#ignore if its shitty i did this in pen

[randokatz]

Work was fun

[anastacialy]

y'know, i keep making a habit of swinging my bat at hornets nests, but i have to say i'm getting so, so tired of people complaining about shows not making perfect sense when they aren't even close to done. we're four episodes into this season of doctor who. we're four episodes into this season of bridgerton. and yet in both fandoms i keep seeing people whine that such and such didn't make sense or it wasn't explained all the way and by god you guys i think maybe explanations might come later in the season. this is something most viewers will recognize as being called a 'plot.'

[vivwritesfics]

The Devil Dances With A Smile

Chapter One

He can't kill you. He can't bring himself to lay a hand on you. So, he falls for you instead (its a shame his employer really wants you dead)

Hitman!Max x reader

Chapter Two

His class wasn't listening, he could tell that much as he drew things onto the whiteboard. He ignored it, kept writing. But then the giggles started up.

It was a new class, a bunch of eleven year old experiencing their first year of high school. For the first week, they had been quiet. But now they were a month in. The trouble makers had learnt how to make their peers laugh and it was normally at his expense.

They hadn't yet seen their teacher, a professor, at that, angry. He'd gotten annoyed, had snapped a pen under his desk to help keep his cool, but had never gotten angry with his year sevens.

"Eliza, James!" He snapped, and the two fell quiet. He wasn't angry, he just needed the two of them to know better than to test him. Not today. Not after how rough his other job had been.

"Sorry Professor Verstappen," the two of them said in unison. The entire class fell silent when the two of them did, and Max got on with his lesson.

Max rubbed his eyes as his lesson came to an end and his class handed in their workbooks. He shouted a reminder about homework, but their chatter was too loud to hear it.

When the door fell shut and Max put his head in his hands. Just a few minutes of rest, that was all he needed. He let his eyes fall shut.

Even in rests that only lasted a minute, Max dreamt the same thing. The young man with the lion tattoo on his hand, begging for his life at the end of his gun. It didn't matter what he said, Max always pulled the trigger.

A knock at his door pulled him out of his dream, pulled him back into his day job. He pushed his hair out of his face and looked towards his classroom door.

The history teacher stared at Max for a minute. No, not stared. He'd asked him a question and Max had just ignored it. "Huh?" He asked, a yawn leaving a lips.

"I asked if you were okay," Charles said, his worried expression softening.

Max gave a nod. He had always liked Charles, even when they were academic rivals through secondary school. But then university came and they went their separate ways. Max went off to study geography and Charles went to off to do history. They never thought they'd be reunited as colleagues. "Just tired, that's all," he admitted.

Now, don't get it wrong, Max loved teaching. Sculpting young minds, helping them pave their way forward in life. But teaching was only part of what he did.

Most teachers went home and marked homework. Max did that too, for maybe an hour. And then it was dinner while the cats ate. Tonight he had some shitty, healthy pizza and the cats had their gourmet food.

But then his night shift began.

He didn't look like a contract killer. He didn't wear all black, didn't have a long coat with weapons beneath. No, he looked like a normal guy. He wore skinny jeans and a black leather jacket.

But their was a reason people called on The Lion. He didn't exactly need a weapon to kill anyone. He was quick, clean, and didn't ask any questions.

Christian met him in the same place each time. Max entered the office in the warehouse full of old cars, and Christian slipped the manila folder across the desk.

There was a usual routine to this. Normally Max pulled out the paper in the folder, read the information on his target. He learnt all he needed to know about his target, grabbed the weapon he thought would be best, and he set off.

But not this time.

Pulling the information from the folder, he turned the paper towards Christian. "What the fuck is this?" He asked.

On the folder was a girl in a cafe. She had an apron around her waist and a tray of empty glasses in her hands. No criminal convictions listed, no possible crimes.

No reason for Max to take her out.

"Something about inheritance," said Christian, his voice nonchalant. He didn't care what happened to the target, as long as they ended up dead by the end of it. Christian was just there to fill his coffers.

Max looked at the picture again. She was pretty, he couldn't deny that. She was smiling in the picture, seemingly making jokes with somebody the picture hadn't captured. His usual targets were criminals that had made threats against people. Those people wanted the criminal taken out before they made good on those threats. That was where Max came in. He was the one that took them out.

His other type of target was rich assholes. The kind that exploited people for money, the kind who's wealth would be better distributed to the very people they were exploiting. They weren't easy jobs, killing someone and changing their will, and they didn't get them often, but they were Max's favourite. The tougher the better.

"Christian."

Christian groaned as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to stand around and argue, or do you want to get paid?"

The Lion was on the prowl. No weapons, Max wouldn't need them for her. He climbed into his car and looked at the address of the café. A café by the train station, open for twenty-four hours out of the day. Two and a half star rating, the only good thing about the café being the 'pretty, kind waitress'.

Once the night was up, the reviews would plummet.

Max drove. A waitress at a shitty, twenty-four hour café. She couldn't be worth as much as Christian was saying she was. And, if she was worth that much, she couldn't have known.

Parking outside of the train station, Max looked over at the café. It was the same angle the picture was taken from, he recognised as he looked down at her picture in his folder. She was grinning in that picture and she was grinning now as she cleared away somebody's plates.

He couldn't do this.

***

You didn't love your job. How could you when this was your job? But you still completed it with a smile. Making coffees and running food out to people. Clearing plates and glasses, and wiping over their tables.

It wasn't forever, you told yourself as you took the plates back into the kitchen. "Desserts for table sixteen," You called to the boys in the kitchen. Jimmy saluted you as you scraped the plates into the food waste bin. It was just you, Jimmy and Frank this late at night. Jimmy and Frank were in the kitchen, while you worked the floor.

While Jimmy made the desserts, you backed out of the kitchen and surveyed the few tables you had in. Somebody was at the counter. "Sorry," you said as you rushed past him. You logged into your till and looked at him. The handsome man with the freckle on his lip. "What can I get for you?" You asked, finger poised over the buttons.

For a moment, he said nothing. It was nearly one in the morning, and he wasn't being an easy customer. He looked behind you, at the drinks you had on offer. He looked at the small version of the menu on the board behind your head.

"How about some coffee?" You tried, holding up a mug.

He gave a nod. "A coffee, please," he said and you got to work. Making coffee's was the easiest part of your day. Steaming the milk and pouring it in with the shot of coffee, creating a leaf in latte art at the end. You passed over the coffee and put it through the till.

The bell rang, signalling the desserts were ready, but you didn't run to it. Not while the handsome man in the skinny jeans and leather jacket was still paying. His phone chimed as the payment went through and he grabbed his coffee, taking a seat on one of the round tables by the counter.

You ran to answer the bell, to run the apple pies over to table sixteen, and returned to the counter, cleaning the coffee machine and the jug you used to clean your milk.

Eyes were on you as you worked. You didn't mind it too much, it happened more than you cared to admit. Teenagers that should have been in bed, coming into the café to stare at you as you served them black coffee. You let them sit in the café, since it was better than them roaming the streets.

As you cleaned the counter, you looked at the little round table opposite. Looked at the man with the freckle on his lip. He was pretty, pretty blue eyes, pretty full lips. He was well put together, better than most of the people you saw something through your door at this time in the morning. "What brings you here at this time in the morning?" You asked as you sprayed sanitiser on the counter.

The handsome man with the freckle on his lip looked around. "I'm probably here for the same reason anybody else is," he said and sipped his coffee.

You couldn't help but look around at everybody else in the café. Those getting home late from work, waking themselves up before they headed home to their families. People on break from working in the middle of the night, coming in for a coffee to wake themselves up. People that just wanted shelter, that you had undercharged for a coffee.

The man in front of you didn't seem like that.

Your eyes returned to him. You stared at him, stared at what he was wearing, at the way he was holding his cup. He didn't look on break from work, desperate for a fix of caffeine. He didn't look ready to go home, waking himself up to go and deal with the kids.

You hummed and grabbed a pastry from the counter. "Here," you said and placed it in front of him.

He looked up, brows furrowed as he continued to smile at you. "What's this for?" He asked and pulled the little, white plate towards himself.

You shrugged your shoulders. You couldn't very well tell him that you wanted to figure him out, that you gave him the pastry to keep him around.

Going back to work, you could feel his eyes on you as you cleared away plates and glasses and cleaned tables. You caught his eye several times as you ran plates back into the kitchen.

When you got him his second cup of coffee, he finally introduced himself. "I'm Max," he said and pushed his empty cup towards you.

"It's lovely to meet you, Max," you said, keeping your tone polite. You introduced yourself, gave him the name that he could have read from your name tag.

At the end of your shift, Max was still sitting there. Your conversation had been light through the evening, neither of you learning very much about each other. Just enough to keep you thinking about him as you got changed.

The morning crowd were walking in as you walked out. Max was still at your table. Part of you wanted to stop, wanted to tell him how you hoped to see him again another time.

But Max stood. He put his empty mug at the end of his table. "Can I walk you to your car?" He offered, taking long strides to catch up with you.

You gave him a smile. "You can walk me to the bus stop, if you'd like," you said and he answered you with a nod.

The two of you kept talking, the topics light as he walked you to the bus stop just a little way down the street. Even at the bus stop, Max stayed talking to you until your bus pulled up.

"I'll see you around," Max said as you stepped onto the bus.

Waving, you paid for your ticket and found yourself a seat.

You should be dead, he couldn't help but think as he walked away. Max ignored his buzzing phone as he walked back to his car.

Christian was going to have his head, he knew as he started heading back to his apartment.

He couldn't kill you, he was sure of that now.

a/n we're starting over with taglists. no permanent one. comment if you wanna be added for the series

next

taglist: @nurse-floyd @biancathecool

[sobersturniolos]

| GODSPEED,, chris.s

warnings: angst, arguing, making up (?), asshole chris ( what have i done ), chris x fem!reader

“ I will always love you. How I do, Let go of a prayer for you. Just a sweet word. “ ~ frank ocean.

you and chris were finally face to face with each other. after finding out what he really thought of you. he was yelling and you were yelling too.

„why wont you just stop! i tried to apologize for being this way, you ignored me. i tried calling, you hung up. i tried texting and you blocked me. you fucking blocked me.” you yelled, having your arms crossed over your chest.

„ maybe because you’re fucking annoying. you keep trying to get back with me and its not gonna work out. it.will.never.work.out.” he said, calmly.

„maybe thats because you arent trying to make it work! all you do is yell at me.”

„what do you not get? i dont want it to 'work’ because i dont like you. nor do i love you.” he replied, causing you to walk out the door in tears.

you cried the entire way home, barley being able to breathe.

you passed by a minivan, which immediately made you think about chris and his brothers.

you just decided to speed away from the van, wiping your tears with the fabric of your clothes.

when you arrived back to your house, you tore down every single damn Polaroid on your wall. folding up all the shirts he gave you and putting them on the highest shelf in your closet. then, punching holes with a pen in those „sweet cards” he made about how much he „loved you”

you laid on the floor on your knees. sobbing thinking about what you couldve done to have a different ending.

after you sobbed until your eyes were red, you just decided to get up and go take a bath.

you turned on the shitty generic speaker you had, turning on a random playlist. and who wouldve believed that the song that reminds you so much of chris would play.

that one fucking frank ocean song.

you couldnt even get through the first verse without feeling tears stream down your face.

jesus, you couldnt even listen to frank ocean because it always reminded you of chris. the chris who once cared for you.

all that time down the drain.

a couple weeks later, you got a text from chris. fuck.

the text consisted of him asking you to come by the lake, you and his favorite place to watch the sunset.

you almost immediately walked out that door, destined to see him at least one last time.

when you made it there, you saw chris throwing rocks into the lake with a sad expression.

„chris?” you managed to blurt out after a moment of trying to speak.

he turned and almost knocked you over as he engulfed you in a hug. he apologized so quickly.

„im so sorry. i didnt know what went over me. you were the best girlfriend, im a asshole for making you feel bad, i still love yo-“ you cut him off.

„chris.” you said, coldly.

„ are you gonna hate me after this?” he whined in the crook of your neck.

„ i could never hate you. i was wrong too, i did things that were unforgivable.” you admitted.

„ so would you give me one more chance?” he asked, his voice shaky.

