you even started fucking.

         That’s when you realized…He was playing the game too.

         You pulled his hair to pull his face away from your core, and narrowed your eyes. He returned the same glare.

         Oh, it was on.

         Before you knew it, he was on top of you again and positioned push himself into you.

         You both let a sigh of pleasure escape your mouths. Something you both knew drove each other wild, and you both began moving your hips in sync.

         As seconds moved on, you continued moved at a faster and faster pace; resulting in more intense and audible gasps and moans. But you held off on giving in, no matter how difficult it started to become.

         You decided to bring yourself back up so that you were riding him. A motion you knew would require the pause of friction for at least a second, but didn’t require separation. So, you tightened yourself around him giving him an undoubtedly extra ounce of pleasure that could possibly bring him to a harder edge even more than for you. You both proceeded to move your hips even faster and harder than before.

         That’s when he decided to bring his hands up and start playing with your nipples.

         Oh no he did not.

         He knew how much the mix between cold and warn hands, mixed with the sensitivity of your nipples drove you wild; and that’s when you began to feel a definite twinge inside of you, resulting in even louder, desperate gasps escaping you.

         You lowered your torso and once again began sucking on that area on the right side of his neck that you knew drove him wild.

         He retaliated by rolling you both on your right sides so that you couldn’t continue doing that, and placed his head on top of yours so that his face was placed atop your head to you couldn’t reach his neck. And then began fucking you even harder.

         ‘Fuck,’You thought.          ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’

         You suddenly realized that you were saying it out loud.

         Another realization. Your outbursts were driving him closer and closer to the edge. You could feel his cock begin to pulse inside you. A clear sign that he was close.

         Ha. You were going to win.

         Then…Oh shit.

He moved his hand down and rubbed your clit in circles, changing directions every few seconds. A movement that drove you into a body trembling frenzy. You tried your hardest to pull his hand away, but your hands began to weaken as your body attempted to give in to the inevitable. The inevitable that you hoped you could hold off on for a little bit longer.

         No. No, no, no.  

         And then it happened. Your body began convulsing, and the sound escaping your mouth was a hybrid of a gasp and a scream.

         You lost.

         At least…you thought you did.

         You realized that at the exact moment as you involuntarily climaxed, you felt his hot cum spill into you at the exact same moment.

         With his lips still atop your head, he groaned and gasped in a specific way that only escaped when he reached his peak. And it was at the same time as you.

         You both lost. Or rather…It was a tie.

         You pulled away from each other and lied on your backs, taking a moment to catch your breaths.

         Then…A giggle bubbled up inside you and you let it out.

         Not too long ago you were livid at each other. And the next moment you had engaged in an unspoken competitive sex-match.

         He joined in on your laughter for a good minute and a half, and you could not stop.

         You then turned to each other and tenderly kissed one another.

         “I’m sorry,” you both said, simultaneously.

         After tension was released, you both could see more clearly. You both had been so tense, and stubborn that it clouded your abilities to even think about the other’s reasoning.

         You pressed your foreheads together and wrapped your right arm and leg around him in a soft embrace.

         “You were justified to be angry,” he whispered.

         And I started to realize where he was coming from. He wanted this operation to go smoothly. And he wanted me to be safe.

         “You’re good at what you do.”

         “You just wanted to patch up a few holes it might have had,” you admitted before kissing him once again.

         “We’ll figure it together,” you said pushing my head under his chin.

         “I love you more than anything in the world, Y/N,” This was that last thing he said before drifting off into sleep. And you gave in and followed.

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 14 - "this thing"

Season 2, episode 12 "Profiler, profiled" (the one where Carl Buford is arrested for murdering one of the kids from the Youth Center of Chicago South Side, so the whole story about him being a pedophile rapist - and Derek being one of his victims as a kid - comes up. I wanna point out that originally I think only Gideon and Hotch discover Derek's direct involvement in this, but for the sake of this fic we'll pretend Reid does, too)

@tastefulancientwhispers asked me to tag her if I ever wrote a fic based on this scene :) so here I am. I shamelessly abused of italics in this one, heh

