#i tried i failed. sorry but its not working. i have things id rather be doing instead

[catfishofoldin99colours]

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm Bad.

[sar3nka]

My mother pissed me off again. God give me strenght.

[sturniologals]

Make it up to you -m.s

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆

Dom!Matt x fem!reader

in which~ y/n had a crush on Matt but his friends/football teammates found out and teased you about it, he joined in on the teasing to hide the fact that he has feelings for you but six months later, you’re desperate for a ride to school and Matt is your only option.

warnings~ p in v/ unprotected (don’t be silly,wrap up your willy)/ use of baby, sweetheart, y/n, praise kink, cursing

───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───

I stretched my limbs as I tried to peel my eyes open from my sleepy state. "y/n! Hurry up!" My mom shouted at me, afraid id miss the bus.

"Frickity frickity Frick" I mumbled to myself as I looked over at my phone and saw the time reading 7:15, my bus runs in literally like 7 minutes, theres no way I was gonna make it. I opened up my contacts and called and texted at least five of my friends in hope that I could get a ride from one of them but I failed.

I clicked on my last contact I was going to try and started to call my friend Nick.

She answered and her soft voice spoke "Hey y/n!"

"Hey Nick! Is there any possible way that you could give me a ride to school today?" She hummed to herself as she thought about it.

"im sorry girl, Matt took my car today. He has some thing after school but I can call him. He should be able to pick you up!" He chimes.

"No no no, id rather walk. Thank you tho." I say before we bid our goodbyes and hang up.

I meant that, i really would rather walk. Matthew sturniolo has been my biggest enemy since last year, when I first started high school and became friends with Nick. I had an obvious crush on matt even though he was a bit older. His friends found out because matt overheard me talking to Nick about it one time and his friends started to tease me about it and eventually matt joined in and ever since then, they make jokes and poke fun at me anytime I see them.

"y/n! Why are you still in your fucking pajamas?" My mom says angrily from my door.

"Mom its okay, matt is gonna give me a ride!" I spurt out quickly, just not wanting to get into an argument with her.

“Matt? oh! It’s been forever since you guys have hung out.” My mom says, her mood quickly changing to a more joyous one. I roll my eyes at her words and she tells me she loves me before she leaves out for work.

I stand up and put on a pair of black jeans and a dark blue body suit that accentuates my body perfectly. I finish straightening my hair, my luscious blonde locks flowing perfectly down my shoulders. I sit down at my vanity and apply a few makeup products, really just mascara, and a bit of highlighter. Mid way through my routine, i remember i haven’t called Matt yet. My hands start to tremble a bit as i scroll through my contacts in search of his name.

I reluctantly click the call button under his name and the ringing of my phone makes me shudder. After just two rings, he picks up.

“Y/n?” His deep voice grumble from the speakers on my phone.

“Hi Matt! Can you give me a ride to school?” I say peppily, not wanting him to give me any shit.

“I’ll be there in five.” He says before hanging up.

well, that was easy. i think to myself before spritzing myself with some perfume and slipping on my shoes. I grab my bag and walk through my house.

I get to the front door and see trey pulling in.

perfect timing.

The sight of Matts truck parked in my driveway makes me nervous. I push the nervousness down, pulling all of the courage i have out of me and I start walking down my driveway.

Once i step out of my door, he immediately steps out of his truck and walks to the passenger side and opens the door up. He stands leaning on the door, a small smile on his face.

why is he being so fucking nice?

“Hi y/n.” He says in a seductive voice while his eyes trail over my body. The way he’s looking at me sends a heat straight to my core but i try my best to ignore it. I shoot Matt a side eye and a nod of my head as i step up into his truck. He places his hand on my lower back for support as i climb into his vehicle which has me crossing my legs in the passenger seat. Matt looks at me with a hungry look in his eyes as he shuts the door for me and walks over to the driver side.

He climbs into the seat and takes a deep breath in before turning the key over.

“Thanks for picking me up.” I say in the most nonchalant way that i can.

“Yeah, i mean- you haven’t talked to me in almost 6 months so i was surprised you’d wanted me to.” Matt says while looking at me, our eye contact holding strong.

“I didn’t have any other choice.” I say with a shrug of my shoulders and i can see the pain flash in his eyes as i finish my sentence off and i immediately feel bad.

“No- I didn’t mean-“ I start to correct myself but he cuts me off.

“I get it y/n. I really do- don’t apologize sweetheart. I’ve been an asshole to you for so long and i let my friends make jokes and i’m just- i’m so fucking sorry. I was a coward because you made me- feel things.” Matt spurts out, his confession surprising me but making my heart skip a beat and my pussy convulse at the name he called me.

“Matt-“ I start to speak but he cuts me off yet again.

“Can you come to my football game tonight?” He asks impatiently as he starts to pull out of my driveway.

“Matt, you know i hate going to school functions.”

“Please” He says quickly.

“Okay, i’ll be there.” I say reluctantly. I don’t even really know why he wants me there but it seems important so i agree.

The rest of the ride is silent, just Matt glancing at me every few minutes and at some point his large hands made their way to my knee, slowly trailing up my thigh as i squirmed around in my seat, Matt glancing at my neediness but his hand never moved to my heat.

“Here you go sweetheart.” Matt says as we pull up next to the busy school entrance.

“Aren’t you coming?” I ask him.

“I’ll be here later.” He says with a small smile as he unbuckles my seat belt for me and walks around to open my door. His truck is raised high off of the ground but Matt is so tall that his head is still up to my level when he’s standing on the ground in-front of me. He puts his hands around my waist and picks me up out of his truck. I giggle as he sits me down on the ground. He chuckles and tells me he’ll see me later.

As i walk into school, all that’s going through my head is Matt.

the things he said to me were definitely more than ‘friendly’

why is he being so nice?

is this another joke?

the way his hands were all over me tho…

sweetheart?

why does he want me at his game tonight?

i made him feel things?

what things?

i spend the rest of my school day and the whole ride home and the whole time i’m getting ready for the football game also thinking about Matt. The thoughts about him in my head are inevitably erotic and i genuinely can’t help it.

My mom drops me off at the game and i pull at the tight shorts on my legs as i hop out of the car. I walk up into the bleachers and i find a seat that gives me a perfect view of the field. Matt comes out of now where and runs up to the fence that separates us.

“c’mere!” he says loudly, i can see his friends behind him starting to laugh and i get nervous and all of memories of them poking fun at me make me sick and i want to run out of there.

“y/n baby, i said to come here.” Matt demands in a soothing yet firm voice that makes me feel safe. His friends behind him starts staring and looking confused. I am too but i listen to try and walk over to stand over the fence. His eye black is starting to smudge and his hair is tousled perfectly and i’m so close that i can smell his manly musk.

As soon as i’m standing slightly over Matt, he pulls his hands up to my head and pulls me down to him and immediately shoves his lips onto mine. The feeling of his mouth moving over mine is something i’ve wanted to feel for so fucking long. I groan into his mouth as his tongue slips into mine and i can taste the saltiness of his mouth and i’m

craving more. I audibly groan when he pulls away, his lips swollen and pink as he runs back to the field. His friends just staring at him angrily and confused as he flips them off and walks down the field with a smile on his face.

what the fuck just happened?

and why is his whole football team staring at me?

Matt yells at his friends from across the field.

“hey! shitheads! stop staring at my girl and get your asses down here.”

I get butterflies at him calling me ‘his girl’ but then i remember the months of teasing he let his friends do to me and i wipe the smile off of my face quickly. Maybe i should let myself enjoy this tho?

Throughout the whole game, my internal monologue argues with itself. By the end of the game, i decide i want to give him a chance. I believe what he told me. Matt sweaty figure runs up to the fence at the end of the game, they won of course. I’m clapping and smiling at Matt, his eyes looking directly into mine. He puts his arms out over the fence and motions for me to walk over. I do so and he puts his hands on my waist and picks me up over the fence and pulls me onto the field. I smile up at him and he immediately kisses me again.

His friends and even his coach “oooo”-ing at us as he gives me a desperate yet gentle kiss.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since you showed up to my house with your fucking sparkly pink jump rope for cheer practice almost two years ago.” he whispers into my ear as he pulls away. My face goes red with embarrassment.

“You played good.” I say with a proud smile.

He flashes his white teeth at me before one of his friends, jacob, comes up behind Matt. i sigh and immediately get nervous because jacob was one of the main people who teased me. Matt looks over at jacob with sharp eyes, as if he’s warning him to not say anything to me. Jacob just smiles at me. “I’m sorry y/n, i was a dick to you and owen for a long time.”

I nod with a small thin lipped smile.

“you wanna get out of here sweetheart?” owen says to me. I nod my head and he smiles at me as he takes my hand and walks us out of the stadium.

as we walk through the busy parking lot, murmurs from people in our small town are heard.

“ew he’s like- old as fuck.”

“didn’t he literally bully her?”

i block out the noise, Matt squeezing my hand as a sign of comfort.

We get into his truck and i immediately look over at him. “Matt. why?”

he looks at me confusedly. “why what?”

“why did you want me to come tonight?” i ask timidly. He laughs out loud and i grow confused.

“you’re oblivious. I wanted you here tonight so i could kiss you in front of all of the assholes who used to give you shit.” he says with a genuine smile of happiness as he rubs his hand up and down my leg.

“Oh.” I say quietly as it clicks in my head. “Oh!” i say once i get it.

“cmon sweetheart it’s late. i’ll get you home.” Matt says as he reaches over to buckle my seatbelt for me, his long fingers grazing over my chest. Butterflies erupt in my stomach and heat grows between my legs as owen starts his truck and pulls out of the parking lot. His hand is resting on my thigh and quiet music plays, my window cracked slightly allowing some of the cold friday night breeze to flow through the cab of his truck. Every smidge of cold air that hits my skin makes me shudder. My body is extremely sensitive to the touch right now. I look over at owen and his dark eyes are trained on his hand that’s resting on my leg. “you’re so beautiful y/n.” Matt says in a low, seductive voice as his thumb draws circles on my inner thigh.

“pull over.” I say nervously, trying to muster up all of the courage that i have. Matt smirks, knowing what i want as he pulls over by an empty desolate park by some trees that offer a good enough coverage. As soon as he shifts into park, i immediately swing my legs over his lap so i’m straddling. My lips are on his in a hot, sweaty and passionate kiss. The smell of sweat and grass still on Matt makes me impossibly needier.

All of a sudden- Matt pulls my face back.

“Patience baby.” Matt says with an attractive chuckle.

“you’re not gonna fucking tease me all day and then tell me to have patience Matt.” i say firmly as i slowly start to rock my hips back and forth on him, making him groan out.

“oh- don’t- god, y/n.” he says as he throws his head back and shuts his eyes in pleasure as his eyebrows knit together.

“Nuh uh, you owe me six months worth of apologies. You’re gonna be the one making me feel good, yeah?” i say deviously as i cease my movements. Matt eyes open up and meet mine, a smile playing across his features as he laughs and nods his head yes.

“i guess you’re right about that one sweetheart.” he says as he quickly puts a hand on my back and turns me so my back is against the passenger door of his truck as he pulls my ankles up to his shoulders. I groan out as i arch my back needily.

“calm down pretty girl. let me take care of you.” he says softly as he pulls my shorts down my hips. His eyes clench shut together for a second. “you’re so perfect.” he praises as he starts to kiss up my thighs.

“Matt…” i moan out as he gets closer to my core.

he starts to kiss over my clothed cunt before slowly pulling my panties down.

“you’re so soaked. all because of me?” he speaks seductively as i bring my fingers up to his hair and pull his head closer to my pussy impatiently. He laughs out loud before licking a stripe up me which pulls a loud moan out of me. His tongue moves against me quickly and skillfully, pulling more and more noises from me.

“Oh you’re doing so good for me sweetheart.” He says against my cunt before ducking on my bundle of nerves.

“Matt- i’m gonna-“ i pant out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Finish in my mouth, let me taste you.” he says, which sends me over the edge, screaming his name as his head gets squeezed between my clenching thighs.

I pant out as i come down from my high as owen continues to lick me clean like a starved man.

“good?” he asks with an egotistical expression on his face.

“i’ve had better.” i say sarcastically with a shrug.

“Yeah i bet.” he says as he pulls my shorts back up my legs for me.

I sit up straight and fix my hair in his mirror before i buckle my seat belt and Matt starts to drive again.

“y/n” Matts deep voice speaks out, diverting my attention to him.

“hm?” I hum out.

“I love you.” he says with a small nervous smile on his face. My stomach immediately erupts in butterflies and a smile forms on my face.

“I love you too.” I say as i intertwine my fingers with his.

[thebibliosphere]

Hi there, ive come from your post about ADHD and emotional disregulation, firstly thank you so much for putting it into words, its such a complicated part of how i deal with emotions and i havent ever been able to articulate how to why.

Secondly, in that post you mentioned how you've used stress as a motivator and how eventually your stress regualtion broke, i was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about that? (If not, its not a problem)

I feel like the same thing has happened to me but until i read your post i had no idea that something had... snapped? I suppose? I struggle with motivation all the time and in the past id have a week or a few days left and id be able to suddently push myself very hard to complete whatever it is before the deadline, just barely making it in most cases. However now it seems that i can't find that motivation anymore, deadlines come and pass and i can't being myself to work on anything, and i just end up spiralling into shame and guilt. That motivation was the only thing that I was able to rely on sometimes for things like uni, and i conviced myself that it was just me growing lazy or trying to get out of responsibility as to why the "last minute panic-mode" doesnt work anymore.

Again, if you don't wanna tackle this can of worms or if it's something youd rather not post online i totally get it, its no biggie! thanks so much for making the original post as well, it means a lot

Hello friend, thanks for the message. I'm sorry you're also dealing with this.

The good news here is that I've already talked about this using the rubber band analogy my therapist gave me. (Stress is like a Rubber Band)

If you don't have the mental bandwidth to read all of it now, the tl;dr is "stress is like a rubber band; it can stretch to hold numerous things in place when you need to, but if you do it too often or keep adding more and more strain under the band, the elastic eventually becomes brittle and snaps, taking your mental and sometimes physical health with it too."

I've been in intensive therapy for this for roughly three years now, and trying to piece my brain back together after my last bout of stress-induced productivity gave me a total mental breakdown.

It's... odd not being able to use stress and having to actively avoid it to avoid a relapse. But it is doable. Medication would help, but alas, I've got weird health issues and am unmedicated at the minute.

(And just in case that sparks anyone to go, "Oh, you do all this unmedicated! Wow, that's so inspiring!" as sometimes parents do to me on here as they then tell me they don't want to medicate their kids, I've unfortunately also written a post about what that kind of success looks like from an unmedicated perspective and the kind of suicidal ideation I deal with on the regular because I cannot take meds. It is not pleasant reading, but it is necessary for some folks, specifically anti-med, "if you just tried harder" people.)

A book you may find helpful is Burnout: The Secret to Unlocking the Stress Cycle, by Emily and Amelia Nagoski. It was very validating for me to read about other people going through the same things, and made me feel less of a "this is a personal failing on my part" and more of a "Oh okay yeah, no stress literally breaks people."

It helped soothe some of my own internalized "I just need to try harder" and helped cement me on the path I was already going down with my ADHD therapist toward changing how I view myself and how I manage my ADHD.

I hope that helps! If you've got more specific questions or I didn't touch on something in my old post, I can try to answer them :)

[tonydaddingham]

I am actually curious your thoughts on Aziraphale and accountability as, and I really don't mean this is as an attack (❤️), several of the meta I've read recently have seemed rather uncharitable towards Crowley, and not how I generally perceive his character at all. Which, having certain biases for characters is fine, but I am curious your thoughts on Aziraphale and that 😊

hi anon!!!✨ definitely not seen as an attack; im aware that i do talk a lot about crowley and a good proportion of those opinions/interpretations are definitely more critical than most. and i realise that a good amount of that comes across as biased, but the only thing i can say that i promise i don't mean to be, and tbh - i just find aziraphale so much harder to analyse (and as such, what follows is basically word vomit im sorry)

there are equally multiple instances, in aziraphale's case, where he doesn't appear to acknowledge his own accountability in situations when he arguably should.

to labour on a longstanding example; he lies to crowley about where the antichrist is in s1. i think personally it's important to note why i think he lies; crowley's solution is to either kill a child (specifically, have aziraphale do it) or to run away to alpha centauri and sack off humanity altogether. neither of those options are reconcilable to aziraphale, and i think he keeps the location of adam to himself in order to safeguard him - he similarly gets bad vibes from the archangels, and lies to them too. but when he tries to reach god, fails, and then finds out that the metatron - the next best thing to god and, we're told, is her voice - is absolutely in support of the apocalypse, the first thing he does is ring crowley, and immediately tell him he knows where the antichrist is.

now, im not saying, at all, that aziraphale is apologising by calling crowley, because he isn't. he doesn't admit to having lied, having not trusted crowley (no matter how justifiable that decision might have been at the time), and for leaving crowley in the dark. as far as crowley's aware, from his perspective, aziraphale never lied in the first place. but from the audience perspective, it can be read like aziraphale admitting that crowley was right, and making amends. yes, it's born out of panic that heaven is no longer a solution, and the de facto, last-resort solution needs to be crowley (which comes with its own implications, but again, things have to be pretty dire for aziraphale to even risk the option of killing the child), but it also feels like a silent, 'you were right, you had it right all along, and i see that i was wrong to trust heaven. let my actions speak for me.'

but that's tenuous at best, right? i agree. so, id like to look again at the apology dance, and the circumstances that put them there - the So Did I argument. i have multiple thoughts, that im going to repeat a lot of before, but writing it out sometimes helps me work out what im (eventually) trying to say!

crowley isn't wholly forthcoming/truthful with why he doesn't want aziraphale to help gabriel; it's a bit more than the simple fact of gabriel wanting to throw aziraphale into hellfire. crowley's personal adversity to gabriel are the words he said (as he later admits). it would have been incredibly vulnerable for him to do so, but had crowley spelled out for aziraphale in the So Did I argument why he was so vehement against sheltering gabriel, it may not have changed aziraphale's mind but it would have at least put them on a level playing field. aziraphale, i think, shows crowley exactly why he wants to help him - kindness and compassion, with no ulterior motive than the fact that gabriel just simply doesn't have anyone else.

that being said, aziraphale appears to remain completely ignorant to, or have intentionally disregarded, what the boundaries of 'our side' actually is, especially in crowley's eyes. crowley has only ever meant it to be the two of them, and noone else gets a look-in. i think it's fair to say that aziraphale's perspective is less cut-throat, and more blurry, than that - that he still considers that there should be room for Everything Else. i can imagine that has to feel like a big betrayal to crowley, and in that context it's understandable that he then seems to retract the idea of 'our side' altogether. the heated lines that ensure then detail the conversation entirely:

crowley then storms out, and what aziraphale is left with is the feeling that he is doing the Right Thing, helping someone selflessly, and crowley is refusing to do that (and therefore 'in the wrong'). he's also left with the sense of abandonment; he told crowley about the Something Terrible, that he needed help (something that aziraphale doesn't do often/at all - hence why 'i need you!' hits so hard in the final fifteen imo), and crowley still walked away

so when it comes to the apology dance - crowley is on the back foot purely because of the BOL threat. there's no way he's going to walk away this time, now that aziraphale has been directly threatened - essentially, crowley is trapped into whatever aziraphale wants from him, even if he'll put up a bit of a fight before doing it - aziraphale is steadfast that he deserves the apology dance this time*, that he's in the right

but the one thing they don't do is literally discuss why the dance would be needed in the first place - there's no discussion whatsoever that would even begin to unravel why either way party would be hurt by what the other did. the dance is a farce, one crowley performs with an ulterior motive in mind, but aziraphale only sees it as crowley apologising for the fight.