„ one more chance. “

[satoruhour]

HE PLAYS BASS !

a/n: modern au bc i cant handle any angst rn. i ramble a lot in this to set the scene teehee. not beta read, gn btw / tagging @crysugu @slttygeto @getousex :3

wc: 3k ish

warnings: bass guitarist!geto, soft dom!geto, he is respectful of your boundaries, both geto and reader smoke weed, shotgun kiss, sexual acts under the influence, fingering, clit stimulation, implied second round, implied cunnilingus, dry humping, praise, n*sfw under the cut

bass guitarist!geto who has had an interest in music and its instruments since being a little boy, practically begging his parents to enrol him in some guitar classes. with fingers strumming the nylon strings alongside complicated chords on the frets felt so right that since then he and his guitar have been inseparable since.

bass guitarist!geto who gets to know the guitar so well that he masters guitar solo after guitar solo, playing songs by ear in his free time and thought lead guitar was all there was to music until the age of fifteen where he stumbles across a song with a bass line that sounded absolutely heavenly — through the 240p quality of the youtube video, he watched the bassist dish out the heavy beats, always in the background yet detrimental to making the band sound complete.

bass guitarist!geto who leaped at the opportunity to buy a bass guitar with whatever money he had to purchase a Squier bass — it was a little shitty in sound but it was cheap, something affordable for a middle schooler. suguru didn’t care. he perfected the use of his bass guitar, already having the basics down from playing guitar; his room is filled with posters, picks, pieces of displaced lyrics.

bass guitarist!geto only has the chance two years later to ask his new friends if they wanted to jam out together and down the line, if they wanted to form a band. it was a clueless band of boys (with shoko of course) in some room of gojo satoru’s luxury house where his parents don’t care to ask him to keep the noise down like suguru’s parents do.

bass guitarist!geto fights to get a spot to audition for one of tokyo’s biggest music festivals a few months later. if they won they would get more recognition, more support, even if they haven’t figured out the specifics of how to operate a band. with gojo as the singer, shoko on the lead and nanami on drums, they would find out what they had.

bass guitarist!geto who breaks that stereotype of the bassist being ignored throughout a performance. he thinks it could be because of his longer hair and his newly bought gauges, and he thought he didn’t look too shabby himself — although he isn’t surprised to see most of the girls fawn over gojo as he sang lyrics of an original song, courtesy of the joint effort between geto and shoko.

bass guitarist!geto who gives judges the finger after they said they couldn’t perform originals at an audition, blacklisting them for future performances — but gojo sees it as a win when he has a hoard of new fans waiting outside to get a photo with him with autographs that differed from each paper his pen made contact with. later, he bursts out laughing when gojo says he hadn’t even thought of a proper signature yet and just ‘did whatever on their paper’.

bass guitarist!geto whose band gained popularity fast because of everyone’s good looks, singing at that same place they auditioned at, but now with repertoire under their belt. it’s then that they’re already all in university, and yet everyone’s still incredibly passionate.

bass guitarist!geto who spots you in the crowd together with your friends, jamming out to their set, but while your friends’ eyes are locked on gojo who’s loving the attention, nanami who can’t give a shit and shoko who’s too focused on her solo, you manage to draw geto’s eyes to you. he spends the rest of the set locking eyes with you, amidst other things like sending you winks and licking his lips until you’re under his spell. all throughout he doesn’t lose the rhythm, but he does slip-up from time to time and there’s a panicked look that nanami sends to geto for messing up his rhythm.

bass guitarist!geto who sees you at his next show alone, smiling up at him right at the front row while he’s trying not to mess up after the last time. this time he has a chance to show you what he’s got in a bass solo, losing himself in the music until even you fades off and you’re truly seeing the bassist for who he is. he’s easing back into the main melody of the song but not before leaning over the speakers with a knee on the floor, hovering right over you before shoko takes over and he’s back to his heavy beats.

bass guitarist!geto who brushes off the teasing after the set ends, only to be bombarded with more of it when he sees you on campus — no way you’re in the same school as him, walking around with your cute outfits and laughing along to your friend’s joke with no care in the world.

bass guitarist!geto who doesn’t have much trouble charming you into hanging out with him, already recognising him from far away when he’s got his long flowy hair and gauges and tight black shirt and tall stature — you aren’t realising he’s asking you if it’ll be okay for you to head over to his dorm room. you’re getting pushed by your friends behind you to say yes with giggles and gossip, and of course you weren’t going to reject the hot guy you missed class and ditched friends for.

bass guitarist!geto who shows you his room and tells you to let him know if he’s made you uncomfortable in any way. in the background, there’s a faded, soft song that continues to play that really completes the dorm, immediately hitting it off until he starts to roll a joint a while later, offering it to you with a raise of his eyebrow.

“oh— n-no it’s fine, geto-san, i don’t really smoke…” you sheepishly turn down the weed, settling instead to watch him and his beautiful side profile, letting him explain to you about bands and guitar and chords.

“thank you for having me, geto-san,” bowing, you’re nothing like the person in the bar that day, geto thinks it’s the lack of alcohol but he doesn’t mind, simply leaning on the doorframe as he nods down at you. his smile is intoxicating and so goddamn attractive you would’ve buckled to your knees if not for the deep breaths you were taking.

“next time, pretty?” geto smiles, a little high from smoking. his eyes are lidded (they usually are anyway) and smile lopsided. his hair’s almost out of the bun.

“yeah, next time,” it sounded so breathy, you bit your lip. “i guess you’d have to find me on campus, though.”

bass guitarist!geto who mutters how you’re a little tease to himself later when he closes the door. he swears to himself he’d get your number next time, but it’s not difficult to find you the next time, hanging around the same place at the same time. it’s like you wanted him to find you — he’s not opposed to it. it’s a few weeks down the road now, and the second time is watching him curiously as he smokes, too. you take a hit and embarrass yourself completely in front of him though, and while you’re fighting for your life, you’re not opposed to the buzz it gives you.

bass guitarist!geto who’s opening the door to you the next time, surprised to see your dishevelled state and a pillow between your arms, walking almost a block like this to the next building where his dorm was. he offers to make you some tea and you shake your head, feeling a pounding headache already coming on just from explaining that your roommate was an asshole.

“you can sleep here if you want to, okay?” you sigh, thanking him immensely because even after knowing him for such a short period of time, you’re comforted by his presence.

“at least satoru’s not here,” you laugh at that, nodding tiredly before you’re settling on gojo’s bed after insistence from the other. he wouldn’t care, he’s always going back home anyway, don’t know why he wanted to share a room with me. but before you can get settled in, you hear the familiar crinkling of the paper and the click of the lighter and the smell of weed fills the room again.

again, his hand is outstretched, holding an ashtray below him as the tip of joint glows a red, calling out to you yet reminding you of the way you coughed the other night.

you crawl off his roommate’s bed, snatching the cig out of his hand in a way to prove something to yourself before taking a big puff. this time you’re better, letting the drug flow through your system, but tolerance is another thing, because it only takes another hit for you to be smiling drowsily at the other while geto is a little high, too, eyes rolling to the back of his head when your hand traces over his arms and you giggle.

“you w’nna kiss?” geto asks quietly, a little soberly, having talked late into the night while you hang off his arm and slur your words. but now you know you’re feeling a little more sensible when you can feel your heart pound and your eyes widen despite their need to close.

“i meant it, doll. you’re fuckin’ stunning,” suguru mumbles, the coldness of his rings sending a chill down your body, but also a spark to your core, “you look exactly like the day i discovered bass.” and it’s like cupid fully shoots his arrow through your heart — because have you heard the man play? you’re speechless at his point, only mustering a nod before you’re leaning in.

he hums drunkenly as a way to ask you to wait a min, manoeuvring you onto his lap before he’s taking the almost vanishing joint into his hands. two more puffs are perfect for the cigarette to be discarded and so with a gentle hand, he holds onto your nape while he tries not to get hard from having you on his lap. slowly, your lips wrap around the other end of the joint, taking in another influx of the drug before he does too.

bass guitarist!geto who pulls you towards his lips a little roughly but he doesn’t give you what you want (what he has in mind is much, much better), rather leaving his lips ajar as he exhales the smoke from his mouth into yours, your own smoke already dissipating. weirdly, this burn is more prominent, probably because all you can focus on are suguru’s dazed eyes and the way they burn through your skull. you inhale the smoke before you feel his soft lips on yours.

geto hums into your lips, coming off of them periodically to allow the smoke to disperse, but the moment is so intimate and hot that you blow away the smoke and lunge forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

“no more pullin’ away, geto-san…” you’re trailing off, words messily whispered against his lips and you burn at the chuckle he sounds out, muttering back a question of consent. you’re nodding, reeling at the speed at which he places his hands on your thighs, dragging you further up his front until you rested on his pelvis.

“kissing me like you can’t breathe and you’re still calling me by my last name? i’m wounded.” geto pulls away and defies your rule — you think he’s the only one who can do that. pouting, suguru pushes away the hair enclosing your face. “c’mon, drink, sober up a little.”

“...i like it like this,” you murmur, ashamed as to how readily you leaned into his touch. his stare is piercing though, not budging until you’re gulping down half the cup.

“throats turn dry when we smoke, princess. we can do it more when you’re more used to it, alright?” geto explains, patting your thigh and ignoring the tensing of them around his own. he’s trying so hard to act nonchalant, but he can’t get the image of you parting your lips for the smoke out of his head. the way your eyes flutter close, how you wanted more of him.

“alright… suguru,” you sigh out the name and geto wishes he could hear it somewhere else, “but can we—” the high is getting to you, making your hormones go into a frenzy and you’re grinding on his lap. geto hisses at the feeling, of your cunt brushing against his bulge. your hips are inexperienced, but you’re going by feel, drawing little circles and moving back and forth; whatever that brings you pleasure.

“baby— f-fuck…” geto swears when you pair it with the lips tha kiss down his cheek and jaw and neck, hands on your hips guiding you as you try to chase your high. but a whine from you draws geto out of his daze and he almost cums hearing your needy voice, begging him for something, anything.

“’m tired, suguru,”

he knows, grinding is a tiring thing, so rather he opts for you to lie on him with your back to his chest. by now, the room’s filled with the smell of weed and arousal, asking once again if he could take off your pyjama shorts. geto smiles at the lack of underwear but he says nothing, eyes latched onto the strings of juices that connect your pussy to the shorts.

“my baby ready to be touched?” he feels you nod, loving the way your stomach contracts and expands at the hand that travels over your clothed tits. there, he squeezes them, rubbing fingers over the hardened nub but soon creeps towards your centre. his hand and fingers are so much larger than yours, covering your whole core easily when he cups it and the contact is enough to make you mewl.

“hurry,” your hips hump the air.

“patience, darling,” geto’s gravelly voice cuts through to your ear before he finally draws languid circles upon your clit, rubbing and pressing on your bundle of nerves. his whole body burns from seeing you react so cutely, all cause your eyes couldn’t leave his on that stage. now your eyes were rolling up and over, little moans leaving your lips just from his hands.

bass guitarist!geto who seems to know all your pleasure points in one night, kissing the spot under your ear, to talking you through your orgasm. you were enamoured by the guitarist that you’d let him do anything to you, obsessed with the way he never missed questions of “is this okay?” and “tell me to stop”. geto is just as besotted by you, the arch of your back, the call of his name. god, he was going to write so many songs about you.

“think you can handle a finger, baby?” suguru whispers, caressing your twitching thighs from your first orgasm. with a shaky “yes”, geto plays with your hole, smearing your juices around your sex and getting it all on your thighs. the bashful suguruuu! has him laughing, taking your lips into another kiss as an apology.

“sorry, sweetheart. love teasin’ ya,” muffled words are said, “goin’ in.”

your jaw drops even more when geto first inserts a finger, so much wider and longer that a long moan escapes you. the stretch is so good, everything you’ve ever imagined after watching his fingers travel over the bass strings, and you’re already asking for a second finger. when he does oblige, your hands fly to grab at his wrist.

“feel good?” he chuckles at your lack of an answer, rather responding by clenching around his fingers and leaning back more into his hold. geto sets a pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. he thinks it’s enough of staring at you and almost gets whiplash when his head turns to his hand — from the way he disappears into your dripping cunt, he thinks he’ll cum untouched, although your desperate hips also would play a part.