Also, I have a long-ish DISCLAIMER to make, that applies to all my works and not only this one. I think it's important to address that in this fic I won't mention the topic illustrated in the episode: this work mostly revolves around the famous line "Derek talks about you", said by Derek's sister to Spencer. My purpose was to write a "light" awkward/fluffy fic - almost love confession if you will - avoiding to focus on Derek's history of abuse. I think that's too delicate and serious of a topic for me to try and describe it merely through Derek's words/thoughts; especially considering that I should "filter" this narrative to fit my actual, sole scope of rendering Morgan + Reid's relationship. I actually HAVE focused more overtly on the Buford arc before, in my One shot 8, referencing a much late episode, but I hope I managed to dissuade anyone who read it from thinking that my intent was to romanticize the sexual abuse Derek suffered. Even though I admittedly enjoy reading fics based on the abused/care-taker trope, I still think it's risky to treat such topics if the writer's purpose isn't to convey some sort of "moral". Which is exactly why I'm always reluctant to treat directly and in depth Morgan's trauma as well as Reid's drug addiction: I haven't experienced either of these things, hence I don't think I'd be able to illustrate them properly and without triggering anyone who might be sensitive to said topics. Thank you if you dedicated your time to reading this intro, I hope the message is clear and of easy understanding :) <3

Read it on AO3

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

"Derek talks about you."

Reid couldn't stop replaying that phrase in his head, in an endless loop.

In the exact moment Sarah had said that, his immediate reaction had been to smile - like a total idiot, by the way - but now that everything was over and Spencer had the time to think about it, he couldn't help but wonder what she meant.

"Talk" how? "Talk" doesn't mean anything. It just means SAYING things, PRONOUNCING words. Did he say good stuff? Or did he make fun of him? Why did she feel the need to let him know that Morgan "talked" about him? He must've talked about Emily too, sometimes, but Sarah didn't say "Derek talks about both of you ".

He hadn't had the time to deepen the topic because as soon as he replied - "he does??" : again, a complete moron - Emily interrupted them to, righteously, get back to the actual subject: Carl Buford.

The second Reid remembered about it, all those dumb questions wandering in his head vanished. Poof. How could he keep obsessing about that stupid phrase while Morgan was going through what he was going through? Derek had trusted him enough to tell only him, besides Hotch and Gideon, and what was Spencer doing? Thinking about "Derek talks about you". He probably had MENTIONED him, or said, like: "oh you know there's this kid in my unit, socially awkward, total nerd, only thing he does is read like 20 books a da-"

-

"Reid?"

Emily's voice came loud like a train crushing into his ear drums. Spencer winced in his swivel chair.

"Mh?" he mumbled, looking up at her.

"...are you gonna go home or you're planning to keep working?" she asked him, jokingly.

"Yeah, no, I- I mean, yes I'm going home, no I have no intention to keep working, trust me..." he replied distractedly, checking his watch. It was 9:30 pm: not even that late...so why was she asking? Spencer had the sudden impression that she wanted something, and THAT was just a lame excuse to start a conversation.

"I was just double checking an e-mail I had to send." he continued, noticing that she wasn't even wearing her coat, neither had her bag in hand. She could've studied the scene better.

"Oh- yeah...your computer is off but, whatevs" she shrugged, pointing at the black desktop. He could've studied his scene better, too.

He looked at where she was pointing for a second, then stood up and grabbed his satchel.

"I know I was uhm...just, thinking about a thing " he said, understanding why literally everybody labeled him as a bad liar. Still, he didn't wanna spit it all out.

"A thing ?" she echoed him, raising her brows.

"Yes, a-" Reid interrupted himself before he had even decided how to phrase the thing to keep it vague enough. He saw Morgan get out of Hotch's office and heading quickly toward the sliding doors of the bullpen, with his head down.

"...a thing. Gotta go, see you tomorrow!" he said in a rush, quickly walking in Derek's direction without making it too obvious that he was basically running toward him.

-

"Spencer! Wait- wait a second." she said grabbing his arm from behind, after he'd only got 15 ft far.

He turned around, frowning.

"I, uhm, I don't think he's in the mood to...talk ? right now..." Emily said softly, with an awkward smile on her face.

"You know?" she added, tilting her head, hoping that she wouldn't have to explain further.

Spencer gulped, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. She was right, and if only she'd known the whole story, she would've been even righter. If there's even such a thing as being more right than...right.

"Yes, I- I know, but I wasn't planning on talking about... about that, I just have to ask him this... thing." he replied slightly embarrassed, looking down at the floor.

"Is the 'thing' you wanna ask him the same 'thing' you were thinking about earlier?"

"...yes" he answered almost murmuring, like it was some kind of secret - which is what it was still supposed to be, to her: a secret. Because, in the end, he hadn't even TOLD her, so how did she KNOW? How did she do that? Emily always did that. Fuck.

