#just wish these shitty nights weren’t becoming so frequent

[e77y]

Terrible day today but at least I am going to sleep now. If you have any silly things to send me it would be much appreciated haha ❤️

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (2/?)

Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Description: James Buchanan Barnes, the owner of the most expensive-looking club in town and your new apartment. He was a dick and you hated him. What could possibly go wrong when you, the new girl in town, start bartending at his club to pursue your dreams?

Warning: Sexual assault, mention of an anxiety attack.

Word Count: 1641

It turns out you definitely can't do this. Working in retail sucks, majorly. Customers are so awful to you and other employees as well. You didn't make the products, you don't control the prices, then why should you listen to them rant about it all day?

This job was from 9 am to 4 pm, which reminded you a lot of your previous job. By the time you got home, you were exhausted mentally and physically. Your current schedule was eerily similar to your previous lifestyle, which left you with no time to work on your book.

You felt like you were stuck in an insufferable loop that you just can't seem to escape no matter how hard you try. You thought about Mr. Barnes a lot, too. If only you weren't so egoistic and been a little nicer, then maybe you could have had that job.

With each passing day, you were becoming desperate. The only reason why you didn't run to Mr. Barnes a week ago was your pride. A pride that would not let you bow down to that rude, egoistic asshole.

It's like the universe could hear your thoughts and the devil himself walked through the doors of the store. Fuck, he can't see you here. He's going to think you're some nut job who's chasing stupid dreams after having an excellent degree. At least that's what your parents think.

You were about to run and hide behind an aisle when the voice you knew too well called out for you.

"Hey, do you know where I could find-"

"You," He said, without an emotion. "What are you doing here?"

You pointed towards the badge with the name tag on your shirt and mouthed working.

"Why?"

"Why?" You pretended to think, "I don't know, I interviewed for this other job about a week ago, but the boss was an ass."

"You lied to me," he stated as if it wasn't the most obvious thing.

"Gee, sorry, dad."

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what again?" You questioned.

" Diverging a question with a joke," He answered with an unaffected tone like he was studying you and your reaction.

"You know who I am." he stated. It should have been a question, but both of you were aware of what he meant.

"A vampire?" You mocked. He didn't look like one though, but hey, neither did Edward nor Stefan. But God, those steel-blue eyes could drink you up and you wouldn't complain. Focus.

For the first time you saw an emotion on his face that wasn't unaffected or bored, he was confused. Of course, he was confused, you were referencing twilight to a mob boss (you think, you weren't sure, but that's all you could gather from all the articles you found about him online).

"I need that job," you confessed. " I know it's not very convincing, but I need you to trust me-"

He raised a brow at that and his lips turned into a smirk. God, you wished you could swipe off that smirk from his stupidly handsome face.

"But you don't trust me, " you stated dejectedly and started turning around. "You wanted something? "

In an instant, his hand wrapped around your wrist gently, stopping you in your tracks. You ignored the involuntary shudder that ran through you and immediately yanked your hand out of his grasp.

You turned around and were about to give him a piece of your mind about how he shouldn't just come to your place of work and touch you without consent. He clearly guessed your thoughts and cut in.

"Clint Barton, the manager, he will tell you everything you need to know about bartending and handling the customers."

Did he just hire you? What changed between this and your previous meeting with him?

And just like that, he left. There was a part of you that wanted to say fuck off I don't need your help, but you knew better, so you went to that club later that evening. You found the Manager, Clint. He told you he was expecting your arrival and that made you feel weird because Mr. Barnes was totally opposite the day you met.

Your new job required you to be at work from 8 pm to 3 am, which was ideal for you. You usually reach home and pass out till 4 in the morning and wake up around noon. This schedule gave you a lot of time to work on your book.

You ended up making friends with some other people that work there as well. Wanda was the smart, sarcastic one that you'd have died to have as a friend in high school. Pietro, her twin brother, was also nice, a bit fast and impatient, but he was nice to you. Peter looked very young, but he knew what he was doing and he'd help you out a lot. That kid had a lot of energy and adrenaline, which surprised you every time he'd be done with work way before you.

You didn't see Mr. Barnes frequently. You saw him one time entering the club, and you tried to give him a smile which he ignored and went straight to his office upstairs. And then you decided to ignore him as well. It wasn't like you to be petty, okay, maybe you were being petty, but in your defense, he started it.

You were finishing up cleaning the table and were about to call it a day when a man you didn't recognize, probably wasn't a regular, came in asking for a drink.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're closed." You told him politely.

"Whiskey on the rocks."

You wanted to refuse him again, but you stopped yourself when he came into your sight. He didn't look like the kind of man who'd take your no seriously. He looked just as intimidating as Mr. Barnes, even more, but Mr. Barnes knew his boundaries, whereas this man in front of you evidently didn't. You could tell this by the way his gaze was slowly taking your body in and stopping a little longer at your cleavage.

You wanted to cringe and curse yourself for choosing to wear a top like that in a place filled with drunk men. The smarter part of your brain told you that he can go fuck himself, and you shouldn't think about men when you dress up. Women are entitled to wear whatever they want to and fuck men and people who tell them otherwise.

Carefully, you made his drink and handed it to him. His hand lingered on yours while taking the glass from you, and you wanted to just throw the drink across his face. His gaze remained on your chest even when you fixed your top and coughed twice to call his behavior out.

"What time do you get off?" he asked, eyes still on your chest.

Is this guy for real? , you thought.

"Um, this is highly inappropriate and I think you should leave now because I have to call it a night." you rejected politely, raising your hand towards the door, hoping he'd leave.

He chuckled darkly, his stare still drinking in your body as if you were a piece of meat, and it made you very, very uncomfortable. He obviously wasn't taking no for an answer, and you had no clue what to do. You were the only person left, and you didn't even know who to ask for help.

"Come on, baby girl," he said, walking towards you and forcefully snaking his hands around your waist to settle on your hips. " Don't make this harder than it should be. "

"No!" you yelled, pushing him away and creating some distance between you.

"Hard way it is then," he decided, walking towards you and forcefully holding the hem of your shirt in his hands to remove it. You struggled, yelled, and pushed him off you again. He furiously lunged forward towards you and hit you hard across the face. "Fucking bitch."

"Rumlow!" a voice boomed from behind you, and you hated yourself for being in such a vulnerable state. As much as you tried not to, tears welled up in your eyes and you hated being the helpless damsel in distress.

"Get the fuck out of here." the familiar voice ordered.

"Chill, Barnes. We were just having a little fun," the man known as Rumlow reasoned nonchalantly. "Besides, it's not my fault if she wears clothes like this."

You were all about feminism and how women should be treated equally with respect despite their attire, but at that moment you hated yourself for choosing that deep-neck shirt this morning.

"I'm not going to chill while you sexually harass my employees, so get the fuck out of here," Mr. Barnes warned again.

You closed your eyes and hoped that maybe this was a shitty dream and you'd wake up in your bed and have an anxiety attack because of the nightmare. You hoped that maybe the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you, so you could just not think about this ever.

You heard two sets of footsteps faintly in the background, one dragging its way away from you and the other rushing towards you. Furthermore, you didn't have it in you to open your eyes and meet the ocean blue ones that you knew were waiting for you.

In your head, you had already taken up the blame. The verdict came out the moment his gaze landed on your chest that it was your fault that you wore this shirt. Of course, if you were thinking right, you would have realized that you were undoubtedly the victim here and Rumlow was an asshole who assaulted you, but in your helpless state, your mind decided you were at fault here.

TAGS: @bananapipedreams​

[bakugohoex]

part one: “you want to sleep on the floor”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: university student y/n, implicit nsfw, fluff and language

word count: 3400+

a/n: this is dedicated to the one anon who was super sweet to me yesterday, all of your support means the world to me and i hope you guys enjoyed this 

summary: in which you’re neighbours with pro hero katsuki bakugo, one night your roommate and her boyfriend get a bit too loud, with no where else to turn you end up in the apartment of bakugo’s, sleeping beside him you both realise the hidden feelings between one another 

part two 

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The bed squeaked and headboard banging against the wall, moans filled the apartment and the sound of ongoing thrusts erupted out of one single room. You hadn’t slept in hours, the sound from your roommates room vibrating against the whole apartment.

What was even worse, was not just having both your rooms side by side, meaning every time the man thrusted back and forth inside of her you could hear her bed hit the wall, no it wasn’t just that, it was the fact this had been going on for hours now.

You saw the digital clock indicate three am, how could one couple go at it for two hours straight, better yet who gets horny at one am and thinks lets having a fuck session whilst their roommate is next door.

Well your friend clearly did, it wasn’t like you wanted to interrupt them, they hadn’t seen each other in a while and deserved something. But at the expense of your sleep, it was a lot more than you had expected. You had prayed they would stop but the moans of his name continued, and it seemed like they would never stop anytime soon.  

You swung your legs off your bed, yawning as the stars filled the sky, you would go to the balcony, probably try and fall asleep outside if it was summer, but it wasn’t. It was fucking winter and you could see the snow form on top of the window ledge. There was always the sofa, you put a hoodie on your body, covering the short shirt and bottoms you wore, dragging your duvet to the sofa.

Staring up at the ceiling, trying to gain some sleep, you hoped the noise of their maniac sex would calm down. But to your luck, the noise seemed to get even more louder, as if they had left the door open. You really did not need to hear the consistent grunting and moaning coming from your friend and her boyfriend. You knew tomorrow morning you wouldn’t be able to face them after the night they were having.

You were cynical, the last time you had sex being months ago. You were touch deprived and even worse the crush on your pro hero neighbour made it worse, when you’d go in the early mornings to the balcony or get your mail, you’d see the man.

He’s be sweaty from some sort of training, his black vest always clinged onto his body perfectly. He was like a renaissance art piece, he deserved to be in a museum. You tried to think about him, to get rid of the sound of your roommate, you had had an encounter with him in the morning. He had come back from an early morning run and you had gone to get the mail. Flicking through it Bakugo called your name to make sure the elevator didn’t go without him.

The pro hero was drenched in sweat and his long-sleeved running shirt clung to all his muscles, the shorts and leggings he wore underneath sticking to his thigh muscles. It was a sight for sore eyes, and you tried to not stare. “Hey Bakugo.”

You spoke politely, he looked down at you flicking through the mail, mainly magazines and other shit. “Y/n.” He spoke coldly, how could you had a crush on such a cold man.

“I saw on the news about the villains you captured, it was cool.” You tried to converse; he raised an eyebrow crossing his arms.

“It was more than cool, I did it single handily, stupid extras didn’t even help.” He smirked as if he was reminiscing in the past nights action.

You looked up at him, his jaw clenched. “Oh well you didn’t need their help in the first place, did you?” You teased a grin on your face.

He saw you step out of the elevator about to answer but instead keeping quiet, you wish you had stopped walking waiting for an answer but your boldness at teasing had made you too flustered to wait. He often was cold to both you and your roommate, mainly your roommate who found the pro hero an irritant. You often saw his friends come back and forth out of his apartment; you were shocked at how his friends were a foil of the man.

He was angry and frustrated and red riot who you assumed was his best friend frequently visited. Your roommate hated the boy due to her theory that he looked down on commoners, you were studying to go into (any career) and you had been working hard. Was she right? Were you really nothing more than commoners needing to be saved.

Your thoughts turned to your roommate and you got out of your daze of the pro hero, you really couldn’t sleep with the grunts. Your best option was to find somewhere else to sleep for the rest of the night, you were glad it was Sunday the next day so you could have a lie in.

You thought of who you could text to ask if you could spend the night, most of your friends being their own university students with their own problems. Your finger lingered over Bakugo’s number before you decided to just straight up ask him if you could sleep on his sofa.