“feel s’good, suguru— shit…” geto groans lowly into your ear when he feels your hand replicating the circles he’s made on your clit, juices starting to collect in his palm from how wet you were.

“you keep clenchin’ around me, baby, you w’nna cum?”

your body is more vocal than your voice, twisting and thrashing from how his fingers already feel so good. the haze and the smell of geto suguru and the weed in your system is all overloading on you at the moment, but in between you’re able to nod, fingers rubbing at your clit while geto’s speed picks up a little.

your legs naturally spread, each slap of his palm against your pussy paired with the lewd noises only making the whole thing better. it’s not long before you feel that familiar feeling, using your right hand to direct him to you once more and it’s here you see the man you saw on stage before: focused, flushed, small smirk on his face. “gonna cum.”

“yeah? are you?” geto asks against your lips, still tasting the faint aroma of the joint. your eyes are so heavy and your limbs feel like lead; it’s a wonder how both your hands are moving on your soaking wet pussy.

“yeah, sugu, s’sensitive—!” geto coos softly at your whimpers before capturing your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and your orgasm comes crashing down on you. suguru effectively swallows your moans, groaning on his own end when he can feel your cum running down his hand. slowly, he lets you ride through your orgasm, pressing pecks on your skin and shoulders.

“attagirl. so much cum, hm?” your chest is heaving, whining when he removes his fingers and there’s a cute little squelch from the juices, gasping softly as geto separates his fingers and there’s strings connecting his middle to ring finger. “dirty girl.”

you scoff softly with a smile, eyes following how his fingers make his way into his mouth. the other only hums before carrying you bridal style to the shower with a sweet smile on his face. geto suguru was certain he’d worship you.

“gotta taste that cute little pussy next time.”

[magneto-was-fucking-right]

The Ghost Next Door - Chapter 1

Prompt: After suffering an almost lethal injury in combat, Simon "Ghost" Riley expected a dull, and uneventful leave back at his shitty apartment. His new next-door neighbor ruins his plans. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader (named Riley Thomas for plot purposes)

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Disclaimer: slow burn; neighbor!Simon; will eventually contain very graphic descriptions of smut;

Chapter summary: Ghost returns home to find he has a new noisy neighbor: a socially awkward veterinarian with questionable cooking skills. Word Count: 1.5k

When Simon Riley limply walked in on his flat after four months of deployment, he could barely breathe. The stale air from the lack of proper ventilation had trapped in the humidity of the past rainy days, the walls poorly insulated, and therefore, moldy. As per usual, the place looked terribly dull, the scarce decorative elements inadequately arranged, but certainly well-fitting to the dingy apartment complex in Manchester.

Dropping his duffel bag by the door dismissively, instead of opening the curtains and letting in the evening light, he first headed to the fridge, analyzing its usual contents: two beers, a carton of milk (most likely spoiled by now), a jar of marmite and an old noodles container from the Chinese restaurant he liked, stinking up the place.

“Forgot ya little fucker” he made sure to remember to throw it out later, before grabbing a beer and plopping himself on the couch, careful enough to not hurt his wounded leg any further. But as soon as he grabbed the remote from under his thigh, ready to turn on the news and resituate himself with the current ongoings of the British populace, he finally paid attention to the commotion next door.

“Bloody fucking hell” He groaned “What’s all this racket?”

He heard thumping, scratching, something breaking, quick footsteps and what seemed to be a gentle voice cooing “oh no, please, not again”. Just as he was processing the fact that he didn’t remember having any horizontal neighbors since he first signed the lease (one of the main reasons why he even signed in the first place), an aggressive knock on his door made him instantly rise to his feet, grabbing a black facemask from his bag and moving silently to peek through the peephole.

“Mr. Riley!” The old woman on the other side called out, still knocking, and Simon sighed deeply in annoyance. “I know you’re in there, I saw you come in earlier.”

“Fucking cunt” He muttered under his breath, weighting whether ignoring her would make her leave at once (it wouldn’t, and they both knew it).

He took a deep breath before unlocking the door, regretting it immediately.

“There ya are” She started, shoving a couple papers on his chest, and forcing a pen between his calloused fingers “I need you to sign this immediately.”

“What are you on about?” He tried his best to keep it polite and cordial, but the woman’s presence and constant complaints always filled him with inevitable rage.

“Your neighbor” She pointed to the door next to his, where a great deal of noise still stemmed from the walls “She cannot and will not stay here. She is insufferable.”

Well that makes two, innit? He thought to himself, biting down his tongue.

Faced with his menacing silence, she carried on with her melodramatic monologue:

“It’s a petition to kick her out, I’m getting everyone to sign, even the new tenants, then I’ll arrange a meeting with the landlady for a formal hearing.”

“What the fuck did she do?” Simon inquired, clearly irritated, reading the five signatures on the first page. He was pretty sure three of them were in the same handwriting.

She looked at him indignantly, extending her arms at the door once again, indicating the ongoing clatter.

“She has a bloody jungle in there! Cats, dogs, birds, and God forbid, rats if you can believe it!”

“Mrs. Parsons, I think we all had rats in our apartments at some point this year.”

“Not as pets! It’s disgusting, and everyone’s been complaining about the noise!”

He glared at her indifferently, eager to return to the comfort of his privacy and wallow in his frustration, giving his leg some much needed rest. She stepped back, seemingly realizing that Mr. Riley was in one of his moods, not keen on indulging in useless chatter or gossip.

“Right, well, not interested.” He tried to return the signatures, to which she vehemently refused, pushing them back to his chest.

“At least consider it Mr. Riley. She lives right next to you and the walls are thin. Your signature’s the most important one.”

“Will do.” He shut the door on her face, mindlessly throwing the papers and the facemask on the coffee table as he limped back to the couch and turned on the tv. He hissed after realizing he had ripped his stitches as he sat down aggressively, a splotch of blood soaking the fresh bandage he had been arranged on base.

“Fuckin’ hell” he sighed tiredly, deciding he would deal with it first thing in the morning.

***

As the pandemonium progressively decreased throughout the night, Simon had fallen deep asleep on the sofa, tv still on and feet kicked up on the table. But when there was a new knock on the door, this time softer, he felt like he could have only been sleeping for five minutes, exhaustion and grumpiness still ingrained in his bones.

“What now?” He groaned to himself, massaging his sore neck, and finally remembering to kick off his boots. He was so used to sleeping fully clothed, often even geared up and ready to go, that he always took some time to remember how to act like a civilian again once he was back home.

Just as he readjusted himself to go back to sleep, his lids semi closed and arms crossed over his chest, one more knock arose anger in his belly at his newly interrupted rest. Frustrated, he sighed before getting up, easing up the pressure on his wound as the sharp pain reminded him of the ruptured sutures from the previous evening.

Facemask on once again, Simon opened the door aggressively, expecting Mrs. Parsons to come collect her newfound project in ruining other people’s lives, and therefore halfway of saying “What the fuck do you-”

“I-I’m so sorry! I know it’s early and I was probably a huge bother all night, but I wanted to apologize before leaving for work and-”

“Slow down.” He commanded, stopping the young woman’s panicked rant. He had barely rubbed sleep from his eyes and his mind wasn’t yet ready to take in another dreadful monologue. He observed her intently, as he often did to potential threats (usually concealed by the shadows), but as the circumstances proved different, she observed him right back. He always felt strange and vulnerable without the skull mask, regardless of the black facemask covering half of his visage anyway.

She couldn’t possibly be over 25 years old, her bright and cheerful complexion not carrying the weight of the tired lines that came at 30. She was considerably shorter than him, but still quite tall for a woman, her frame concealed under oversized scrubs that seemed ridiculously out of place; her hair messily tied in a long braid. She held up a tray with what seemed to be freshly baked cookies, but about half of them were burnt.

As she smiled nervously, he noticed one of her canines was slightly chipped, and the small white scar across her right eyebrow almost distracted him from the dimples. If she had noticed him stare at the small imperfections, she didn’t seem bothered at all, continuing her anxious speech as if she had practiced in front of the mirror beforehand.

“Right, I’m sorry, I really hoped we could meet in better circumstances.”

“What time is it?” Simon groaned, looking at his wrist to check his watch. “Fuckin’ hell, it’s 6 in the bloody morning.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I was gonna bake you a cake and offer you tea, but I was called in unexpectedly yesterday an-”

“That’s lovely and all, but why are you knocking on my door at six in the morning with half-burnt cookies?” He interrupted moodily and almost regretted it once he saw her smile falter and her cheeks redden in shame.

“Oh…” She lowered the tray, her eyebrows scrunched as she analyzed the overcooked treats and tried hard to recover. “Well, I just wanted to apologize for all the noise from last night before I left for work. I feel terrible about it and-”

“Apology accepted.” He stepped back, ready to shut the door.

“Wait!” She held it with her foot, nervously trembling under his cold gaze. She took a deep breath, and he sighed, his head slightly tilted to the right, as if deciding what to think of the socially awkward woman meddling in his business. “I just…”

“Go on.” He encouraged, trying to speed up the end of the uncomfortable encounter.

“I’m new here.” she blurted out “I moved in about a month and a half ago and people don’t seem to like me very much already” she sighed, and he noticed the dark bags under her tired eyes.

“So I’ve heard.”

“I work at the Vet clinic a few streets nearby-”

“I didn’t sign it.” He interrupted once again, and she would certainly be frustrated if she wasn’t so happy about what he said.

“The petition?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” Her face gleamed with relief “Because I-”

“I’m due to consider it.” He added, her expression quickly dropping to disappointment.

“Why?” Her soft, defeated tone could almost pull on his heartstrings. If he had one.

“I don’t know if you’ll bother me yet.” Now he was just messing with her.

“I won’t!” She argued, defensively.

“Alright. I’ll think about it over that cake.” He closed the door, leaving her open mouthed in shock, the tray of cookies still in hand.

He heard her softly press her forehead to the door after a thoughtful moment, and then yell out:

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“People.”

A/N: I'm back! I wrote this months ago but only just decided to start posting these series :) I LOVE writing porn but when it comes with a cute backstory attached it's just *chef's kiss*. I plan on keeping the chapters simple and comforting - writing has been really helping me cope with seasonal depression, and the boredom of routine in general. New chapter coming soon... Enjoy!

[moonshynecybin]

context here and here... short fic (~1k words) about reporter au marc, turning over what their sepang could be... unspeakably divorced vibes to this one...

Marc lays the recorder down in front of Valentino. He starts, carefully neutral:

“So. You were a little bit shaky on the braking this weekend, was there any specific reason? It looked like you were having trouble with grip?”

Vale crosses his arms, narrow posture folding.

“Marc.” He counters. Face serious.

Marc ignores him. Ignores the tornado shredding his stomach. He scribbles something in his notebook, mindlessly underlining a question he doesn’t even want to ask. He’s been trying to keep it more professional, after the last few weeks. After—

“Do you need me to repeat the question?” He says.

Vale doesn’t give an inch. “Why did you write that article?”

So he did see it. Marc flicks his eyes up from his notebook, quick. Vale’s eyes bore into him. unerring. Feline.

He shrugs a little. Sucks on his teeth.

“Did you have a problem with it?” He shouldn’t, really. Wouldn’t if it were anyone else. Marc’s just doing his job, he won’t compromise that for anyone. Journalism isn't about making people happy.

“No.” Vale says, and Marc’s asked him enough questions at this point to know what he looks like when he lies.

He fingers the end of Marc’s recorder. Long hands against shitty plastic. He switches it off.

“You didn’t tell me this was going to be off the record.” Marc says mildly, like he’s joking. He doesn’t know what Vale wants from this— apparently not an interview—and judging by the expression dragging at the corners of his face, the chances of Vale indulging the small part of Marc scaffolded on hope are slim. In fact, a picture is starting to form, uneasy and edgy, lighting the barely-dormant spark of hurt in his gut.

He can’t be serious.

Vale laughs, brittle and hard.

“So you don’t regret it?”

He is serious.