"And is this 'thing' what I think it is?" she pried, lowering her voice to the same volume of Spencer's.

"I...I don't know?" he replied, only not to give her the satisfaction of receiving the millionth "yes". But the answer was: yes.

"Then go, ask him the 'thing'. " Emily concluded, nodding her chin in the elevator's direction.

Spencer leveled his eyes with hers, gladly noticing a reassuring look of complicity appear on her face.

He nodded, smiling at her in a silly way before turning around.

-

Spencer quickly headed toward the elevator, hoping Derek hadn't got too far in the meantime - or, even worse: had already started his car.

He saw the elevator doors closing.

"Wait! Hold it!" he shouted, speaking to whoever was inside it.

He ran, jumping in between the doors.

Morgan was inside. Of course. What the hell was he still doing there? Did...did he wait for him? No, that was impossible and way too optimistic. He'd probably bumped into Penelope, who had kept him talking in the hallway for an amount of time nearing a decade.

They stared at each other for a solid 20 seconds, gaping, while the doors closed behind Spencer's back, leaving them alone - luckily.

Spencer figured the unsteadiness of his breathing wasn't due to the "run" anymore. He gave up on trying to slow it down, and decided he was going to speak up first, since Derek still looked frozen like an ice cube. Maybe he was annoyed by Spencer's presence, and he just wanted to avoid starting a conversation to make the interaction as quick as possible and finally go hom-

-

"R- Reid" Derek's thorough and slightly hoarse voice broke the silence.

"I was kinda looking for you, earlier. Gave up at a certain point." he added, smiling a bit. He looked... embarrassed? Was that even possible? For Derek Morgan to be embarrassed?

Spencer swallowed nervously, flattered. "Me too, actually."

Derek opened his mouth like he wanted to say something first, before the other could continue. But he got interrupted by the doors opening up again behind Spencer.

He pointed at the empty lobby with his finger, seeing that Reid hadn't even noticed they'd arrived at ground floor already.

Spencer turned around. They got out and he stopped 3 ft from the elevator, standing still, fiddling nervously with his hands. Was Derek expecting him to follow him or something? Were they gonna talk the next day? Or was he supposed to drop the topic forever because time was up?

Derek, who had got ahead in the meantime, turned around.

"You comin?" he asked, non-chalantly.

"Uhm, yeah- where?" Spencer replied, finally taking jogging steps forward to reach him, feeling like the marble floor was starting to sink under the soles of his Converses from standing there for so long.

"I'll give you a ride home. I don't know how you take the subway every fucking day." Derek replied, snorting.

Spencer smiled back, shyly.

"...thanks" he mumbled, looking down at his feet while walking outside with him, their arms only a couple of inches from touching.

-

They stayed silent until they arrived to the car. When they did, Derek stopped before either of them could get in.

"Listen, uh, I- I hope you're not gonna ask me stuff about... about Buford because honestly I can't take anymore pity-faces. Especially yours." he said in a deep tone.

"Nonono, no, absolutely not- I mean, if you ever wanna talk about it I'm here but I'm not- I don't wanna pressure you or anything." Spencer answered defensively, feeling his heartbeat racing. He wondered what he meant by "especially yours". Was his pity-face more annoying than the others'? Apparently, saying indecipherable phrases that made Reid go paranoid was a Morgans' family thing.

He saw Morgan nodding uncomfortably. Reid gazed silently at him for a bit, taking a careful look of him as a whole. He didn't look good- well, what the hell, of course he looked good, but he didn't look ok. He seemed exhausted and quite anxious - understandably. Nobody had ever seen him like that, and honestly it freaked Spencer out a little. The first thing that popped into his mind, was that such behavior was partially his fault; hence, he spoke up, trying to put a halt to it.

"You know what, I'm- it's late, actually, and you look like you need to stay alone for a while so, I'm just gonna take the subway it's no big dea-"

"No, kid, can you just- can you just stay ? Please..." Derek interrupted him, grabbing his thin wrist before he could get any further.

Spencer's heart warmed up. He eyed down at Derek's grip, unprepared to how even such a faint touch was sending goosebumps all over his arm. Much to his relief, not one but two layers of clothing - shirt AND jacket - hid that reaction from the other man's sight.

"Alright." Reid nodded after a bit, not because he was undecided, but because he was trying to get a hold of said goosebumps. He raised his gaze again to smile idiotically at him.

Derek grinned back apologetically, before ultimately making his way around the car to get in the driver's seat.