but what aziraphale doesnt stop to consider is that he may have had a part in it; aziraphale is a highly analytical character, and the equation that he arrives at is, 'argument' + 'crowley doing the dance to mark the unspoken apology (good enough)' = 'crowley was wrong, i was right'. *it doesn't even cross his mind to think beyond the words that accompany the dance, and consider that he had a part in it too. the two of them, for all the lessons that we see them experience in s2, seem to think rather a lot in absolutes - and aziraphale most of all.

i dont think aziraphale magically reaches any kind of epiphany about what he said/did that hurt crowley, and what he therefore needs to take accountability for... unless perhaps we count this?

this is all speculation, of course, but does aziraphale clock that crowley has agreed to help hiding gabriel, have performed the joint miracle, but he might have done it only for aziraphale? it definitely doesn't seem that crowley has suddenly found a hidden, altruistic facet to himself, and he hasn't done it because he considers himself gabriel's friend (quite the opposite, the vehemence in his voice would attest). so, does aziraphale's look signify his realisation that crowley has come back purely for aziraphale himself? that he hasn't retracted 'their side', like aziraphale possibly feared he had, and they are still a team of the two of them? does aziraphale then think that perhaps this is crowley's real apology, and reflects that he needs to reexamine his part in the argument, and how crowley perceived?

as im writing this, it does all feel a bit of a stretch - but it can't be denied that aziraphale then spends the rest of the series, in his very unique (and i say that tongue-in-cheek) way trying to demonstrate to crowley just what 'their side' means to him, what crowley means to him - even if it doesn't quite land 😬 he might not have apologised out loud, but his actions thereafter seem in to suggest that he's aware of what he did wrong. but, in typical fashion, he's trying to speak to crowley in the language that crowley uses with him - he tries to show crowley, when crowley could do with being told.

i think special mention also needs to be paid to the fact that both of them - but especially aziraphale - are absolute terrors when it comes to fucking about with humans. i don't think i necessarily need to wax lyrical about this, but through a combination of messing about with maggie and nina's relationship, fucking about with the two guys in the edinburgh graveyard, the couple in the pub, the whole-ass ball... s2 in particular is a disaster when it comes to aziraphale toying with autonomy and agency, with free will, without any conscience - he doesn't recognise that it's wrong. LWA has pointed out that aziraphale does reach that assessment in the airfield scene of the book, but its pretty clear from his continued behaviour in s2 that this hasn't exactly translated into the show!canon in the same way.

he recognises at the airfield that he was wrong to assume that adam needed to be 'good' in order to make the right call, rather than being simply 'human', but that's not the conclusion that he ought to reach that would indicate that he accepts full responsibility for his actions. this is particularly telling in these two statements:

aziraphale operates in the rather blissful state of mind, in the security, that he is intrinsically good; ive discussed this concept a lot, strangely, when it comes to looking at the metatron and how he might view himself (and speculating on his character being explored in s3), but if aziraphale labours under the same misapprehension that he is completely good, without room for nuance, how can any of his actions therefore be wrong? what does he have to apologise for, if he's always been in the right? (which tbh adds another layer, for me, re: his pissed-off mood when recounting all of the times he did the dance)

i do think he starts to accept the part of himself that contradicts this - his comment on him being light grey in 1941, but also his bashful expression at the end of s1 ("just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing") - but if we consider his inability? reluctance? to admit fault or error, we could surmise that he still largely holds this mentality... until, perhaps, here in ep6? when he realises through the medium of another couple, another angel and demon, that the sides literally do not have to exist?

idk if this has answered your ask sufficiently, anon, and reading it back im wincing at all the bits where im straying once again into the aziraphale bias, but i promise ive tried to be as balanced as possible!!!✨

[imagine-loki]

Midnight Stroll

TITLE: MIDNIGHT STROLL

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot

AUTHOR: mooncat163

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you struggle with sleep walking, and one night you manage to get to Loki’s room. The next morning he wakes to find you snuggled against his back, and wonders how you ever got past the security spells he’d cast.

RATING: General

NOTES/WARNINGS: just fluffy stuff, sleepwalking

— —

You’ve been up for close to seventy-two hours straight, copying VHS surveillance tapes to digital in an attempt to isolate and identify players suspected of gearing up for a major weapons heist. Any attempts to make you rest before you collapsed were rebuffed: you were determined to complete the process and make positive ID’s as soon as you could.

“Hey.”

The greeting was soft so that you weren’t startled when Steve came up behind you. He glanced over the monitors before looking at you.

“Hey, Cap,” you replied, and turned your head slightly. “I’m almost done, just have about twelve hours left-“

“That's why I’m here,” he said. “You’ve been at it for close to three days, and you need to rest.”

“I’m good,” you protested. “Jarvis has already isolated footage for me, I just have to-“

“Rest,” he said, firmly. “Jarvis, bookmark where she’s at, but she’s not allowed to start again until she’s eaten and slept.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But I-“ You turned your chair to face Steve after the computer monitors went blank.

“No.” He urged you out of the chair and then ushered you from the room. “Tony agrees, and none of us want you to become overtired.”

You still wanted to protest, but there wasn’t any point in doing so. Jarvis wouldn’t allow you to access the files until Tony or Steve agreed to it, and there wasn’t a way to subvert the AI. You knew this because you’d tried several times, just to see if you could and to see how badly you could annoy Tony.

You had managed one small victory: you’d renamed some of his music files, so that instead of the heavy metal songs he liked to blare at random, Jarvis would end up playing teen bop songs. Tony didn’t talk to you for a week after that, although you could see by the gleam in his eyes that he was slightly impressed by the feat.

Computers had always been your ‘thing’, and you could set up networks and track down problems in record time. When you worked with the electronics, your mind visualized the connections and routes in schematic form, enabling you to pinpoint the failing areas. When it came to analyzing data, you could do so just as quickly.

Steve led you to the elevator, and the ride up to the Avengers’ level was made in silence, then his hand in the small of your back guided to the dining table, where the rest of the team sat.

“Glad you could join us,” Tony said, grinning when you cut your eyes at him.

You sat down across from Loki and Thor, then helped your plate with food as it was passed to you. You offered them both a tired smile, which Thor returned with a wink. Loki nodded, and although he didn’t smile, his green eyes were lit with amusement. A warmth spread through your veins, making it hard to look away from him, but you finally managed.

If only he wasn’t such eye candy, you thought. Or maybe such a snack...a tall, tall, snack…snack-a-licious…

You smothered a giggle that almost escaped, but then strangled on the sip of water you’d just taken. While you coughed into your napkin, Bucky tried to help by patting your back, but his strength knocked you forward enough where you almost face-planted into your plate.

“Bucky!”

“Sorry.”

You composed yourself while keeping your attention on your food. You weren’t very hungry, even though you’d subsisted only on coffee, protein snacks and candy over the last few days. As you began to eat, it became difficult to keep your eyes open. Now that you were still and quiet, the lack of sleep caught up with you fast. The others watched as your head began to drop lower and lower, until your fork clattered onto the plate as you fell asleep while sitting upright.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” Steve scooped you up and carried you to your apartment, where he put you to bed.

— —

Later that night, Tony was still in the common room when you padded quietly on bare feet into the kitchen. You went to the fridge and stared at its contents for several minutes before taking out a yogurt cup.

He watched as you shuffled to a drawer for a spoon, and he started to ask if you needed help when you struggled to open the yogurt, but you did manage to get the lid off after a couple of minutes.

“Are you alright?” He asked as you consumed the yogurt in four large spoonfuls.

You didn’t respond, just dropped the spoon into the sink, and the empty cup into the garbage, and left. Once back in your apartment, you crawled into bed, pulled up the covers and went back to sleep.

— —

Several hours later, Loki stirred from a deep sleep when something woke him. He listened for any movement in his apartment, but all was quiet. Something wasn’t right, though, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He started to get up, but then realized what had disturbed him: a warmth against his back, along with a bare arm across his waist. To say that he was stunned would be an understatement, since neither should be there.

Loki carefully grasped his bedfellow’s wrist and raised it enough to try to determine who had invaded his space, and he didn’t need three guesses when he recognized the intruder’s bracelet.

Pixel.

He couldn’t help but think of you by the nickname that Tony had burdened you with due to your computer skills. None of that was important, however. What was important was why you were in his bed, and how you had managed to avoid the spells that he cast each night that would alert him to any intruders. It was a habit that he kept, even though it was unlikely that he’d be attacked in his own suite, and he felt a bit uneasy that you hadn’t triggered any of them.

Loki carefully shifted until he faced you, and the movement was enough to turn you on your back. He braced up on one elbow while he looked into your face, and recognized the exhaustion it reflected. He knew that you’d been working hard on the surveillance videos; too hard, it seemed. He frowned at that, and decided to speak to Stark about letting you stay awake for days on end, as it wasn’t necessary since Jarvis could easily help run comparisons.

“Hey, Pixel.”

He brushed hair out of your face before shaking you gently, but you didn’t stir. He tried again, with no success: you were dead to the world. He considered taking you back to your own bed, but an urge for mischief kept him from doing so. He rather wanted to see what your reaction would be come morning. So, he adjusted position slightly so that your head was pillowed on his arm, then he put the other arm across you and pulled you closer.

— —

Early the next morning, well before dawn, you awoke slowly to find that something was very, very wrong.

Your sheets were softer than you recalled, you were curled against someone’s side, with your head on their shoulder, and this someone had their arms around you. Slowly, carefully, you sat up, and the shock when you recognized your bedfellow had you turning toward the edge of the bed.

Loki.

Before you could disengage fully from his embrace, he turned with you, and drew you even closer to his chest, where he held you firmly. You laid still for a couple of minutes, not wanting to disturb him, hoping to escape before he woke. Then you carefully tried moving his arm from across your waist so that you could slide from beneath it.

“What’s the fuss, pet?” Loki asked, sleepily.

“Why are you in my room?”

“Your room?” You felt his smile against your temple.

“My room! And my bed!”

“Are you certain about that?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion while you slowly looked around, then your mouth fell open in astonishment when you realized where you were. Nope, not your room, but his.

“How did I get in here??”

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” He asked, while burying his nose in your hair. “How you got in, and got past my security measures.”

“I don’t—wait, security measures? You mean booby traps?” You whispered, aghast.

He almost laughed aloud at that, and would have if your tone hadn’t been so horrified at the notion of triggering one of his spells.

“Don’t worry, Pixel, there isn’t anything that will cause lasting harm,” he chuckled. “So, first order of business: why did you come here?”

“I’m not...oh...cripes…” you rubbed your face with a groan.

“Yes?”

“I’m so sorry...I must have been sleepwalking.”

“Oh?”

“I haven’t done it in years, though...I guess being up for close to four days straight triggered it.”

“I see,” Loki mused over that for a moment. “But how did you get past my spells?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t,” you replied. “Are you sure they’re still intact...never mind, forget I asked.”

You’d backtracked on the question when his arm tightened slightly; you could imagine that his expression would remind you that he was a master sorcerer who was at least nine hundred years in age, and that he would know if his spells had failed.

“I should go,” you told him as you tried again to move his arm. “I’m very sorry for invading your space…”

“It’s early yet, why not stay?” He asked. “You’re delightfully warm.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I should.”

You were painfully aware that your gown’s thin straps left your arms and shoulders bare, and the hem only reached to your knees. There was no way that Loki hadn’t noticed it either, just as it hadn’t escaped your notice that his chest was bare. Thankfully, you could tell that he had on pajama bottoms. Thank God for small mercies.

“I was a perfect gentleman last night,” he commented. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, quickly. But do I trust myself?

Loki hummed softly before he ran his hand down your arm and changed your gown into one that covered you from your chin to your feet, and from your shoulders to your wrists. You were quite sure the thing would strangle you, since you were a restless sleeper.

“Geez, did you raid Steve’s grandmother’s closet??”

“Just trying to be helpful,” he replied with a chuckle, before he changed the gown again.

This time it was a green shirt with flowing sleeves, open neckline and a shorter hem which reached your knees. It wasn’t lost on you that he’d put you in his color.

“Better?” He asked.

“Yes, thank you,” you replied. “But I should go....”

He held you more firmly, and drew his legs up behind yours to trap you further. He was reluctant to let you go now that you were in his arms. He’d watched you for months now, slowly warming up since you treated him the same as anyone else, perhaps even better. He wasn’t sure how you’d managed to get under his skin, but he found himself wondering how it would feel to hold you, to kiss you...to have you.

When Loki refused to let you up, your heart began to race at the implications. Was he interested in you? Or just being mischievous because you had accidentally climbed into his bed? Either way, the proximity to his bare skin had you shaking; it wouldn’t take much for you to give in to his request.

“I’d like for you to stay,” he whispered, before he’d turned your face toward him.

When his lips found yours in a gentle kiss, your reticence flew out the window.

Yes, that did it.

[burnedbyshoto]

disconnected

— Kirishima answers a phone call that wasn’t intended for him, and of course he can’t help but be interested in the beautiful voice and soul that angrily began to rant about their day. —

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, lil angst (lol sorry), cursing

word count: 7,786

a/n: this was a stupid thought that slammed into my mind, and here it is!!!! now I have a calc midterm tomorrow that I did not look at because why think about double derivatives and integrals when I can think about kirishima????

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was eleven at night when Kirishima strolled out of his bathroom, ready to go to bed. After a rather long day, he was looking forward to sleeping and not having to wake up at the crack of dawn. Tomorrow for the very first day in a very long time, he wouldn’t have to work at the local coffee shop he was hired at. It was a job he had acquired with his good friends on the promise of it being a manageable job on top of his college work, and of course, the pretty girls who would go in.

From what Kirishima had gathered from the four months working there was that there were a lot of pretty girls who entered the coffee shop — most of which were focused on the angry ash-blond friend of his — and that it was so unnecessarily stressful. 

Some days he was up at four in the morning to open at six for the morning regulars, then he’d go to his afternoon classes, only to return for a two-hour shift in the middle of rush hour, and would leave while trying to keep the peace between a certain ash-blond and two new hires. To say the least, it was hell on Earth at times. 

Regardless, he didn’t have to open tomorrow morning, so he was content! On top of not having classes tomorrow, Kirishima was excited to sleep in.

Falling on his bed with a massive sigh, Kirishima snuggled his face into his pillow, rejoicing in the way that the laundry detergent still clung to the fabric and relaxed.

Sleep sounded so—

RIIING.

RIIING.

Kirishima’s eyes slammed open, his head snapping to see his illuminating phone on his nightstand. He had no idea who the hell was calling this late. There was no way it was Bakugou; he was asleep already at this point. Sero had broken his phone two days ago during a failed stunt and wouldn’t be able to get a new phone until the weekend. Kaminari only called him when there was a bug in his apartment, but he was currently closing… maybe it was Mina? Kirishima shook his head, no, he hadn’t spoken to Mina in ages.

Grabbing the phone, he didn’t bother to look at the caller ID and answered.

“Hello—?”

“Oh my��god, I am fucking raging! You can’t believe what kind of fuckery I just went through tonight!” a voice shouted into the receiver, and Kirishima flinched a bit at the loud and angry voice. “So you know how I wasn’t supposed to work today, right? Because my coworker had sex with her ex-boyfriend like an idiot, and I owed her for covering my shift three months ago, but anyways irrelevant. I’m taking the order of this one group of adults. That’s right, A-D-U-L-T-S, adults! They are completely staring at my tits the entire time, and not my face. At first, I thought maybe you know, I had spilled something on my tits earlier, no. No! NOTHING! So I call them out on it, and they say something along the lines of ‘you could be a camgirl with that body, but like not in a sex sort of way’ I’m sorry, WHAT?! Like yes, continue sexually harassing your server who is a college student and therefore has no will to live, so will gladly beat your Gucci belt wearing ass into a bloody pulp! What they gonna do? Sue me? I have one dollar to my name, fucking take it, I don’t care, I’ll find another dollar in the sewer after I beat their asses up!

“But you know, I’m saying all this in my head because I’m broke and can’t afford to be fired from this place because the tips are hella good here. But they continue saying dumb shit, and then the obvious ringleader — I know he was the ring leader because his beard looks like it was the first picture printed on a new ink cartridge and his manspread was ten times wider than all of theirs — have the fucking audacity to slip his number while only tipping TEN DOLLARS ON A TWO HUNDRED DOLLAR TAB!!!!” Kirishima doesn’t know what to say, his jaw on his mattress, breathing having stopped while your voice wheezes from your lack of air. He makes a croaking noise, wanting to speak up and apologize for what had happened and for not being the person you thought it was, but it seemed that you weren’t over. “AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THAT FUCKING KAREN!!! ‘I didn’t like the way you looked at me so I won’t be tipping you tonight!’ yeah, well maybe if you didn’t order enough FOOD TO FEED AN ARMY AND KEPT SENDING IT BACK I WOULDN’T BE LOOKING AT YOU LIKE THAT!!!”

There was a pause, and Kirishima, while feeling entirely sorry for you, finally spoke, “Fuck, that sounds... horrible.”

“Damn right, it was horri— wait, who the fuck is this?” your voice squeaked, and Kirishima almost started to laugh at the difference in the tone your voice took. Once so loud, angry, and entirely ‘fuck the world,’ had changed into a meek and embarrassed voice.

“Um, this is Kirishima. Kirishima Eijiriou?”

“This isn’t Hagakure?” you moaned into the phone. “03-9082-2395? That isn’t this number?”

“2-2-9-5,” Kirishima repeated his own number back, a small smile overcame his features knowing that you had accidentally misdialed a number.

“Fuck my fat fingers,” you cursed, and Kirishima chuckled lightly at the mutterings that were poorly picked up. “Well, um, I am so sorry for calling you and dumping that unnecessary bullshit on you—”

“No, no,” Kirishima interrupted, rolling onto his back, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling. “It’s totally okay! You seem less stressed out now too, and it really isn’t a big deal!”

“You are very kind, Kirishima Eijirou,” you laugh, and Kirishima can’t help but imagine a figure curled up on a couch.

“Thank you!” he beamed, a hand threading through his hair, “um, but what happened with the Karen? And why were you typing in your friend’s phone number?”

“Do you really want to know?” you ask after a fit of bubbling laughter; it seemed that you were not at all convinced.

“I work at a coffee shop for one, so I totally understand the Karen situations! Secondly, all my contacts are on my phone, I don’t have a single one of them memorized!”

“Okay, okay, okay, I do not have this number memorized! Hagakure is my roommate, and she has a new number that she left posted on our fridge and because Mr. Sprinkles left in the middle of my rant, I called her to finish it!” you explain in what Kirishima could only consider being childlike glee. “And a coffee shop? Oof, Kirishima, you might have it just as bad as I do then.”

“Ever had a boiling cup of coffee thrown back at your face?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I wish I was joking!”

“The nastiest thing I’ve ever been put through is a highschool couple breaking up in the middle of the restaurant, and a bowl of cold soup and milkshake were thrown at me! And I had to work for another five hours!”

“That… that beat mine by a long shot…”

“Okay, but like, it was cold. If you hadn’t dodged, you’d be dead!”

As time passed Kirishima soon found himself sitting up on his bed, his back pressed against the headboard, a lamp on so that he wasn’t in the dark while he talked to you. Somehow conversation flowed so perfectly between the two of you, so smoothly, so naturally. You had extremely compelling energy and a pretty bright one at that as well. Your stories were exceedingly extravagant, most derailing into hundreds of side stories before making its way back to the main point, but he didn’t mind. Though there was no proof, he imagined that your arms were swinging around while you talked, a bright smile on your face, and lights shining in your eyes.