Marc puts his pen down as something in him clenches, sick and determined. Vale can’t— he shouldn’t get to do this, after the last few weeks. shouldn’t get to be mad at him for the sort of article that he wouldn’t care about if anyone else had written it. Not after how he's ignored Marc, skipping over him in press scrums. After how he implied Marc was overstepping, too familiar. Not professional. After how Marc— after they—

After.

Marc feels like an idiot. Whatever. His piece is still good, his writing stands on its own. It asks valid questions, makes the correct comparisons, and gives Jorge Lorenzo a few hard-earned compliments. It's an incisive article. Interesting. Impersonal. Entirely professional.

Just like Vale wanted.

“Why would I?”

Vale keeps studying him, and Marc thinks a muscle jumps in his jaw. He meets him head on, intense. That same chemistry that they’ve been building for the last few seasons turned sour now, crackling like a live wire. Vale’s eyes drop to Marc’s mouth, then back to his eyes. His expression sets.

Marc sees him arrive at some sort of conclusion.

It can’t be just about the article— others have said worse, gone farther. Marc was careful to stay in bounds, tame and even normal compared to some of the other journos in the paddock. No remarks about his personality or his age. Just a few observations about how Jorge is steadily gaining in the standings, and how Vale is slowly losing the lead he’s had all season. The facts, as Marc sees them. Objective.

But Marc has also never written anything like that before. Has built a name for himself on complex opinions and strategic analysis. On the experience he has as a former racer, and as someone who was supposed to be on the other side of the recorder— supposed to be answering questions instead of asking them. On interviews strengthened by the easy, genuine relationship he has with Valentino Rossi.

But it’s not like he can exactly rely on that last one anymore.

Vale tilts his head forward, eyebrows up. A wry little expression plays across his face, there for a flash, before he shakes his head and pushes back his chair.

“Eh, I guess you are right.” Vale stands, nods. He leans over the table and waves a hand in the air, face animated. Cheerful, if you don’t know him. Studied nonchalance. “Why would you? It’s your job.”

He says the last bit like it means something, extra emphasis on each syllable.

“It is my job.” Marc agrees.

“Right.” Vale says, after a moment, tension threading through them both, taught as a bow string.

He says it like it’s final. Like it’s the end of something. It's exactly the same tone of voice he used a few weeks ago in Phillip Island, when Marc had stumbled out of the cold bed in his crappy hotel room and saw Vale fully dressed, looking for his wallet. About to leave. His head had whipped up when he saw Marc awake, and the look on his face was crystal clear. Had made Marc abruptly feel like he was about to vomit, cold rising from his toes as Vale started to speak.

Too young. Too close. Too unprofessional.

Right.

“Right.” Vale says again now, confirming whatever he sees in Marc’s face, blue eyes clear and remote. The hinge of his jaw is wound tight, day-old stubble blurring his sideburns.

Marc’s chest throbs.

He doesn’t say anything, lets the silence fill the room until it’s about to burst.

Vale stares at him a minute longer before he turns and leaves, door swinging behind him.

Marc sits there, staring at his notebook for a long time.

He doesn’t end up writing anything.

[animestsstuff2]

•Sickly Sweet•

Bakugou Katsuki x reader

Content warning: blood, bullying, cursing, death, fluff, light smut? (Characters are aged up 16/17 but smut would just be kissing if even)

Part 4

Masterlist

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“Hey Yuri!” Kirishima called after you as you walked through the halls. You stopped waiting for him to catch up.

“Hey Kiri, whats up?” You asked, both of you walking to your next class.

“Some of us are heading to the mall after school, you gotta come!” He told you and you smiled, stopping in front of your classroom door.

“Yeah sure, are we meeting somewhere after school?” You asked. There were a few shopping malls near you. A big one and two small ones but they both needed a car or train to get there.

“Yeah we are meeting at the shin train station around fourish then getting the train in” he told you and you nodded.

“Oh! Wait before we go in whats your number?” He asked and you felt your cheeks heat up instinctively. You knew Kirishima didn't mean it like that. Kirishima immediately realised what he asked and his cheeks turned red like his hair.

“N-No not for that reason. I mean so I can call you when im there but I wouldn’t not ask you out!- I of course I mean we are only friends but I dont want you to think thats what im doing. Theres way manlyier ways to ask a lady out!“ You giggled at the poor boys desperate face as he rambled on. You pulled a pen from the pocket of your shirt and grabbed his hand writing your number down. He thanked you sheepishly rubbing the back of his nape.

“Its okay kir-

“Move you damn extras! What are you even doing flirting with her shitty hair! As if you have a chance with anyone” That gruff voice that youve come to just love so much! Ugh not. You turned to see Bakugou standing beside you both, glaring at Kirishima in particular.

“He wasn’t flirting with me Bakugou, not that you would know what that looks like! You scare women away by just your presence” you snapped at the blonde, turning to glare up at him. His eyes flickered over to you and he stepped forward. That familiar smokey caramel scent drifting up to your nose.

“What did you just say you extra?” He growled, leaning down slightly and moving closer. You turned to look for help from Kirishima but to your actual surprise hed left you! So not manly kirishima!.

You felt a slightly nervous grin form on your face as you stepped back only to bump into the wall and you froze. Bakugou stood, leaned over you as his teeth gritted. He had a bad temper and everyone annoyed him but you, you seemed to be the worst. He couldnt get you out of his head since he met you, always looking at you, laughing and smiling with everyone. You were so friendly to everyone and distracting! He could never focus with you in the same room.

“What? Not gonna answer. . . Where did all that confidence go? You sure had a lot; giving Kirishima your number so boldly” he glowered, you just wrote your number down so quickly for the red-headed idiot. You’d only known him for just over two weeks!

“I-“ You couldn’t speak let alone think, after realising the distraction of Bakugous smell you had to stay away. It must be his blood type. . . Not anything else. You looked at him. His blonde hair sticking out over his red eyes. He stepped closer and you stepped back, pushing yourself into the wall.

“Tsk. You’re such a weakling” he snapped and you clenched your fist as you shook your head. You opened your mouth, trying to ignore his strong scent.

“No im not and you do scare girls with your presence! You’re always glaring at people!” You snapped, looking straight at him and his brows raised at your little outburst.

“No im not! Stop lying you stupid extra” he growled. He wasnt some creep always glaring at people, why would he even waste time looking at others.

“Yes you are. You always stare at me!” You stepped forward, poking a finger into his chest as you furrowed your brows at the boy before you.

“W-What? No i dont. You dumb extra!” He snapped, stepping back, did he always stare at you? If he did its only because youre so annoying and loud.

He shook his head, grabbing your finger and hand that was poking his chest pausing when he felt how cold you were, like you weren’t even alive. You froze again, feeling the warmth of his palm seep into your hand. Youd never felt this type of warmth and your eyes flickered back to his.

“AHHHH! Guys look theyre so cute!” Minas recognisable squeal broke you too apart. Bakagou immediately stepped aside and into the classroom.

You turned to Mina and seen Uraraka and Jiro with her. You felt your cheeks warm ever so slightly as they eyed you up. Mina was practically bouncing on the spot as she stepped forward and grabbed your arm.

“M-Mina! We are not cute. We were literally just arguing!” You pointed out, trying to quell her excitement. Her grin only grew.

“Nu uh! You cant lie to me Yuri! I know flirting and youuss were flirting” she exaggerated. You were arguing with Bakugou not flirting. You didnt even like him as a person let alone like like him. You shook your head.

“Um. . Sorry Yuri but I agree with Mina. He was totally jealous of you and Kirishima!” Uraraka piped up and you groaned.

“No Uraraka not you too!” The two girls grinned at you and you looked to Jiro who just smirked slightly and shrugged walking into the classroom.

“You guys would make such a cute couple! Its so obvious he likes you” Mina cried excitedly and you shook your head in protest of the idea of dating Bakugou.

“Yeah Yuri, he is always staring at you and talking about you” Uraraka piped up and your eyes widened, you were curious, what did he say?

“What does he say” you asked, looking at them.

“Well. . . He mainly talks about how annoying you are but its all the time! My mom said when a boy likes you they act like they hate you because theyre too ashamed to admit they have feelings!” Mina explained and you relaxed for some reason youd tensed up nervous of what Bakugou could be saying about you.. what he really thought about you.

“That doesn’t really make sense Mina but anyways, lets go class is starting now” you told her and all three headed in as the bell rang.

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“Hey dad! Im going out with some friends if thats alright!” You called to your dad as you walked downstairs. Aizawa sat at the kitchen table with some folders and paper.

“Who are you going with? and when will you be back? and where are you going?” His quick questions made you roll your eyes. You didn’t really have any friends as a kid being homeschooled up until U.A so this was new.

“With some friends from your class. We are just going to the plaza mall” you told him and his already hooded eyes narrowed more before he nodded.

“Okay, do you need money? Here” his scarf floated and picked up his wallet as he grabbed it and pulled money out for you. You sheepishly thanked him, feeling slightly bad but nonetheless grateful.

“Ill be texting you so make sure you reply quick or ill come and get you” you nodded quickly. He has always been so strict.

You left and headed for the station. It was a pretty warm day which was nice considering it was early April.

You arrived at the train station and smiled as you seen everyone else. Kirishima spotted you and waved his hand over. You grinned and headed over to him as he threw his arm roughly around your shoulders and smiled.

“Hey you came! Awesome” he grinned and you nodded, stepping away from him as he dropped his arm.

You didn’t expect so many. Mina, Uraraka, Kirishima, Kaminari, jiro and Deku. You liked everyone here, especially Uraraka. You both have been close since the villian/hero training a few days ago, ever since shes been sitting with you at lunch and break and in most classes.

“Oh bakugou! You came too!” You froze as Kirishima yelled to the grumbling blonde who joined your group. You sighed, of course Kirishima is too nice not to invite him.

“Yeah whatever. Im only here because you begged me to come” he grumbled and you felt your mood dampen slightly as you turned to glance at him only to find him already staring and you quickly turned away. You immediately thought back to what Mina and Uraraka had said about him

“Okay the train is here everyone!” You chuckled at how Kirishima was acting, almost like Iida as he stood by the door and watched everyone get on.

You took your seat. Kaminari, Jiro, Deku and Mina sat across from you whilst Kirishima took a seat beside you. You smiled at Uraraka who went to take the seat next to you when Bakugou planted himself down and your smile dropped. Uraraka just wiggled her brows at you two and you stuck your tongue out at her as she moved to sit across from Deku and beside Kirishima.

“What are we doing anyways Kirishima?” You asked. You’d been to this mall a few times. Its pretty big with three stories lots of shops and restaurants and even some entertainment establishments like the cinema and arcades.

“Im not sure. Mina was the one who asked me. I think its just a hang out” he explained and you nodded. The train jostled along and you noticed everyone in conversation except for Bakugou. Who sat relaxed against the window of the train staring ahead.

“Are you excited to go to the mall Bakugou?” You asked quietly, if Kirishima invited him he couldn’t always be mean, maybe he just hates school.

“Nah! This is such a stupid thing to be wasting time on but Dunce face and shitty hair begged me to come” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes, huffing back into your seat.

“Of course you’d say that, why even come if you’re gonna be miserable. Is there anything you like?” You grumbled feeling your mood dampen. You were even more annoyed at him for spreading his legs and touching his warm thigh to yours. It was distracting.

“Of course i like things! Just not stupid things like you” he countered and you rolled your eyes at him. He definitely hated everything and anything. You sighed, trying not to let him get to you as you tried again to be nice.

“yeah, like what?” You asked, turning in your seat slightly to face him. His brow raised at your inquisitive tone and change in demeanour, what were you doing?

“Why do you wanna know?” He asked, not fully giving you his attention as he glanced down at you. This was a lie, all he could focus on was were your now two knees touched his thigh when you turned.

“Because we are in the same class and friend group. Its nice to get to know your friends” you were quite literally biting your tongue to not snap at him right now. Mina said if hes mean he likes you so if he acts nice then he doesnt and she will drop it.

“As if id be friends with a damn nerd like you” he quipped and you bit your tongue harder as your hand squeezed your waterbottle tight.

“Fine! Dont tell me. You’re impossible you know! Im trying to be nice and youre just being rude” you snapped as you turned back to face forward, crossing your arms. He opened his mouth to retort but decided against it, what was he feeling. . . Was he feeling bad?