Leaving your duvet in your room, you unlocked the door of your apartment, quickly slipping out. You finally had some peace without having to hear any more vigorous thrusts, did he want to split her in half or something. You rested your head against the door, before pacing outside Bakugo’s door, the number nine on the side. You hesitated knocking, maybe you should’ve texted before knocking at his door at half three in the morning.

It was only by accident and your nerves that you quickly knocked on the door. Maybe he wouldn’t even hear it, it was early morning, and he could be sleeping. About to leave the door, you were met by the man, he was shirtless, only wearing some grey joggers. You were almost about to admire his body, but as he raised his eyebrow a ‘what’ coming from his mouth you started to spew out your thoughts.

“…so yeah, my roommate and her boyfriend have been fucking for nearly three hours now, and I need my sleep so can I like sleep on your sofa or floor” He raised an eyebrow, his arm was leaning against the top of the door, his height making it easy for him to reach. “It’s fine, if you’ve got no room, I can just go back and h…”

“Shut up and get inside.” You were shocked but quickly obliged, walking into his apartment.

It was not what you had expected, the same layout even with two bedrooms. “My spare room has my hero stuff in it, you want to sleep on the floor”

He was grinning at the idea of you sleeping on the floor, “I can sleep anywhere just not in a sex ridden apartment.”

“My bedrooms free.” He spoke, your face reddening.

“Umm…aren’t you s…sleeping there?” You asked not meeting his gaze.

He crossed his arms, his blond hair less spiky from sleeping. “We’re adults Y/n, we can sleep in the same bed.”

You nodded, not speaking out of fear you’d say something wrong. He walked towards the room as you followed in suit, “stay on your side and we should be fine.”

You nodded again, he went on his side, lying down bare in front of you. It was a sight, his room was boiling, you took your hoodie off he looked at you, trying to not see how your shirt rid to show your exposed stomach. He looked away just as your head popped out of the hoodie. You laid on your side, Bakugo’s broad shoulders made your own touch his as he was partially on your side.

“You have a nice apartment.” You complimented knowing the two of you were still awake facing the ceiling.

He huffed, side eyeing you, he watched as your brought the covers around your shoulders. “It’s exactly like yours, minus the horny roommate.”

You laughed at the comment, turning to face his body. You didn’t care if you both weren’t classed as friends, you were going to try and somehow become friends of sorts. “Who wouldn’t love a horny roommate?”

“Me, I need my space and defiantly cant handle being around sex noises, you should’ve shot them with your quirk or something.”

You hadn’t even told him what your quirk was, it was simple and useless in most situations. “I don’t think its possible for me to do that with my quirk.”

He raised an eyebrow still facing the ceiling, his arm had moved behind his back , you could see his arm muscles all on show, “oh yeah what is it then?”

“Guess.” You teased, stretching the word out. Bakugo finally faced you, he saw how your hair framed your face, your eyes looked tired, but you seemed more awake than you had when you had knocked on his door.

“Just tell me, shitty woman.” You pouted at the man.

“You’re no fun, I can create sparks from my fingertips, I know it’s lame, it’s why I’m at university.” Bakugo looked at you, you expected laughing to come from him, you had heard him call most people extras and those without quirks had been mocked by many people. You expected the same at your lame quirk.

“Can you show me?” He wasn’t acting the same, you ignored his calmness, putting your hand from under the cover. You rubbed your fingers together, a spark coming from each finger, it was like a firework sparkler and was painful to touch. But the application of it was never pro hero material.

His hand moved closer to it, “I would…” He did anyway, his finger touching the top, he quickly moved it away after feeling it for less than a second.

“Oww, Y/n what the fuck? It stings.” You laugh, making the sparks go away, grabbing his hand your breath cool air on it. He hadn’t expected this action, feeling your breath on his fingertips, made his ears go red.

“It’s okay now.” He pulled away, not looking at you.

You didn’t say anything, nobody said anything, you could hear the clock tick away, the minutes going past. Maybe Bakugo had gone to sleep, but as you turned back, he had been fixated on the ceiling. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He spoke with frustration on his tongue.

“Oh, I don’t know you seemed out of it.” You spoke turning away from him, you could feel his legs move closer to your own, you didn’t dare think of the actions you wanted him to do to you. Inside trying to think of other stuff.

Bakugo instead broke the silence, “your quirk is decent.” It was some sort of compliment and you would take it.

“Really?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You laugh at the boy, his own mouth twitched upwards. “At UA, there was a kid who made purple balls from his head, so you’re already one hundred times better than him.”

You supress a laugh at someone having a more useless quirk than you, “was he at least hero type.”

“He was just some extra, but he was below four foot and a pussy.” You couldn’t suppress it any longer, a laugh wavering through the room. “And a perv, he loved looking up girls skirts.”

“For some extra, you did pay attention to him.”

“When you have friends that I have, you hear too much unnecessary information.” You smile turning to face him again.

You thought of the heroes who he worked with, who came intro his apartment, they seemed like nice people to be friends with. “So what you don’t pay attention to your friends?”

“I pay attention to important people.” He turned back to face you, both of you under the covers but Bakugo’s hand had moved on top of the duvet, right on top of your body. You didn’t question the action instead questioning him.

“And who’s important to the great Katsuki Bakugo.” You gave a gleeful look waiting for a response.

He thought it out, before finding the confidence to speak, “you.”

You were dumbfounded, your eyes widening waiting for more context, “me?”

“You study (subject area), you and your roommate go to yoga every Friday night, you babysit who I assume is your nephew once a month, you like drinking coffee on the balcony and you always seem to have cooking magazines in your hand.” You were shocked at how much he had remembered and seen from you.

“You noticed.” You were calm on the outside but freaking the fuck out at how much he acknowledged about you, you had spoke about your studies, and what you normally did when you passed by him, but you never expected him to remember.

“How could I forgot your interests.” You smiled looking down before he spoke again, “oh yeah, and you have a massive crush on me.”

Your cheeks reddened, were you that obvious, “w…what?”

“Y/n, I know when girls have crushes on me, I’m surprised in the months I’ve know you; you have brought back one guy and he was the polar opposite of me.” You remembered the guy you had brought back to have sex with, he was the opposite of Bakugo, from his appearance to personality. “Was he able to fuck you good at least?”

A cocky smirk was placed on the blond’s face, his red eyes were filled with a knowing look, you shook your head feeling his hand press harder on the covers, feeling how his hand rubbed back and forth on your leg from on top. “That’s what I thought, I bet you didn’t even cum.”

“I didn’t.” You blurted out.

“You’re lucky you’re better than the other extra’s, you actually have a chance of getting with me.” You looked at him, his other hand moving towards your face.

“Just getting with you?” You hesitantly spoke, your hand meeting his to stop him.

He realised how he had phrased it and quickly rephrased it, “not just to fuck Y/n, I’m not a man whore who does one-night stands.”

“So you’d want to go on a d…date?” You question, pulling his hand towards your cheek.

“Your words not mine.” He spoke defensively, you smirked wanting to close the gap but being scared to make the first move.

He noticed your eyes move down towards his mouth before he closed the gap. The fast pace of the kiss made you more turned on for him, his hands on your cheeks bringing your closer to his face. You had never been kissed like this before, never felt this thrill inside of you and you craved more. His hand moved to your thighs, making you move on top of him, before you sat on top of his exposed chest, your lips still attached to him.

His hands on your sides bringing you closer under the covers as your hands went to his face, making the kiss’ pace fasten. You moaned his name, an instant turn on at the sound of hearing his first name, he had often seen you reading outside on the balcony, he admired how peaceful you got.

But every day when he saw how calm you looked, he fell more and more in love with his neighbour. He watched how you went through the motions every time you read a new book, it was like you were in your own fantasy and he loved it.

His grip on your sides moved to your ass, he squeezed it, making you moan again, this time allowing his tongue access inside your mouth. You loved the feeling, loved his tongue with your own, he loved how you sat on his perfectly, the way one of your hands had moved to his bare chest, glossing over each muscle. As you both parted, he bit at your bottom lip, tugging to make one last moan come from your mouth.

The sound making his ears tingle in enjoyment before he flipped you over. He craved you but was always going to ask before he moved onto other things. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.” He spoke his mouth on your stomach moving upwards, he was a predator and you his prey and he wanted to devour you.

“I want to wait.” You spoke breathlessly.

He nodded, “I can still kiss you right?” He stopped kissing right underneath your bra, his hand having lifted your shirt up.

“Yes Bakugo.” You smiled feeling his mouth latch upwards, past your bra and onto your neck. Sucking the spot, his hand on your side as he continued to nibble and bite on your collar.

“It’s Katsuki, baby girl.” The single word sent your insides into to turmoil. A purple bruise formed on your neck, before he captured your lips his own. Your legs wrapped around his back, as you brought your arms round his neck, wanting to limit the gap between the two of you.

“Baby…” You trailed off speaking through the kiss, it was too much excitement as his kiss left you a sloppy mess, you felt like putty in his hands. He let go letting you breath, before lying on his back.

“Come ‘ere.” He grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to his body. “We can finish this after our date tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise.” You smiled boldly, his face going into the crook of your now bare back, his arms around your exposed stomach and lips kissing your shoulder.

He went to your ear, licking the back of your ear before nibbling at the earlobe, “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing out on, and we’ll make your roommate hear it all.”

You smiled in agreement; his arms wrapped around your body. You had not expected this to happen, you had thought you were doomed to be alone, but in the angry boys defence, you never even thought he acknowledged you. But as you laid hearing his soft snores in your ear, you gleamed at how you had got something you had been craving for months now.

bonus scene 

You woke up the sound of Bakugo in his kitchen, finding his discarded shirt, you wore it, it was a lot bigger than you, but you hoped Bakugo liked it. You walked into the kitchen, a plate of pancakes on the table. “I mad…” He turned around seeing your cute little face in his shirt. “You really want me to bend you over right now.”

You giggled walking up to him, he grabbed your waist planting a soft kiss on you mouth. It was a lot calmer than last nights, but still had the same love in it. You heard his front door open, but Bakugo’s grasp on your was still tight, you squealed not wanting to be seen, instead Bakugo flipped you around, his body pressed onto your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Oi Bakugo, did you forget we were meeting at the…” He trailed off seeing both of you. “Isn’t that your attractive neighbour.”

Your face reddened, “I said you could use my spare key in emergencies.” The door was still wide open, and you knew Bakugo’s shouting would raise some attention.

“I thought you died.” Kirishima spoke. “I’m Eijiro Kirishima, you’re the neighbour, we’ve all had to hear so much about.”

You smiled at the fact Bakugo spoke about you, it melted your heart. “I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” You smiled, Bakugo’s grip loosening as you went to shake Kirishima’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.” He smiled out.

“What the fuck is all the noise.” You saw the door of your apartment open, you looked at your roommate who looked tired and her hair dishevelled. “Y/n what the fuck are you doing in there?” she looked between Bakugo and you, the way his arm was placed around your waist.

“You didn’t, even after everything I said.” She spoke a loud. “Tell me everything.”

She grabbed your hand, dragging you out. “I’ll see you tonight.” You shouted at Bakugo who watched you walk away.

“Ooo pancakes.” You heard Kirishima gleam out, Bakugo watched you get dragged away. A smile at the fact he had finally gotten what he wanted.

proceed to part two here 

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@samusimp @alaina-rose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-su-ki​

[ellavogues]

what did you wish for? - harry styles

summary: long distance has put a strain on harry and yn’s relationship, especially as his birthday is fast approaching

a/n: last repost from my old blog, i still freaking love this. this fic means a lot to me because parts of it was based off of my own life. as always, ily all <3

masterlist

The light turned to dark as she sat by her phone watching reruns of  The Office, waiting for Harry to call her like he did every night. Her  day was particularly bad, everything that could’ve gone wrong went wrong  - from her forgetting her umbrella when it was bucketing down to her  somehow locking her car keys in her car (which led to her incurring a  $200 fee for the roadside assist service getting them out). Then, when  she trudged home in the pouring rain, clothes completely soaked and her socks inside her shoes wet, she received an email informing her the  elevators in her building were out of service. Unluckily for her, she lived on the 16th floor.