“So anyway, I had to beg my professor to let me remake this exam because, for some reason, my brain would not switch back to Japanese. I almost cried because I was only speaking in English, and I think because I am an amazing person, my professor let me do that!” you laughed after explaining an issue with being fluent in a third language. 

“My English skills deteriorated after leaving high school, I’m rather jealous you can speak three languages,” Kirishima admitted, his head falling back onto the cold wall. “My Japanese professors probably think my Japanese sucks too.”

“Just because I am amazing and can speak three languages doesn’t mean I’m perfect at it,” you laugh, obviously trying to make him feel better about himself.

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re painting yourself as a pretty perfect person,” Kirishima sighed. “Or you have an enormous ego…”

A loud scoff came from your end of the phone, and Kirishima waited for your verbal retaliation but was met with a moment of silence.

“Oh! Welcome home!” you called out, and Kirishima quickly put together that your roommate Hagakure was home. “Yeah, no, I’m talking to someone right now! ...who? Oh, um, a friend! ...no, I tried to call you when I got home but misdialed your number and got him instead! NO! You’re not going to get a pic of him! Wait, it’s what time?!”

Kirishima’s eyes fell over to his alarm clock and saw in the dim red light that it was 04:57. 

His jaw dropped.

“Well, um, Kirishima, it seems that our call is going to end,” you whisper into the phone, and Kirishima lets out a breathless chuckle, sudden sleepiness creeping into him. “It was pretty fun chatting with you stranger, thanks for putting up with that ranting in the beginning! Most normal people wouldn’t have picked up or let me rant like that!”

“It’s no problem,” Kirishima smiled softly, his fingers stretching out to turn off the light. He licked his lips, five hours on a phone call with an absolute stranger, and he didn’t have your name, and better yet, a part of him wanted to ask if it was okay to be friends. You were magnetic to him, and he wanted to know more about you, even if this was this weird modern and accidental penpal thing. “I didn’t have anything to do today, and you were fun talking to!”

“Aww, thank you!”

Silence.

Ask, he thought, his teeth biting down onto his bottom lip. Ask!

“Um, I know this is weird and all, but do you think I can keep your number?” you ask, your voice almost timid and meek.

Kirishima’s heart rate spikes at those words, he very much wanted that, but his mouth had a mind of its own it seemed. “Why?”

“Wha— well, I just had a lot of fun talking with you! It was fun, and I don’t know, you seem like a pretty chill guy!”

His fingers gripped his phone, a warmth spreading through him when he relaxed under his sheets. “On one condition.”

“Oof, if you’re going to ask to decide between Crimson Riot or All Might you’re going to be—”

“No, no,” Kirishima lets out a snort, his shoulders rolling while he imagines the curious look coming over your face. “I would like to know your name?”

“My name? Why would you want— HOLY SHIT! I never gave you—” there was a loud noise on your end of the call, and Kirishima heard you apologize profusely before returning in a hushed whisper. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t give you my name?!”

“No,” he laughed loudly, one that was pushed from his belly, spreading warmth through his body. “You never did, but I did learn every name of every person you’ve ever talked with!”

“God,” you groan, a small whine emitted from you. “I’m an idiot, I’m so sorry! Y/l/n y/n at your service!”

Y/l/n y/n, that’s a pretty name, he thought while imagining just what you could look like. 

“Well, goodnight y/l/n, I’ll save your number, and we’ll see if you still would like to be friends when you wake up?”

There was a small noise of agreement, “I’m like a drug, Kirishima, you’ll be back for more.”

“Okay, okay, goodnight…”

“Goodnight, sweet dreams!”

“Sweet dreams.”

Kirishima listened to the line ending, and he pulled his phone away from his ear and no sooner did he do that, a text came in at what he believed to be your number:

don’t let the bed bugs bite! 🕷😱‼️

He snorted and replied back before eventually letting sleep consume him.

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“You’ll never believe what just happened!” you squealed into the phone, and Kirishima laughed while wiping his sweaty face with a white towel. You had called thirty minutes earlier than usual and had caught him leaving the gym.

It had been a bit over two months since your misdial, and things with you had been going pretty well for strangers. The two of you didn’t talk every day, most weeks going by with just a single call, but they were always delightful talks. You worked most nights, and he most mornings, the two of you discovered. So most calls took place the night he didn’t have to work the following morning. 

“You got a customer who complained that there was too much salt in their meal that had no salt in it?” he asked, pulling a random story of something that had happened at his own coffee shop today. You let out an amused snort, a clear indicator that he was wrong, but found his guess to be amusing at the very least.

“No, but oddly enough, someone did ask for an insane amount of salt on their food and hated it!” you sang, clearly happy with how you found their distress to be funny.

“Close enough!” Kirishima laughed, but he was straight out of guesses, so he stopped. “So, what happened?”

“I tried coffee for the first time ever today!” you squealed loudly, and Kirishima cheered happily.

Through these two months, there were some hard facts that Kirishima had learned about you. One, you were living in the same city as him. Two, you worked at a semi-classy restaurant. Three, you had two roommates named Hagakure and Jirou. Four, you were twenty, just like him. And five, you were a child who only drank hot chocolate and tea because you were afraid of coffee.

~

“Caffeine is a drug you know,” you had snarkily teased him one night when he said he was going to make a cup of coffee. “Nice to know I’m friends with an addict!”

“If drugs were as amazing as coffee, I’d be an addict!”

“You know…” your voice whispered, your voice suddenly taking a guilty approach. “I’ve never actually tried coffee…”

“WHAT?!”

~

“Wow, look at you, becoming an old woman in front of my own eyes!” Kirishima chuckled, starting his walk back home. 

His fingers pushed the headphones to be more secure over his ears, hopeful that there it wouldn’t pick up too heavily on the wind of the outside world. 

“To be honest, it wasn’t that good, your taste buds are just tarnished from drinking that bitter crap all day!” you huff and he half imagined you turning your nose up.

“Okay, okay,” Kirishima laughed, a warmth flooding in his chest at the sounds of your muffled laughter. A visible indicator that you were also amused at this. “I hated coffee until I started working at a coffee shop, and that was because I needed to know my shit.”

“Wow, you only got that job while not being a coffee addict?” you tease. “Seems like a fake barista to me.”

“It’s pretty hard to believe, I know,” Kirishima stated his tone one of fake melancholy. “I’m so sorry for deceiving you, and honestly, I am a shit barista.”

“Aww, don’t say that!” you exclaim, and it seems like you’re ready to fight him. “I bet you put all those fancy TikTok baristas to shame!”

“TikTok?” he laughed, his pace speeding up just a bit so he would get home faster. “Wow, I am honored you think that!”

The light conversation continued, nothing too deep or too intense, just chatter about today's shifts and classes. Eventually, Kirishima made it back into his apartment complex, and stumbled into his room, collapsing onto his bed. 

“Can I ask something?” you ask suddenly, and Kirishima lets out a small hum.

“Yeah, of course, what’s up?”

“What do you look like?” you asked softly as if you were curled up in bed, seconds from letting sleep consume you. “I haven’t come up with a mental image that I like, and well, I want some hints.”

“I can just send you a picture of me,” Kirishima smiles, his eyes closing. “It would be much easier than me trying to explain to you what I look like.”

“No!” you disagree, and there's a long sigh from your end of the phone. “I’m not ready for that kind of information yet, Kiri. I just… I can’t accept a pic of you without sending one back, and I’m not mentally ready for that yet…”

“Don’t tell me the big fat Gucci bougie you is shy?!” Kirishima exclaimed, humor drowning his words as he referenced you to something you had called yourself one drunken night weeks ago.

“Not shy!” you bemoan, your voice muffling out at the end of it. “I’m more scared you’ll find me ugly and ghost me…”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Kirishima interjected, his voice stable and confident.

“Which part?”

“Both parts.”

“How do you know that? You don’t know what I look like…”

“...call it… Kirishima’s intuition,” Kirishima slowly stated, his eyebrows furrowing. “I find your voice and your personality to be attractive on their own, so I would never ghost you. And of course, appearance isn’t anything; plus, there’s no way you’re not gorgeous.”

He says these words with honest truth, and a part of him fears he overstepped and made you wildly uncomfortable with the amount of silence that is heard from your end of the line. But finally, as Kirishima is ready to apologize to you, a soft exhale is heard.

“You’re a dork,” you whisper, and a soft grin spreads on his own face. “Anyways, I’ll ask questions, you answer them first, and then I’ll do the same.”

“Sounds good!”

“Hair color?”

“Black, but I dye it red.”

“Mm, edgy teenager, I like it, and also knew that because you complained about your stained sheets! Eye color?”

“Red.”

“Oh, am I sensing a theme? How tall are you?”

“I’m… a bit over six feet?”

The list went on, most questions becoming more of a joke than anything else, but he was glad that you were asking these things because now he had an insight on how you looked too. You had told him your eye color, your hair color, how tall you were, and a whole bunch of trivial things he would have never thought to ask about to begin with.

“Okay, last question!” you cheered, happy to have finally included Kirishima into your inside joke that revolved around your eyebrows. “Do you have any distinguishing features?”

“Well, I don’t actually...” Kirishima admitted, his fingers brushing against the scar on his eye, and then it hit him. That was one! “Oh, wait—” CRASH. A loud crashing noise emitted from your side of the call.

“Shit, hold on!” you curse and Kirishima can only remain silent while he hears you yelling in the background, it was too far away for him to quite understand, but it was enough to know that it didn’t sound okay. 

Kirishima sat on his side of the call, the phone pressed to his ear while he tried to strip his gross and sweaty shirt from his body. His teeth bit into his lip, his canine pressing into the permanent indent of his lip, an indicator of how anxious he used to be. 

“Fuck, Kiri?” your voice suddenly snapped back onto the call, your tone frantic and quick.

“Everything okay?”

“No, Hagakure showed up drunker than… a drunken drunk, I don’t know expressions, ANYWAYS I know tonight is our unofficial official call night, but anyway I can get a rain check?”

There was guilt that swallowed your voice, a pang of guilt that made Kirishima warm a bit because it showed that you valued these calls, just like him. 

“Of course, I don’t have class or work Friday morning this time around, so Thursday night?”

“That works perfectly,” you sigh, gratitude. “I owe you, text you later if you don’t fall asleep! Goodnight, sweet dreams, love ya!”

Kirishima couldn’t repeat the whole statement before you hastily hung up, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face the entire time he showered. The shower didn’t take too long, and by the time he emerged from the shower, towel around his neck and his waist, he had a text message. 

sero - hey bro!!! i can’t pick up my morning shift tomorrow i know you have tonight to speak w y/n but todoroki and bakugou can’t cover it!

Kirishima sighed, he definitely didn’t have anything tomorrow anyways, he could manage with going in for an extra shift to help a friend.

kirishima - yeah sure what time?

sero - youre a life saver T-T im covering 8 am - 3 pm!!!

Kirishima sent a simple affirmative emoji before finishing up his nightly routine. 

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Kirishima looked at his apron while he was assembling himself in the backroom. The aroma of roasted coffee beans and pastries was almost pungent in the back, and he was eager to get out of there. As per employee regulations, he was to wear a black apron, a name tag, and something to hold his hair because it was a bit too long, for that, he wore a white bandana around his forehead.

“Wait, where’s my name tag?” Kirishima called out, his eyebrows furrowing when he turned out to Kaminari, who was currently in the back with him.

The blond froze and scratched the back of his neck, laughing awkwardly, “About that…”

So Kirishima was in the front of the store with a shiny silver name tag that read Hanta Sero. Because Kaminari was the best barista they had on hand currently, he was busy teaching Midoriya — their newest hire — around the bar. For now, Todoroki was nowhere to be found, and Kirishima was handling the cash register. 

Today was a slow morning, most people had their day off today, so morning coffee rush wasn’t in existence. Sure, there were a few outliers, but it was never chaotic. 

The gentle bell of the front door rang, and Kirishima automatically called out.

“Welcome!”

You had walked into the store, your eyebrows furrowed while you prayed that this was the coffee shop your roommates had been raving about. You’d never been here before, but it was the closest coffee shop available that wasn’t something generic and basic like Starbucks. You looked up from your phone at the voice, a thank you automatically being repeated while you neared the register.

You froze when you saw the red hair and the red eyes of the handsome man at the register. A careless thought entered your mind, Kirishima said he had red hair and red eyes… but he said he didn’t work today… 

A kind smile sat on his face, his eyes taking you in, waiting for you to approach him. 

This couldn’t be him, right?

The last time you had assumed a redhead working in a coffee shop was Kirishima, it had ended embarrassingly. 

“Um, hi,” you drawled out, your eyes reading the board to figure out your own order. 

Kirishima couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, you were exactly what you had described to him, but he wouldn’t ask until he was sure. He would ask you for your name after collecting your order for either tea or hot chocolate, and if it was you, he’d reveal that he was Kirishima. But he didn’t want to be wrong; he didn’t want to pin any other person as you, after all.

“I’ve never been here before,” you confess, your hand rubbing the back of your head. You were transfixed on the caramel macchiato that was spelled in the prettiest font, though, plus Hagakure promised all their coffee was good. 

“Oh, well, welcome! If you need any recommendations or have anything else to order, I can put those through while you look?”

His smile was kind, and you felt blood rush to your face, something you desperately tried to fight off by thinking of anything you didn’t like. 

“Oh! I do have two orders, though! There’s going to be one chai tea latte with three pumps of vanilla, and a lavender tea with a splash of oat milk.”

Kirishima nodded his head, “Will this be for here, or to go?”

His voice sounds so similar to Kirishima, you hoped, studying his face. While you answered that it was to go, you saw a distinctive scar on his right eye. Kirishima had said he didn’t have any distinguishing features… 

“What are your favorites here?” you ask, your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, your thoughts very evident in your face.

Kirishima couldn’t help but find hope bubbling up in his chest, there was always the possibility that you two lived in the same city-based off the same area code, and with what seemed like an incomplete knowledge in coffee, maybe…

Kirishima rambled off about the different seasonal drinks right now, his recommendations leaning towards the teas and non-coffee things primarily after his general and basic list. You seemed to take every word out of his lip like gospel, agreeing and nodding when appropriate, and his lips stretched into a grin when you bluntly exclaimed your ill knowledge of this all.

“To be honest, I only step into coffee shops to take a cute pic and then leave,” you laugh, pressing your hands against your lips and screaming a bit in your throat. 

Kirishima laughed, more confidence blooming through his body over the hope that this was you. It had to be you.

Your eyes then found the nametag on his apron, and like a sinking ship, you read Sero.

Not Kirishima.

“And for you?”

“I’ll have the caramel macchiato,” you decide, a grateful smile on your face while he looks down and writes the orders.

“A name?”

“Penny,” came your automatic response.

You never used your real name in coffee shops.

Kirishima suppressed the way that his mouth wanted to drop into a sad smile, and like two rejected teenagers, the money was exchanged. Before Kirishima could attempt to calm his disappointed soul, you walked out of the shop with the coffees and tea in hand.

“What was that about?” Kaminari asked, his eyes wide. “There was so much flirting and then poof, gone from both sides. Come on, dude, it’s my job to fail at flirting, not yours!”

Kirishima laughed, ignoring the way that his three friends looked at him with concern and curiosity. “Nothing, I just… the customer looked like how y/n described herself to be…”

“Oh… sorry, bro.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Kirishima waved it off, and without so much as another slap on the back, he went back to work.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“What the hell are you doing?”

Kirishima looked up from his phone, his fingers mid-type pausing only for a millisecond before continuing to text blindly. 

“Oh, hey, Bakubro, what’s up?” he cheerfully spoke, ignorant to the controller in the ash blond’s hand. 

“It’s your turn, shitty hair, pay fucking attention!” Bakugou barked, tossing the plastic controller into his chest. Kirishima grunted, the feeling of the plastic slamming against his chest was less than ideal, but the smile on his face didn’t waiver while he offered his best friend the controller back.

“It’s all good, you can have another turn, I can handle being out this round!”

“Kiri, that’s six rounds in a row,” Kaminari spoke up, his face in a teasing smirk.

It was then that Kirishima’s face turned approximately the same color as his hair. “I didn’t—”

“Awww, Eijirou has a little crush on y/n!!!” Kaminari sang, resulting in agreeing with noises from Sero and Midoriya. Only Bakugou and Todoroki remained silent. 

Kirishima only laughed, he knew he couldn’t deny that fact, but he wouldn’t say it aloud — especially because Bakugou seemed to hate you. It had been now four months since the two of you had ‘meet,’ and while he still had no face to imagine you with, things had taken a slightly flirty route between the two of you.

Calls were much more frequent, nearly all nights the two of you would speak, even if it was just a measly summary of the day and a ‘sweet dreams’ and a ‘goodnight’ and an ‘I love you.’ It always happened nowadays.

Tonight was an exception, of course, because he was out with his friends, and apparently, you were doing the same. 

“You can’t be fucking serious?” Bakugou spat, a laugh spluttering from his lips, but it was cold and held no humor. “You caught feelings for a person who’s too much of a fucking coward to reveal a picture of themselves?”

“That’s not fair; besides, it's not about physical appearance!” Kirishima waved him off, pressing send to his text message.

have fun tonight! text me when u get back home if ur able to!

“Just how naive can you be?” Bakugou sneered, his hand taking the phone from Kirishima's side. “Six months of talking every week, texting every day, and this y/n still hasn’t trusted you with a single picture of them? I know you said that she told you how she looked, and all that shit, but let's be real, it’s so easy to lie about how you look like when you don’t have to provide a picture. What y/n say? Big tits? Big ass? Small waist? What about her did she say that made you so fucking insane over her?”

“N-Nothing! We didn’t talk about our body types!” Kirishima’s eyes widened significantly, the once comfortable atmosphere of the room wholly gone while Bakugou’s vermillion eyes seethed silently. “None of that matters! I told you the truth! I like y/n because of her personality, she’s manly, and I like that a lot! It’s not about her appearance, how pessimistic can you get, bro! I promise you, she’s trustworthy!”

“Is she really?”

“What?”

“How can you be in love with someone who you trust entirely, but doesn’t trust you at all? You said that y/n won’t show you a picture of herself because she’s scared you won’t like her? How is that trusting you? How is that fucking fair? To me, that sounds like some fucked up catfishing thing.”

“We talk on the phone, dude,” Kirishima said softly, but those thoughts were invading his mind. Did you not trust him? He knew he wasn’t the best option in the world, and he had accepted that in time and by improving on what he thought he was best at. But did you, after all this time, really not believe him when he claimed nothing would change when he saw you? “Catfishes don’t even do that… besides, the first call was by accident, why would someone—”

“Dunce face, what’s that one fucking idiotic thing you do for fun?” Bakugou snapped at the blond, not even bothering to look at him.

“Well, there’s a lot of things I do that you—” Kaminari laughed awkwardly, his smile tight and awkward.

“Kaminari.”

“I call… random numbers… pretending to have a big issue to see how they react…” he admitted, and Kirishima’s stomach clenched.

“And?” Bakugou snarled.

“I pretend to be a girl…”

“Don’t be stupid, Bakugou, this is more than one time!” Kirishima groaned.

“It's a voice that you can’t attach a face to, who knows if this is a person you can trust! People with voice acting exist in this world, how the hell do you possibly know that they’re not one of them?! Be fucking real, if ‘y/n’ trusted you, if that’s even their name, they wouldn’t be hiding their face from you.”

Kirishima didn’t say anything else, the acid piling in his throat was too much for him to even look at his friend. The night didn’t really recover from that conversation, and Kirishima eventually found himself back home.