“Tsk, I like spicy food and horror movies. You happy?” He groaned and you felt a smile grow on your face. He was nice! Well as nice as he can be.

“Really? I don’t really like spicy food! Too much heat, whats your favourite spicy food?” You chimed, feeling slightly proud to finally get a proper answer from him. This made you happy for some reason, more so than talking with Kirishima and others.

“Of course. You’re too lame to be able to handle any spice! My favourite is spicy ramen with extra chilli oil” he told you, of course having to add an insult.

“I love ramen too! My favourite is chicken flavour, sometimes the curry one too” you told him. He rolled his eyes at your smiling expression and turned back to face the window before him. You felt good about that small interaction and turned to your friends who all quickly got back to their conversations, hoping You didn’t notice them eavesdropping on you and Bakugou. You also failed to notice the small half tipped smile on the blondes face.

You all arrived at the mall and separated but decided to meet up in a hour at the food court. You went with the girls of course to different shops, going through different clothes and accessories all while gossiping.

“Sooo. . . Yuri! You and Bakugou on the train huh!” Mina wiggled her brows and you rolled your eyes as you looked through the clothing rack trying to ignore her.

“What about us on the train” you mumbled, feeling your stomach twist slightly. You were probably just hungry.

“Oh come on! You have to admit Bakugou is pretty attractive..” she coaxed, pinching your side making you jump as you turned around.

“Mina! I dont like him” you told her firmly, feeling annoyed by her. She only rolled her eyes at you and smiled.

“But he spoke to you! And he smiled after the conversation ended” you stilled. He smiled? You made him smile. You shook your head at your thoughts. Why was he getting to you. You didn’t care if he smiled, probably his first smile since he was born.

“I think yous would make a cute couple” Uraraka piped as she looked at her self with a shirt in the mirror.

“Oh yeah what about you and Izuku” you piped and her face turned bright red as she quickly spun round.

“What about Izuku! Did he say something about me!?” She asked as she grabbed your arm. You were taken aback and you, Mina and Jiro burst out laughing at her.

You all left the store and headed for the food court to meet with the boys. You got some new clothes. You spotted Kirishima which wasnt hard given his spikey red hair. He waved yous over and you all sat around the big table.

“Hey guys! Get anything nice?” Kirhsima asked and you all nodded. He flashed his toothy grin and pulled out a big black graphic hoodie out if his bag.

“Woah thats so nice Kirishima” You smiled as you reached out to touch it.

“I love boys clothing, especially jumpers theyre always so much comfier than girls” you hold him and he nodded agreeing with you.

“So what are we all feeling for lunch?” Denki asked, everyone piped up with different opinions but the food court is huge so everyone got up to get their food.

You were craving some hot ramen. You headed to the little takeaway ramen shop. You could pick your own broth and toppings. You waiting in the line, going onto your phone to message your dad back.

“What are you ordering?” His deep voice piped up behind you and you jumped. You immediately knew who it was. His caramel scent wafting up to your nose as you felt the hear radiating behind you.

“Oh-um, just some tonkotsu ramen” you told him as you turned around. His eyes stared down at you, red circles piercing you and you froze slightly.

“Boring and lame like you” he tsked. His brow raising when You didn’t quickly retort. He noticed your pupils were slightly dilated and your cheeks flushed, were you overwhelmed by all the food smells.

He leaned down his face close to yours as you felt your mind race. His smell so strong; you couldn’t smell the hot food behind you. He rolled his eyes at you. How would you be a good hero when you got distracted so easily.

“Next!” Bakugou glanced up at the employee pointedly looking at Bakugou and you. He grabbed your hand and pulled you forward to the counter. Bakugou ordered for himself, yelling for extra spicy which the employee rolled his eyes at the rudeness of the boy.

“And for her?” The employee asked. He turned to you, seeing you were still slightly dazed.

“She’ll have tonkotsu broth with chicken, egg and green onion toppings” he told him and the employee nodded, handing Bakugou the ticket number. He turned and walked to the collection end, still holding your hand.

“Are you done zoning out yet?” His voice snapped in your ear and you jumped. You blinked a few times and looked up at him, subconsciously gripping his hand tighter.

“Huh? Oh I didn’t order” your eyes widened at your stupidness. He overwhelms you so easily. Your mind raced with thoughts as you turned to go join the line when Bakugou dragged you back by your joined hands which you only now realised. Your cheeks heated as you turned back and looked at them.

“I ordered for you nerd. Its rude you know to make others pay for your food” he grumbled and you immediately felt bad.

“Im so sorry! I have change I can pay you back, how much was it?” You asked as you pulled your purse out and fished in. He grabbed your hand back and you looked up at him.

“Its fine, you can pay me back by stop being so stupid and dont zone out next time” You opened your mouth to argue but his glare hardened and you quickly shut it.

Your number was called and Bakugou grabbed the tray with your ramen bowls on it, bringing it back to your table which all your friends were at again yous sat beside each other and grabbed your bowls.

“Bakugou. Your ramen is the same colour as Kirshimas hair!” You exclaimed, looking at the fiery red broth. The smell was even making your eyes water. He rolled his eyes at you as he began digging in.

You all sat and chatted as you ate and enjoyed your food. You smiled as you watched your friends, enjoying today with your basically first friends unaware of the blonde who just stared at you, slightly puzzled and feeling something else that he wasn’t familiar with. . .

He didn’t like you. You were just an extra in his movie. A person who annoyed him, who he couldn’t get out of his head. . . He shook his head, grumbling as his narrowed eyes watched you and Kirishima chatted. You were awfully close to that red head and it bothered him. It was just you. You bothered him, always on his mind.

You remained blissfully unaware of the blondes thoughts as you all ate and headed home, happy with the day out with your friends.

[euclydya]

YOU – Regain awareness.

Open your eyes.

Wait and listen.

You pause for a second. Something tells you that you shouldn't do that just yet…

Open your eyes.

Wait and listen.

You wait and listen, staying as still as possible. There's some shuffling around you, but the area sounds relatively empty. You open an eye slightly. Just enough to see if it's dark or not. And… It is.

"Great," you think. You can't see shit, normally. You especially can't see shit if it's dark.

You take a painfully slow, deep breath. This situation is so fucking stupid. You've been through worse—and stupider—but this one is particularly stupid. And ridiculous. And you just might strangle Harry over this shit when you find him.

… Yikes, actually.

The thought makes you wince. You wouldn't actually hurt him, would you? No… Right? Fuck. You wouldn't be here if you didn't care about him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You're making yourself paranoid.

–1 Morale.

God fucking dammit.

You say fuck it and open your eyes. Overthinking, alone, will not help the situation at hand. In fact, it'd only make things worse.

You open your eyes to near complete darkness. To your right is a window, letting in some light—it looks like it's nearly night. At least you can *see* a bit, though, shitty vision be damned. Speaking of…

Put your glasses on.

First, you grab a handkerchief from your jacket pocket and wipe your face off. You throw the handkerchief, now covered in blood and… Flour… to the side. You grab your glasses and place them back on your face, where they belong, and finally, you can truly assess the situation.

You, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi, have somehow, successfully, smuggled yourself into a cabin. The cabin of which holds this competition's contestants. The competition? A fucking death match, of course. Don't question it. Don't think about it. There's no time for that.

It looks safe enough to get up. As quietly as you can, you slowly stand up, and try your best to clean off the… Blood. And Flour. Good lord. There had to have been a better [less stupid] way to sneak in. But anyways…

You walk towards the window. Just enough light out to read by. Perfect. You pull your notebook and pen out and immediately begin writing.

·

YOU – This was such a stupid idea Volta and if I could I'd send you to the Pale.

You wait a couple seconds, and you see yourself write:

VOLTA DO MAR – It worked though, did it not? Ahaha.

You roll your eyes, and continue.

YOU – Still. Blood and flour? Really?

VOLTA DO MAR – *Pig's blood* and flour. It's funny. Laugh, *pig*. Ha, Ha, Ha.

YOU – I'm not taking any shit from a bitch that shares *my* body, thank you very much.

VOLTA DO MAR – You're right, sorry. But *still*. You're in, now we can…

Volta suddenly tapered off. "That's not good," you think. And then, someone else starts writing.

PARANOIA – There's something behind you.

·

Uh oh.

Turn around.

Pretend everything is fine and ignore whatever the fuck is behind you.

??? – Before you is a giant fish, almost as tall as you. It begins sniffing you, and after a moment, it makes a soft growling noise. It then opens its mouth…

Ohhh no. Fuck that shit.

Face to face with what looks like a cartoon fish out of hell, you understandably panic. You try to run away, but–

OW.

You slip. And fall. Right on your face. Into the mess of blood and flour around you.

–1 Health.

??? – The… Thing, towers over you now. It doesn't sound like it'd immediately try to kill you out of hostility, but it looks like it'd still very much try to eat you regardless. Like what it's trying to do right now.

The Thing pokes and prods at you with its mouth. Like a predator playing with its food before killing it. Fucked up, thinks one of the beings sharing your body. Or, you *think* it was one of them, anyway. You try to lie as still as possible. Maybe it'll think you're dead?... Do giant cartoon fish-things eat dead things? You don't know. Not that it's important.

??? – After a moment, The Thing suddenly stops prodding at you. You heard it turn around suddenly. It got distracted, it sounds like! Perfect time to get away–

?????? – Heyyy, Cohozuñito! How's it been?

The Thing [Cohozuñito, apparently?] leaves you on the floor and runs [or, slides, it looks like] towards the voice. You once again stand up, slowly. And turn your attention towards the soft glow in front of you.

In front of you stands a man. A man that's also surrounded by warm, comforting light. The light seems to be emanating *from* him, around his head. You stare at him, dumbfounded.

?????? – 'Sup?

The man waves at you. He has a laidback, chill sort of vibe about him. Despite his modern clothing, you can't help but feel he's not *from* this time period.

Still staring blankly at him, and without thinking, you uttered,

YOU – What the fuck?

He chuckled at that.

?????? – Yeah people tend to say that when they see me for the first time, haha. I'm Jesus, and you are?

Jesus held his hand out, for you to shake.

You do *not* do that, and instead squint at him, one hand rubbing your forehead.

YOU – Do I have another fucking concussion. What the fuck's a Jesus.

Both Jesus (!?) and the Cohozuñito (!?!?) laughed at that.

JESUS – Ohh boy. Uhm. Don't worry about that! Not important right now!

He waved a hand around and looked confused after a moment when nothing happened. Like he expected that to do something. “What a weirdo,” you think.

JESUS – Sorry about Cohozuñito here tryin' to eat you. He's uhh… Hungry, I assume? And you look like unfried food right now, frankly. So. Y'know.

YOU – Ah. Well. Um.

You turn and point at Cohozuñito.

YOU – Don't do that shit again.

Cohozuñito made a sad, apologetic sound, and nodded.

JESUS – 'Zuño understands now. You are not food. Won't happen again. He prommys!

YOU – … The fuck did you just say to me.

“Oh my god. Can this fucking guy understand the *literal fish* standing next to him.” You ask yourself.

You grab your notebook out once more and begin frantically writing.

·

YOU – Hello. For the love of god hello.

A moment passes.

PIECES – Heyyyy.

Oh thank God, the guy with braincells.

YOU – Please help. What the fuck is a Jesus.

PIECES [Trivial: Failure] – Uhmmmm. Dunno. Sorry.

YOU – Y'all are no goddamn help.

·

A sudden crashing sound interferes with your frenzied writing. You look towards the noise.

The Cohozuñito has opened the fridge, and from it, has pulled out an egg.

COHOZUÑITO – *Garbled noises*

JESUS – Crack it before you eat it! The shell is tough and will be sharp, my friend.

The Cohozuñito brings it to the stove and, unceremoniously, smashes it open with a hammer.

And from it, another man appears.

JESUS – … Huh.

COHOZUÑITO – *Guttural sounds*

JESUS – I suppose it could be called that, yeah.

You blink at the interaction. And then speak.

YOU – What?

JESUS – He said it's like a reverse ouroboros.

YOU – The fuck does that mean?

JESUS – Don't worry about it!

Jesus laughed nervously. Meanwhile, There is a whole entire other man in front of you three.

???? – Man… Whaddahell.