All she wanted was to see his smile to  turn her day around. Harry never failed to turn her worst days into good  ones just by being him, but being in a long distance relationship put a  strain on that. Sure, they would visit each other every now and then, but both of their jobs were demanding and meant they couldn’t travel as  much as they wanted to. Harry could travel more than she could, but she  didn’t think it was fair that he’d always have to be the one to hop on a  plane and fly across the world.

The familiar ringtone played and her eyes lit up in excitement. Y/N reached for the phone and answered to hear him yelling  some utterance at his friend, to which his friend responded with something  equally as snide.

A smile crept onto her lips as she lightly  giggled at his attitude to his friend, and she could almost feel them roll her eyes at his snarky remark. Y/N would be lying if she said the  huff of annoyance he let out as he returned his attention to her wasn’t hot, as well as the way he ran his fingers over his stubble then through his curly hair.

“How do you want to celebrate your birthday, Haz?” Y/N  asked softly, not wanting to make his bad mood worse and hoping the  change of subject would make him happy.

Harry sighed, closing his  eyes as he composed his answer. “What’s the point?” His tone wasn’t soft  like hers, nor was it disappointed. It appeared that he was angry that  she brought up the topic. In a matter-of-fact tone, he continued,  “You’re not in London with me, you’re in New York. There’s no point in celebrating with you if you’re not here.”

“We can FaceTime?”

He rolled his eyes at her suggestion as if it was the stupidest thing he had heard, and sarcastically laughed at her.

“What’s  with your attitude, Harry? I want to celebrate with you! It’s not my fucking fault that I can’t be in London!” She frowned, frustrated that the distanc  between them was the topic of conversation, like it always seemed to be.

Harry scoffs in response, the look on his slightly pixelated face dumbfounded  that you would even suggest that it wasn’t your fault. “I have offered  to fly you out to London many times, Y/N. There are plenty of jobs for you  out here that you could apply to and that you know you would get because  you’re so damn good at what you do,” he retorted, tired and irritated.  Though Harry was usually incredibly patient with everyone, especially her, these increasingly frequent conversations had begun to wear him  thin and gradually made him resent FaceTiming her at all, despite still  being completely and utterly in love with her. “You’re being stubborn about moving for no reason.”

They were both quite stubborn individuals, but in the past Harry was usually the one that compromised to make her happy. He valued her happiness over getting his own way.  When they reconnected a year ago, a few years after finishing school, and quickly realised their friendship was based on more-than-friend feelings they faced the problem of living in different countries. Although it seemed like a breeze at first, Harry scoffing at  anyone who claimed long distance would be hard, as their feelings grew  deeper and his visits less frequent, they both longed for a more  physical presence of the other, rather than just virtual. This was  something Harry was absolutely not willing to compromise on. He had his whole life in London, and he knew that he could give her the life she deserves if she  would just take up his offer. He knew she was scared of leaving her  family behind to move in with him, and he understood. Harry tried to keep his cool about this topic, but eventually he became exasperated.

“No  good reason? Why should I be the one to move? Why is it me that has to pack up my entire life just to be with you?’” She scolds him for being so rude, and feels like he’s completely brushing off her feelings. “You are able to work from wherever you are. I am not. you should be the one  to move.”

“Me?” Harry was astounded at was his girlfriend’s  response, and was indigent at her crazy suggestion. “I can not leave London just because you’re scared of leaving the city you’ve been in all your life.  My work is in London, you know this. You know I have to be here to work,  just because I technically could still record in New York does not change that the majority of my work and networks are in London. You’re being a bit dramatic and unfair about this, Y/N. I’m tired of arguing about this all the time.  Goodnight.”

The fact that he hung up on her makes her see red,  blood boiling as she clenched her fists and teeth. He knew what he was  asking of her; to pack up her whole life just to be with him. He was being selfish and unreasonable and she was being exhausted of having  this stupid argument that neither of them ever won every time they talked. She felt like he never considered her friends here in New York,  and that he always brushed off how she felt about the move. This fight  had gradually become more tense as time went on, as they knew that a  decision would eventually have to be made if they wanted their  relationship to grow.

///

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she claimed.

“I  know you and H had a fight,” Harry's friend responded, the one on the phone earlier. “He told me what  happened and he feels really bad. Like, really. I know he would really appreciate it if you were here for his birthday.”

She sighed,  starting to feel slightly guilty too for the way she reacted. She feels  even more guilty for the fact that they hadn’t spoken at all in the past  3 days, besides a text from Harry simply saying Sorry for hanging up on you.  When Y/N received the text, she was still calming down from their argument, still hurt by the way he made her feel that her career wasn’t  as important as his. She still loved him, and she still misses him, though.

“I can’t afford a ticket, you know that. Not everyone makes a fuck ton of money like you and Haz-”

The friend chuckled softly over the phone before reassuring Y/N, “I’ll  pay for it. Come and surprise him, he’ll feel a lot better and it’ll  give you guys a chance to work it out in person, where you can’t just  hang up on each other.”

Y/N knew that his friend was right, she knew that she and Harry needed a face to face conversation about the future  of their relationship because long distance hadn’t seemed to be working  for them anymore. Their virtual dates, while well thought out and  romantic, weren’t the same as being there in person with him. Being  there and lightly brushing legs as they sat down at the small table,  hearing his laugh without the audio cutting in and out, being able to  hold each other’s hands. It wasn’t the same.

Maybe that is why Y/N and Harry had been arguing so much, because their relationship relied on strong wifi connections and the ability to be on their phones all  day. And it wasn’t enough for either of them anymore.

“Okay, thank you. I’m really grateful you’re doing this for us,” Y/N finally responded, expressing her gratitude.

His friend felt a wave of relief, ecstatic that Harry might finally get out of his shitty mood. Even though he didn’t mean to take out  his annoyances on his friends, and he apologised every single time he  gave them an uncalled for attitude, but it seemed his bad mood was never dissipating. When finally asked what was wrong, bursting through his door in a fit of exasperation, he broke down and told her about  their FaceTime, and all their FaceTimes before it. About how every subject they discussed seemed to lead to the same topic: the distance between them. He admitted he regretted his harsh words, and regretted him acting like he thought his job was more important than hers.

“It’s really not a problem,” his friend promised. “I’ll email you the flight  details and the invite, I can’t wait to see you! It’s been so long!”

“It’s been, like, a month and a half. Not that long.”

“That is so long! I miss you like crazy.”

“I  miss you too,” Y/N giggled.

She flopped back on her bed, grinning from ear to ear and  excited she would finally be able to see her boyfriend again, yet dreading the impending and necessary conversation they would have to have.

//

Y/N had anxiously got out of her Uber when she  arrived at a friend's house for Harry’s surprise party. She was  visibly shaking, stuttering as she said thank you to her driver, nervous  that his reaction wouldn’t be good when seeing her. She was scared that he didn’t want her here anymore after their fight, despite his friend constantly reassuring her that he would be over the moon to see her.

She  knocked on the front door, which his almost immediately answered.  “Hey! Y/N!”

The loud exclamation earned the attention of  the other attendees of the party, all shocked to see Y/N after Harry had repeatedly, and bitterly, told them that she was going to be in New York for his birthday.

“Hey,” Y/N smiled,  greeting everyone. She glanced around the room, seeing the fairy lights  hanging from the ceiling, the island bench covered with a gold table  cloth, the backyard decorated with gold balloons and streamers. “Woah,  the party is super cool! Harry is going to love it.”

“Harry is going to love that you’re here and not in New York.”

When Harry finally arrived, the lights were switched off and  everyone scurried to grab their phones out to film. Y/N waited behind everyone as  the group gathered close together to surprise him when he walked in.

“Oh my god,” Harry spoke. “It smells funny in here.”

She let out a quiet giggle at his comment, but was quick to muffle it before he heard it was her.

When he made it past the gold streamers that blocked the front door from the living area, everyone yelled out SURPRISE,  going crazy and covering Harry with confetti. His face had pure joy,  happiness and gratefulness plastered all over it, ecstatic that his  friends would do something so sweet for his birthday, although he most  likely already knew about the party. He glanced around the room, and  almost had to do a double take when he saw his girlfriend. Y/N had told  him she wouldn’t be able to make it, making him dread his birthday since  he didn’t see a point in celebrating it if it wasn’t with her.

When  the crowd had dispersed, Harry made his way over to her and grabbed her  chin gently, tilting her face up before saying “Hey, love” and kissing her softly. He broke the kiss and pulled his girlfriend into a warm embrace.  She was so glad to see him, in person, to be able to hold his hand and  hug him and just be around him. In person.

They were pulled  out of their moment when Harry’s friend asked if they wanted a  picture, to which Y/N responded no and he responded yes.

“Don’t be shy, love,” he teased, smiling like a cheshire cat as he put her hair  behind her ears. “I want to remember you being here tonight, let’s take the picture.”

It wasn’t long until it was time to cut the cake,  Harry having Y/N by his side the whole night because he didn’t want to  waste a minute he could spend with her. Being with him reminded Y/N why  they were dating, and why she loved him. As the night went on, she felt  the fight that was seemingly big feel less important, because she  realised that she was making excuses as to why she couldn’t move to London  with him. She was being stubborn for no reason, and she noticed that the  only thing holding her back was her. Not her job, she could find a new  one in London, not her family because she barely saw them anyway, not her friends because half of her friends were in London with Harry anyway. When she saw Harry walk through those streamers, it became crystal clear how silly she was  being.

Harry knew what he wanted, and being with her that night just made him more sure. He decided he wasn’t going to stop fighting for  his relationship with her, and if that meant he had to settle down his  requests for her to move to London with him so she felt more comfortable, he would do that. Despite wanting nothing more than to live with her, to  wake up every morning and see her face, to Postmate her favorite coffee every morning, to surprise her with spur-of-the-moment dates every now  and then. He wanted her, and he was willing to wait if that’s what he  needed to do.

After everyone sang happy birthday to him, his arm slung loosely around her, he blew out his candles.

“What did you wish for, H?”

[afictionalwhore]

Learning Your Lesson

A/N: This isn't the first fanfic I've written, but it's the first I've finished. It's on the darker side, which I have no problem writing, I don't want my blog to be only that. That Keishin kitchen one is coming I just gotta get through finals. Thank you @kogo for the idea! You mentioned it, so I took it and bolted. 

TW: noncon/dubcon, yandere, phone sex, masturbation, implied drinking

"Baby," Hawks cooed into the phone, "what's wrong?"

It was in the middle of his night patrol when you called him, the ringtone specifically set for you jingling throughout the empty streets from his jacket pocket. When he picked up, he was met with your soft sobs on the other end of the line. 

"Keigo?" Your voice barely audible. "Can you come get me? I don't want to talk about it here."

"(y/n), what's the matter," Hawks says, voice dropping an octave.

“You were right, Keigo,” you sob. “I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight.”

“(Y/n),” Hawks said, the seriousness in his voice chilling you more thoroughly than the night air. “What happened?” He was growing restless, pacing the same alleyway. He told you not to go out. You should have listened to him. You should always listen to him. He can only hope you learned your lesson this time. 