-

"So, I heard that you and Prentiss were the ones who had to go talk to my family, am I right?" he asked, with a tone and a way of phrasing the question that was nothing short of a desperate attempt to make it sound low-key and casual. Especially since he chose to say it while opening the car door. Like it didn't matter that much, or at least not enough to say it once he'd be sitting down comfortably. Unfortunately for him, Spencer picked up on all of that.

"Yeah!" Spencer answered, a little too enthusiastically for one who was trying with all his strength not to give the impression that he wanted to talk exactly about that, that he basically read his mind. Unfortunately for him, Derek picked up on those kind of things too - after all, they were paid to do it. To understand behavior. At times they forgot how much more difficult that made their mutual interactions, as well as more authentic.

Derek smiled to himself a little bit and started the car.

"So, how were they?" he asked teasingly, knowing that even if Spencer thought they were the worst people in the world, he would've never told him so. His heart was too pure.

"They're really nice. And they care a lot about you. You're lucky like that..." Spencer replied lowering his voice, revealing a slightly melancholic inflection.

Derek catched a glimpse of him while driving. He knew he wasn't referring to his mom, but to his dad. And he knew there was a big difference between how he lost his own dad and how Spencer lost his: Derek's father died. Spencer's father purposely left him: grabbed his shit, got on his feet, walked away from his wife and son. How a father could do that, was something that Derek would never understand.

"The cake was good, wasn't it?" he asked after a few seconds of heavy silence, trying to lift up the mood.

Spencer finally shifted his eyes to look at him. "Yeah, definitely" he answered, and Derek's mission could be considered accomplished, as a sweet smile appeared on his colleague's face; sweeter than that cake they were talking about - yes, Morgan thought about such comparison. He could've compared it with another million sweet things: caramel like his eyes; honey like his hair under the sunlight; strawberry like the color of his lips... Oh. Dammit.

"I wanna ask you a thing, though..." the sweet voice of the man object of his current fantasies gently snapped Derek out of his thoughts.

"What's that?" Derek asked, hiding the fact that he was shitting his pants wondering what Spencer's question could possibly be.

Spencer nervously played with the buckle of his leather bag, resting on his lap.

"Your sisters, both of them they- they immediately recognized me." he stayed vague. " "Doctor Reid" " he added making the 'quote' gesture with his fingers, smiling self-complacently.

"Well, yeah, we've been working together for...2 years or something, right?" Derek kept the dumb-play going, as if he hadn't basically been keeping count since.

"...2 years and 18 days to be precise...but anyway," Spencer paused to clear his voice. "Sarah, she specifically said that...uhm...that you talk about me. She- she said: 'Derek talks about you'."

Morgan abruptly hit the brakes of his car to stop at a red light that he noticed at the last second, distracted by what Reid had just said, making him wince.

"Wow. Well- fuck, my sisters really don't how to shut their mouths, do they?" he said, laughing a bit nervously.

"Well they- they didn't say anything- I mean, they just said that you "talk" about me but I'm guessing you talk about all of us, of cours-"

"No, Spencer. She meant a specific thing." Morgan interrupted him softly, parking his car. Yes: they'd already arrived at Reid's place.

After a long silence, during which Reid's face remained stuck in a confused scowl, Morgan turned off the car. He sighed, before turning slightly to his right to stare into Reid's hazelnut-hued eyes. Talking to him while driving was easier, because he couldn't look at that face of his. But now that he could, it got x10 times more difficult.

"She didn't say it to Emily, or both. She said it to you. Am I right?" Morgan was shamelessly giving up, gradually crumbling under the look the other was giving him.

Spencer nodded.

"...did you wonder why ?" he didn't wanna say it. God, he DID NOT wanna say it.

"Yes, I- I did, but honestly the only good answer I could come up with was that Emily hasn't been in the unit as long as I have so...I don't know, we still don't know her that well...?" Spencer replied, stuttering.

"That, too." Derek paused. He was thinking about a proper way to say it without freaking Spencer out. He didn't wanna say "it's because I like you", since he wasn't sure he did. Well, of course he LIKED him, but he still hadn't quite figured out if he liked him in that way.

Plus, he'd obviously noticed that Spencer, too, felt something...different. He was sure neither of them had a clue of what to do with it; on the other hand, he was also sure he had to give him a hint, one way or another. To make sure Reid understood that he wasn't imagining it, that there was something different. Even though that "something" didn't have a name yet. Maybe it would, some day.