The stranger looks, well. Strange. And confused. He looks around at you, Jesus, and the Cohozuñito. He hops off the stovetop.

You feel like you're in a fever dream.

·

YOU – Are y'all seeing this shit there's a guy from an egg.

VOLTA DO MAR – Congrats to him for coming out!

YOU – NOT WHAT I MEANT.

·

The stranger gets his bearings quite quickly, though, and goes to give Jesus a high-five, which he accepts.

???? – Oh shit, hey Jesus!

JESUS – Hi Volo!

·

YOU – Ok. Dude's name is Volo. Noted. Why does he know Jesus.

PIECES – Everybody knows Jesus. Duh. Lol. Lmao, even.

YOU – Stop being a sarcastic little bitch you *know* I don't know who Jesus is!!!

·

You gently hit yourself on the face with your now-closed notebook, tired of everything.

YOU – I need. A drink.

You're speaking to nobody in particular, but Jesus heard you anyway, and is right by your side with a glass of red wine.

You decide not to question anymore shit, and take the drink without verbally acknowledging how weird that is.

Meanwhile, there's more commotion, once again ruining your concentration and by extension the conversation being held in your notebook.

The commotion being someone loudly opening the cabin door. The person responsible for the noise then hobbled in.

That person… Ah. You recognize him immediately!

It's Harry!

You dart towards him, happy to see *somebody* you finally recognize, blood and flour be damned! You scoop him up into a hug immediately, and he hugs you back just as tightly.

Yeahhh, those were definitely intrusive thoughts earlier. The smile on your face currently proves that. If anything happened to this man you would kill everyone in the room and then yourself, actually.

Morale restored.

Pulling away from the hug, you look Harry over and notice he looks like shit. Which… Isn't saying much, honestly!

YOU – Harry, you… Look like shit. Like, worse than usual. What happened?

He looks around. At the floor, at the ceiling, everywhere, while trying to think of what to say. He hums while putting his words together.

HARRY – Uhm. Uh. A lot?

YOU – Yeah, no shit!

You let Harry lean on you as you both walked back to the others. Before you could introduce him to everyone though, Harry, naturally, pulled some Bullshit™.

HARRY – Oh, hey Jesus!

He waved, and Jesus waved back. And you almost pushed him to the floor in annoyance! Why does everybody but you know who Jesus is!!!! Ugh. Okay. Fuck. Fuck! Fine.

NEW TASK: READ THE FUCKING BIBLE, I GUESS!

///

hello @white-boy-bracket here's. The next chapter 👍 co-written w @takemetotheastralagain who helped write the Cohozuñito & Volo!

Kim's Skills, btw:

Volta Do Mar — Kim's version of Inland Empire, embodies word salad/rambling/thought disorder shit

Paranoia — Self explanatory! 😃👍

Pieces — Kim's version of Encyclopedia, also self explanatory tbh HDJFJFJ

*These are all Skills our Kim fictive has btw do not @ us or anything. We're writing our fictive here not canon Kim ok thankyou JSJSJDJFIF

[kcsplace]

For those that to prefer to read fic here rather than on AO3

Steve slumped in his chair, head hanging low as took a deep breath.  

The weekend.

Finally.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love being a teacher.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love the little gremlins he had under his care.  It wasn’t even that he didn’t love the Mount Everest of paperwork that they produced…

Okay, if he was honest it was a little that.

But by 3.30pm on a Friday he was ready for the little monsters to be someone else’s problem for forty-eight whole hours.  He could kick back with a beer or three, fall asleep on his couch in his underwear in front of some shitty movie and when he woke up, it would be to two blissful childfree days.

Sighing, he shuffled the latest assignment he’d collected into a folder and started gathering his things together.  He’d spend another couple hours in the library marking, maybe come back and put the room back to rights and then the weekend was his.

Barely had he dropped his bag to the floor by his favourite table in – equidistant to the door that lead directly to the office and the coffee machine within, and the door that led to the staff lot and his strategically parked car – when the calm and quiet of the library was blown apart.

“Stevie!”

“This is a library; keep your voice down!”

“Don’t use your teacher voice on me, Harrington.”

Wincing an apology, Steve waggled his coffee cup at her and accepted the one thrust at his chest, setting off to the coffee machine only to find his best friend falling into step behind him instead of her usual habit of littering their shared table in highlighters and stickers in what she called ‘marking’.

“Steve!”  Ignoring how he was handling boiling liquid, his friend beat her fists against his back, only stopping once he threatened to splash hot coffee over her shoes.

“Did the kids bring you pixie stix again? You know you’re supposed to set an example about healthy eating habits, right?”

“Better, way better!” Behind him, Robin was practically bouncing on her toes, her exuberance knocking her into him as he was pouring milk into his coffee.

“Jeez, Rob, go sit down, whatever it is can wait.”

“It really can’t.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve took both cups, not trusting Robin’s current state, and really who chose a cream coloured carpet for a school, and weaved around her to make his way back to the table.  Only after he’d sat, arranged his papers the way he wanted, selected his marking, and downed half his coffee did he finally relent and look up.

Into Robin’s wide, crazed eyes.

“The fuck, Robin? Are you okay? You eat more of those brownies that Will kid brought in? I told you not to eat shit that kid brings in, you know who his brother is.”

“I got good news, great news and I wanna share with someone special, but I guess you’ll have to do.”

Steve flipped her the bird as he uncapped his red pen, preparing to do battle with the essays he wanted to get off his plate before the weekend.

“I, being the greatest and most amazing friend in the history of ever, got you a date.”

Billy Bianchi’s subpar-effort to tackle the essay question was exceptionally lucky to escape the fine spray of coffee that Steve spluttered over the table and much of its contents.

“What?!”

“I, best friend extraordinaire, got you, saddest sack in the county, a date.  A real live human man wants to take you for a drink.” On balance, Steve would have preferred having to deal with Robin on an inadvertent trip again than another conversation about his love life.  Or lack thereof.

Mopping the coffee off the table with his sleeve, Steve sighed.  “I’ve told you before, as flattering as Crazy Pete’s attentions are, I’m not interested.”

“As if I’d pimp you out to him.” Ignoring how Steve was mouthing ‘pimp you out’, Robin continued.  “Even a dingus like you can aim higher than a guy who hasn’t showered since the Johnson administration.”

“I’m touched.”

“Because I’m such a wonderful friend, I’m gonna let the obvious joke pass.”

“Thanks.”

Patting him idly on the hand, Robin continued.  “You know little Max Mayfield, the new girl in my class?”

“Mad Max? Yeah, I know of her.”

In truth, he’d heard a group of boys in his class obsess over the new student and had been thrilled she wasn’t placed in his class; by all accounts her personality was as fiery as her hair.  He knew enough of her background from Robin to more than forgive her abrupt and brittle behaviour when he’d come across her in the halls, but that wouldn’t make her any easier to teach when in a classroom with thirty other kids vying for his attention.

“She know you call her little Max?”

“As if I’d be alive.  Anyway. Today her neighbour brought her in, came into the office with a signed permission slip from her mom to pick her up, get calls if she needed something, y’know whatever her mom…can’t do.”

Knowing it was more like ‘wouldn’t do due to being passed out drunk on hopefully her own couch but often someone else’s for days at a time,’ Steve nodded.  

“Said neighbour is exactly your type.  Big brown eyes, long curly hair, shorter than you-”

“Robin, I know I dated Nancy back in high school but we’ve been over that, she was pretty much the only woman I’ve ever been attracted to.”

“Who said I was talking about a woman? I don’t remember that.”

“Long curly hair.”

“Men can have long hair, y’know.” So saying, Robin reached across the table, nearly knocking her coffee over in the process, and tugged on Steve’s own, near-shoulder length, hair.

Holding his hands up in concession, Steve tried another tack.  “I’m just not looking-”

“That’s right, you’re not, and I worry about you being lonely.  So I’m looking for you.”

“Nobody asked you to. And I’m not lonely.”

“Your cock sure is.”

“Robin!”

“What? How long has it been since you got some?”

“We are at work! We’re in the children’s library!”

Blowing a raspberry at him, Robin waved away his concerns.  “Please, some of the shit the kids say…it’s illuminating.”

“Terrifying.  You mispronounced terrifying.”

“Anyway, the neighbour, Eddie, is hot as hell, and that’s coming from someone that likes boobies-”

“Thought we weren’t allowed to say boobies.”

“You’re not, I am.”

“Hmph.”

“As I was saying, I showed him your Instagram.”

The pencil in Steve’s grasp snapped in half.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

“No but you’re about to when I show you his picture.” Steve’s answering expression suggested he was already halfway there.

“You cannot be showing people my Instagram!”

“Why not?” Robin shrugged, seemingly unfazed.  “You look cute in some of those pictures.  At least you are in the ones I take.  I know your angles.” Robin reached across the table to grab Steve’s chin, moving his head this way and that until he was able to wrench out of her grasp

“Just what I want a hot guy to think.  That I’m cute.”

“Thought you weren’t interested.”

“I’m not.” Hating the way his voice rose at least two octaves, Steve didn’t miss his friend’s eyes light up at his denial and obvious tell.

“Uh-huh.”

Throwing a paperclip at Robin, Steve blustered on.

“I’d just rather be, I dunno, hot, or something.”

“Awwww, Stevie, you’re fucking adorable and you know it.”

“Great.”

“What’s wrong with cute?”

“Nothing. Just…it’d be nice if a guy looked at me and thought ‘I wanna hit that’ and not ‘I could take him home to my mom.’”

“It’s your wholesome, little face, it just screams ‘take me to Thanksgiving dinner, your grandma will love me’.”

Unable to stop himself, Steve preened a little, smoothing down the front of his sweater.  “Grandmas do love me.  Sometimes they give me their family recipes.”

“Yes, we’re all very proud of you and your collection.”

“Tell me that yam casserole wasn’t the best-”

“It was the best thing I ever put in my mouth and you know it, stop fishing.”

Steve grinned, smug at the compliment, and at having derailed Robin’s train of thought.

“I see what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”  The smile slid from Steve’s face as quickly as it had arrived.  “Your last ‘date’-”, and oh how Steve hated how she hooked quotation marks into the air, “-was with Raphael’s abuela more than him and that was eighteen months ago.”

Had it really been that long? Had it really been a year and a half since he’d last been on a date?

“As such, you will not distract me from my quest.”

“Your quest?  Have you been hanging around that Henderson kid again?”

“My quest to get your grumpy ass laid.  At very least, introduce someone else’s hand to your co-”

“Can we leave my ass and my-” he dropped his voice to a whisper “-cock out of this please?”

“Trust me, this guy? He really wants to hit all of that.” Robin gestured vaguely at her friend.  “I don’t get it, but we all have flaws.”

“Even me?”

“Especially you.”

Jaw dropping in indignation, Steve glowered across the table.

“Like what?! I thought I was wholesome.”

“You look wholesome.  Very different thing.”  Robin flapped a hand at him when Steve tried to counter, urging him into silence.  “I will not be distracted, Harrington. Here.” Robin slapped her phone down onto his folder.  

“Rob…”

“Just look at it, Steve.  Please?”

It was a total creeper photo.  It was obvious that Eddie wasn’t ready for it, wasn’t even aware it was being taken. For God’s sake the angle was insanely unflattering.  Or should have been.  Yet the man on the screen was the most gorgeous person Steve had ever seen in his life.  

True to Robin’s word, Eddie had long dark hair of wild curls, eyes so dark they looked black even in the harsh lighting of the front office, and lips so full that Steve subconsciously licked his own just imagining how they’d feel.  Despite the heat of the early summer day, he appeared to be dressed in black, a leather jacket stretched tight across his shoulders.

“Hot, right?”

Impressed he didn’t make a noise of objection when Robin swiped her phone back, and tempted to check his own chin for drool, Steve aimed for scathing and knew he’d missed.

“What do you know, you like boo-”

“Don’t say boobies.”

Ever contrary, Steve settled for mouthing the word at her.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

“Not that I’m interested, because I’m not,” Steve stressed, scowling when his friend’s expression suggested she didn’t buy his denial for a second, “how do you even know he’s gay?”

Pointing at herself, Robin raised an eyebrow.

“Your gaydar sucks.”