Since you and the Number 2 Hero began dating, Hawks had grown increasingly paranoid about your safety. If it had been anyone else, Hawks' possessiveness over you could have been seen as controlling; you told yourself that he only had your safety in mind. Dating a pro hero, especially such a high ranking one, came with its dangers, and your quirklessness made you an even easier target. If anything happened to you, Hawks wouldn't know what to do with himself, a fact he constantly reminded you of. 

You insisted on going out with your friends tonight. “Keigo,” you whined, stretching his name out like you were one of his teenage fans, “Please. I haven’t seen them in months.” You were just a quirkless nobody, making minimum wage and barely scraping by to make rent and survive your shitty neighborhood. Scratch the latter bit. You were just a quirkless nobody, but since your relationship with Hawks kicked off, the pro had moved you into his apartment, a much safer, much more suitable place for you, and you know longer had to worry about your safety. Except on occasions like these. Your friends, all either quirkless or with minor quirks that would be useless in protecting you should anything happen, were gathering to celebrate an engagement, and surprise surprise they invited you.

Hawks tried his best to persuade you otherwise, listing all the dangers of going out without him, or going out at all, especially when you were dressed like that. Your little skirt falling just over your ass. Anyone could drop their wallet behind you and sneak a peek up your skirt. Your shirt was much too tight; and where was your jacket? You're just showing off the goods for everyone, like you were asking for something to happen.

But you could not, would not be swayed. You missed your friends. Though you loved Hawks, “It's Keigo, baby,” he would insist, you craved your friendships, and you were overjoyed to find that they didn’t hate you for practically disappearing on them since your relationship with Hawks, "Keigo", had become serious. 

“What happened?” Hawks repeated, his impatience growing.

“It all happened so quickly,” you sobbed.

“(y/n),” Hawks quite nearly growled out. “What. Happened.” You were really testing him right now, what with interrupting his patrol, albeit his boring, uneventful patrol. How could he help you when you weren't telling him what was wrong.

"I was leaving the bar. You remember which one?" Your voice shook. Hawks held back a scoff. Of course he knew where the bar was. It was the very bar frequented by the League, nestled neatly into the roughest area of town; it's inexpensiveness appealing to your friends' cheapness more than the potential danger drove them away. He told you they couldn't be trusted.

"Well I was leaving," You must be shaking like a leaf. Hawks can hear it in your voice. "And I get this feeling, like someone's following me. So I walk faster, and I—" you cut. Soft cries filled Hawks' ears as he listened.

Hawks can feel himself growing tighter in his pants as you cry. He knows where this is heading. He told you not to go, but you didn't listen. It would be rude of you to ask them to reschedule to a date when Hawks could more easily pick you up, or even better, accompany you. You were too overjoyed when they reached out with an invitation despite your disappearance in their life. But now here you were, sobbing���god how he loved your cries—to him over the phone because some asshole had roughed you up a bit. What did you expect leaving The League of Villains' bar alone at this ungodly hour? 

As angry as he was over your stupidity, he couldn't deny how hot you sounded in your current state. His arousal was confirmed by the decent tent forming in his uniform pants. After a quick scan of the area, Hawks found a nearby alleyway to slip into. He was thankful his designated area to patrol tonight was rather unlively. Leaning against the rough bricks, Hawks found himself quickly undoing his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself. 

"Go on, baby," Hawks said. It took all his self control not to let so much as a slight hitch in his voice show as he encouraged you to talk.

"Keigo, please. I don't know why I have to tell you all right now." you sobbed. "Please, just come get me."

"Baby," Hawks drawled, suppressing a moan as he languidly stroked himself up to full hardness. "I don't want you to have to relive this more than you have to. So you just tell me now, as detailed as possible. I can fill out whatever reports you would need to for you, and you won't ever have to think about this again." It was hard for you to argue with Hawks in your fragile state. “I know what’s best for you, baby bird. Tell me everything.”

So you did. You told Keigo all about the strange man who you guessed had followed you out of the bar. Who would just be lurking outside the League's bar waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting quirkless? Hawks would bet his next several paychecks just who would be doing exactly that.

You told Hawks about the rough, calloused hand over your mouth accompanied by the low voice in your ear whispering that if you so much as made a squeak, you'd be cremated on the spot. Bingo. At least he wasn't losing much in a bet against himself. Judging by the state of his hard cock in his gloved hand, he was actually winning here. 

Hawks would have just laughed at you had he not been so fucking turned on. He would have to look past that cheesy "cremation" line. How did you not know who was lurking around the sleazy bar waiting for a hot piece of meat, for you, to stumble out the bar, drunk and alone. Were you always such an idiot? How did you ever survive without him?

You told him about how you had been unceremoniously dragged into the alley next to the bar and shoved face first into the bricks of one of the bar's outer walls. Hawks' eyes fluttered shut, his mouth hung up as his head fell back against the wall he braced himself against. His fist picked up the pace, imagining your soft protests and how lovely your weak, slurred cries of "please no" would have sounded as your skirt was flipped up and panties ripped through. Knowing your attacker, a hole very well could have been burned through for easy access. He'd have to check once he got you home and asleep. 

Hawks continued pumping himself as you continued your sob fest, jerking his foreskin up and down over his angry almost purple head. God how he wished to be there, listening to your sobs, cooing at you that everything was going to be okay as he kissed your tear stained, brick scratched cheeks and stroked a finger over that pretty, abused pussy of yours.

His gloved thumb rubbing over his slit, as he pictured how badly your insides were wrecked, how that jacob's ladder would have scraped against your warm plush walls. Were you even wet? You had to be. After all, only a slut would have gone out when he told them otherwise. He could only imagine how rough the man in question was with you and your pliant body. In your drunken state, how hard could you have fought back? Not very hard, Hawks had gotten you nice and drunk quite a number of times, and that was exactly why he protested you going out in the first place. His breathing grew heavier the closer he came to his release.

"Keigo?" your feeble voice called out over the phone's speaker. "Are you okay?"

"Yea, baby. I'm okay." Hawks collected himself. Pull yourself together, man. "Are you okay? I'm just so angry." that you didn't listen to me. 

"Keigo, are you close?" Oh he was close alright. Just a few more strokes, a few more sniffles and whines from you, and he would be right there. 

“Please, Keigo. Hurry up. I’m cold and scared. Keigo, I’m so scared.” That's all he needed.

“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming.” Hawks said, praying you couldn’t hear the breathlessness in his voice. His brilliant wings puffed and gave a few strained flutters before shaking tensely as his hand stilled and streaks of hot white fell on the dirty street below him. You weren’t the most intuitive, so you’d probably attribute it to his anger.

With his lust no longer clouding his mind, a sudden worry stuck Hawks. 

"Did he cum in you?" Hawks practically growled.

"What? No. Why are you asking me this?" your confusion briefly pausing your sobs.

"Just checking to see if you need me to make a stop by the pharmacy," Hawks explained as he stuffed himself back in his pants. "I'm on my way. I just have to make a quick call, baby. I love you." He zipped himself up and fixed his belt back into place. He shook out and stretched his wings. Hawks couldn't remember ever cumming that hard. 

"No. Keigo, please don't hang up," you hiccuped.

"Baby, baby," Hawks cooed, "I gotta let the commission know that I'm taking off early. You don't think I'd just continue working after this?" A smirk worked its way onto his handsome face. He could imagine your cute face scrunched into a pout. "Do you have that little faith in me? It's the least you could let me do before I leave patrol early for you. You think you learned your lesson?"

"Um," your voice trembles, Hawks’ last statement confusing you. "I suppose." You weren’t sure what your lesson was; you just wanted Keigo to take you home.

"Good girl,” a dark smile finds his way on Hawks’ face. I'll call you right back. I promise," Hawks reassures you, the fear in your voice as you feebly protested was almost enough to make him hard again. "I'll let you hang up, okay? I love you."

"Okay," you sniff, "I love you too." 

Hawks hears the light click signaling that you hung up and glances down at his phone for confirmation before quickly dialing another number, his smile growing darker as he waited out the ringing. After about three rings, Hawks broke out in a full smile, his crazed golden eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the alleyway he had hidden himself into. 

“What you do want now, ya fucking pigeon?” a rough, gravely voice answered.

“Thanks, Touya. I really owe you one.”

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

You could do it with: IDW: Megatron, Ultra Magnus, Max, Rung and Bayverse Optimus?Thanks! You have a good day! :D (2/2)

HI I’M BACK FROM THE DEAD. MY GHOST LITERALLY WROTE THIS. I know it’s extremely late but my writers block has been hitting me during the pandemic while I’m stuck at home so hopefully I did this ok.

@bellisimapormesana

Character wasn’t stated so I’m defaulting to a cybertronian! Reader.

IDW Megatron

He feels you.

Seriously, this poor mech is as pessimistic as you’ll ever get.

Don’t make me bring in the depresso espresso memes.

It took you a while to warm up to those who were pesistant in becoming your friend (I’m looking at you rodimus), so getting anywhere with him is going to take forever.

If your not at Swerve’s cracking jokes and getting into crazy shinanegans while Ultra Magnus just sits there with his helm in his servos, you’re either alone in your berth room or wandering the many halls of the Lost Light.

Normally Megs is too deep in thought to pay attention to notice most walking by, but his optics will set on you when he almost walks into your frame sat on the floor. But you’re too busy observing the stars outside one the windows to acknowledge him.

You would expect him to take a least a few times of running into you to actually realise that your processor was currently far away from being a happy place, but like I said, this guy’s been through shit.

One single look at you. And he knows.

The way your optics are dimmed already give off the tell tale sign that your mind is wandering places. Like, there’s a whole universe right in front of you, galaxies and technicolour planets passing by, you should be dreaming of the adventures you will have, yet you sit here, frame slouched, with a solemn empty look across your face.

Everything seems to stop still for Megatron as he stands there. Memories and nightmares flashing across his processor, bringing back glimpses of emotions that he wished to never feel again.

Everything about you screams loneliness, and he feels his spark shatter at the sight of you.

There is no way on Cybertron that he will let you experience the depression he did.

He won’t force any means of physical comfort upon you, since you could just push him away so easily if you wanted to.

All you hear are a shuffle of pedesteps and a gentle thump as he sits himself beside you, glancing at you once without uttering a word.

Through that single glance, he showed you that he understood, and reassured you that you’re not anywhere near alone in this universe. And he had your back.

Ultra Magnus

When you first boarded the Lost Light, you had blended in amongst the crowd and didn’t really speak up much.

Therefore it took Magnus quite a while to find out who you were.

The poor mech didn’t really have much time to make many friends, since he was too busy either speaking about statistics, or chasing Rodimus throughout the ship to try and prevent any disasters from taking place.

The first time he really noticed you is when you actually started to hang out with Roddy and the rest of the main crew.

He would see you dissappear around corners as you tried to avoid ending up in trouble with your fellow pranksters, or sitting at the bar as Swerve proceeded to die of hysterics at the joke you cracked.

He also saw you exit Rung’s a couple of times as he went in.

The first time he exchanged a conversation with you was at the bar with everyone else.

You were sat between Rung and him as you fiddled with your servos. He noticed that you were quieter than usual as you stared at the half empty energon in front of you.

He hadn’t had the slightest clue of what to say to you as you sat there. He was just downright confused as to why you weren’t being as loud as the others.

Suddenly a thought came to his mind as he recalled something.

While you were well known for being slightly disobedient when you joined Rodimus on his adventures, he was mildly surprised at how well your reports were laid out. You may be a funny prankster but your reports came on the dot, full of the right amount of detail that Magnus would be satisfied with.

So while it may had not been a great way to greet someone, he brought you out of your silent state by praising you on how well your reports were.

You looked up at him, slightly taken aback at the sudden gesture, but you returned it with a small smile and a quiet “thank you”.

He didn’t know straight away of you pessimistic states and episodes, but it didn’t take him a while to realise it either.