He sat at the edge of his bed, his phone in his hands, waiting for a message from you. He couldn’t sleep, and even though he had work tomorrow morning, he found himself wide awake, unable to let sleep consume.

It was three in the morning when you sent a text, his eyes still wide awake, and with shaky fingers, he read the message.

i just got home can you believe that i drank three cups of wine and didnt get tipsy??????? thats on being a raging alcoholic ;D

Kirishima wanted to laugh; on god, he would’ve found this beyond delightful to read because he knew you couldn’t handle your liquor, but that bitter stream of acid destroyed the humor in his thoughts.

Were you really telling the truth? Was this all a lie?

He didn’t text back; instead, his finger pressed the call button, and he held his breath.

“Helloooo?” a voice picked up on the second ring, but it wasn’t your voice. It was a voice he didn’t recognize at all.

‘Voice actors,’ Bakugou’s voice reentered his thoughts, and the phone in his hand nearly dropped.

“Sorry, hello?” the voice he knew as you finally came through, and Kirishima let out a shallow breath, one so small, so mediocrely weak it burned his lungs.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly, maybe too softly because you asked with a strained laugh for him to repeat his words. “Do you trust me, y/n?”

There was a pause on your end, too long a beat for Kirishima to be comfortable with.

“Of course I trust you, Ei, are you okay?”

“Do you actually trust me, or are you lying?”

“Woah there,” you said a small laugh on your tongue, but there was only confusion in it, not your contagious sound. “Did you drink? It’s a work night, you never do that!”

“Answer the question,” Kirishima spoke with finality, his shoulders tense, tears pushing past his eyes while he struggled to maintain composure.

Prove Bakugou wrong, please, prove Bakugou wrong.

“Of course I do,” you spoke with genuine clarity, but still, Kirishima was rattled, his confidence blown. “What’s going on?”

Did he want to confess to his insecurities? Was it worth it? His breathing became frantic, almost as if he was going insane just thinking about where his thoughts were. But Kirishima was never good at hiding things, no he was as open as a book.

“Why won’t you let me see you… we’ve been friends for six months, and the only thing I know about you is your eye color and your hair color. It’s so insanely generic that I can’t… I can’t do this.”

“What are you trying to say?” you ask, your voice small, almost a whisper of all the energy one could have at this time of night.

“I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t trust me, who’s using me,” he spoke with perfect clarity that hid away his insecurities about this all. “For all, I know nothing about you is real, that this is all just some ploy to hurt me in the end. Six months and you can’t trust me with a single meet up or even a picture? I just… has this been a game for you, y/n? Or is that even your name.”

The call ended and a single message held on his screen, this call has been dropped, but you didn’t seem to want to call him back.

Kirishima didn’t sleep a wink that night, his words coming back to bite him in the throat each and every time he thought he was close enough to sleep. Insecurities riled up in him, consuming him entirely.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

He tried to call back.

For fourteen straight days, Kirishima attempted to call you back.

Every time he called you, he would always hang up before he could take back his words. But each call, after he had prematurely hung up, he would recant his mean words to the unresponsive phone. He did trust you, he was weak, he was unmanly to assume those things. You could take, however long it took to finally trust him again because he would wait for you no matter what. He apologized again and again until the very last one he broke down into silent tears, a single message of ‘I hope one day you’ll forgive me’ hung weakly on his voice and put his phone away. 

It was sixteen days since he had spoken those cruel words to you, and in that time, he didn’t regret finally talking about his ill feelings towards wanting to reveal yourself to him. But he did regret the way it came out; instead of it being a deep and personal conversation, it came out as bitter and one-sided. The two of you were disconnected, and he felt empty.

But he couldn’t focus on it, not today, after all, it was Bakugou’s birthday, and everyone was gathering at the local fancy restaurant to celebrate. 

Kirishima dressed up presentable, wearing a navy blue button-up, and dark slacks. He walked towards the entrance of the restaurant where Kaminari, Sero, and Midoriya were eagerly leading the group of them into the building. Typically Kirishima would’ve been with them in terms of spirit, but he felt energyless at the moment.

With the moon high in the sky, Kirishima stilled when Bakugou called out his name.

He stared at his best friend, the ash blond’s lip curled into a sneer while he huffed, “Listen, Kirishima, I’m sorry for what I said that night.”

“What? Oh, no, it’s okay, Bakugou!” Kirishima laughed, his hand slapping to the back of his neck. “You weren’t wrong.”

“I never said I was wrong,” Bakugou grunted, his eyes locked on Kirishima’s while he shoved his hands into his pockets. Kirishima stilled, unsure as to where this would be leading. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I know that Mina hurt you badly, and you’re too big of an idiot to not see when things arise. Maybe y/n is genuine, but if you aren’t fucking honest with her about your own feelings about how she’s so secretive, it’s not going to work.”

Kirishima smiled softly, a weak shrug moving through him, “I know, thanks, man.”

Bakugou nodded, and without a word, he continued on ahead where Midoriya was yelling at them to hurry up and come so they could be seated. 

Kirishima sighed, rolling out his shoulders before following afterward.

Kirishima followed after the hostess, smiling at her gratefully when she sat the group into their own private room and left. 

“Bakugou’s paying, right?” Kaminari stage whispered to Midoriya while staring at the prices on the menu.

“Eat shit, dunce face, learn how to save up your fucking money the next time you offer to come to this fucking place!” Bakugou roared, hearing the whisper.

“I’ll be covering the bill,” Todoroki informed with a smirk on his face. Kirishima laughed, looking at the prices and indeed agreeing with Kaminari’s statement. Having a wealthy friend was very convenient at times like this.

“Hi, welcome to Eiko, I’ll be your waitress today!” a voice chirped from the entrance of the room, and Kirishima froze, he recognized that voice and face.

It was the person he had mistaken for you all those months ago.

By the smile on your face, it seemed that you recognized them all too.

“And what is your name,” Sero winked, his eyes captivated by you.

“Oh, haha, sorry, my name is y/n,” you smiled, moving the menus you held in your hand to show the silver nametag on your uniform.

“Oh, like Kirishima’s y/n,” Kaminari laughed, pointing a finger at Kirishima, not at all being as quiet as he probably thought himself to be. But it seemed that he wasn’t the only one who thought that because while Kirishima was staring at your face, embarrassingly taking you in, you followed Kaminari’s finger.

Your sight sat on the redhead in the middle whose name was Kirishima, and you straightened up in what felt like panic. 

“You’re Kirishima?” you asked quietly, your finger grasping the menus so tightly, your knuckles turned white. “Kirishima Eijirou.”

“The one and only,” Kaminari voiced for him, his arm thrown over Kirishima’s shoulder while he nodded like a scholar. “And why do you ask?”

“Shut the fuck up, dunce face.” Bakugou hissed.

Kirishima continued to stare at you, a million words running through his head, yet not a single one being translated on his tongue. You were beautiful.

What should he say?

What could he say?

Your lips pursed, and you shook your head, a smile of disbelief spreading across your face, “Unbelievable.”

“Y/n—”

“Be quiet,” you snap, your tone angry, but your eyes beyond hurt. “What can I get you guys to drink?”

Dinner wasn’t exactly a pleasant time, you came in and left faster than anyone could blink, and yet none of their drinks went empty, nor did they really have a problem. Much quicker than Kirishima would’ve liked, they were done and were soon piling out of the restaurant after Kirishima decided to leave a very, very generous tip.

“I’m going to stay until I can speak to y/n,” Kirishima said, waving off his friends who were expecting him to follow. But he couldn’t, not when he felt like the world's biggest ass for what he did to you.

“Good luck,” they all wished him well before eventually leaving, knowing better than to stick around.

So there at the outside bench, Kirishima waited.

Two hours he sat there until you emerged from the front door, your hair was no longer put back, you held your apron in your hand, and your purse on your shoulder.

“Y/n!” he called out, his feet no longer cemented into place; he strode after you.

You didn’t seem to pick up the pace, nor did you slow down. You were focused on your car that sat at the edge of the parking lot, and you ignored his calls.

It wasn’t until his hand touched your shoulder, and he appeared before you did Kirishima freeze again. Angry hot tears slid down your face, your face screwed up, your shoulders stiff.

“What do you want, Kirishima?” you spat, but there was only exhaustion in your voice, nothing bitter, nothing at all what Kirishima deserved from you.

“I want to apologize,” Kirishima whispered, his hands struggling to reach out and wipe your tears away. You were crying because of him, he did this to you. “I was a dick, I was… beyond unmanly to you, and I’m so sorry! I just let Bakugou get into my head, and I’ve never been a secure person because, well, I’m just… fuck, I don’t even know, but all I know is that you didn’t deserve this. And I like you so much, but I didn’t — I don’t know what to do?!”

Your eyes stared up at him, they were bright with tears, wounded beyond anything Kirishima could hope to fix.

“That night, you said if I didn’t trust you, but I did trust you! I’ve always trusted you—” your finger jabbed his chest— “but it was you who didn’t trust me! I get that it’s hard to not have a picture of someone you care about after a long length of time, but we were always fine for a while! It was going to happen, but while I trusted you, I didn’t trust myself, okay?! I couldn’t trust myself to see that if you were so much more handsome than me that I couldn’t be confident enough to let myself be friends with you! I constantly fuck up relationships when I have crushes on people because… I don’t know, I just do! But you were someone with no risk and the highest risk, and I wanted to be sure in my own feelings before giving you a picture of me! But… fuck, Kirishima, you didn’t trust me!”

Kirishima’s throat tightened, the tears on your face a guilty reminder that this was because of him. But how could he fix this?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his hands grabbing onto your arms just above the elbow, and his head hung by your forehead, not quite touching you, but just enough that his spiked hair teased the atoms between you. You were taller than he expected, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with, no, not at all. “You’re right, I didn’t trust you, and you didn’t deserve that. I don’t think there’s anything that I can say, or do for that matter, to change your mind, and I’m sorry. I just panicked because who gets into this type of situation, how do I tell my phone friend that I have feelings for her? I was weak, and I am so fucking pathetic, and I just want to make things better. If you’ll let me be your friend again…”

He slowly looked back up at you, and you were frozen in your place, tears falling down your face still.

“I don’t think we can be friends,” you confessed, and Kirishima’s heart broke in two, his hands dropping from your arms in his embarrassment and humiliation.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry still, um… maybe I’ll see you again?” Kirishima smiled despite it all, he kept smiling despite the crack in his chest and his soul.

“You will,” you murmured, and before Kirishima could blink, your fists wrapped in his collar, and you brought him down for an ardent kiss that he was not quick to respond to. It took three seconds for him to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in, kissing you again and again and again.

It didn’t seem to matter to either one of you that you were both now kissing without a care in the world in the middle of a parking lot, because you both had your emotions exposed to the other, and you didn’t want to be friends. At least not when the man who held your heart confessed that you held his in yours. 

The two of you weren’t truly disconnected, it was just a little lost moment in your call.

[ohnopoe]

Personal Hero | Marcus Moreno

Ship: Marcus Moreno x Reader Summary: When work is getting you down, you don’t need Marcus Moreno, the superhero, you need Marcus Moreno, your personal hero. Word Count: 2.6k+ Warnings: Some self deprecating thoughts (not many, but I’d rather you be safe than sorry) & food mentions Author’s Note: This is incredibly late, but for @meshlamando​​! I’m so sorry it took so damn long, I hope it has at least a little comfort in there for you! One day I'll learn the right compromise between hurt & comfort... I don't think I got there today...

The shrill ringing of your mobile cut through your office, sending thoughts flying in every which way at the sudden sound. Irritation bubbled away steadily as you put the damn thing on silent without so much as a glance at the caller ID.

Reports had been thrown in your direction from the moment you had arrived, a never ending list of time restraints and deadlines that seemed to be constantly encroaching on your mental stability, and, quite simply, you didn’t have the time for anything else that could be added to your to do list.

So, the call was quickly pushed from your mind in favour of, was that an accounting report? How had that become your responsibility?

Any thoughts of having your lunch break were dismissed, a luxury you just didn’t have time for as the pile seemed to grow before your very eyes. A fresh cup of coffee, that was all you had time for, and even that gained judgemental glances from your boss as you rushed back from the small kitchenette. But it was a break, of sorts. A few minutes to remind yourself that there actually was something outside of black ink on white paper and luminescent screens that were determined to give you a migraine.

But, as you made your way back to your chair, your phone began to vibrate in your pocket, demanding your attention once more. A quick glance, you could get away with that, surely.

A soft smile seemed to find its home on your lips in an instant as the name Marcus Moreno popped up with a ridiculous picture you’d taken of him some months earlier. But, as your gaze quickly met the disapproving  glare of your boss, you knew you couldn’t answer, even if it technically was still your lunch break.

Placing the phone down with a sigh, and more than a smidgen of guilt, you watched as it rang out, fading into a notification. Two missed calls, both from Marcus.

Well, if you hadn’t felt bad moments ago, you certainly did now.

But you didn’t have time to dwell on your failings when yet another manilla folder found its way into your inbox; the sticky note on top demanding it be finished before start of day tomorrow.

The hum of vibrations drew your attention from the email you had been writing, dragging over the surprisingly empty office to where your mobile danced across the corner of your desk, each vibration bringing it ever closer to the edge. A quick glance around to confirm you really were alone, another to check the time, realising just why you were so alone, and you were reaching for the device eagerly.

It didn’t matter that you still had hours of work ahead of you, or that your coworkers were all too happy to go home on time and leave you to deal with their messes alone. It didn’t matter that your stomach had been grumbling for hours now, or that your eyes felt so dry that the tears that threatened to break through at the thought of your situation would actually be a welcome relief. It only mattered that, for some miraculous reason, he was calling again, and this time you could finally answer, finally hear his voice and get a few minutes of reprieve from the insanity of your day.

“Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier, works been crazy,” the words came out in a mess, one falling into another as your exhaustion made itself known quite clearly.

“As long as you’re ok,” it would have been impossible to miss the concern in Marcus’ tone, even through your receiver and weary state of being. A small smile played at the corners of your lips, his words a gentle reminder of just how lucky you were, at least, when it came to your personal life.

“I’ll be just fine,” you offered with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a yawn.

“You should come home,” Marcus offered with a soft chuckle, his voice warm and enticing, relaxing you far more than it ought to do.

A chuckle of your own escaped at the suggestion, shaking your head to yourself in the emptiness of your office. “Not likely to happen any time soon, I’m afraid. I’ve got at least a few more hours of stuff left to do.”

“As your boss, I’m telling you, come home, it’s after six, you need rest. I’ll order pizza, Missy’s at a friends, we can have a lazy evening on the couch…”

Damn that sounded enticing, but as you spun around in your chair, the sight of your to do list practically mocked you, silently reminding you of the deadlines you had been given.

It didn’t matter that Marcus was now the head of the whole damn Heroics organisation, your department head would never let you get away with leaving things unfinished, and she’d already made it quite clear what she thought of your relationship with the boss.

A heavy sigh, filled with exhaustion and wariness was the only answer you could give. You didn’t want to disappoint him, of course not. This was Marcus Moreno, for goodness sake, the man deserved nothing but the best, but there wasn’t much you could do. This was your job, and, as much as you loved him, as much as you wanted to be all the things he deserved, you simply couldn’t be that all the time.

“I’m sorry,” there was a weight to your words that went beyond simply coming home late.

It seemed, no matter what you did, you were disappointing someone of late. You weren’t working hard enough, you weren’t home enough, you hadn’t brought coffees for the entire department (when had that even become a thing?). No matter where you looked, it felt as though you were competing with something, something you couldn’t see, something you never had a chance of surpassing. People’s expectations.

There was a pause on the line, a silence that only solidified your guilt. Marcus was too nice to call you out on your absence of late, too sweet to remind you that you hadn’t had a date night in weeks now, but his silence reminded you all on its own.

It weighed heavily on you, as if it had been sitting in the shadows, slowly growing in the dark recesses of your mind without your knowledge, growing until it became the insurmountable mass that sat on your shoulders now.

Late nights, no time to relax, no time to recover, it all came together, wearing at you in a silent tundra of exhaustion.

“You have nothing to apologise for.” It was said softly, but there was a determination behind his words, a tone you heard so rarely, but one that you knew nonetheless. It was the same voice he’d use to reprimand a heroic who went too far or didn’t listen, the same tone he used when Missy had been caught sneaking out one night to go explore an abandoned skatepark with friends. There was no debating this, no need for a discussion. This was simply a fact, one Marcus was determined you would accept.

But it wasn’t that easy.

Just because Marcus believed something wholeheartedly, it didn’t make it so for you. He believed in the best of people, always tried to see the positive in things, and was, quite simply, one of the best people you had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

So, when he said something with such conviction, it was hard to disagree, hard to say no to, no matter how you felt.

A half hearted ‘hmm’ was all you could offer in response, neither agreeing nor fighting him on the matter, and resulting in an inaudible sigh from the other side of the line.

The silence that sat between you lingered on, acting like a vast gap that seemed to stretch on and on, only further dragging you into that endless aching. It hurt to be apart, to deny what you both wanted for what had to be done, but it hurt to disappoint him even more.

There was a reluctance in his tone as he spoke up once more, softly, uncertainly. “I should let you get back to it then,” the words came across forlorn, as if the certainty he had felt when dispelling your apology had faded into something sadder, something deeper, and it twinged at your heart.

You nodded in silent response, your tired mind only reminding you he couldn’t see you moments too late. “Yeah, I should try and get back to this,” you agreed, even if it sounded anything but enthusiastic. “I’ll see you when I get home,” you began, glancing over at just how ridiculous the pile still was… god only knew when you might actually get out of there. “Don’t wait up.”

Time was inching onwards, drawn out and slow moving, almost taunting you. You wanted to be getting through your work, wanted to at least feel productive, but no matter how long you pushed your way forwards, it felt like no headway was really being made. An hour had passed since you had spoken to Marcus, but it felt so much longer, especially with only one file being completed since then.

Worst of all, you truly were focused. It wasn’t as if your mind had been distracted, even if it had tried very hard to fill your thoughts with reminders of failures at every turn. You were working, and working hard, your attention only given to the work at hand, and it still didn’t seem to be enough.

You were so focused, in fact, that you didn’t even hear the doors opening, or the sounds of footsteps coming ever closer. You didn’t hear the half amused, half exasperated huff of laughter that came from the man who was making his way towards you, you didn’t even notice when his shadow danced over the paperwork before you, pulling figures away from the light as he stared down at you with an unreadable expression on his features.

No, it wasn’t until a large box landed on your notes, causing you to jump with a yelp, that you even noticed you were no longer alone.

Laughter came easier now, richer, softer, and actually noticed by you as you spun around in shock to take in the sight of one Marcus Moreno, long since changed into his casual attire, standing beside your desk, watching you with that fond smile you’d often catch from across the room.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked as you attempted to calm your racing heart. It wasn’t the question you wanted to ask, no, but somehow it seemed easier, lighter even.

“I just got here,” he spoke with that same gentleness he always seemed to have when it was just you two.

Guilt played at the edges of your thoughts, trying to tempt you forwards into those haunting thoughts and regrets, reminders that he had to come back to work to see you, to spend time with you, when you’d only just moved in with him about a month beforehand. It shouldn’t have been this hard, you shouldn’t have been forced to be so distant, he deserved better.

But as much as the guilt and anguish tried to take over your mind, it had no real chance, not when that dimple was showing, not when you could breathe in his smell. No, Marcus Moreno was like a warden, keeping the negative thoughts at bay, as if they couldn’t bare to even try to cross him, as if they simply didn’t belong in the same room as him.