“It does not!”

Steve scoffed.  “Uhhh, Tammy, Vicki, me.” He ticked off the names on his fingers.  “You didn’t pick up on what any of us was putting down.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin sighed heavily.  “Fine. Hold my youthful ignorance against me.  If you must know, I asked him.  Then, he offered up he was single after I showed him that picture from Halloween.  You happy now?”

Before Steve could fashion a reply about his horror about that, because he’d lost a bet and ended up as Harry Potter all day to the amusement of his colleagues, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he was saved from answering.  A message notification from an unknown number covered his screen.  Heart pounding, he tapped on it.

*’So, your friend Robin gave me your number at the school today.  Told me I should ask you out.’*

*‘This is Eddie, btw.  Hope she told you about me.’*

“That was him, wasn’t it?” Robin’s tone positively dripped self-satisfaction and Steve refused to look up into her smug face, which in hindsight was answer enough.

Unwilling and unable to give her the satisfaction of being right out loud though, Steve lied.

“It was a mom.”

“You’re a mom.”

“That…that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Neither does your face.”

“You love my face.”

“Not as much as you do.”

“Loving yourself is important, isn’t that what you tell your kids?”

“…you got me there. Lemme see.”

Slapping at the hand that tried to swipe his phone, Steve hastily typed a response, already eyeing the exit and wondering if he’d make it to his car before Robin hamstrung him.

He knew he wouldn’t make it three feet.

*‘Not sure I should agree to go out with someone that seems to find being hit on by-proxy charming.’*

Watching the three dots that indicated Eddie was typing a reply dance and pulse, disappear and then start again only to stop once more, caused Steve’s gut to clench as he waited for a reply. If he were honest, Steve was interested.  Eddie was exactly his type physically, and taking care of a kid not his own? Practically swoon-worthy.

He’d go to his grave before he admitted it, though.  Especially to Robin.  But what if Eddie had just been humouring the insane woman that cornered him in the front office?  What if he was only asking out of obligation?

“What he say?”

“None of your business,” Steve shot back with little bite, and whatever Robin was going to fire back was lost to the sound of a new message arriving.

*‘Maybe I shouldn’t date someone who needs their friend to flirt for them.’*

Pain lanced up his shin and Steve jumped in his seat, pushing back from the table to remove his limbs from the range of Robin’s deadly aim.  Doc Martens were not to be underestimated vis a vis boot vs shin.  

“What the hell, Buckley?”

“Don’t ignore me, Harrington!”

“I thought you wanted me to talk to this guy?”

“Multi-task!”

“You always tell me I can’t do that!”

Ignoring her grumbling about the uselessness of men, Steve returned his attention to his phone and the egregious allegation it held.

*‘I do not need my friend to flirt for me.’*

*‘Prove it.  Meet me at The Hangout tonight, seven o’clock, let me be the judge.’*

Glancing down to the table and Robin’s phone, the screen still lit up with the picture of Eddie, Steve mentally shrugged; what could it hurt?  The guy was hot and while he was perfectly happy with his work, and his usual Friday routine, totally and completely happy regardless of what any Robins might say, it had been a while since he’d been on a date.  It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to let this guy buy him a drink.  At worst an hour of his time is wasted and even that would come with the bonus of getting to hold the failure over Robin’s head every time she made noises about setting him up again.

But, he thought, that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy on the guy.  

*‘Thought you were gonna ask me out.  Doesn’t seem like much of a question.’*

*‘Seriously?’*

*‘Manners are important, don’t you want to set a good example for Max?’*

Unable to continue to ignore Robin’s overly-dramatic sighs from across the table, Steve glanced up as he finished typing his reply.  Robin had draped herself across the desk, one hand to her forehead as she stared at the ceiling, sighing again now she was sure she had Steve’s attention.

“You know you’ve robbed Broadway of a star, right? Tony material right here.”  Her answering kick out at his shin glanced off his chair leg and Steve grinned at her in consequence-free triumph.

*‘Low blow, very low blow.’*

A gasp had Steve looking up from his phone.

“What?”

“I just thought - it’s been so long since you were last on a date, do you still remember how?”

“Not helping, Robs.”

“Hey, my reputation is on the line here, too.  I don’t want the guardian of one of my kids thinking I’m besties with a raging moron.”

“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

*‘Still not a question.’*

“I’m just worried that maybe dating and sex have changed since you last caught sight of another man naked.  Which is a questionable life choice, rather you than me, you know my motto ‘boobies not boners’-”

“You really think you’re helping, don’t you?”

“I am helping.  I found you a man.”

Steve scoffed again, and looked up from the dancing dots just in time to catch Robin flipping him the bird and he rolled his eyes.

*‘You royalty or somethin’ ‘cos you’re real hard work.’*

*‘Nothing good comes easy.’*

*‘You come hard, King Steve?’*

To his annoyance, heat flooded Steve’s cheeks, flushing his pale skin a hearty pink.  It was practically a call to arms for Robin, reinvigorating her efforts to relieve Steve of his phone.

“I know that look. That’s a disgusting look for you to be having in this, the children’s library.”

“I thought you said that it didn’t matter.”

“Using my words against me? For shame.”

Unable to bite back his grin, and feeling bold, Steve tapped out a reply, hitting send before he could overthink it.

*‘Buy me a drink, maybe you’ll find out.’*

“Ha!” Robin crowed, seeing something in Steve’s expression, reading him with the ease of decades of friendship, giving up her spirited attempts to relieve him of his phone.  “I expect such a gift basket for this.  Tropical fruit type shit.”

“Whatever is wrong with you is no small thing,” shaking his head fondly, Steve shot his friend a smile.

“You love it.”

God help him, he did. From the moment years ago when he’d walked into his first job and she’d thrown the world’s worst uniform at him, Steve had, often despite his best efforts, been entranced.  

The beep of his phone broke the moment before he did something really stupid like admit it out loud.

“Saved by the bell from professing your sweet, sweet, p for platonic love for me.”

“If only I could be saved from you.”

*‘Meet me at The Hangout tonight, Your Highness?’*

*‘I’ll be there.’*

  (yes Joe has dressed as Harry Potter for Halloween and it’s adorable and of course Eddie would be interested)

[randokatz]

[chefboiblobbies]

I know this is a simple meme but as someone who’s studying medicine, it’s accurate and at the same time it’s not.

The students are lazy. They push things off like learning or simply using Google. Everybody has ChatGPT on their tablets and they do use it regularly. Now whether they’re lazier than people in the past, I’m not quite sure. I feel like from what I’ve been told, that many present doctors did parties as well - pushed off studying for exams, tried to cheat in any way.

Yet the system changed. Now every little thing you do - BAAM - you used ChatGPT right? I can’t even do something with effort because I’ll be accused of cheating, of asking the oh so great AI. The system has gotten tougher, there’s more to learn because more things have been considered as important for credits or have been discovered, put into consideration. You can’t go read a book because the universities force you to do it online. I can’t work with pen and paper because everything I need to study, everything I need to know, are all online. Professors use ChatGPT, professors up the difficulty because we’ve gotten so lazy. There’s a lot of strong willed, smart and wonderful people I have met. They are not lazy - they are human. The system puts us all in this box though. Now everything’s overwhelming and so yes, of course, we will use means to help us. To make things easier. And yes, to cheat. Because that’s what everyone has always been trying to do. To make things a bit less difficult. And that “a bit less” has increased to a lot less - because they’re making everything more complicated, everything more difficult, everything too much - and then they call us lazy.

I want people to consider the fact that medicine means nothing because it’s all theory. Medicine is a lot, it’s complicated but it shouldn’t be put higher. Being a doctor doesn’t mean you know everything. What they put you through university, what they teach you - it’s 60% theory that you don’t need to know. And the physical factors, the actual important ones, get ignored. They come too late, they get introduced when you’re nearly finished with your study. And so you throw words around like “Oh doctors nowadays don’t know shit”. I’ll let you in on a secret from me - a person who grew up with a shitty immune system and many many doctor visits - doctors didn’t know shit in the past as well. It’s the specialized ones that know more - and why’s that? Because they get more practical hours on a singular subject.

Many professors have told me that our generation has lost its will to learn. That we cannot get praise because we do not do anything. Do not have effort.

All of these professors have told us this right in the beginning. When they didn’t even know our names, when they didn’t know from where we are from. When they probably haven’t even fully looked at each of our faces. They call us a lost hope while greeting us with despair.

On anatomy exam with a very short time limit, I had a professor who stood by me and told me - “You’re fine, you have all the time in the world, you can do this. Just take a deep breath, and remember. I know you learned. I know you can do this. I know you can”

And I learned, and I knew it, and I did it. And I was so emotionally overwhelmed after I passed, that I looked at her and she just opened her arms and gave me a hug. These are the ones that care, these are the ones that don’t see us as lost hope. These are the ones that won’t call you lazy. These are the ones that know in their area, in their field of work, there are already enough of idiots. And they don’t see us as destruction, they see us as a way to fix things, as complete hope.

[credince--writes]

Scary Dog

You need a new printer. Sometimes you need to bring negotiation aids.

Useless, shitty little one-shot because I need something else to work on.

Konig x Medic!Reader

Scary dog privileges

Your pen tapped against the desk you sat at. The smell of sanitizer and printer ink was fresh on your nose.

And, well your skin too.

That goddamn printer, it was always breaking, half of the time you thought it would just catch fire.

It would be easier that way if it just did, then you'd be able to get a new one.

But, alas, you weren't the head bitch of the armed-with-alcohol-pads crew. That lovely position was reserved by Lud.

All the other doctors lovingly refer to him as Dud.

Because that is what he is.

A Dud.

A lazy, selfish, piece of-

You were getting sidetracked.

He would always deny your requests for a new printer, and at this point, it was a hindrance to your job.

The black ink splattered all over you, staining your shirt and skin was proof of that.

You prided yourself in your work,

your efficiency.

Your ability to get the things others couldn't get done, done.

Just so happened that because of this, you got the....

How could you phrase it?

Well,

you got the scary dogs.

They were big, and they looked mean as hell.

But all it took was a threatening glance and they were rolling over showing their soft puppy bellies to her.

Maybe it was the dum dums you brought back from America to give them as a treat for being a good patient.

"That's it!" You slapped your hands on your desk, throwing the muddled papers scatted across the floor as you swiped your arms across the desk.

All of the papers were useless, all thanks to that fucking printer.

Stomping out of your little office, you made your way through the hallway and into the main living space for the team.

"I need a dog!" You yell, catching everyone in the space's attention.

"What?" One of the men ask.

You promptly ignore him, scanning the room and walking- angrily - might you add to find the perfect scary dog.

"A big- scary fucking dog!" You flail your arms in the air.

And your eyes landed on him.

Oh.

He'd do.

He'd do just fine.

"König." You call out, sickly sweet.

He was already staring at you, giving you a cautious glance.

"Did you fight an octopus, doctor?" He asks.

His accent, it was thick.

Just like the rest of him, you suppose.

Music to your ears.

"Would you please accompany me to Doctor Dud?"

He stands, lifting his body to its natural heigh, towering above you.

Perfect.

"Is everything alright?"

"I just need you... to be my big scary dog." You smile.

That smile could make him do horrible things.

"Uh...?" He asks, confused.

"Be intimidating. Be my persuasion, can you do that for me? Please König?" You bat your eyelashes- not too much. A subtle blink or so.

His name falling off your lips.

He had to catch himself for falling forward as he zoned out, looking down at you as you so sweetly begged for his presence.

"Of course." He nodded.

"Great!" You grinned, that evil toothy Cheshire smile.

Pulling him along- not this his long stride took up two of yours- you stood outside of Dud's office. Knocking on the door twice, you pushed the door open and made eye contact with him.

He never really took the time to work with the special teams.

They were a little rowdy for him.

"What do I owe the pleasure....." His voice trailed off, looking up and meeting the narrow, deadly gaze of König.

"Oh, I think the printer is on the fritz again!" You laughed lightly, innocently.

Oh, how evil.

"... I can see that." He said.

"I think it would be best if I just got the new printer." You said, tilting your head to the side. "You see, König was in my office but he can't go about his day until his paperwork gets finished!" You laughed.