He would notice there would be times you would seclude yourself to a quiet space, and he would notice your seat to be empty at meetings every one in a while.

He’s a busy mech, so he can’t always pay attention to you, but in his free time, or when he is walking the halls, he would see if you were on your own or not.

He’d find you at a window or an empty room, and gently ask if you would like to accompany him in going over statistics or organising some files.

“Isn’t Roddy meant to assist you in that?” “Yes but he never does it properly and disappears within five minutes.”

Some things he offers to do with you may be boring, but it’s enough to keep you distracted and on the plus side you get to spend time with your favourite Magnus.

Fortress Maximus

He’s the type of mech to observe people, especially you, from a distance.

While others seem boring or just make him nervous, you’re the one who seems to catch his optic the most.

Because you confuse him.

One minute you’re laughing tears of lubricant out of you optics with Drift as Ratchet storms in, covered helm to pede in pink glitter glue, then the next you’re sat in the dark confines of your berthroom, the only light provided is a dull blue hue from the data pad you’re reading off, eyes absentmindedly scanning across, but never actually taking the words in.

It takes him a small amount of time to properly realise how deep of a state of pessimism you were in when you were experiencing these episodes from time to time, and somewhat understood how you felt, since this poor mech is one sensitive bby once you delve down deep enough.

The next few days are spent with Max confining himself to his own berthroom, making some begin to wonder where he had disappeared off to. Some thought he was just distancing himself (like me because of shitty corONA). But instead his was carefully thinking out some form of plan to try and eventually manage to keep you as your happy self 24/7.

He - somehow - convinced Red Alert to allow him access to a weeks worth of some security clips and gathered a basic routine of when the pessimistic mood would begin to set in by the way your body language started to shift slightly and slowly but surely, you drifted away from the crowd and eventually found yourself in the confines of your berth.

He’s not a stalker I swear.

He sensed your shy nature, and being a somewhat shy bean himself it took him a few minutes of mental preparation, but he managed to stop being a wallflower at Swerve’s when he spotted you come in.

You avoided the eyes of most as you were just there to grab some energon and whisk away back to the earth story you were reading in your berthroom. You eased your way through the small crowd, cringing at some of the loud laughs that reached your audios.

Reaching a clearing in front of the bar, you were about to open your intake to ask for a drink, when you felt a large presence loom behind you.

Turning around cautiously, you were met with a white and blue chest plate.

Your attention was taken away from the loud noises as your audios picked up a quiet “hello” as you looked up to meet a pair of nervous red optics.

Max knew he was big, even for a cybertronian, so he was concerned that his large presence gave off an intimidating demeanour, and it would scare you away.

However, much to his surprise and luck, you gave him a small smile and gave a quiet greeting in return.

You two spent the next few hours in a secluded booth in the corner of the bar exchanging mutual conversation while sipping on different concoctions of Swerve’s drinks.

You were enjoying the new company, basking in the presence of a fellow awkward cybertronian you could relate to. You found it cute as you found him staring at you, only too look away while staring down at the drink in his hands.

On the other hand, Fort Max was internally proud of himself managing to keep you from the depressing depths of your berth and also of you not avoiding any form of social contact for the night.

This carried on for a few months or so. Max kept up the effort to watch over you, becoming alert if you would suddenly leave in the evening or if there was nothing on. He would take another route, and catch your attention before you reached your room, gently asking you to join him on some sort of activity. Whether it was crafting something Rung recommended, or going star gazing.

In some way he would coax you out and put a smile on your face.

IDW Rung

You think you can get away from the observing eyes of god Rung the therapist?

After one appointment with you he could see that you weren’t as happy as you presented yourself to be.

There’s nothing much to say for this guy except for the fact that you keep going to these sessions with him.

You may not want to tell him everything but he tries his best to try and show that he understands you.

Instead of these meets going the same as most others, Rung will have you stay for longer and make it more interactive with things such as making crafts such as model ships, and also will tell you a story about each one.

Hell, he would sometimes book appointments for you, mostly in the evening when you weren’t busy.

You enjoy the company, but it also means poor Rung actually has a friend that talks to him more and frequently visit him.

You’ve never gotten his name wrong once.

And that puts a little smile on his face each time.

If he finds you in one of these states, he won’t say much at first. Just gently holding your servo as you both sit by a window until he quietly begins to tell you a story to get your mind off any negative thoughts.

Bayverse Optimus (aNgRy MaN)

Bruh

He feels you too

He’s lost too many friends he considers family

Has been known to go into pessimistic states himself

But doesn’t know if anyone else experiences these things like he does

When he watches you around base he sees you having lots of fun with the younger bots, pranking Ratchet or practising you abilities in the field with Ironhide.

In his attempt to make sure that no one really finds out or suffers when he’s in this depressive mood, he tends to worry about it in the dead of night when nobody is around.

Or so he thought.

He has takes up the opportunity to walk around base during the late hours, sometimes to sit and take in his surroundings while trying his best to push any bad thoughts to the back of his mind whilst he stargazes.

Only to find that looking at the stars reminds him how far away he is from home, since when he looks up, none of the flickering dots are familiar, and another wave of sorrow hits him.

This would happen almost every nights, unless he needed to rest up for a mission.

One night he was doing the same, recalling both good and bad memories, when his audios picked up a quiet screech, like metal on metal, from behind somewhere.

While it may have just been the wind, Optimus knew he needed to be alert for any surprise attacks from the Decepticons, so he got up as quietly as he could and spent the next couple of minutes attempting to locate the source of the noise.

Another very similar noise had led him up to the roof, but at their point he still didn’t know if this was a threat or not, so he cautiously lifted his helm over, a servo hovering over his blaster.

What he didn’t expect was to spot your silhouette in the moonlight, sat on the edge, staring into space, a solemn look on your face.

He was taken aback slightly at this sudden sight of you, since you were normally so bubbly, and had managed to bring out a low chuckle in him every once in a while.

Relaxed that it wasn’t Ravage skulking around, he was still concerned about you.

He would sit next to you and spend the next hour or so speaking quietly with you, finding out and understanding why you seemed so down.

While he wouldn’t mind staying out here with you for the remainder of the night, you both knew Ratchet would scold you both for not recharging properly, so he took you down silently to your berth, and stayed by your side until you were in deep slumber, then return to his own berth.

This happened almost every night, just the both of you basking in each other’s presence and company, and pointing out Earth constellations into the early hours of the morning.

Enjoy :)

Oppy out.

[madsthewordclown]

Four Walls | Sokka

warning: just lots of fluff because I wanted to

pairing: sokka x reader, modern au

summary: Quarantine is stressful, but Sokka’s a pretty great roommate to be stuck with. 

Y’all, this is my first fic I’ve ever written and I apologize in advance, and thank you for bearing with me. 

          “Traditionally, you’re meant to cook the noodles.” Sokka pretends not to hear you. Or maybe he really can’t hear you over the loud crunching of uncooked penne. There’s an empty jar of sauce on the table across from where he sits, crunching down dry noodles like its chips. You walk over to get a bottle of water from the fridge and notice two of your reusable milkshake straws sitting in the sink. Looking back the jar of sauce, you shudder.

           “Traditionally, the noodles aren’t meant to be whole-grain,” Sokka answers finally, as if the situation he is in is completely normal. The box of pasta now sits empty on the table, and he’s grinning from ear to ear. “How was work?”

         “Fine,” you answer. “Can I ask why you didn’t just boil the noodles? Weren’t they awful?” You know you’re deflecting about work, but it’s not a big deal. The restaurant had only just started to reopen, and you only got one or two shifts a week, but dealing with customers felt more grueling than ever. You knew Sokka missed having something to do, so you couldn’t complain too much.

           “Cooking them is too much work, Y/N,” Sokka replies matter-of-factly, “and they were awful, but I had to finish what I started.”

           Quarantine is not treating either of you well. For you, the strain manifests itself much more quietly; you haven’t been sleeping very well, and you get headaches more frequently than normal. For Sokka, it’s this. You don’t know how much orange juice he’s consumed straight from the carton, but it can’t be good for his teeth. Drinking tomato sauce can’t be too good, either, although he somehow manages to maintain his good looks nonetheless.

           “Katara called while you were gone,” Sokka mentions as you plunk yourself down in the chair across from him.

           “She did?” You frown. You and Sokka didn’t get too many calls from his sister or any of your other friends anymore. When quarantine started, you had frequent group calls and virtual game nights, but over time, they kind of fizzled out. You missed seeing everyone’s faces. While Sokka was a great friend and a great roommate, you couldn’t help but wish you were all under the same roof.

           “Yeah,” Sokka continues, standing up and picking up the empty pasta box and jar. He’s wearing khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt; it may be fit for a Midwestern dad, but at least he put on a full outfit today. Quarantine hasn’t exactly required it. “She’s scheduling a movie night for this Saturday. You’re off work, right? I tried to see if you sent me your schedule, I wanted to make sure you didn’t miss it.”

           “Yeah, I only worked today and then Friday this week,” you say excitedly. “Is everyone joining?”

           “Suki can’t make it,” Sokka shrugged, walking across the kitchen to rinse out the jar, “but Zuko and Toph will be there. And Katara and Aang, obviously.”

           You kick your shoes off under the table and feel the tension in your feet ease slightly as Sokka turns on the faucet. Your shift was busy, considering the circumstances. You yawn. “What movie are we watching?”

           “I don’t know, some indie film she and Aang found,” Sokka says, turning off the water and bending down to put the jar and box in the hot pink recycling tub you keep under the sink. Katara had brought it in one day after learning that Sokka didn’t recycle. You could still hear her telling him off about plastics in the ocean. She had been very pleased when she saw your small collection of reusable grocery bags. Good guys recycle, Sokka. Right, Y/N?

           “What’s with the outfit?” You can’t help but say. You notice that Sokka is wearing tennis shoes without socks along with his vacation ensemble. He grins at you again, blue eyes sparkling as he begins walking toward the door to his room.

           “Setting trends, Y/N/,” he laughs, “get with the program.”

           You wake up at four in the morning, again. You know before you’ve even opened your eyes that you are awake way too early; it’s happened at least three times in the last two weeks. You slowly peek your eyes open and pick up your phone, flinching as the bright light hits your face. 4:08. You sigh.

           You slowly pull yourself out of bed and easily leave your room without needing the lights, but the main room is more difficult. You have no clue what you and Sokka have left out on the floor in the last few days. You put one arm straight out in front of you to detect obstacles, and curse to yourself about leaving your phone on the nightstand.

           You carefully walk by what you think is the couch and swing your arm none too gently to find it. To your surprise, you hit something that definitely isn’t the couch.

           “Ow!” a voice cries out. You let out a scream, and jump back, falling on the carpeted floor with a thump. “Whoa,” Sokka says, and you feel relief flood over you. It’s just Sokka. You try to let your heartbeat slow down. “Are you okay?”

           Sokka must have gotten up and found the light switch. You see him in the corner of the room, his hair pulled up, and wearing his same Hawaiian shirt, but with basketball shorts. An even more atrocious outfit. You laugh to yourself as you continue to get your bearings. Sokka makes his way over to where you sit behind the couch and offers a hand to help you up. You take it.

           “You scared the shit out of me,” you say shakily as he helps you to your feet.

           “I’m sorry,” Sokka says sincerely. “I didn’t think you’d be up. Could you not sleep?”

           You shake your head. Sokka doesn’t press; just nods. “What were you doing in here?” You ask.

           “Same thing, but it’s probably because I drank too much coffee after dinner.”

           “How much coffee is too much?” Sokka just shakes his head slowly.

           “Too much, Y/N.” He looks at the ground for a moment. “Want to watch a show or something?”