He was a hero, everyone knew that, hell, he was the leader of the heroics, but it was this, his very own superpower, far more special than his control over metal, that made him a hero to you. He held a power unlike any other, the power to let you breathe.

Even with exhaustion playing at your mind, even with the insurmountable piles of work still ahead of you, he could calm you with just his presence, and you would never cease to be in awe of that.

“Break time?” he raised his brows in question, pointing towards the box which had both given you such a startle, and been entirely ignored since his arrival.

You hadn’t even bothered to really look at it, so used to things being thrown on your desk throughout the day that seeing whatever offending item could have been added to your pile hadn’t even been a consideration. But now, with the embarrassment beginning to ease, and the delicious smells wafting in your direction, you could finally acknowledge the large pizza box that demanded your attention away from your papers.

“Marcus I-”

“No, you’re taking a break,” he shook his head as he interrupted what was no doubt about to be a slew of sad excuses for why you didn’t have time for this. “You’ve been working your butt off all day, it’s dinner time for goodness sake. We’re going to sit down, have some pizza, talk about something that’s not work related, and then, if you really want to finish whatever you have to do, well, we’ll do that together.”

There it was again, that tone that left no room for argument.

You didn’t want to bring this into your personal life, you wanted to shelter him from the crap your work often brought about, but how could you when he was right there, offering to help you through it?

“This is hardly the kind of work the leader of the Heroics should be bothering with,” you tried to laugh it off, gesturing to the reports and receipts that were littering your table with a wonky smile, but even that faded away as those deep eyes stole your attention as they often did.

It wasn’t sympathy or empathy, wasn’t anger nor irritation, in fact, none of the emotions you expected to see swam in that chocolate gaze. No, it was simply acceptance.

Pulling a chair from the next desk over, he plopped down with none of the finesse your colleagues were used to seeing in the news reports. No, this was a side reserved for you and Missy alone. The side that was clumsy and awkward. The side that had brought you flowers he saw on the side of the road when coming to pick you up for a date, not knowing it was actually a weed. The side that had managed to fall off the couch, not once, but twice during movie night early into your relationship.

This wasn’t Marcus Moreno, leader of the heroics. This was Marcus Moreno, your boyfriend, a term you had grown to increasingly love even with the juvenility of it.

This was your personal hero, the man who turned up at your desk when you had to work late to make sure you ate, took a break, and weren’t overworking yourself.

“Babe, I don’t know what you think I do every day, but I’m more than used to dealing with boring reports,” and somehow his words came far easier than yours, pulling the corners of your lips into something akin to an actual smile.

It was far too easy to smile around him, and he took far too much joy in dragging a smile onto your features as often as possible.

“But, that’s an after dinner problem. As is the fact your boss isn’t the one staying back late to deal with her own issues,” he huffed slightly, before shaking his head as if the action would literally shake the thoughts from his mind. “For now, we eat like- Do you think kings would eat pizza?”

And just like that, being stuck at work for the evening didn’t feel quite so bad. Nothing really could, not when you had that ridiculous man staring at you curiously as he shoved far too much pizza into his mouth at once, pondering a question that would make a toddler proud.

No. This wasn’t bad at all.

[queenmylovely]

Hey hope you're well 😊 i think the holiday advent idea is lovely! Id like to request something that just popped into my head if you would like to write it, no worries if not 😊 So I was thinking Queen are doing an album release party which also happens to be on new years eve and you work for a music magazine and have to interview the band members, you're nervous because its Queen and obviously you're a huge fan, and have a crush on rog 😁 and you bump into him before the interview and he has his flirt on but you're trying to stay professional because you know you have to interview him later, and then after the interview (which incldues a few suggestive comments and a bit of teasing) you bump into each other again on the dancefloor just as the clock strikes 12! 😁 sorry if its a bit cheesy but i think you could put your own cool spin on it😁 💕

bonus holiday advent post! since this was nye themed, I figured dec 30th was the perfect day to post it. Anyway, I really liked this and had fun with it so I hope you like it as well! (no warnings, 1.9k)

☆☆☆

Walking into a giant ballroom filled with lights, music, and people, you tried to take it all in and calm yourself with a deep breath. There were quite a few people you recognized and many you didn’t, but none of them would recognize you. This was your first big assignment for your magazine, after your editor had finally seen your worth when you filled in for a sick coworker at a Fleetwood Mac concert a month ago. Now, you were at a release party for Queen’s new album, News of the World, which they had decided to host on New Year’s Eve.

It had been one thing to go to a Fleetwood Mac concert and do a review, but going to a release party and actually interviewing the band was a whole nother level, and you were trying not to freak out. Not only your dignity, but your career, depended on you being able to hold yourself together professionally before, during, and after the interview. All of this was going to be harder as well considering you had a massive crush on the drummer, Roger Taylor. You had yet to see any of the members of the band on your initial survey of the room, a fact that you were glad for, and hoped that you could keep a relative distance until the time of the interview.

As per the directions of your editor, you had gone out and bought a nice outfit for the occasion with the company credit card. You had tucked your press pass into your clutch as soon as you were through the doors in a further effort to fit in, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter for the same reason.

Skirting around the edges of the room until you came to a group of high tables without chairs, you stood at one, content to people watch and get a good feel for the energy of the party so that you would be able to convey it well through your writing. Most people’s clothes ranged from cocktail party to black tie, though a couple were wearing something akin to circus performer costumes. This would have been confusing, but you had read and heard lots of far stranger things about parties hosted by rockstars, so you just accepted it.

You had finished your glass of champagne a few minutes ago but had decided not to get another so you could stay alert for the interview when you saw someone walking over to you out of the corner of your eye. Turning to greet them with a smile, your stomach dropped when you realized who it was: Roger Taylor.

“Hi,” you said, hoping you sounded normal while you fell to pieces on the inside.

“Hi,” he said with an easy smile. He held up one of the two champagne flutes in his hands, “Looked like you needed a top up.”

You bit your lip and hesitated for a second, but figured you just wouldn’t drink it all and accepted, clinking your glass with his and taking a sip.

“So, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, looking you up and down in a way that made your cheeks feel hot. “What’s your name?”

You told him just your first name, in case he knew who was interviewing him later. Even though you were completely flustered, you were going to use this opportunity to see what he was like not during an interview.

“I’m Roger,” he replied.

“I know,” you told him and he smirked, but since it was playful you laughed.

“So do you always stand off to the side alone at parties?” he asked as if he were just curious, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “I like observing.”

“Hmm, I’m more of a partaker, but I’ll give it a try,” Roger said, coming around to the side of the table you were on and standing right next to you, the front of his left shoulder just inches behind your right one. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off of him but took another deep breath in to center yourself.

“So what exactly are you observing?” Roger leaned in to ask, his breath tickling the hair at the nape of your neck.

“Actually,” you said, turning to him quickly so he had to tilt his head back to avoid knocking your heads together. You suppressed a laugh, “You could probably help me out. I was wondering who those people are.”

Roger reluctantly broke eye contact with you to follow where your hand was gesturing, making a sound of understanding when he recognized who they were, “oh yeah, a couple years ago Fred went to some circus afterparty or something and ever since he’s invited whatever circus performers are in town to our parties because ‘we need them to offset all the boring executives.’”

He did a bit of an impression of Freddie Mercury that made you laugh, which he seemed to like.

“You know, I haven’t seen any of your bandmates in the crowd yet,” you said, hoping more conversation would distract you from how close he was and how interested he was making it clear he was.

“Well let’s see, last I saw Deaky he was up by the speakers; the man loves to dance. And Brian was over by the bar when I left him. Freddie could honestly be anywhere, but actually he’s wearing almost exactly the same color blue as you,” Roger told you, lightly touching the fabric of your dress, his palm just barely resting on your waist.

He watched your reaction, waiting to see what you would do next, whether you would welcome the contact or brush him off. You looked at his hand, then up at him, feeling his fingertips tense ever so slightly when he saw the look in your eyes. But you weren’t quite sure what to do; on one hand Roger Taylor’s hand was on your waist, on the other, you were supposed to be interviewing him very soon and any sort of fraternization wouldn’t be very professional.  

Before you could decide, someone walked towards you and you looked over to see who it was, Roger withdrawing his hand at the same time.

It was the man who you had set up the interview with, Jim something? You weren’t sure that he had seen Roger’s hand, but you really hoped he hadn’t.

“It’s time,” he said with a small smile, gesturing a hand towards a pair of couches you could see on the other end of the short wall of the room.

“Can’t the interview wait Miami, I’m in the middle of a conversation,” Roger asked, a bit of whine making its way into his voice.

“I actually was talking to her, but yes, you’ll have to come along as well,” Miami replied shortly, turning and walking away, not waiting for you two to follow.

Roger turned to you, his eyebrows practically to his hairline, “You’re the reporter?”

You started walking and Roger kept up pace with you, “Yes.”

He laughed wryly, “Oh you’re good, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who approached me, actually,” you reminded him with the raise of a brow.

“Well-- I--��� Roger spluttered, trying to find his way out but failing before you had reached the rest of the band.

You smiled brightly and introduced yourself to the other three, sitting opposite of them on the other couch. They exchanged glances between you and Roger, especially when he elected to sit next to you rather than squish in with the three of them, but didn’t say anything.

From there, the interview actually went really well. Roger didn’t seem to harbor any resentment that you didn’t tell him you were going to interview him. If anything, he was more open with his flirting, making little quips and innuendos that led to a lot of ducking your head. A couple times the others intervened with a “Sorry about him, darling” from Freddie, a couple of pointed throat clearings from Brian, and a somewhat subtle kick in the shin from John. Truthfully, you wouldn’t have minded what he was saying except that you were trying to act professional in front of his bandmates and their manager, as well as get your story.

But overall, the four of you got along great, falling into a good conversation rather than an awkward interview. They appreciated that you asked informed questions about their music, which you were happy about because you had done a lot of research in preparation. Another favorite topic was fashion and you and Freddie spent a good five minutes raving about the boutique you had bought the dress from. It was kinda sad to be done with the interview, but Miami intervened, telling the band they had to get back to meet with some executives.

While they went and did that, you went to the hallway, doing a quick happy dance at how well it went before finding the phone and calling your editor.

---

Brian and Freddie were taking the brunt of the interest from the executives as they had written the most songs, so Deaky turned to Roger and nodded towards the hallway where you were visible, talking on the phone.

“Bet she’s telling her editor all about how Roger the womanizer wouldn’t stop hitting on her during the interview,” he said sardonically.

Roger’s smile from seeing your excited gestures fell, “What?”

“I’ll just say that Fred and Bri will be disappointed if the interview isn’t focused on our music,” Deaky said, a warning in his tone.

Roger swallowed and nodded in understanding.

---

By the time your editor had let you off the phone, it was only about ten minutes to midnight. You made your way through the excited crowd to the packed bar, hoping to grab a drink in time for the New Year. It was taking a while but you were still smiling to yourself about the interview when you felt a tap on the shoulder.

It was Roger, once again holding two flutes of champagne.

“Need a drink?” he asked, his smile almost a bit shy.

You grinned back and accepted, cheersing and taking a drink with him.  

“So--”

“So--”

“Oh go ahead,” Roger told you.

“I was just going to say sorry that I didn’t tell you I was a reporter, if you want anything to be off the record, just tell me what and I won’t print it,” you told him quickly. “What were you gonna say?”

Roger huffed a laugh, “Just that I’m sorry if I distracted from the interview. I should’ve let you do your job.”

“I think a lie of omission and unprofessionalism are about equal offences. No hard feelings?” you asked, looking up at him.

He nodded, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You grasped it and couldn’t help but notice how warm he still was, and how the calluses on his fingers from drumming felt against your hands. Then Roger pulled you forward by your hand and you stumbled, laughing, until you had to let go to steady yourself with a hand on his chest.

You looked up at him, searching his gaze. His hand came back to your waist tentatively and you nodded, almost imperceptible, but he saw and a small smile graced his lips. Then you heard the crowd start the countdown around you and you smiled wide.

They got to one and yelled Happy New Year!, the sound barely reaching your ears as Roger’s lips pressed to yours, tasting sweet like champagne.

★★★

tagging bc it’s long: @drowseoftaylor @caborhapch @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @theblossomknows   

[bluerose5]

The Ghost of Paradise (Exile AU)

Chapter 2: By the Minute

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,796

Tags: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Scott Ryder, Reyes Vidal, Reyder, Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Exile, Flirting, Secrets, Complicated Relationships, Eventual Romance, Rivalry, Engineer/Mechanic Scott Ryder, Jealousy

[Read it here as well on ao3.]

“Our agents say that you were speaking with Reyes Vidal at Kralla’s,” Nola said. She didn’t even give Scott a chance to breathe. The second he was through their gates —which were still a work in progress— Scott was ambushed. “Do I even want to know what you have planned?”

Scott grinned at her.

“Why must I always have something planned?” Scott asked. “Reyes is a good friend. For all you know, we could have been catching up over drinks.”

“‘Could have’ doesn’t mean that you were.”

“Fair enough.”

As she fell into step at his side, Nola led him around while they spoke, appraising their growing community with pride.

“Scott, as governor of Paradise, should I not be made aware of any transactions that might affect us?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Tell me what I need to know then. Nothing more, nothing less.”

As if he could refuse her insistent prodding. Every time he left, he always forgot how relentless she could be upon his return, but only when it pertained to matters that could have both predictable and unforeseen effects in their future.

In a way, Scott was grateful to have someone with that type of dedication on their side. They’re going to need it.

“I swear, it wasn’t anything particularly groundbreaking,” Scott promised. “I gave him some seeds from our latest project in exchange for a long-ranged scanner modification. That’s it.”

“Hmm… A decent enough trade.”

“Glad to have your approval.”

Of course, it was too much to hope that she would leave it at that.

“What is it for?” Nola asked.

Scott knew from experience not to lie to her face.

He sighed. “I’m going to scout out some of the Remnant ruins nearby. See if I can get a read on their bots, or a turret if I’m lucky.”

She cocked her head to the side and considered that for a moment, lips pursed.

“Promise to be careful then. I know you would gladly give your life to protect any of these people, but we don’t need you to throw it away because of pure recklessness,” she reminded him. “If it comes down to an altercation, we would rather have you here than some lousy turret schematics. Besides—” She shrugged. “You would probably be the only one who could make sense of them anyways. You and that stupidly genius brain of yours.”

Scott scoffed, suddenly uncomfortable as he shifted in place.

“Got it from my parents, or so they say.”

Ellen and Alec Ryder. The woman who literally gave her life to perfect biotic implants and the man who created a whole new type of AI. Quite the legacy to live up to.

Good thing Scott wasn’t living his life based on their achievements. Andromeda was a whole different playing field compared to the Milky Way. The work he was doing with Paradise was incredible in its own right. At least, he liked to think so.

If he could change at least one person’s life for the better in Andromeda, then he considered that a success.

Based on the feedback he was receiving from the residents, he was doing a damn good job, and that was enough for him.

But Nola had a point.

People relied on Scott now. As much as he was willing to dive headfirst into danger, he needed to refrain from doing so.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised her. “If things start to go south, I’ll ping you and Nakamoto.”

“Thank you,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Scott hated to worry her so, but there was that one other matter.

“If it’s any consolation to you,” Scott said, trying for a lighter tone yet failing, “Reyes offered to accompany me on the trip.”

Nola stopped short, and Scott skidded to a halt. She narrowed her eyes at him with a sneer curling at her lip.

“No, that is not of any consolation to me. Scott Ryder, you know how he is.”

“Charming and witty?” Scott tried for his best smile, but Nola wasn’t buying into that bullshit, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Flighty and untrustworthy, especially once his back is against the wall.” Then, she amended her statement, taking on a slightly accusatory tone. “That’s assuming you didn’t pay any of his ridiculous service fees.”

“Puh-lease.” Scott chuckled. “If anyone should be spending their credits, Reyes should be the one paying me for my company. I’m a treasure not many can afford.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nola snorted, “but at least you know your worth.”

“They say that time is money, after all. I’ll make sure to charge him by the minute while we’re together.”

“Please do, and make sure to get a picture of his face once you show him that bill.”

Scott was only happy to see her smile again.

“Will do,” he said.

“While you’re at it, drop a few hints here and there that Paradise might be looking to contract out some exclusive deals with top-rate smugglers. Leave out the ‘top-rate’ part, of course. Can’t have that going to the poor man's head.”

“His ego is already insufferable enough without the compliments,” Scott agreed, “but isn’t the whole point of secrecy for you and I not to draw attention to our connections here?”

“A woman can dream though, can’t she?” Nola sighed.

“So much for Reyes being ‘untrustworthy.’”

Nola didn’t even hesitate, brushing off his attempt to use her words against her.

“Skill is skill, and we don’t exactly have the people or resources to be picky right now. Everything is a commodity on Kadara, even integrity. If he betrays us, we’ll deal with him, simple as that.”

Right.

Still, it was laughable to think that the Charlatan would take on a contract with some of his direct competitors.

Although, that sounds like exactly the type of stunt that Reyes would pull. More than likely, he’d have an ulterior motive for doing so, but Scott could see it happening.

Did he support the idea, though? Definitely not. 

“I don’t know,” Scott muttered. “I couldn’t see Reyes limiting his business to one group, especially if we’re only starting to get our feet wet.”

“You would know how he operates better than I, but I suppose that attitude is understandable. Disappointing, but understandable.” Nola grumbled. “Well, if nothing else, tell him the least he could do is give you a discount.”

“Trust me, I’ve been working that angle for a while. No such luck.”

“Greedy bastard.”

As they finished up their routine patrol, they soon switched direction, heading towards Nakamoto's clinic to conclude their meeting. There, Paradise’s leaders convened. They reviewed the requests that their colonists posted on the message boards around the settlement. Together, they decided on what matters they could approve for certain and which ones would be placed on the docket for a community vote. After that, they moved on to logistics, including topics such as requisitions and inventory.

To draw the meeting to a close, Nola relayed their latest numbers for colonial development. Water production was steady. However, food stores would be struggling soon to keep up with the recent influx of residents, so security personnel and all of those who knew their way around a gun were strongly encouraged to increase hunting and foraging activities while out on patrols or while performing their daily tasks. A roster will be posted on the local message boards to look for volunteers who would like to fill a full-time hunter-gatherer role.

Hopefully, what few angaran scientists they had amongst their people would be able to process their first batch of nutrient paste after their next harvest. It wasn’t exactly the tastiest solution available, but it was a necessary one if they were to survive.

In terms of population, there was a rapid spike in enrollment when word spread that Paradise actually got shit done and held true to their promises, but they expected the effect to eventually plateau once people settled in. Angara enrollment was up at the moment, especially after Scott appointed Nola as governor, and they have even seen a few Initiative members join up, having made the journey all the way from the Nexus to be reunited with friends, family, and loved ones.

Scott asked that they spread word for people to be warm and welcoming. The request probably wasn’t necessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Their community would make no friends by tearing people apart, and they prided themselves on being close and tight-knit.

It was important that they not only claimed to be but that they acted like it as well, backing up their words with actions.

Security assignments were then posted. Patrols would have to be upped to make up for an increase that they were seeing with gang-related attacks. Once automated security measures were in place, they would revisit the matter in order to assess which sectors needed heightened security. Emergency drills would be held at the end of the week.

With all of their needs addressed, Nola called the meeting to a close.

Once the meeting was adjourned, Scott approached Nola and their Head of Security, requesting a full census to be done within a day's time. Scott needed names, numbers, faces. Each citizen’s profile needed to be updated within their database.

If Scott was going to make an effective defense matrix for the colony, then he would prefer to program an IFF system that only a select few could remotely activate. For the system to work as intended, all of the colonists' photo IDs and biometric profiles would need to be kept current and constantly updated in real-time.