"Well... I don't think a new one is in the cards right now-"

"Oh no!" You fake pouted. "I'd hate to cause your mission to delay König." She glances up at him.

His eyes were fixed on Dud.

His presence loomed.

It was as if he sucked the heat from the room, leaving the air in a suffocating freeze.

"Oh- well-" Dud stammers.

"We wouldn't want to cause any inconveniences to König here, would we?" You ask innocently.

Dud swears that a red glint flashes in König's eyes.

"Of course not!" He all but heaves out, sweat collecting on his brow.

"So, new printer?" You ask happily.

"I'll have it brought down right away."

"Great!" You smile, turn, and quickly walk out of the door.

König doesn't move, opting to leave an impression by standing there in silence a few seconds longer, staring into his soul.

"König!" You call.

His head snaps back, releasing him from his trance. He spins on his heel and quickly exits the room, tailing you.

Man, maybe next you could get new linens!

[thathumanwiththecatears]

lol when you end up super sad and depressed and dont want to do anything but shove food in youre face but all the food you have takes effort to make so you just dont eat anything at all :)

[wolfstarlibrarian]

HELLO I was jw what were your favourite fics featuring POC Marauders without the shitty stereotyping 💜

Also thank you librarian for your content. Honestly this is the top tier rec blog in the fandom due to your amazing taste.

Well THIS is a great ask! It’s nice to see fans looking for authentic diversity in fics as opposed to tokenism. Just about all of these fics have been listed on various library lists, but hopefully people enjoying seeing them listed somewhere convenient. Also, this is just a VERY SMALL selection of fics featuring Remus or Sirius as POC, so if you’re looking for more of a certain representation, just send an ask!

Also, a note to authors looking to include representation (other than their own ethnicity) in their next fic: make sure that you read first hand experiences from multiple sources, research with advocacy groups, and THEN try reach out to a peer who can potentially beta/do a sensitivity read for you. It's important that we all try and learn as much as possible on our own before asking our peers to work as our educators. ❤️

POC Wolfstar

Black James & Cuban Sirius

Be My Baby by @remus-john-lupin It’s the summer of 1963, and 18 year old Remus Lupin discovers dance, love, and even himself. (A very romantic and very gay Dirty Dancing AU.)

Latino Remus

Forget-Me-Not by @halictus-writer

For someone who just woke up with amnesia and a bad concussion, Remus Lupin isn't too dispirited. He'll get through it with the help of his friends, taking it one day at a time, as Sirius says. The only (other) problem? There's something important that he's forgetting.

Retrial by phoenixgal

Remus Lupin, host of the popular podcast Retrial, decides to focus on the case of Sirius Black, a man convicted of murdering his high school best friend, for his upcoming season. Remus has gotten too close to his subjects in the past, so he promises himself that won't happen this time.

Desi Sirius

Young Hearts Intertwined by @goodboylupin

There’s a special kind of magic to a wartime wedding.

Latino Remus & Desi Sirius

A Lucky Mishap by softiejace Of course this would be just Remus’ luck - the library printer breaking when the deadline for his term paper is coming up. And to top it off, the pretty boy he’s been running into all week is there to witness his moment of misery… but maybe he can turn things around?

Sephardic Jewish Remus

Candles in the Darkness by @miraxb

In the winter of seventh year, James, Sirius, and Remus are all carrying their own burdens and fears for the growing darkness in their world. Together, they find comfort and light at the Hanukkah celebration in the Lupin household.

Half Syrian Remus

I Tried Writing Your Name In The Rain, But It Never Came, So I Used The Sun Instead by @prefectmoony

Don’t get Remus wrong. He loves his friends, he does! Loves them to the moon and back in fact. They’re his people, his favorite part of everyday, his found family. He’d do anything for them. But the thing is that doesn’t take away from the very simple fact that his friends are fucking ridiculous. Remus knows this, has known it for five years now. But it doesn’t stop him from startling awake on the morning of his sixteenth birthday surprised by the sound of fireworks exploding in their dormitory and a raucous chorus of “Happy birthday Moony!” being shouted into his ear with jaunty gusto.

Chinese Sirius

got a fascination (with your presentation) by @alifeincoffeespoons

When Remus thought of Oxford as a child, he envisioned turrets, laughter, and an unnameable, unforgettable magic. He did not envision vomiting his breakfast all over himself while standing in the halls of St. Catherine’s College.

Cut Your Bangs by @notmycatsname

"There’s something about him that catches Sirius’s eye. His voice is a little whiny, almost off-key. Sirius has heard it time and time again in the bands that Lily plays through their speakers at their apartment but it sounds more genuine, almost heart breaking, through his voice. Remus’s voice."

Black Remus, Desi Sirius & James

Palo Alto by NachoDiablo

Modern AU set in Silicon Valley. It's easy for Sirius to ignore his mixed-up feelings while he's got Remus all to himself, but when Remus starts dating again, Sirius is forced to figure things out before Remus moves on for good. Or before James and Peter strangle them both.

Japanese Remus and Taiwanese Sirius

kavaluan (means white lily here) by @claudiafekete 1926, Taiwan. Japanese empire's prized colony. Remus needed an interpreter. Sirius volunteered.

Philippino Sirius

Problems with Narrative Structure and the Rules of Manly Engagement [+Podfic] by @xinasvoice

"There were easily six hundred people living in the Paramount building in downtown San Francisco. That was a lot of neighbors to get to know, but it only took a single day of living there for Sirius to notice Remus."

Latino Remus & Japanese-American!Sirius

Discards by @picascribit​ When 21-year-old assistant librarian Sirius spots a cute hipster college student at the Seattle Public Library, he just needs to figure out a subtle way of determining whether he’s into guys. But Remus’s life is more complicated than Sirius knows.

Native American Sirius

Grimsfall by @remus-john-lupin

There is a legend in the old city of Grimsfall that a large, black creature used to emerge from the forest at night, and anyone who met its gaze would be driven to madness before the thing dragged them into the depths of hell.

Mexican Remus & Sirius

A Whole Queer County Fair by @bigblackdogfic Two queer Mexican kids talking, having sex, and feeling their feelings in Arizona.

Indigenous Australian Remus

Among The Gumtrees by WolfstarGarden Sirius inherits his uncle's farm, but finding the right farmhand isn't as simple as he'd hoped: Sirius just couldn’t help but wonder if fantasising about his straight farm assistant was maybe one boundary breach too far. On the other hand, perhaps Remus shouldn’t suck on the end of his pen while lost in thought.

South American Remus

The Delegate by @wanderingbandurria

It’s 1921, and Sirius Black is a sailor that wants to prove himself as a political agitator. He sets foot in a lost, forgotten port in South America, where he’s supposed to help with the local organization of syndicalists. He’s not expecting to meet a brown-eyed man who is there to help put his words into Spanish. A man that’s really not interested in anything but doing his job. Nothing more.

Thai Sirius

Whatever Words I Say -orphaned fic

When Remus Lupin is hired to control the antics of famous lead singer of the Marauders, Sirius Black, he knows he has his work cut out for him. Sirius is contrary and has absolutely no chill, and loves pissing off the press. Remus feels up to the challenge, but he certainly does not expect to fall head over heels in love from the moment he meets the charismatic singer.

Something Beautiful -orphaned fic When Remus Lupin’s ex talks him into a drunken tattoo mistake, he goes to his friend and co-worker Lily for help. Luckily her husand’s best mate is a tattoo artist who can help with the cover up. Unfortunately for Remus, the tattoo in in a rather compromising area, and he’ll have to get over his embarrassment. Luckily for him, Sirius Black is just the man for the job.

So many fics and yet so many more to go! As always, feel free to reblog with your own recs!

[krakensdottir]

I think you’ve hit it here. The biggest factors are that SeaWorld is a for-profit megacorporation (so it’s immoral to the same degree as, say, Disney) and they DID trade in wild-caught animals initially, as did absolutely every marine park at the time. The idea that things might’ve changed a bit since they opened in 1964, or since the 70s-80s when some of the most-quoted incidents occurred, is kind of lost on the public. SeaWorld today is as different from its early days as all modern accredited zoos are, but that’s not the narrative presented by ARAs or disgruntled ex-trainers, and that’s what the public hears.

Me, I actually believe what I do BECAUSE I know so much about them. I have the records, decades’ worth of them. I have the lists of deaths and causes of death. I have the statistics on breeding programs. I can see the lifespans extending and breeding success skyrocketing over the decades. I can see the shift from wild acquisition to captive breeding and simply improving the health of the animals so that they live longer. I have the facts, and I can form my own conclusions without basing them on someone’s narrative. I also have a lot of data on non-cetacean species in other facilities to compare it to, and I can see for myself that many cetaceans do very well in human care, even compared to land animals.

But I had to dig for all of that information. I had to ignore PETA and the media-hungry ex-trainers who haven’t worked at SeaWorld in decades and all of the other loud voices completely dominating the conversation, and actually get hold of inventory reports and death certificates and studbooks and put it all together. Most people do not have the patience for this. Which would be fine, if they’d accept ‘hey, I don’t really know enough about this subject to comment’. But they’re going and forming opinions anyway, based on much worse information, and it becomes very easy to stir up a resistance to something that isn’t actually happening.

And again, like, we know that SeaWorld as an organization is absolutely concerned with profit first. We realize this. And there are plenty of valid criticisms to be made about the way they operate in the present day, about management decisions and shitty public relations and oh yes, their treatment of their human employees, who are MUCH less valuable than the prized whales and dolphins and are treated accordingly. Even some of their animal-management practices (which are usually not decided by the trainers, the people who actually know the animals) are pretty dumb. But no one is talking about those issues or discussing them in a rational light. Because it’s much, much easier to get people upset over the carefully constructed image of poor tortured whales in bathtubs being forced to do tricks, vs. happy carefree animals frolicking in a sea pen that’s just miraculously paid for. Sure, it’s completely divorced from reality, but that doesn’t matter. It’s propaganda, and it works.

How come SO many are very against sea world? and whats some repiles to give to the anti sea world crowd?

I can only speculate as to why SeaWorld became the #1 target of animal rights extremists, but I think it was a variety of factors. Although they’re an accredited zoological facility, with all that entails, their parent organization (SeaWorld Parks & Entertainment) is a for-profit entertainment company. They initially purchased most of their collection animals from wild captures, and although this was common practice for all zoos historically, these captures took place in living memory and were documented on film. Killer whales are among the most intelligent and charismatic of all animals, and they served as SeaWorld’s main attraction for decades. Plus, thanks to movies like Free Willy, the public already had a subconscious “anti-captivity” bias, although SeaWorld for years seemed largely exempt from this, probably due to their hugely successful presentation of their whales as the famous “Shamu family.”

All this served as ideal ammunition following the tragic death of Dawn Brancheau, but had she never been killed, I sincerely doubt the anti-SeaWorld sentiment would’ve taken off quite like it did. The general public was absolutely shocked by this death, and I think at least part of that was SeaWorld’s own fault. Even though they were instrumental in changing public opinion of killer whales from mindless fish-stealing monsters to beloved icons, they went too far in the opposite direction by portraying them as basically giant friendly ocean dogs. It was too easy for the audience of the Shamu shows to forgot that this was still an enormous, incredibly powerful, wild predator, and when Tilikum killed Dawn, they just couldn’t understand it. How could Shamu do this? Weren’t orcas supposed to be friendly, lovable creatures with a mystical connection to human beings? Cue the Blackfish crew and their supporters (PETA, HSUS, etc.) swooping into create this narrative that the only reason this horrible tragedy could ever have occurred was if the orcas were abused and tortured to the point of psychosis. After all, they’re a for-profit company. They purchased captured orcas 40+ years ago. Killer whales are so intelligent and live in families just like humans, so they must have the same desires as humans. Look, we even have a handful number of ex-trainers willing to speak against their former employer. Never mind their AZA accreditation or robust research and rehabilitation efforts. Animal rights activists have always campaigned against zoos and aquariums, but this was the perfect situation to get their previously fringe beliefs presented to the wider public.

And boy oh boy, was it successful.

As for good resources in support of SeaWorld and similar facilities, I discuss it in this post! I have another ask that I’m working on answering that will go over some rebuttals to the most common anti-Seaworld talking points, so keep an eye out for that!