           It becomes a routine for the next few days; watching shitty cartoons and soap operas with Sokka whenever you wake up in the night. He’s somehow awake every time, and you try not to dwell on it. You’re not one to talk. It’s nice, sitting with him and watching something that lets you not think for a while. That’s your problem; overthinking about anything and everything. You get to forget about work, where a customer coughing sends you into such a spiral that you have to spend ten minutes in the back room to calm down. You’re looking forward to it when you get home from your Friday shift.

           Sokka is in his room when you arrive, close to 11, even though your shift was meant to end at 10. You pull your shoes off as soon as you’re in the door and drop your purse on the floor, not even bothering to get to the kitchen table or couch before you’re lying on the carpet and staring at the ceiling. You don’t even hear it when Sokka comes out of his room and stands over you.

           “That bad, huh?” He says simply. You try not to notice the sympathy in his eyes, or the way his brow softens when he looks at you. You just nod your head and try to block out the echoing yells of an angry mom that you served earlier, and the mere $25_ _you brought home for tips after hours on your feet, working in a pandemic hellscape.

           Instead of trying to coax you up off the ground, Sokka disappears into the kitchen, the counter obscuring your view. You can hear him open and close a cupboard before he reappears, a bag of Doritos in hand.

           You can’t stop the shocked look on your face as Sokka slowly sits down next to you and then leans back on the floor. The bag of chips crinkles as he opens it and sets it on the floor between you. You wordlessly take out a few chips and start snacking. Even though Sokka has only been your roommate for a few months, you’re still impressed by how perceptive he is. He always seems to know what to do to make you feel better. You feel bad that you can’t do the same for him.

           Sokka talks about his latest project for his online summer class. It’s something to do with engineering, and you try to listen, but he gets to talking so fast and excitedly that you can’t keep up. You don’t understand most of what he’s saying anyway, but you like listening to him talk. Katara says he can’t shut up, and most of the time she’s right, but you like his passion.

           Between the two of you, you manage to finish the whole bag of Doritos. You can tell your air conditioning has shut off again when the blistering July heat begins to creep in, and that’s when you make the executive decision that it’s time to get off the floor. You turn to your side and are surprised to discover that Sokka is looking at you, and he’s not talking. You don’t know when he stopped, but you already miss it.

           “Are you sure you’re okay?” Sokka whispers, so quietly that you almost wonder if he said it at all, but he’s looking at you for an answer, his blue eyes boring into you.

           “Yeah,” you answer equally as quietly, your voice hoarse after lying silent for so long. You bite your lip and let your hand fall between you and Sokka. You ask something you should’ve asked a while ago. “What about you?”

           Sokka glances away for a moment and sighs. “I just miss people, you know?” You nod. He continues. “We haven’t seen Katara in, I don’t know, two months? I know we don’t always get along, but I miss her, and I know that she has to be careful, we all have to be careful, but that doesn’t make it less hard, y’know?

           “And it’s not just our friends, or even my dad or anything. Just people. I miss being around people, and not having any sort of outlet, you know? Just four walls.”

           “And little-old-me,” you add jokingly. Sokka rolls his eyes.

           “Four walls and you,” he amends. You try to ignore the rush you feel when he lets his hand brush against your own.

           “Want to watch a show or something?”

           Saturday night can’t come soon enough, and when you come out of your room after your shower, you’re surprised and excited to see that Sokka has gone all out with the movie night. The movie has to be streamed on the computer, so Sokka has his laptop set up on the coffee table, ready to go. You smell the popcorn he has popping in the microwave.

           “Ready for the best quarantine movie ever?” He greets, then jumps as the popcorn begins to pop almost aggressively in the microwave.

           “Of course,” you reply, hopping yourself over the back of the couch and pulling the throw blanket there over yourself. “I can’t wait to see everybody. It’s been too long.”

           Sokka is careful not to burn the popcorn and even goes as far as to dump it out of the bag and into an actual bowl for the two of you. He comes over and takes a seat next to you; you’ve both opted for sweatpants, as you both tend to do even though it’s the middle of summer. It’s not like you’re leaving the house, although Sokka still complains about the heat sometimes.

           You hop onto the voice call with the others at exactly 8 o’clock. Zuko is already there, of course, as well as Katara and Aang. It only takes Toph a few seconds to join after you.

           “Hi, guys!” Katara exclaims, waving at her camera. She’s already pressed up against Aang’s side on the sofa in their apartment, and he’s leaning his head on her shoulder. Their huge white dog, Appa, can just barely be seen at the bottom of the screen, laying across their laps.

           “Hey, Katara!” You respond excitedly, leaning in closer to the camera. “I miss you guys so much!”

           “Hey, Sokka, how’s your class going?” Zuko asks. Immediately, Sokka begins a tangent about whatever his latest project is. Zuko matches his enthusiasm with talk about his screenwriting class.

           “Nerds,” Toph mutters, crossing her arms. You laugh.

           “You guys ready to start the movie?” Zuko says. Aang gives a thumbs up into the webcam.

           “Flameo, hotman.”

           The movie is, of course, frequently interrupted by you and your friends’ commentary. Sokka has had to shush you multiple times, as you keep leaning over and whispering dumb observations and jokes in his ear. You aren’t one to take any movie too seriously, and this indie film is no exception. But you don’t think Aang would appreciate your comments, since he looks like he’s about to tear up as he leans into Katara before the movie is even halfway through.

           “Sokka, you look pretty cozy,” Katara giggles suddenly. You didn’t realize it, but now that you were paying attention, you could feel Sokka’s side pressed up against you as you both leaned in to better see the laptop screen. You can see now that his arm is draped over the couch behind you.

           “What? What’s happening?” Toph asks, and Zuko starts to laugh a little bit. To your surprise, Sokka doesn’t pull away.

           “I am, thanks,” he says, trying to be nonchalant, but still letting a sheepish smile sneak past his lips.

           “Okay, then,” Katara smiles, refocusing on the movie. Your heart flutters a bit as you remember where you are. With Sokka. Your roommate. Who you don’t need to have feelings for, but you think you might be doing it anyway.

           You feel your eyes getting droopier as the movie goes on, and you don’t really pay attention anymore. Before you know it, you can’t seem to get your eyes open anymore, and the sounds of the movie and your friends’ laughter fades away.

           You wake up to the sound of laughter. The movie is gone, and the screen is entirely taken up by your friends’ faces.

           “Oh, look,” Zuko says, “sleepy head’s finally awake.”

           “Shut up,” you groan. You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until the moment, and you hadn’t realized that you had fallen asleep… on Sokka. Your head rested on his shoulder, and his right arm was around you. One of your hands was resting on his lap. Your friends started laughing again, and you jerked your hand away, but didn’t quite sit up. You still felt too tired for that.

           “Well, we should probably go,” Katara said finally, although Aang was already definitely half asleep on her shoulder. Zuko and Toph muttered something similar, and everyone said their goodbyes. Sokka reached with his left arm to exit the call but left the laptop on.

           You feel Sokka gently grab your hand as your eyes start to drift shut once again, sleep too tempting to refuse. You feel him lean down and whisper in your ear, always careful, “Is this okay?”

           You nod into his shoulder, and you feel him breathe a sigh of relief as he rests his head on yours. It would always be okay. And you didn’t need to talk about it yet, although you’d have to eventually. For tonight, though, while the world raged on, it was just you and him, and the four walls of your apartment. And while the months of quarantine seemed to stretch on forever, you knew you had someone to hold on to.

[thekrazykeke]

title: just keep breathing

fandom(s): fallen hero rebirth/retribution

pairing(s): wei chen x sidestep. ricardo ortega x sidestep. wei chen x ricardo ortega x sidestep. ricardo ortega x wei chen. 

playlist/song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMkz9JF7teY

rating: t+

summary: maybe it’s not about fixing what’s broken. maybe it’s about starting over and creating something better.

warning(s): pre poly relationship, comfort food, pining, mild spoilers for the alpha build, angst and hurt/comfort.

Listen. 

I played Fallen Hero Rebirth and rated it a solid 9, and the story initially left me crying my eyeballs out but mildly confused, wanting to understand things. So I replayed and replayed and replayed. I picked up things and the clues started fitting together. I paid for the Retribution alpha build and I’m still crying my eyeballs out at night over it but I wanted resolution. I wanted to give (one of) my character(s) a light at the end of the tunnel. 

So this is what it is. Or an attempt at it because FHR is really quite dark and not for the faint hearted. Those warning tags are not for show. 

Sidestep’s name is Tyndall Bowman in this one.

~

It happens on a Sunday. The last weekend before a new month started, technically.

Ortega frequently visits Chen’s apartment and brings food, lightly ribbing the other man for his lackluster kitchen space. Chen’s routine response becoming less and less exasperated each time. 

You think that he not so secretly fears that you’ll both starve or subsist off canned food and cheap takeout. ...Which probably isn’t a far off assumption, considering the implication day one of your temporary living situation.

It could be considered sweet, if it wasn’t so very funny. (You had to get your kicks somewhere).

Your legs are still broken. 

Progress is frustratingly slow. 

You’d tried to move to a schedule of crutches-only by the second week out of sheer boredom and the flat look Chen had leveled in your direction caused you to nix that idea stat. 

There’s a tension between Chen and you now. 

Not to say that there rarely isn’t tension, but that’s usually due to an aftermath of an argument. Now? Now, you’re aware of him. Aware of him in a way that you’d only been aware of Ortega.

Fucking hell.

Someone’s knee brushes lightly against yours, breaking you out of your reverie. You glance to the left and catch sight of Ricardo watching you with soft, worried eyes. Chen also watching, but less obvious in his concern, features more stoic, controlled. The three of you are in the living room, they are siting on the couch, you’re in your wheelchair. 

They probably asked you something and you were zoned out.

The lie is on the tip of your tongue, “I’m fine,” you mumble and grip your bowl which has half melted blueberry swirl ice cream and salted caramel cheesecake. Sweets are your kryptonite but Ricardo has pulled out your top favorites...

“You’re fine?” Ricardo scoffs, his tone skeptic. 

A muscle jumped in your jaw. “Yep, just fine,” you reply, using your spoon to scoop up some ice cream, take a bite and enjoy the flavor. Refusing to give an inch and let him win. 

The two of you had played this game many times, too many actually, and it usually ends with you being the one to fall for the prodding, and then you get angry, lash out. 

Walk away.  Only this time you can’t. 

Another scoff. “Typical. You do this every time, you know.” There’s a surprising amount of bitterness in Ricardo’s voice now. 

“Ricardo,” Chen starts to interject, the strain clear in his voice. “Tyndall. Stop.”

It’s too late though. 

Placing down the bowl on the nearest surface, freeing up your hands, you clench then unclench your fingers, trying to avoid cracking your knuckles. “And what about you, then huh, Saint Ortega?” The sneer on your face is ugly. “You’re always on about me being honest with my feelings and talking, but the truth of it is, you’re just like me, or worse!”

Ortega looks dumbfounded. As if he can’t believe you’d dare to throw the truth in his face like this, so obviously. He recovers quicker than you’d like, much to your annoyance, though. “...Maybe so,” he acknowledges, his voice softer. Enough to lull a more gullible individual into complacency or just anyone not paying attention. You know better. “That’s a topic we can revisit in a moment. I’m more curious about how long the two of you expect me to play the idiot here.”

Unwillingly, your eyes dart to Chen’s, then away. 

Not focusing on any particular point in the room. Does Ortega know that you’re Mastermind? Since when, and did Chen tell him? Or is he bluffing right now and he doesn’t know? Is he talking about something totally different than what you’re thinking about?

Quick! Think up an appropriate answer and throw him off the trail!

“....I don’t....know what you mean.��

That’s not what you should say!!