Nola promised to see to it that Scott got what he needed, shooing him off.

Apparently, he was hovering, but Scott could take a hint. He could tell when he was no longer needed, and he knew that Nola worked best when he wasn’t constantly worrying after her like a mother hen.

Departing from the settlement, Scott cloaked himself the second he went beyond the boundaries of their walls.

He was almost halfway back to Port when he received a message from Reyes. Figuring that he was in the clear, Scott made sure that the coast was clear before deactivating his cloak.

Pulling up his omni-tool’s interface, Scott opened the message. Along with it, there was a set of coordinates, sent from Reyes’s location.

R: Think I’m ready to cash in on those shuttle repairs. Wouldn’t mind the company right about now.

Scott’s fingers hovered above the holographic keys, contemplating his next move before deciding to hell with it.

S: Miss me that much?

R: Am I that obvious?

He didn’t even give Scott a chance to reply before he sent another message.

R: If it’s still in question though, let me put it bluntly.

R: I want to see you.

Scott pursed his lips, cursing his stupid heart for racing in response.

S: Give me a few. I’ll be there.

R: I’ll be looking forward to it.

Before he could embarrass himself, Scott closed out his messages. He quickly made his way to Port, grabbing his bag of tools and gear before venturing back out into the badlands.

From there, Scott followed the coordinates to a cliff, overlooking a nearby valley. The sun was slowly but surely sinking down over the horizon, lightning up the sky in array of pinks and oranges and reds.

Reyes was already waiting for him by the time he arrived, the shuttle powered down for the moment.

However, the second Scott noticed that Reyes was facing away from him, he instantly slowed his walk to a crawl. He bent his knees into a slight crouch and shifted his weight with each step, toe to heel as he snuck his way up behind him.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”

Scott delighted in watching him him jump in shock, only to have a blade at his throat in the blink of an eye.

As soon as Reyes realized who it was, all the blood drained from his face.

“S–Scott!”

Hands raised in surrender, Scott raised an eyebrow at him incredulously.

“You know, I was kind of expecting a warmer welcome,” he admitted, careful of the firaan's sharp edge. Keema must have given it to him. “Have to say, though, would it be weird if I was a little turned on right now?”

Reyes scoffed.

Trailing the blade along the outline of his throat, Scott swallowed thickly when he eventually felt its pointed tip press underneath his chin. Reyes tilted it up, and Scott followed, lest he risk being cut.

Their eyes met, and Reyes smirked.

Bastard was toying with him.

Retracting his knife, Reyes sheathed the firaan while Scott tried to catch his breath. The goosebumps left behind in the dagger's wake soon receded, yet a warm heat lingered.

“Tsk.” Reyes huffed at him. “Ryder—”

Uh-oh, back to last name basis. From experience, that meant trouble.

“You know better than to sneak up on me!” Reyes scolded.

“I do,” Scott said, not even afraid to acknowledge it, “but I love getting a rise out of you.”

“What if I would have hurt you?”

“But you didn’t.”

Scowling, Reyes placed his hands on his hips. Shaking his head, he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“Scott, what the hell am I going to do with you?” he asked, releasing his nose, half-fond and half-frustrated.

“I’m sure we could think of something.”

Reyes hummed in agreement, watching Scott approach the shuttle with his bag tossed over his shoulder. He dropped it to the ground, then immediately got to work.

Watching him closely, Reyes leaned against the side of his shuttle with a thoughtful look.

“Maybe I could take you on a date?”

While Reyes tried to sound confident, his attempt ultimately failed. Instead of forming the words into a bold offer, they fell flat, sounding more like an uncertain question.

Scott stopped what he was doing. He spared Reyes a brief glance, only to return his attention to the task at hand, hiding his flushed face.

“Wouldn’t Zia disapprove?” Scott asked, being rougher than necessary as he practically took apart the control panel.

Envy curled inside him, spreading like an infection through his bloodstream. There was a sharp squeeze around his heart as it was encased in the feeling.

Reyes called him out on it, way too perceptive for his own good.

“Ryder, are you jealous?” Reyes chuckled.

Scott glared, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender.

“Just asking.”

“And if I am?” Scott retorted.

“Then I’d have to put your mind at ease.”

“It’s really none of my busin—”

Reyes closed the distance between them. Reaching out, he cupped Scott’s cheek, brushing his thumb along his bottom lip. Weak as he was, Scott leaned into his touch for a split second. His eyes threatened to flutter closed, but he had to remain firm about this one matter, if nothing else.

As he started to pull away, Reyes said, “There is nothing going on between Zia and I.” Scott froze into place. “We went out for drinks a few times, nothing more.”

“You swear?” Scott asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I swear.” His voice grew heated, impassioned. “I might be a bad man when it comes to many things, but I wouldn’t ever lie about that to you.”

Scott considered that before replying, “Well, like I said—” He cleared his throat, eyes averted. “ It’s not really any of my business, so I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

He trailed off, uncertain why he was acting that way.

Reyes furrowed his brow.

“No need to be sorry. If you had crossed a line, then I would have said so.”

“Even then, you’re not mine. Your relationships are your own.”

“I could be.”

Scott regarded him skeptically.

“Could be what?”

“Yours,” Reyes answered instantly, staring intently at Scott. “Just say the word.”

If only they weren’t both keeping secrets from each other at the moment, then Scott might take him up on that.

Turns out, being with the Charlatan would be a huge conflict of interests. Who could’ve guessed?

Silence settled between them. It was as if the whole world was awaiting Scott’s answer with bated breath. Time itself seemed to stand still in anticipation.

“I—” He struggled to find the right words. “Give me time.”

That’s all he could ask.

Reyes’s hopeful expression fell, and that alone felt like a stab to the chest. Scott's breathing trembled a little, as if it was becoming difficult to continue drawing in one breath after another.

God, he didn’t want to hurt him, but neither of them could really afford to rush into things half-cocked.

Scott copied his earlier gesture, reaching out to cup Reyes’s cheek. The change was almost instantaneous, how the tension drained away, only for Reyes to melt into Scott’s touch. He leaned into his hand, starved for affection.

Scott swallowed thickly, unable to pull away, let alone take his eyes off of him for even a second.

“All I ask is that you give me time,” Scott repeated. “That’s not a ‘no.’ I just need to think a few things over, iron out a few details.”

Reyes listened, then agreed.

“Alright.” He pulled away with a small, private smile. “As if I could deny anyone such a reasonable request, especially you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Returning his attention to the shuttle, Scott got back to work. After all, he didn’t want to neglect the poor bird, and it appeared that the shuttle was in desperate need of a little TLC.

His diagnostics only confirmed his suspicions.

When a couple of sparks resulted from his prodding, Scott chastised Reyes for mistreating their baby. Reyes grew defensive, both of them falling back to old habits as they bickered.

This was the type of work that Scott did on the Nexus after he got sidelined and shafted. Systems repairs, shuttle repairs, routine maintenance… That sorta thing.

It was how he met Reyes to begin with. Few pilots had the energy to hang around and talk shop with Scott while he worked, especially since a lot of them had only recently returned from failed colonization efforts. Understandably, most people didn’t want to entertain idle conversation after watching their friends die out in the field.

That was fine by Scott, but Reyes had always gone out of his way —even then— to make sure that Scott had anything and everything that he needed.

They might have taken his shuttle out on a few joyrides together, gotten in trouble for wasting fuel, but Scott wouldn’t trade that time they spent together for anything in the galaxy.

Even now, it felt natural to settle back into their old routine. While Scott worked, Reyes watched, and they talked about anything and everything.

Time passed, and Scott only got deeper into the repairs and modifications. Despite the setting sun, he still broke a sweat, a light sheen glistening upon his skin.

Eventually, he had to take off his shirt, leaving him in a plain tank top that quickly got dirty along with his hands.

Swiping at the perspiration beading at his hairline, Scott grunted as he came to a stopping point for now. He reached for his bag, but what he was seeking wasn’t there.

“Shit.”

Turning towards Reyes, Scott huffed at him.

The bastard wasn’t even trying to hide his staring. Face flushed, he was biting teasingly at his bottom lip, brown eyes dark as he watched Scott through a hooded gaze.

Getting to his feet, Scott crossed his arms over his chest.

“See something you like?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re shameless.” Scott shook his head in disbelief, tsking under his breath. “You’re just as bad as that one time when Gil Brodie asked for a ‘second opinion’ on some fix he made. Turns out, I ended up doing almost all of the work while he sat back and watched.”

“Smart man,” Reyes noted, giving Scott a thorough once-over. “This Gil must have great tastes.”

Scott snorted.

“Flattery will get you nowhere. If you really want to make me happy, then you would grab your water bottle for me.”

“Did you forget yours?” Reyes asked, slightly concerned. After all, being caught out in the badlands without water was just asking for dehydration or heat stroke.

Nevertheless, he got the bottle for him. Scott placed his hands over Reyes’s, shrugging with a flustered blush.

“Yeah,” Scott sighed. “I thought I had packed it! I don’t know where it could’ve wandered off to.”

“Perhaps you were in a bit of a rush to get here,” Reyes said, trailing off suggestively.

Scott figured that he would allow that.

“Perhaps,” he agreed, “but what else do I keep you around for, if not the water? You wouldn’t want the guy repairing your shuttle to get dehydrated, right?” Scott smirked. “I could get delirious, and it would be very unfortunate if I just so happened to forget to install an essential component.”

Reyes gasped dramatically, relinquishing the water to Scott, who was quick to take a swig.

“You always have to watch out for the pretty ones,” Reyes grumbled. “Always causing trouble, keeping secrets…”

There it was again. That sense of knowing , that sense that both of them were holding something back. It was left unsaid. Neither confronted the other about it, but they knew that the secrets were there.

Before the sudden lag in conversation could get too awkward, Scott took another swig of water and asked, “So, you think I’m pretty?”

Reyes chuckled, glad for the change of subject.

“Kian seems to think so,” he muttered. Leave it to him to avoid the question. “He keeps asking when you’re going to start working for him at Tartarus.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“As a dancer?” He had to make sure he was hearing right.

“Yep.”

“Could you imagine?” Scott scoffed. “Me, shaking my ass for money? A tempting offer. It would probably be more profitable than the odd jobs I take on here and there, but I think I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Damn,” Reyes sighed, “what a shame.”

Scott raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“You saying you would have come to watch me?”

“Not only that, but I would have paid to watch you,” Reyes said, “especially if I could have gotten a private show out of it.”

Scott tried to imagine it, grinning in spite of himself.

“What’s so funny?” Reyes wondered.

“Nothing, nothing,” Scott said, brushing off his concern. “That just made me remember a thought that I had earlier.”

“What about?”

“Oh, you know.” Scott gestured vaguely. “Just that I should start charging you a fee for when we spend time together.”

Reyes winked at him.

“It would be worth every credit.”

[doakaptan]

i think i finally get mad men and im not happy about it

Two weeks ago I started watching Mad Men for an assignment and accidentally became obsessed with a show that had no premise other than Don Draper bedding various women. 5 seasons in, I bought myself a mechanical keyboard just so that I can live the aesthetic of the show while writing this.

(I will write this post assuming you have read my first blog post about this show but you don’t have to worry about missing any info because the first blog post was me predicting an unpredictable show and cursing at characters)

So turns out, I did not really figure out anything by only watching the first seven episodes. No surprise there. But by diving deep into the first 2 seasons I realized that Mad Men is actually deeper than it lets on and the cheapening effect of its over-sexualized characters don’t really do a great job at hiding it. Actually after a while sex in the show is more symbolism than actual sex. It especially signifies a mental state that is special to Don and you actually start feeling sorry for him whenever a sex scene comes up. 

Well, Don Draper is a villain as well as the hero or to put it more accurately, a tragic hero and as the seasons progress you develop a love hate relationship with him. And if you binge watch 5 seasons and use all your spare time to think about it, you start relating to Don. Surprisingly Don had all the odds against him and lived an awful life without ever doing anything to prompt it. As I learned more about his life I actually started getting mad at the alternative reality of Mad Men because goddamn let the man breathe and be happy for once. 

At the start I was mad about him cheating on Betty with every single powerful women that looked his way and I am still mad, you can’t really excuse that, but as their relationship was revealed more and more I kind of started to understand why he preferred spending the nights somewhere else. Betty is incredibly hard to put up with and no offense but even I’m not sticking around for her character development. She is overbearing, childish, overall a pain in the ass. If I knew her in real life I would have thought that she was pampered too much and was unable to grow up and get a grip as a result. She has mommy issues though and I respect that. There are also moments that she shines and she especially prefers shining only after they get a divorce and when she knows she will get Don’s approval. Before I lose track and continue talk about Betty know that Don is always worse and let me wrap up his analysis. 

Don is, in my opinion, someone who experiences love by avoiding it. (A love avoidant may be the term but I am not really sure). He marries Betty because he falls in love too hard and starts avoiding her right after their marriage, he likes the artist woman too much so he leaves her to be with someone she is more compatible with, same thing with the most of the women he chases. I only realized how hard he avoids the people he likes during season 4 when he decides to marry his secretary (who mind you spend like 4 days with him in Los Angeles to take care of his children) rather than building a healthy relationship with Faye who was probably the best person he could have ended up with. This also relates back to his self-destructive tendencies. He never truly believes that he deserved anything so he makes sure that he ruins it.

He excessively drinks and smokes, cuts ties on a whim, cheats and only ever feels truly like himself while he’s with Anna (who dies later in the series). Anna is and was the friend he needed all along. Even in his stolen identity Anna was the only person who accepted him as who he is and didn’t leave his side even in his darkest times. The man literally went to Korea by himself to defend an area and came back with a stolen id and lots of trauma and adopted himself into the life of her (the wife of the person he stole his identity from) and made sure she lived a life full of love. He shines the most when he can be himself but his old identity is and probably will always be an enigma to him. 

I think he’s slowly starting to find his way and make up for his mistakes but since he is used to self-destructing his set backs get more and more brutal each time. I start relating to him at this point the most. Relapsing in situations like these is brutal and it always feels like it is the last time and for once, for Don, it is the last time. He starts writing to understand himself and starts doing things like, regularly going to swimming or getting into a healthy relationship with someone who will be with him and help him through his ups and downs. He relapses when he decides to marry his secretary and from then on his relapse will only get worse but I believe that he is getting somewhere…

I will update this post once and for all, when I finish the entire series but for now I weirdly have hope that everything will end well for Don. 

And since I overstayed my welcome by going way over the word-limit I will speed run the thoughts I have about the other characters.

Betty, despite my comments earlier is actually misunderstood and deserves more than she gets. She truly loved Don and did everything in her power to make him happy. She even left her very successful modeling career to get married with him while SHE DESERVED BETTER THAN HIM. Her parenting is questionable but it can be overlooked because right now (in the middle of a global pandemic) we can all agree that being stuck with our family 24/7 is not ideal and we have been doing it for only a year while she has been doing it for more than a decade with more children adding up. LEAVE BETTY DRAPER/FRANCIS ALONE. 

(Also, watch the scene where she shoots at her neighbor’s pigeons because he threatened little Sally with killing her dog then talk to me about good parenting…)

Pete Campbell, turns out I really like him and his work ethic. I wish he ended up with Peggy but he is doing just fine with Trudy good for him. good. for. him. Thank god they didn’t follow up Trudy’s ‘old lover’, ‘the one that got away' plot line because it would probably be the thing I hated the most about watching this show. She is not an interesting character and she’ll never be. Good for Pete though, good for Pete. He never gets anything and I don’t know if he deserves getting it because we are not that exposed to him. But he is loyal to the ones he loves and even though his morals can get a bit questionable at times he is hardworking and will build up a great life as far as I’m concerned. (And if he doesn’t you can find me on ao3 re-writing his plot because I am no longer appreciating Pete-slander in this house).

Peggy. GOOD FOR HER GOOD FOR HER. LEAVE THAT DAMN CATHOLIC CHURCH AND HANG OUT WITH WANNABE REALEST OF THE REALEST ARTISTS. Also love the gay girl she should have ended up with her instead of the wannabe artist who only talks about capitalism. Peggy’s job is capitalism their relationship don’t really make sense.

Joan… Joan deserved someone who treated her right but fell into the lap of a charming locker-room-mouthed jock, who tried to be a surgeon and failed then tried to be a psychiatrist and failed and finally got drafted for Vietnam (ngl I hope he dies there). Unpopular opinion she should have ended up with Roger because while I hate ‘the perfect girl fixes boy with problems’ trope I would have eat it up. I like them together and surprisingly they are good together. I think she is the only one smart enough to actually lead cis-het white men who think they own everything because they are men, within their company and she deserves more than she gets with the shit she deals with. 

On a last note, the topics Mad Men deals with sometimes can get a bit triggering or upsetting but I think it is worth a watch.

[teacup-crow]

Fizzy

The first time Krejjh met Brian they saved his life. Here’s that story.

Words: 1100

******

A few days after they defect from their platoon, the greatest war humanity has ever known comes to an end not with a bang, but with a whimper. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in Neuzo is electric with joy, and it tingles Krejjh’s skin as they down another glass of… well, they’re trying to find out what.

“Shrel veeda agat?” They try, waving a hand at the transparent bubbling liquid. The human bartender, a person with an accent far too strong for Krejjh’s barely-there Earth-English, shakes his head uselessly. “Mmmm… has what? Cup has what?”

“Oh! That’s lemonade. Well, the closest we can get to it out here; the Americans are pretty unconvinced by it but it seems popular with everyone else, as well as your lot...”

“Lemonade,” they take another sip appreciatively, understanding the first three words of the answer and trying for the right question word as they wave another free hand. “Veedo... veedo... why! Lemonade has…” they gesture uselessly, miming the bubbles popping. “What, why?”

At the awkward and apologetic shrug they receive, Krejjh sighs. Breesht! They really need a translator, and sooner rather than later.

Pocketing the little umbrella from the drink, they down it and drop a handful of coins on the table. Few places in Neuzo deal solely in credit - hard cash is far less easy for the IGR to track, and more difficult to fake. It’s helpful for someone with no ID, but human, physical forms of money don’t feel real to Krejjh, all those little slivers of metal imprinted with stars and dates and numbers. Consequently, the supply of it in their pockets is rapidly dwindling. They probably need to deal with that problem sooner than later too.

Still, for now, back to the motel and to trying not to ruminate too hard on the choices that led them to wandering this collection of space stations with no plan and no idea what to do.

It’s a street scuffle that catches their attention just a few blocks from the bar. Words which are Earthen, but not English, and distinctly threatening -

“Coglione! Sei stupido?!”

There are other humans who hear it too, but they rapidly disperse. Krejjh steps a little closer in overwhelming curiosity.

Three men, in cool black jackets Krejjh immediately wants to get their hands on, have backed another into a wall with a knife against his neck. He looks a little bruised up, as if he tried to escape from them and failed miserably. He also doesn’t look like a particular target for mugging or intimidation - he’s so skinny even by human standards, in baggy clothes, glasses, fluffy gold-brown hair and freckles that scream civilian and young. How cowardly of the other humans to flee! Krejjh clenches their jaw.

“Fellas, è tutto un malinteso… io posso…”

Then, glancing round desperately for an escape route, he catches Krejjh right in the eye and says, in perfect Dwarnian:

“Ch’eth il.”

Help me, in one of its most desperate forms.

The man with the knife tenses the muscles in his upper arm, and Krejjh steps out of the shadows with a hand on their blaster and clears their throat.