After thinking for a long time, during which Spencer respectfully stayed silent, the "right" words found their way into Derek's mind, brooming away the dust that had been weighing down on his courage to say them all along.

"A'ight. 3 or 4 months ago I spent a weekend with my family. I don't know if you remember that I didn't come to get drinks with you guys cause I had to leave early in the morning." he started. Spencer nodded - of course he remembered. Dumb question.

"Ok so, one day I was... talking about you with them at dinner, I'm not sure what I was saying, honestly...but after a while Desirée said a thing that made me think." Derek paused, leaning closer to Spencer to make sure he listened carefully.

"She said, quote unquote: 'you know how you always say that Reid gets excited when he rambles about statistics? Well, that's kinda what you do when you talk about him...It's like, he's YOUR statistics'."

Spencer kept looking quietly into Derek's black eyes, without blinking once.

"She... s- she said that?" he then asked, just to be, you know, sure that he wasn't dreaming.

"Mhmh." Derek nodded shortly. "I remember it like it was yesterday. Guess some of that memory of yours must have rubbed off on me, huh?" he grinned brightly.

The burning shade of red staining Spencer's cheeks didn't but spread further, even if he had to bite back a: "that's not possible, Morgan; it doesn't work like that."

Derek continued. "When she said it, at first I thought she was fucking around, but then it's like...it opened my eyes. I- I don't know. I guess I don't even notice when I do it." he shook his head and stared blankly at an undefined spot outside, as if trying to clear his thoughts.

"...just like when we have to stop you from throwing up random statistics that literally nobody asked for." Morgan concluded cocking his head, with a playful and affectionate smile.

Reid giggled, now feeling his whole face on fire and his heart hammering into his ears. He was speechless. For once.

Derek gently placed his warm hand on the back of Spencer's neck, while the other man kept looking down at his bag, biting his bottom lip so hard he thought it could bleed.

"Do you talk about me to your mom?" Derek asked after a while, almost whispering. He kept his eyes glued on Spencer, even though he had clearly no intention of looking back at him any time soon. He wanted to catch every inch of his facial reaction.

"Should I be prepared for her telling me 'Spencer talks about you' if I ever meet her?" he kept the volume of his voice low, starting to stroke Spencer's neck with his thumb and smiling when he saw faint shivers appear on his skin.

"...m- maybe" Spencer answered, not wanting to reveal that literally 70% of the things he told his mom involved him, of which 40% were specifically about him.

Spencer managed to find a crumb of courage to shift his look and finally return Derek's gaze. But as soon as his so-fucking-handsome face reached his sight, along with that way his pupils were staring into him - a way he couldn't quite decipher but didn't mind, after all - he had to jerk his eyes away immediately, or else his heart would've burst out of his ribcage.

Hence, he decided to quickly and distractedly check his watch.

"I- I should probably go now..." he said. He didn't say it because he wanted to - oh, he SO didn't want to go - he just, had to. He didn't wanna ruin things. He wanted to keep that moment fixated into his memory just like it was, hoping many others like that one would come in the future.

"Yeah, you should..." Derek said, shifting farther from him in his seat and taking his hand off of Spencer's soft neck. It was so hard, to stop touching him, it seemed like when you try to split apart two magnets too strongly attracted to one another.

-

Spencer got out of the car, closing the door behind his back. He turned around and bent to look at Derek from outside.

"Wait!" he squealed, tapping his knuckles against the glass.

Derek, who had already started the car, pulled down the window to hear him better, looking at him confused. "Forgot something?"

"No! No, well- yes. I wanted to ask you one more thing." he paused, scrunching his nose. "What did you mean when you said that- that you can't take especially my pity-face?"

Derek bit his bottom lip. "Nothing too hard to understand." he said, with an enigmatic tone. Now, Spencer was the one looking confused.

"It's just way more painful to handle. Cause it's a much prettier face than the others'."

Spencer looked down, chuckling and nodding like he meant to say: 'oh, yeah, that. Of course.'

"See ya tomorrow, Pretty Boy." Derek said in the end, winking and rolling the window back up to finally leave.

-

Spencer was left there, standing and freezing cold, not knowing what to do with himself.

His phone buzzed into the pocket of his pants, giving him something else to concentrate on, something that wasn't that face, or that voice, or that smile, or that hand on his neck...something that wasn't related to Derek Morgan.

It was a text. From... Emily:

"So how'd the 'thing' go?" Duh. Of course it had to be the umpteenth thing related to Derek Morgan.

He smiled at the screen of his phone. Once again: like a complete idiot.