Chen sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose.  He looks pretty much done with the both of you right now, not that you can blame him. “Be clearer, the two of you have a propensity for telling half truths which leads to the majority of these absurd arguments.” 

Ricardo winced and you feel the sting from that particular burn as well. 

“In response to your statement, though, no one is expecting you to play the fool.” He looks a little nervous, guilty. “ I... We’ve kissed.” There’s a pinch to his brow, the tips of his ears turning pink. “That wasn’t an example of being a good friend to you, kissing Tyndall and murkying the waters further when I knew the two of you were...” There’s a pause as he tries to find a word for what you and Ortega shared before you and he tentatively stopped antagonizing each other and bonded over Spoon. 

You snorted, lips twisting into a wry smile, “The phrasing of that sentence makes it sound as if I found it a chore to kiss you or something.” Chen cuts you an admonishing look which you temporarily ignore as you turn to glance at Ortega who’d been watching the byplay between you and Chen with an unreadable expression. For the nth time, you wish you could read his mind, and at the same time, you’re grateful that you can’t. 

“...He’s right though. It was an epically shitty thing to do, kissing your oldest friend, who’s probably had a crush on you since he’s met you, while we were kissing. Totally and unnecessarily complicated.”

He just looked at the two of you for a moment. Then Ricardo sighed heavily, running a hand over his face, wearily. “Esto es un desastre.”

You say nothing, staying quiet because honestly, you agree. This is a mess, and it was poorly handled, on all sides. You’d already spilled the beans about Chen having a crush Ortega before it got to this point because you sincerely thought the conversation should have come up properly over seven years ago, your ‘death’ should have been a nonfactor. 

They likely would’ve been a couple already if they weren’t such obtuse idiots.

“Okay... okay...” Ricardo seems to have come to a conclusion. He nods resolutely, turning all his considerably intense focus onto Chen who seems taken aback by it. Leaning forward into the other man’s space, slow enough that it’d be easy to shove him back, but of course Chen doesn’t. Ricardo’s hand went to the nape of his neck, lightly urging Chen forward, the other man obeying that silent request, and in the span of a breath, they’re kissing.

Your don’t avert your gaze, as much as you want to. 

This is a private thing, you shouldn’t look, shouldn’t stare like a pervert. 

‘Isn’t this what you knew would happen?’ Of course, your brain isn’t nice. 

This is what you wanted right, for them to get their act together. 

Humans falling in love with each other is normal and acceptable. (Although your education depicted of men and women falling in love, primarily). It happens all the time. 

Such emotion is a luxury a Re-Gene cannot afford, nor can they sincerely feel it, that’s what you were taught on the Farm. So resistant to the idea of going back to being treated as an unfeeling thing, your re-education had been particularly brutal.

“Whatever horrible thing your mind is telling you, it isn’t true.”

Once again caught off guard, lost in thought, you’re unprepared for Ricardo to kiss you. He tastes faintly of blueberry swirl ice cream and sweet tea, and maybe it’s your imagination, but maybe even a little bit like Chen. It’s that stray thought that has you jerk your head, trying to turn away from him. “W...what the hell, asshole?”

He snorted. “You know you sound really cute when you curse.” 

Baring your teeth, you snap, “Tomber d'une falaise!” Although the idiot clearly didn’t know what you said in French, basically telling him to fall off a cliff, it didn’t stop him from dramatically clutching at his chest, as if he’d been stabbed in the heart; he could probably guess it was at least an insult.

“Stop teasing him, Ricardo.” Chen admonished. Ricardo mock pouted. “I mean it. Can’t you see that he’s overwhelmed?”

“I am not overwhelmed!”, you vehemently protest.

“Out of your depth then,” Chen countered and before you could complain that it was pretty much the same thing, only with differing meanings, he continued on, “What our resident idiot is clumsily trying to show instead of explain, is that he wants both of us.”

“If you want a threesome, fine. It’ll have to wait, as I’m a bit physically impaired at the moment.” You’re almost surprised by the bitterness in your voice. 

Chen stared at you for a brief moment and then he braced both hands on either side of your wheelchair. Heart slowly turning over in your chest, oddly feeling as if you’re caught in the gaze of a hunter, you stubbornly keep eye contact for a second or two, but can’t maintain it for long. That doesn’t stop him from murmuring in your right ear, “Stop being so stubborn. Stop lying. You want this. To be in a relationship with both of us.”  A brief pause. “Correct?”

Fucking hell... 

Swallowing thickly, wondering the logistics of how that would work out. Wondering if you were about to once again make a horrible mistake. Then again, since you’d come back to Los Diablos, since Ortega found you again, that’s all you’ve been doing so far, haven’t you. Making mistake after mistake after mistake. 

“Yes.” 

As Chen’s left hand buried itself in your curls, taking control, tilting your head back, idly you wondered if the next time you hit the ground, if it’d hurt less. This is after a freefall into madness, it feels like, and twice as foolish. Yet you surrender, and you stop thinking, enjoy the kiss. 

[amethystpath-writes]

If you have the time and motivation for this, would you mind writing about the hero finding out the villain has been dating his sister? And the sister has no idea but the villain is like taunting the hero with public displays of attention and gushy romance things. The hero can’t do anything bc he thinks the villain will hurt the sister if he says anything about it. You can decide whether the villain actually loves the sister or not :)

I have been excited about this idea since I read it. Thank you, nonny!

******

Pulling up to the curb, Sister pushed the door open. How long ago did she unbuckle? Hero wondered. He hated how- how…uncaring she was. It wasn’t so much about her hurting other people with her carelessness as it was about her hurting herself. Hero loved Sister, which meant he hated to see the path she was taking. She was going to get herself killed, maybe not by going on dates, but with all her other tendencies; things like getting into car crashes at sixteen, going to skateparks in the middle of the night, and the general rebellious thing she had going on. Hero wish she could understand that the reason he was so overbearing was because their parents weren’t at all. And he wasn’t a helicopter brother; he just wanted her to be safe.

Hero turned the key counter clockwise and pulled it out, before getting out of the car himself. Now was the moment he’d evaluate Sister’s boyfriend. Yes, evaluate. If the guy Sister was dating was some jerk or something right off the bat, Hero would make him leave. He’d- uh- puff his chest and…and do the intimidating stuff.

Truth be told, Hero didn’t know how to come off as intimidating without using his abilities, but no one knew about those, and no on could know. He had watched too many movies of people with weird powers being taken and experimented on or tortured or other terrible things. It’s why he and Villain took things to rooftops, or otherwise amidst destruction where they couldn’t be seen. But that wasn’t the point! The point was that Hero was about to meet the person his sister was spending so much time with.

Sister was running up to one of the tables of the small ice cream bar, and when she got there- or to the person there- she wrapped their arms around a man, and as he looked up, Hero felt his whole body freeze. He felt his hands shake as the man- Villain- dragged a hand up and down Sister’s back, taunting Hero because he knew the shock it would cause.

It was Villain. Villain was coddling Hero’s sister right in front of him, and he even made eye contact while doing it.

After a few more frozen moments, Hero took one- two- steps forward. Villain watched, not ceasing his teases. At one point he even full on glared at Hero, stopping him in his tracks. Hero didn’t know what to do but to remain where he was and watch. He nearly spoke, opening his mouth to break it up, to get Sister away, but one flick of Villain’s hand on her neck stopped him.

The two kissed, not too awfully long- certainly not a make out session, but it was too long to be considered a peck.

“Oh.” Villain’s gaze caught Hero’s again, and he smiled. “This must be the brother you have mentioned a time or twice.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.” She gave a small laugh, adjusting her shirt, as it’d become somewhat crooked, and turning to face her brother while still standing beside her boyfriend- who now slid a hand behind her before settling it on her waist opposite of his own side.

Hero swallowed. Should he talk? Initiate the conversation? But with that hand on his sister’s hip…it was a threat. Villain could take off with her any second.

Or maybe he just loved Sister.

No. No, of course he doesn’t love Sister. That was a ridiculous idea and Hero couldn’t believe he even thought of it for a second.

“You never said he was mute.”

Still not knowing whether to speak or not, Hero only took very slow and deliberate steps forward toward the- the couple, if you could even call them that. “When do I need to pick you up?”

Sister’s face scrunched up. “What? You suddenly don’t want the cone and taco you made me promise to buy you before you left?” She laughed and crossed her left arm over her chest so that she could place her hand on Villain’s shoulder. “You don’t approve.”

She thought it was because Villain was wearing raggy clothing, a shirt with purposefully torn holes and bleached pants. No. That wasn’t the problem at all. Someone who looked as Villain did now was exactly Sister’s type, and they weren’t all shitty people. It just so happened to be that this one was. And this wasn’t the clothing Villain typically wore either. It was a lie, a façade, to lure Sister in. It worked.

Villain’s hand began to draw circles on Sister��s side. Hero had to take a deep breath. Another warning, or threat, or whatever you wanted to call it, to Hero to say the right thing, to play a role in the act. “I didn’t say that,” he settled for. Easy, simple, neutral.

“Your face is saying that,” Villain said. Hero could have sworn Villain held up a one with his fingers for a moment. He felt his heart thundering in his chest.

“Why don’t we all order our food and sit down, hm? Clear the air up a bit.”

It wasn’t a request or a suggestion. It was a demand.

Hero didn’t realize his jaw was clenched until he opened it to speak as he walked toward them at a proper talking distance. He kept his hands in his pockets to hide the fact they were fisted. “Right. Not a problem at all. Sister, I’ll order for you. What do you want?”

She looked up at him, then Villain.

“I told her I’d pay, but if you’d like to go order for yourself with me, then that’s fine. Maybe we can get to know one another a little more. Do you want to pick a table for us, mi amore?”

Wordless, Sister left to do as Villain suggested. Now it was just Hero and Villain standing out in the wide open.

Villain was the first to begin walking to the order line. Hero followed two steps behind, too nervous to be any closer. He didn’t think Villain was stupid enough to act out here, but it was hard telling- especially if he was apparently willing to date Sister. Hero still couldn’t believe it. The denial would have been stronger if Villain hadn’t been actively cluing threats.

“I have really rendered you speechless, haven’t I?”

Hero said nothing.

“Go on, say something. Do you think I plan to rip out your tongue?”

No. I think you might snap my sister’s neck. “What are you doing?”

Villain gave a small chuckle. “Did you ever consider that maybe I just like your sister and that’s why I asked her on a date today?”

“I considered it, then found it unlikely.”

He hummed. “Well, you’re right. I don’t despise her, but I would have no interest in her if it didn’t dig under your skin. It’s funny, the way you find me to be so threatening. A touch on her wrist makes you think I’ll break it. A touch on her neck, and you think I’ll dig my teeth into her throat as if I were a vampire and she my prey. What else, hero?”

“You would do all of those things.” Straight to the point.

“Is that what you think?” Villain smiled, stepping forward in the line now that some kid finally decided to order three scoops of various ice creams with sprinkles and syrup on top- no cherry though. “Perhaps. That only means you should continue to tread carefully. I’d hate for you to twist an ankle.”

Hero was becoming more frustrated than worried now. What was the point in all of this? The only thing Hero could come up with was that this was Villain’s form of a punishment…for looking for him, Hero assumed. But why was that such a big deal? Maybe Villain was up to something and needed Hero off his back; dating his sister and threatening her nearly every moment was the solution, and it was somewhat effective.

Silence followed through the rest of the line until they made it to ordering. “You used to buy her the toppings options,” Villain said to Hero before looking back to the person taking his order. “Add some rainbow sprinkles on top.” Having finished the order, Villain handed over a twenty- Did he just hold up a two with his other hand? - and told the worker to keep the change- all five dollars and thirty-six cents. Turning back to Hero, he began again. “She misses those times- when you actually tried to spend time with her.”