There’s a few seconds of silent stand-off that stretch out until the men let their victim slump to the floor, nod, and skulk off. He crouches for a few moments, breathing rapidly, shaking with nervous laughter, words in English this time: “Oh man, I thought I was a goner.”

“You speak Dwarnian?” Krejjh says, crouching beside him, barely able to hope.

He replies in their language: “I’m pretty fluent, yeah. Dude, you just saved my life!”

“Glad I could be of assistance! The name’s Krejjh,” they say, so delighted to be having an easy conversation for the first time in days, and press a thumb to his in greeting, a custom he seems aware of.

“Kre… you’re a pilot!” He smiles, broadly, and Krejjh realises they can’t quite take their eyes away from that face. It’s dazzling. His eyes crinkle at the corners: he’s not quite as young or innocent as they first thought, and that intrigues them, too.

“You… know how our names work?” They’re smiling too. Apparently his is infectious.

“I had to write a three-thousand word paper on it, junior year of my undergrad. I’m a linguist, I, uh, work as a translator. Freelance, you know? I did some work for those guys, but as you can see, our contract’s kinda fallen through. Oh man, this is all out of order, sorry, I’m a bit… I’m Jeeter. Brian Jeeter. And wow, Krejjh, if there’s anything I can do to pay you back for that - ”

“Translatorjeeterbrianjeeter? I absolutely have a job for you! I need English lessons, and translation services, and pretty much every sort of help you can provide with understanding human languages.”

“That I can definitely provide!”

And the deal is done, like most deals in Neuzo, quickly in a back alley.

“Okay so, lesson one, squashing everything together like that is really not how English names work… like that obviously sounds good in Dwarnian but once we translate it it’s long and uh, unwieldy...”

They listen intently to his chatter as they head back to the main street. The station lights, mimicking a planetary day, are beginning to dim even further.

“Want me to walk you home?” Krejjh offers.

“I… I normally wouldn’t take you up on that, but it’d be appreciated right now. If I look like I’m under some Dwarnian protection the gang might cool off and forget about me.”

“You would be quite hard to forget,” Krejjh says, barely thinking. His cheeks and the tips of his ears turn an alarming shade of pink, like the birds back on Homeworld when they sense a threat and want to blend with the sky.

“This is my place!” He waves up at a cosy, second floor apartment. Even from here they can see the stacks of teetering books. “Swing by tomorrow whenever it suits if you like.”

“I can do that! Wait, how do I say bhren ip nokeen in Earth-English? How do I say the phrase how do I say that in Earth-English? How do I…”

“Maybe let’s go one thing at a time, yeah? Bhren ip nokeen is ‘good night’.”

“Good night, Translator Jeeter!”

“G’night, Krejjh.

“Wait, wait, one more thing.” He hangs out of the doorway, looking down at them for the first time from the steps. They suddenly feel a little shy themselves, which is pretty unusual for them. “In lemonade, what is it called when it’s bubbly? And how do they make the bubbles?”

“Dwarnians don’t have carbonated drinks? And they say we have inferior technology...”

“Oh, so… you add carbon dioxide to your beverages?!”

“When you put it like that, it sounds weird, but yeah. I think the word you’re looking for is fizzy.”

Krejjh tries it out as they walk back to their motel again, lingering on the zzzz sound, picturing the way his face made them feel, picturing the partygoing humans and their relief and joy and excitement, feeling their heart race a little faster than it should. Maybe, they decide, it’s not just drinks that can be fizzy.

*******

Notes

I remembered like halfway through this that what Europeans/Australians call lemonade and what Americans call lemonade is NOT the same, and I feel like 200 years of cultural integration and space flight wouldn’t change that. Also, Americans are actually correct here: lemonade should contain actual lemons and not be a stand-in word for 7up/Sprite. But hell, this station is full of Sicilian Mafia, it’s definitely a European part of Neuzo, don’t @ me.

The Italian conversation, according to Google Translate, is pretty much: “Asshole! Are you stupid?”... “This is all a misunderstanding, I can-”

Brian buys Krejjh a soda stream at some point. I just know it.

[littlesliceofmarvel]

manipulating a god | chpt. eight

Synopsis: Trying to break the information out of Loki during the attack of 2012 wasn’t exactly the easiest task, but it was a challenge you were willing to take head on. So, what happened when a master manipulator tried to get information from the God of Mischief?

Series warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, blood, gore

Pairings: Stark!Reader x Loki

A/N: hope you enjoy this next chapter :) it’s picking up, at last! (gif not mine)

Bruce looked down to his right hand, eyes narrowing once he noticed that he was indeed carrying the weapon. He looked back up to face the group, eyes wide and confused. You had to admit, he didn’t even seem like he remembered grabbing it.

You nearly jumped out of your bones when a loud beeping sounded from one of the computers — it signalled that the location of the Tesseract had been found.

“Oh, goodie,” you sighed sarcastically, crossing your arms and squinting to see the screen. The tension in the room was palpable and you hated it.

No one dared to speak as Bruce placed the sceptre down, “Sorry kids, you don’t get to see my party trick after all.” He walked over to the beeping computer, tense and angry. You nerves were on edge.

“You located the Tesseract?” Thor asked, his loud voice startling you. It was rather loud in the quiet room, you thought.

“I could get there fastest,” Tony raised his hand before crossing his arms. You turned over to him, nodding your head, before turning back to face Bruce.

Thor spoke up again, “The Tesseract belongs on Asgard. No human is a match for it.” He looked over to Fury, hoping the director would understand.

“We should send you to get it then,” you said, nudging your head in Thor’s direction, “I don’t want to go near that thing.”

Tony began to walk towards the doorway, mumbling something about ‘I’ll do it myself’ — until, however, he was cut off by Steve grabbing his arm.

“You’re not going alone,” Steve said, glaring at Tony.

“You’re gonna stop me?” your brother pressed, stepping closer to Steve. Both of them seemed to radiate anger and you stepped back to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

“Put on the suit, let’s find out,” Steve’s eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes thin.

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man,” Tony rebutted through gritted teeth. He seemed calmer than Steve, but you knew your brother well enough to tell he was running on a short fuse.

“Chill, divas,” you put an arm between them, “We need to work together.”

Steve ignored you, pushing your arm out of the way and stepping even closer, “Put on the suit.”

You sighed, throwing your arms in the air. There was nothing you could do to to pry these two apart. You supposed that’s what happens when you put two hotheads together, though.

“Oh, my God,” Bruce’s voice caught your attention. You looked over, stepping closer to see if you could see anything.

“What—,”

You were knocked backwards, flying through the air and crashing into a wall. An explosion had been set off, fire coming up through the grates in the floor. The entire helicarrier shook and the sound was deafening.

Shit.

You groaned, trying your best to lift your head. You placed your hand to your forehead, a small trickle of blood making its way down your face.

Your mind was fuzzy and your body felt numb as you pushed yourself up. The rest of the group was scattered — but Bruce and Natasha were gone. You looked down, spotting a massive hole in the floor, and figured they probably fell down there.

You heard Steve’s voice through the smoke, “Put on the suit.”

Tony agreed, and you could hear the two of them rushing out of the room. Before he could exit, however, Tony stopped in front of you and helped you up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes wide.

You nodded slowly, “Yeah. Just go. I gotta go check on Loki.”

He stood up and ran, Steve by his side, and disappeared down the smoky corridor. You placed a hand to your ear, turning on your Bluetooth earpiece and checked once more to make sure everyone in the room was stable before darting down the same way Tony and Steve had just went.

Loki was on your mind; this had to be his doing. You weren’t sure how anyone had found him, but that was the only explanation you could think of.

“All hands to stations,” you heard through the PA, not slowing down as you continued running. Your ears were ringing and your hands felt tingly, but you didn’t stop. You aimed to stop this before it escalated.

You were slowly starting to regret signing up for this.

You arrived at Loki’s cell, flashing your ID badge and making sure the door shut behind you as you walked in. You were well aware you looked dirty and panicked, but Loki looked relatively calm and collected.

A small smirk graced his lips, “Ah. Welcome back, Y/N.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you snapped, causing his smirk to grow, “What the hell happened out there?”

You could hear Fury and Romanoff talking through your earpiece, but you ignored it best you could as you stormed straight up to the glass cell.

“Lovely to see you too,” he replied cooly, eyes darting back and forth between you and the door behind you. You stepped away from it; there had to be a reason he kept looking at it and you did not want to be in the way if anything happened.

“Loki, this isn’t a game,” you crossed your arms, watching in anticipation as he walked over to you slowly.

“I suggest you get off of this ship if you want to stay away from harm,” he shrugged, placing his fist against the glass and looking down at you. Even under his piercing, angry gaze, you couldn’t help the fact that your knees bucked.

As if on cue, the door behind you opened and a group of men dressed in all black tactical suits barged in. You didn’t recognize any of them, but it was easy to decipher they weren’t working for Shield.

“Get the girl,” one of them shouted, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Don’t harm her,” Loki told him as the man grabbed you by the waist, pressing the cool barrel of the gun against your temple. Your hands began to shake and fear flooded you — with everyone busy fixing the engine, how were you supposed to get out of this?

Before anyone could respond, you heard a roar-like yell echo through the vents.

Your breathing was heavy and your mind was scattered, but you knew exactly what that was. And based on Loki’s smirk, he knew what it was too. Bruce had become the Hulk.

“I have to—,” you began to speak, mind racing, but were shortly cut off by the man gripping you even tighter. You winced, your ribs already feeling sore from being blasted backwards after the explosion.

“What’s the code?” one of the men asked, looking over at you, “The code to open the cell.”

You swallowed thickly, wishing more than anything that someone would come in to save you. Being responsible for giving Loki’s men the code to help him escape was not something you wanted on your conscious.

“1234,” you replied grimly, mustering the most deadly glare you could. The men all chuckled at the ridiculous password before the one at the control panel pressed away at the keypad.

You watched with bated breath as the cell opened up, Loki’s smirk never faltering as he stepped out.

Great, you thought, another fucking problem.

Loki slowly walked over to you, his eyes glistening. He seemed way too pleased about al of this — but then again, this had been his plan all along. Of course he was pleased.

“How can I ever repay you?” he asked surprisingly softly, placing his hand on your forehead. His fingers were cold — it was soothing against the burning wound there.

“Get off our planet,” you growled, trying to wiggle away from the man still holding you, “It would be a lovely way to repay me.”

He chuckled, his gaze turning harsh as he looked at the man holding you, “Let go of her, you mortal.”

You sighed in relief as the man let go of you before turning back to Loki, “Seems you’re also a hypocrite. What was all that shit about you won’t be spared, huh?”

He grabbed you by the forearm, bringing you close to him so he was practically flushed against you, “Seems I’ve had a change of heart. Now, you’re coming with me.”

“Oh, no I’m not,” you scoffed, trying your best to dig your feet into the ground as he began to pull you alongside him. His men had picked up on the fact that he wanted to leave; they had all exited the room.

“Yes, you are,” he turned around, a sinister smile on his face. It made your blood run cold. How could someone be so terrifying, yet so stupidly attractive? It didn’t make sense.

As he began to drag you, the entire ship seemed to topple over as another engine seemed to fail. You lost your balance, Loki tightening his grip on you to help keep you up. You could hear Tony and Steve bantering through your earpiece as they tried to fix the engines.

You stabilized yourself and peered behind Loki, stopping dead in your tracks as you looked at the cell. There was another Loki in it, watching as the cell door slowly opened in front of him.

“What the hell—,”

Thor suddenly charged through the door of the room, trying to keep his brother trapped in, only to fall right through the illusion of him and have the cell shut and trap him in.

“Thor!” you pulled away from Loki, who was pressing the button, and rushed over to the cell, slamming your fist against the glass, “Loki, you slithering bastard, let him out.”

Thor looked up, his face falling as he spotted the real Loki.

“Are you ever not going to fall for that?” Loki smirked, placing his arms behind his back and walking over to you, grabbing your wrist once more.

“Let go of me!” you pulled against him to no avail. Your fighting only seemed to cause Loki’s smirk to grow.

Oh, how you couldn’t wait for the day you’d get to stab him in his perfect cheekbones.

You looked over to Thor, who’s eyes were wide and watching Loki drag you back to the control panel. You looked at Thor in panic, your breathing ragged.

Thor, running low on options, lifted his hammer, smashing it against the glass. It didn’t break, but the crack it left was enough to set the suspensions off.

“Don’t touch the glass!” you cried, “It’ll only drop you!”

Loki let go of you, his mouth curving up into a grin. The door behind you opened and one of his men walked back into the room, a large gun strapped to his chest.

Somehow, you feared him more than you feared Loki.

“The humans think us immortal,” Loki spoke to Thor, eyeing the control panel with delighted interest, “Shall we test that?”

Your heart felt as if it had stopped as Loki approached the button.

“No!”

“Oh—,”

Your eyes snapped to where Loki’s defense man fell to the ground, out cold. Phil Coulson stood above him, an even larger gun in his hand, rather proud of himself for taking the guy out.

“Oh, shit,” you scurried out of the way, trying your best to avoid being caught in the aim. You recognized the weapon as one of the ones Fury had designed — but you had no idea what it was capable of.

“Move away, please,” Phil’s voice was firm, steady, as he approached Loki, who was slowly stepping away from the control panel with his hands up.

The tension was high. You were pressed up against a wall, Thor was trapped in a cage, and Phil was slowly cornering Loki.

“You like this?” Phil asked, lifting the gun slightly, “We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don’t know what it does.”

Loki’s surrender seemed too easy — and you knew you were right as soon as another Loki appeared behind Phil, his sceptre inches away from stabbing him through the chest.

Without thinking, you rushed towards him, knocking Phil out of the way and bringing Loki down to the ground with a loud echoing thud.

Instinct wasn’t always the right choice, and you knew that was right when Loki spun you around, pushing you to the ground.

“How dare you—,”

“You were about to fucking kill him,” you shouted, lifting your knee and kicking him between the legs. Loki groaned, kneeling over.

“Phil, get out!” you shouted, waving your hand like a maniac as you noticed Phil was still standing there, his gun aimed at Loki.

Phil seemed to sense your tone, gripping the large weapon even tighter as he sighed and began to exit the room. You wished he had left the gun behind — it would have come in useful — but you were glad he was out of harm’s way for the moment.

Loki forced you to the ground once more and stepped over you, approaching the control panel and pressing the large button before anyone else could interrupt him.

“No!”

You watched in horror as the helicarrier opened up below, and Thor — stuck inside the cage — fell from the sky.

taglist

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[taesbetch]

Den Of Hybrids | 05

Pairing: BTS  x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Summary: Taking care of six hybrids can be a pain in the ass but when a stray needs y/ns help, y/n brings him home to his new family. Follow Y/n as she tries to help Taehyung (The new hybrid in town) fit in and continue to keep the other six alive along with other troubles that life brings.

Word Count: 2k

Previous 

You stood at the back of your parked car, hands folded over your chest as you tried to contain your boiling anger. The park you were at was one the family used to visit a lot when you were younger. Those memories seemed so pure and happy, did you miss something? was your child mind completely oblivious to the misery that was your bloodline?

The sun was setting and time continued to tick by as both you and Hyuna awaited the arrival of the devil herself.

Finally, A black vehicle drove towards your area. As the car drove past you, you could almost feel the eyes of relieved hybrids. Your heart stopped as the car parked itself several parks away from yours. Turning towards it you prayed that the injuries weren't as bad as the pictures...but your prayers were ignored.

As the seven boys walked out the car one by one guarded by her henchmen, Your eyes watered. Namjoon limped as he held his right arm tightly, wincing with every breath. Jin clutched his shoulder, his left cheek bruised badly and his right eye still dark and battered. Jungkook walked with his ears hung low, his small cut healing. Jimin followed with what looked like a fresh slap wound and a small limp, pulling the weight off his foot. Taehyung followed closely behind jimin, looking the least emotionally traumatised and the least beaten with only a bruise on his forearm. Yoongi was next shoved out, carrying a heavy scowl on his face and multiple bruises on his arms and legs. Then, Hoseok walked, looking at you with big hopeful eyes he swallowed pain as he walked.

you wiped away a tear as you walked up to them, stopping about two car parks away as May raised her hand.

“Are you guys okay?!” You asked desperately as your voice cracked.

Each of them opened their mouths to answer but May spoke first.

“Wheres the money?” She spat.

You narrowed your eyes at her before pulling an envelope out of your pocket.

“I've got it. Now, give me back the boys” You spoke strongly, clearly over her shit. A small smirk found itself on her face. She nodded to her two henchmen. They stepped back letting the hybrids hesitantly shuffle towards you.

“It's okay, you're okay now” You urged. Jimin bit his lip as his eyes quickly spewed tears. Running over to you with a wail he was the first to embrace you. soon, all the boys had run over, participating in a massive group hug, you quickly wiped away jungkooks tears as hoseok squeezed your hand. It had felt like a whole eternity that they had been away. But now they were back. It was time to finish May off.

“Here,” You said as you broke free of your hybrids hold to pass her the envelope. The seven boys watched curiously as they noticed your demoneour change and hyuna quickly typed away on her phone.

Opening the envelope with an expectation of cheques, mays smirk quickly dropped.

“what's this?” She asked raising an eyebrow.

“It's your warning. I'm charging you for assault and blackmail...oh, actually. What else was there hyuna?” You asked cheekily as you looked back at your friend.

“Oh, I believe it was - Blackmart hybrid fighting, illegal work hours and payments, Tax evasion and hmm what else of yeah! scamming money from the rich! sounds oddly familiar” Hyuna explained.

You looked back to May and sighed heavily.

“You have NO proof of this” she scoffed as she folded her arms defensively.

“Oh, but i do. Ya know, You could've just asked. I probably would've said yes. I wanted your love and approval THAT badly i would've handed over 7 million with no hesitation. I just wanted my family around. And because of that my real family ended up getting hurt.” You stated, your voice strong and passionate but full of hurt.

“y/n, I'm all you have. You cant do this to me” She said, whimpering slightly as she saw the fire in your eyes.

“But i can, And i will. Because you've crossed a line aunt May” You said nonchalantly as sirens chimed in the background, getting closer and closer.

“You're going to regret this y/n, Trust me when i say this” SHe sneered as her two henchmen start backing away, ready to make a run for it.

“I’ll never trust anything that comes out of your mouth ever again”

You turned to walk away but swivel back around as the police cars start turning into the parking lot.

“Oh and one more thing... I hope you rot in hell”

Spinning around towards your car you walked quickly, ignoring her yells and her pleas, with the boys following closely you watched happily as the cops nodded at you, reassuring you that everything would be handled on their end.  Right now, Aunt May was dead to you.

----

“Okay, but are you sure?” You asked nervously as you stood at hoseoks door watching him dry his hair with a towel, clean clothes on his body.

“Y/n, I swear I'm okay. I just need some sleep honestly” He replied, his usual sunshine smile displayed on his face. You pouted at him as he sat himself down on his bed.

“Okay...but ill be checking on you in the morning” You replied. He smiled at you as you slowly closed the door, your eyes glued on him just in case.

You sighed as the door clicked shut, but your moment was quickly interrupted as taehyung walked around the corner. As you opened your mouth to continue your obsessive checking he cupped your face with his hands.

“Yes I'm okay, No I'm not mad at you, No I'm not upset that this was my first week in this household” He answered before giving you a tight squeeze.

“And don't worry, I will comfort jimin until you come to check on him” he added before walking off, his hands tucked in his pockets. You stood shocked for a second at how well he was handling everything. He seemed a little different to when he first arrived at the house, though he still seemed like a doe-eyed child, something had shifted and you weren't sure what..

Thinking of doe-eyed children you noticed how quiet it was. Jungkook.

Rushing upstairs you noticed that yoongis door was locked shut and took a mental note to check on him straight after. As you entered jungkooks room you noticed how he had rearranged his furniture.

“Kookie? You okay?” You asked as you nervously watch him throw clothes on the ground.

“Oh hey, y/n! Yeah, I'm fine” He replies. Not giving you a single glance. You walked closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Kookie” You said softly as he stopped.

“I'm fine, really. Namjoon and jin were the ones who took the most of it. especially in place of us...I just...I just think its time for me i change a little bit. To grow ya know?” He said.

You smiled softly at him.

“Well okay then, positive growth is never bad, just...tell me if you're not okay, alright?” You said. He smiled at you and nodded softly, returning back to what he was doing.

You bit your lip before walking out, heading to yoongis room. Placing an ear on his door you heard the shower running.

Your eyebrows furrowed but you shrugged it off. This wasn't his usual showering time but then again, he did just got through something rather traumatic. You walked to Jimin's room but the sound of two people snoring froze you in your spot.

A smile graced your face and for the first time in a minute, you felt calm. It was nice to know that the two boys had found peace with each other. Walking all the way downstairs you made your way to namjoons room, for some reason you weren't as concerned with your older hybrid before, but jungkooks words made your heart drop with worry.

“Namjoon?” You called softly as you slowly opened the door. Sobs filled the room. At the sight of you, namjoon shifted his body to face a wall, hiding away from you.

“Namjoon” You whispered as you closed the door, your heartbreaking a little. You rushed to his side letting him cry in your arms.

“You asked me to take care of everyone and i couldn't, i failed” He sobbed. Your heart broke even further as you realised the stress and pressure you had accidentally placed on your hybrid.

“Oh namjoon no, you didn't fail. You did your best! and jungkook told me all about how you and jin took the brunt of it all. God im so sorry, This is not your fault at all! AT ALL! I'm so sorry i put that pressure on you” You stated, a few tears falling out of your eyes.

“You did everything right namjoon. Grandma would be so proud of how you handled it” You added as you stroked his hair.

“I felt so..useless” He whimpered. You kissed his forehead softly before shaking your head.

“No. Don't ever think that about yourself. I need you here, things wouldn't work smoothly without you, i don't know how id manage this estate without you or the other hybrids....This was my mistake okay? don't be so hard on yourself I'm the one that fucked up...” You stated.

Namjoon took a deep breath before looking at you. His eyes blood red.

“I promise ill be better,” He said as he took your hand in his.

“That's not possible namjoon, You’re already the best”

----

You dragged you feet towards your own room, hoping jin would be in there - ready for bed.

As you entered your room you stood at the doorway and stared at jins back. Your mind floated to when you first got jin. Back then it was only him and namjoon. You were still figuring out so many things and there jin was, always supporting and looking out for you.

As he turned around you were reminded of the pain he had enured as the bruises and black eye called for attention.

“there you are! You ready for bed?” He asked with his bright smile.

You pouted as you tried to contain your emotions but couldn't stop yourself. Bursting into tears you ran to jin and engulfed him in a hug.

“I'm so sorry! I'm really so sorry!” You sob.

He laughs as he wraps his arms around you.

“Its okay y/n. Look! I'm back now! were all back and were going to be okay! Sure that was a shitty experience but were going to be alright” He said as he rubbed your back.

“God damnit i should be the one, comforting you” You sighed as you pulled away from him and wiped your eyes, the tears refusing to stop.

“Have you done your rounds? Check on everyone first then you can come and listen to me sob” He smiled ruffling your hair. You laugh before doing a mental checklist...Yoongi.

“I'll be back”

--

Odd. The shower was still running. You knocked harshly just in case he couldn't hear, but there was no answer or call...nothing.

“I'm coming in yoongi I'm worried!” you said before using your master key to unlock his door. peaking your head in you noticed that only one little lamplight had been turned on and the window was fully opened. A fully opened window was never yoongis style.

you walked to his second level but still...

Empty.

You walked over to the bathroom noticing the door was open and yet, nothing. Just an empty shower. Turning off the water you looked around his room once more even checking to see if clothes were missing, or certain items...but nothing...

Your heart drops in your stomach as worry starts to consume you. As you hold yourself to protect your skin from the sudden breeze passing through the room you let the silence further feed your growing fear.

“Yoongi?”

[psychemeanscure]

PART 14

As soon as Jang Taeyoung went out of the door it was Veeros Alcaziar’s turn then. The moment he saw his father’s familiar blazing face he knew he would get a worse punishment other than being punched by the man who had just left.

He tried, but can’t longer escape when he was already frozen to his spot as her father starts unbuckling its own metal watch, putting it diligently on the desk table and with a swift move… Knocking his own son by the head as Zilo’s temple starts gushing a drip of blood caused by the gold sovereign ring his father wore through its hand. That even blocking it, was useless. He maybe aged throughout the years but he will still admit that his father is as strong as a cow for a 50-year-old.

And with a few more punches, he stumbled on the cold floor once again. Today he wasn’t name as his son, he was a creation he needed to flourish. Thus he wasn’t his father in front of him, but a wild hag he had feared in a lifetime.

A weak grunt run out into his mouth as he was grabbed by his collar, meeting the eyes of obsession. “What did I just tell you, huh? Zilo? I think you have forgotten for a while.”

If it was the first time, he could surely be the scaredy cat back then. But it’s not. What people think behind the mask of a spoiled happy go lucky son is actually a wimpy kid being bullied by his own father. That behind the tolerated back-ups he did from his failed activities, failed hideouts and addictions that had led him busted. It is always ends up being him as the leverage he needed to pay. A collateral of damage done by his own hands.      

Numb. He’s already numb that he got used to it. He goes against. “Stop being delusional father. She’s not even my sister to begin with. Echar un polvo! She doesn’t get an inch of our bloodline!”

And it just takes a second before he felt the heel of his father’s shoe stomps his frail knee earning a hurtful voice of his own. “What did you just say? Are you crazy?! She’s your sister! Your eldest sister whom your mother just bore! Remember that.”

Crap that mother. He knew who he means about that because his father taught him so. He’s full of it already! “She is Sung Eunyoung’s only! You killed my courtesan mother, remember? You are the crazy one father. She had never been yours!” and yes, they knew. They knew all along that she wasn’t simply the great Amilia Martin for she has been a target long before her plan.

Truly as he can still remember how the 4-year-old him witnessed the death of her own mother the moment his father found out that he impregnated her a son. Reason for his berserk finally for he cannot attain any insults of his biological mom. He may only have a vague memory of her yet one things’ for sure, he was loved. On so the following blow of his stomach he expected came in. “Say that again or this isn’t the only thing you can get.” The cold words from his father yet left him unwavering. There’s no turning back indeed. He will go against his father this time. The next thing he knew?    

He was already pressed to the wall as a striking hand envelopes half of his face pinned in sideway as if he was just a mere meat fresh to be grilled easily. Possessively insisting his own conclusion. “Ah. Right, so is this why you tried to harm your sister, eh? You dare hurt her so you can get all my attention? Screw you, son! I’m sorry but your sister is my top priority.” With the last hit of his head by the wall he was laying helplessly then.

His father was too far to be called a psychopath that’s the truth. It was the hidden obsession who’s eating him. The head over heels delusion of his father from Sung Eunyoung’s mother, believing he owns everything about her and only her.

Wiping his son’s blood by his hanky as darting eyes went by the window as if looking someone at the skies. “You are my wife sweetheart, will always be. And I promise you, we’ll going to get our daughter very soon.”  

~

A sinister grimace from Veeros Alcaziar was shown remembering the promise he swears to whom he believes as his beloved wife, waiting for his dearest daughter to come back from an important phone call. And as soon as she came back in the VIP room, it was easy for him to shift in an unsuspicious state by just right there comfortably digging the signature cuisine of the Spanish restaurant they were meeting.

“Sorry ‘bout that Señor. Things just getting hectic with me these days. Where were we again?”      

“Oh, no. You don’t have to. It’s business, we can never say no. So yes as I was saying, I heard what happened between you two. Too bad. Are you alright, perhaps?”

That for another time she had to keep her cringe inside once again. It was just the second time to been asked by the same question, yet it hurts her eardrums already. What else she could do anyway but to play along, shrugging her shoulders as she speaks. “Well, it just happened. Things went wrong in a go. I’m coping up though Señor. Thank you for your concern.”      

Her wary response somehow, opposite to what she thinks that says, ‘Mierda! As if I care.’

“Glad you are. But it hasn’t been long. I bet he’s been calling for you still. Isn’t he?” A casual question from the old Alcaziar and just right for another call coming from their topic.        

“Actually, Señor. He is. And speaking of, he’s currently calling me again.”

Glancing the caller ID then as she intended to show it to the latter who only answered her an awe expression. “Oh? So what you really do every time he does?” and without second thoughts, she just straightly tap the end button for confirmation before nonchalantly boast to the old Alcaziar. “Simple as that Señor.”  thus the old man only laughs for answer with hidden unpleasant thoughts. ‘Wow. Just like you sweetheart. Our daughter is just like you.’  

“Oh well! What shall I say? Am I a proud father again, daughter?”

And she’s lying if it didn’t make her stiffed for a moment because it does. Perhaps from the last time he said it from the first meeting it ain’t sound something, yet hearing it now seems different. A feeling that she rather not wished for.

Tuning her role play on smiling then, she answered. “Be the proud patriarch then…” as she purposely halts her statement, forking her food which dipped on a red sauce like she decides to pass her refusal by it instead. Before proceeding to push the word that just grumbles her to puke.

“Father.”

The word she never imagined she had to call with the man she desires to succumb. Hell how she’s too eager to throw her hidden curses! Opposite to how the Spanish old man’s satisfying thoughts though. ‘That’s it my daughter. That’s it. Your mother will be proud.’ He answered a delighting grin truly.

He’s usually not a patient person on getting what he needed, but he wouldn’t mind if it’s his one and only daughter to wholeheartedly give an exception for if that’s what makes her enjoy once more. ‘Just a bit more. A little bit more.’~

As that’s how their talks ended indeed. Slumping vigorously to her bar table chair of her apartment the moment she finally came home. Tiredly massaging her nape, twirling the content of her wineglass. Needing to consume the alcohol inside her. Her day isn’t as busy as it usually does but for some reason she felt like jam-packed.

Relaxing her spare time totally. Not when a call came after actually. The man she intently ignores for some time now. Including today. She was just gaping with the resonating sound of her phone on the bar table. Somehow finding a sentence she would want to utter even without answering. And she can only search it if she decided to stand up looking from nowhere around the night lights of the city of her glass window.

“Jang.”

Her mere mention of his name after days. It’s been a while, it is. But she’s already cursing herself for sighing like a vulnerable mortified one. Though she’s guilty she admits. “I could have not gone this far if you just stick with our original plan but why? What really wavered you to hide something from me. What was it Jang? What’s the big fuss?”

Shaking her head afterwards remembering her disappointment, she speaks again. “But you didn’t. you’re being stubborn still.” As she currently trailing her index finger of her wineglass’ rim then. “See? Look at you now, bet you’re getting piled up with useless works already. And pretty sure you’re itching to fight me as well. Aren’t you? Tss. Damn you for making me the bad person here though. I hate you.”

Letting out all her unsaid complaints and sentiments, she’s basically picturing her phone as the imaginary Jang Taeyoung certainly as she can’t even help being disappointed when the loud sound of its ringing finally went over. Glancing it with sarcasm. “Jeez, even with phone calls you dare to neglect me. No doubt you can’t wait for me either. Guess it’s really over for us huh?”

“Fine. Whatever, Loco. Good luck anyway. Goodbye for real. Really this time.”

With a seeming smile and final sip of her wine, she confirms her true goodbye indeed.

[atiny-ahgase]

Sweet Dreams

Author’s Note: I started this with no direction but I somehow still really like it. IDK I think it’s kinda cute. I intended for it to be more like a drabble but I don’t really think that it is...oh well. Also, I tried my best to make the reader both gender-neutral as well as to remove any words that would cause you to assume the ethnicity and race of the reader. I’m still really new to writing so if I slipped up on any of these attempts please let me know. I’m trying my best.

Side Note: This will be my first work since my 2 week-long Writer’s Block. I honestly still have it but I also really wanna write something...It’s soo frustrating.- Gabby.

Summary: Feeling overwhelmed and stress from work threatens to rid you of your sanity your only source of calm in this otherwise hectic world, Mingi, is busy at work preparing for the Ateez comeback. You don’t want to burden him but what are you to do when the breath easier beside him?

Pairing: Mingi x Gender Neutral reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Contains Fluff, Angst, Idol x Reader, Gender Neutral Reader, (Not really sure what else).

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

You lightly hissed as the warm water cascaded down your aching body, engulfing your muscles with liquid bliss. Work had been the most demanding this week than it had been in a while. The workload wasn’t that much but you were already understaffed as it was and your demanding boss wasn’t helping to soothe the stress and anxiety brewing within you with all the work that still needed to be done. You needed a break but with the deadline fast approaching, no way was that going to happen.

Softly sighing you turned off the steady stream of water before grabbing your towel; relishing in the feeling of the plush fabric embracing your body. You walked out of the restroom entering your bedroom before collapsing on to your bed; the plush mattress beginning to absorb the moisture from your shower. As you sink into your mattress your mind begins to wander to your only spark of light in an otherwise seemingly dismal world; formally known as Mingi. How was he doing? You hadn’t seen or spoken to him in a while and it honestly showed in your demeanour. You were always much calmer after speaking with him. Each laughed that slipped past his lips took with it all of your worries.

You had both met at a coffee shop not too far away from your office building. After ordering your drink you scrolled through your phone waiting for your order to be called. Not long after your order was called and you approached the register extending your hand to retrieve your coffee. Unbeknownst to you, the stranger beside you seemed to be doing the same thing. Both of you appeared to be unaware until you grasped his hand over the coffee cup.

“Sorry”, you shakily replied pulling your hand away from the beverage while looking up at the man standing beside you. The warmth from your hand seemed to spread to your cheeks in a matter of seconds. You felt like you were looking up at the sun. His existence alone seemed to brighten up the drab and dull decor of the local coffee shop threatening to blind you if you looked too long. How could one person be that bright? 

A cluster of gentle curls adorned his head landing lightly across his forehead. He wore round-rimmed glasses which just drew your attention straight to his warm brown eyes, they looked so welcoming. They reminded you of the homemade toffee you would make with your grandparents, soft, sweet and warm. A small chuckle escaped his mouth directing your focus to his lips which immediately curled up into a bright smile forcing his eyes to all but disappear. The sight alone causing you to smile in response.

It was strange, the smile felt so natural to you although you’ve rarely found a reason to smile lately. The weight of the world had reshaped your once bright smile into a frown that even your greatest efforts could not mend so you decided to give up. To stop wasting your time on the happiness that somehow always seemed to evade you.

But now you where you are in a crowded cafe, smiling like an idiot at a complete stranger who didn’t even say anything remotely funny. That’s it; your boss had literally driven you to madness. That was the only sensible explanation for your unwarranted happiness.

“You can have it; I’ll just wait for the other one,” he spoke, bringing you back to reality. “Oh no I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you responded arms raising in protest.

“What kinda gentleman would I be if I let a gorgeous person like yourself wait in line?” he defends while sliding the cup over to you. Failing to keep your heart in check you can already feel your ears heating up much hotter than any coffee you’d ever consumed. Cheezy pick-up lines like that had never made you react this way before so why now?

Maybe because it didn’t feel like a pickup line, it felt more like he was just talking to you, no strange ulterior motive he was authentically being nice. Yet another interaction that you were not used to. Deciding on taking him up on his kind offer you mumbled a small “Thank you” before taking a sip of the coffee, the liquid feeling cold in comparison to the warm feeling flooding your cheeks.

“You know waiting in line is a lot more fun when you have someone to talk to”, you smiled up at him, enjoying the warm feelings you got from his interactions. You wanted to hold on to the conversation just a little while longer. With so many conflicts currently going on at work, it felt nice to have even a semi-decent conversation with someone whether it was with a stranger or not.

Somewhere along the line, that chance meeting turned into planned meetings which turned into him showing up at your apartment unannounced with snacks and now you don’t know what to do with yourself. You’ve gotten so used to seeing him that these past few days have been absolute torture. He and the rest of Ateez were working on their comeback and you know that Mingi must be just as exhausted as you if not more exhausted and you don’t want to burden him with your problems. But you miss him so much. 

Everything in your apartment reminded you of him. From the collection of hoodies that you’ve “accumulated’ in your closet to the faint smell of lavender that seemed to have remained on the cushion, he would usually sit on. They all just served as constant reminders that he was not there. A loud sigh leaves your lips as you will yourself to get dressed not wanting to be consumed by your own thoughts.

-----

Your entire evening just consisted of you dragging yourself all over your apartment in a futile attempt to be productive when in reality all you wanted to do was curl up beside Mingi on your couch; head nuzzled into his neck, hands grasping his shirt which would always smell like fresh Lavender. He’d hold you tightly as if you were the most precious person in his life, one arm around your waist drawing gentle circles while the other gently stroked your hair.

You close your eyes remembering all of the sweet nothings he would whisper in your ear and with every word you could feel the stress and anxiety leave your body and in its place would be that warm feeling that somehow always seemed to accompany you whenever Mingi was around.

His presence was like that of a storm; washing away the debris that seemed to settle on your heart, nourishing the withering roses of your soul, revitalizing the rivers that gave life to your otherwise dull eyes. His smile alone provided the single ray of light you needed to see your way through whatever you were facing, guiding you back to his warm embrace. And now that he wasn’t there you wondered how you ever walked on your own. Every step that you took felt ten times heavier because he wasn’t there beside you.

You sink further into the couch simultaneously diving deeper into your head when the blaring of your cell phone ringing forces you out of your thoughts. Not bothering to look at the caller ID you press the answer button just glad for a distraction to keep your mind occupied.

“Hello,” you answer in the best fake cheerful voice you can muster up. “Hey y/n”, you hear a sleepy Mingi grumble on the other line. His voice was a lot deeper when he was tired but even with that, you could still sense the hint of happiness that laced every word that escaped his lips. He truly was the personification of sunshine. “Sorry to be calling you this late I just really needed to hear your voice”, he continues. 

You feel a ping in your chest as you try your best to steady your breathing, his words always went straight to your heart. Mingi was always the honest type, he would never shy away from anything he had to say and even though you really loved and admired that about him; you couldn’t help but blush anytime he said things like that to you. “Will you tell me about your day?” he inquired before some faint shuffling was heard on the other end.

“I’d rather hear about yours,” you reply; not wanting to ruin his mood with your problems. “But if I do all the talking how will I get to hear your sweet voice?” he whines into the phone. You chuckle softly to yourself, imagining the way he would wave his arms in the air when he didn’t get what he wanted. You sighed before muttering a soft “You asked for it” before taking him through your entire day. You couldn’t help but give in to his every request, his childlike glee made you want to spoil him. He softly hummed listening to you recap the events of your day only speaking when he was sure that you were finished. Feeling a weight lift off your shoulders you laid on the couch, exhaustion quickly replacing the stress that once filled your body.

You always did feel the most at ease when Mingi was with you, and even though he wasn’t physically there didn’t stop your mind from melting into the calm sea that was his voice. Each word he spoke crashed on to the shores of your heart retreating only to remove the pain and frustration left there by others. The rhythm of his cascading waves sang a song straight to your soul; like a gentle lullaby, it cradled you until you were consumed with sleep. As you laid there falling deeper and deeper into a much-deserved slumber; you could faintly hear the slow and subtle breathing of the idol on the phone.

Sweet dreams Mingi.