Gritting his teeth, Hero said nothing. Villain knew the reason he didn’t talk to his sister- or any of his family. Hero was busy looking for wherever Villain was hiding out when he wasn’t going into cities and attacking people from above.

They waited for their orders after Hero paid for his, and as they did this, Villain spoke up again, “You’re thinking about what to do in this scenario.”

“I’m not thinking about much of anything actually.”

Villain hummed. “I would be head over my heels in thought. I must have really boggled you up there.”

Hero said nothing. There was nothing to do.

**

Bringing the food and ice cream back, the date went as any would- with the exception that Hero was now a part of the date. It was originally meant to only be Sister and whoever her boyfriend was- which as Hero knew now, was Villain.

They all chatted like good friends, and Hero was warned subtly a few times to watch his displeased facial expressions. The unhappy expression usually only happened when Villain would hold Sister’s hand and all Hero could think was, He’s going to crush her bones. He’s capable of it. One squeeze is all it’d take. They also frequented when Villain put an arm around his sister’s shoulders, draping a hand almost carelessly. Again, Hero’s thoughts would get the best of him. Fingernails in her arm, river of blood. What did he think Villain was exactly, Hero wasn’t even sure, but evil was an easy way to define him.

Sure, they both had abilities, but only Villain was sadistic enough to ever use them against people powerless and defenseless against it. He never did it where he could be seen, but- well, Villain was unpredictable, wasn’t he? Hero certainly never expected the guy to start dating his sister. It was possible he really would hurt Sister in public.

“Hero, what did you say you do for work again?”

He swallowed. Hero could out Villain right now, just say it in the next moment and no one would expect it. And it was outlandish enough that it would be surprisingly unquestionable. Some things you just couldn’t lie about. It wouldn’t even need thought, though, because Villain would deliberately prove it…by concussing Sister with a tiny flick.

“I work with the Containment Justice Department in town.” This was what Hero told everyone, mostly his family. It wasn’t so difficult to lie about anymore, except that now Villain was smiling with the brightest beam of amusement.

Containment Justice Department, Hero could hear Villain mocking him.

“Interesting. I thought you had to graduate from some police academy or something to do that.”

“I excelled.”

“Right. Sister said you dropped out of high school. Suppose that’s why I never saw you in the halls.”

Villain tucked a piece of hair behind Sister’s ears then brought his lips to her cheek. She smiled and pushed him away playfully. Hero held his breath.

What could Villain possibly do with a kiss? What deadly thing could come out of that? His creativity was shrunken at this point, exhausted. This had been such a long day, and the sun was setting. Hero was stressed beyond relief, he felt.

“How long have you two been together?”

Sister opened her mouth to answer, but Villain beat her to the punch, his lips still on her skin. “Next week will be a year.” He put a hand on her chin after drawing his own head back just barely to make room for movement, then dragged her head to him until their lips were almost touching. “Isn’t that right, mi amore?”

A blush rose in her cheeks before he kissed her, and this time it was longer than when she and Hero first arrived.

“Right, well it was nice to meet you. Sister, we should go before it gets dark.”

“Um, I was actually…” Sister began, but trailed off.

“I’ll bring her home later tomorrow.”

“We should go home now. It’s dangerous out at night.” Hero added, “Not just for her sake, but yours.” Hero only included this for two reasons: (1) Villain would have silently scolded Hero, threatened him- or his sister, he supposed- for not wishing good will for Villain, and (2) because Hero needed his sister to agree with him, to want Villain to go home so that he was safe since they were a couple and couples cared for one another.

“My house is well lit. I think we’ll be okay. But I do hate to drive at night. Astigmatisms,” Villain said, “nasty things. Are you ready to go, mi amore?”

She nodded, and Hero didn’t know what to do as she began to stand. Sister couldn’t go to Villain’s home; she might never come back. What if he killed her? Hero didn’t know where he lived, and that meant there would be no rescue. He had to stop this now. But he couldn’t. Because if he tried to, Villain would act out now, and he’d probably find a way to make it Hero’s fault.

“You win, okay?” Hero rushed out as the distance between he and Sister and Villain grew. “You’ve- uh- been there for my sister when I couldn’t be. You are a…” Hero grimaced. “You’re a good guy.”

Villain licked his lip before dragging it in with his teeth, then looking at Sister with only his eyes- no tilting of the head, no action Sister could see.

“Thank you for taking care of her. Drive safely.”

And that was all Hero could do to ensure any amount of safety; admit defeat. Admit the Villain one, and maybe he would ease up, maybe he would break the tie he made with Sister, let her be free, even though she didn’t know she was caught to begin with.

“Will do.” Villain tossed a hand in the air- a careless goodbye.

Hero felt his heart drop. What did the carelessness mean- if anything at all? There was nothing he could do about it anyways. Villain won. Hero could only hope- maybe even pray- that Villain would show mercy. Until then, Hero hopped in his car, and before he took off, he turned the ringer on on his phone. It was the least he could do. If Sister was in trouble, maybe she would text or call him, and he would be there in a heartbeat after she told Hero Villain’s add- That’s it!

Hero opened the messaging on his phone and clicked on Sister’s name. ‘What’s his address? Just in case something happens.’ he typed and hit send.

Not a moment later, Hero received a text back from Sister, reading, ‘Seriously? How dunce are you?’

Another message as Hero began typing. ‘That’s three.’ it read. Hero squinted his eyes, looking up at the brake lights in front of him. A hand was stuck out of the driver side window. Three fingers were held out. And then? The car in front of Hero surged forward, wheels squealing with the highest screech he ever heard.

“No!” Hero fumbled with his keys, trying hard- maybe too hard- to put in it the ignition slot. “No, no, no.” He glanced up and down, watching as Villain’s car sped off until it turned out of sight. “Dammit!” Finally, the key slid in, and Hero started the car, speeding off just the same as Villain did just two minutes ago, but by the time he turned on the street Villain had, the car was gone, his sister with it.

******

Requested Part 2 here

[thatwritingnerd]

12 for sebastian/abigail? @gendercraft

Idiot - Sebastian/Abigail

Summary: Sebastian believes he’s hopelessly pining for Abigail whilst Abigail thinks Sebastian is an idiot for missing her hints and flirting until she has to spell it out for him. Turns out they’re both idiots.

For the prompt: We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way

Warnings/tags: fake dating relationship, pining, first kiss, love confessions

Word count: 1.7k

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It was a thing. Not a thing thing. But a known thing. That is Abigail and Sebastian’s relationship. Something gentle and easy, from growing up together to friends to now dancing together at the Flower Dance. It was as casual as it gets, frequent hang outs (albeit with Sam as a third oblivious wheel most of the time), common interests, being two rather odd folk in town – their quirky, standoffish natures. It was perfect, almost too perfect.

That is, of course it was.

Too perfect, too planned, a ruse, a fake.

Growing up their friendship was natural, Abigail as a more outspoken, loud quirky type, already with bright purple hair at the age of thirteen, and Sebastian as the softer, quieter weird type, who, also at thirteen, wore nothing but black. But Abigail’s smile and weird enthusiasm over videogames drew him in, hooked him into a weird friendship, into years of shouting over videogames, laughing over Solarian Chronicles, teasing over pool at the bar.

Little changed between them over the years, yet everything did.

They grew up, school became college and work, playdates became nights at the saloon and city trips, and their innocent childhood friendship became town gossip of something more. After all, there had to be. Right? They were almost inseparable, always hung out around town – well, with Sam but he had his own things, with Penny, and Vince, plus the whole thing with his dad. It didn’t help that all of the town’s singletons were seemingly paired off and trying to be set up by the older residents, well, mostly the gossips and the shifty mayor.

So, why wouldn’t they play along? Keep their parents off their backs from the ‘when are you going to find that special someone?’ type of questions muddled together with other life questions. It became easier to play along that to go against the force.

He’d leave, say he’s going to Abby’s, and actually go. Her door forced half open just to be sure nothing was going on for her parents’ sake, not that there would. Abby would do his nails, some shitty true crime documentary on in the background, and they’d dye each other’s hair. It was then, hair matted to his forehead in ink black dye, Abby’s soft hands in his hair, looking at her in the mirror watching her laugh and giggle over their stupid shitty jokes, that he realised maybe, maybe there was something more there, something a little less platonic.

Sebastian would never say anything, ruining their friendship would be the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn’t help noticing things that he hadn’t bothered to before. The soft crinkles at the corners of her eyes when she genuinely smiles, the way her bright hair curls and kinks in the rain, her rough and brash nature becoming more intriguing than pure appreciation.

Then it’s not quite pretending anymore, is it? At least, not on his part. Soft, sideways glances when she’s not looking, the gentle smile on his lips whenever she does something stupid. Sebastian realises, in the dead of night, that, yeah, he’s a little in love with Abigail now. And he’s in too deep to stop this pretending, to break it off would arise questions and, well, it would break his heart to not get to see Abby so much on this personal level. But tell her and break her heart in another way? He could never.

So, he kept it inside, as much as he could.

Except Sebastian is a complete and utter dumbass. Abigail has known for years now, her friend can miss hints like bricks to the face, invites to her house when she’s home alone, time just the two of them out and about – “Like a date?” “Sure”. But how dense can one man really be? A man who is so smart, intelligent, and clever, yet a complete social idiot that it kind of makes Abby want to punch him in his pretty face.

She’s tried and tried for years, from her silly schoolgirl crush to her awkward hormonal teenage fascination, now to this softer love for this boy she has watched become a man, always by her side no matter what. Yet, she has to resort to what always gets her way – brute force and honesty.

She waits for him one evening near the lake beside his house which isn’t unusual, her flute abandoned in her lap serving only to occupy her nervous hands. She had to tell him, she cannot keep it a secret inside of her for much longer, it will drive her insane, but would it not be more vexing to tell him and not only receive rejection but to lose him altogether. Abby knows, logically, she won’t lose him, not completely, but ruining their current relationship, their movie and makeover nights, their late night cemetery walks, their ventures alone into the surface of the mines, she might miss that more than anything else she has to gain from telling him the truth.

It’s too late though, the door to the carpenter’s closes loudly into the silent night, the faint click of a lighter letting her know it’s Sebastian.

“Finally,” she breathes out, faux exasperation clear in her voice, “you must have better places to be than with me.”

He laughs, soft and gentle, genuine, under his breath in a way she’s become accustomed to.

“You know that’s not true, you’re like one of my only friends, and we know Sam’s scared of the dark,” he says, sitting similarly crossed legged next to her, face light up by the soft glow of his cigarette, “but don’t tell him I said that.”

The word friend hit her confidence a little, knowing just what is at stake. Yet, she’s come this far to ask him here, no questions asked, in the dead of night, the least she can do is be honest, right?

“You’re real stupid, you know that?” she starts, lips quirked up at the edges.

He glances at her out of the side of his eye, one eyebrow raised before he rolls his eyes, he huffs, “and here I thought you were going to tell me something important and unknown.”

Any other time Abby might have laughed – might have, she doesn’t want to give him the idea that he’s hilarious after all, it might go to his head – but this time she doesn’t, instead she watches him watching the slow ripples in the mostly still lake. A breath out of smoke every so often and that really shouldn’t be so distracting for her, she’s spent many a night wondering about his oral fascinations in more ways than one.

She pushes some of her hair out of her face only for the slight wind to push it back across her field of vision which, honestly, is kind of rude when she’s trying to have a moment here.

“Hush you, it’s important in the unknown conversation,” she continues, trying to play it off cool but something in her voice faulters and Sebastian looks at her, properly looks at her, and realises this might be serious enough to turn his body to face her but not serious enough to put his cig out.

“You’re stupid and a dumbass and so socially inept that it seems impossible to even try to get you to notice what I want you to, and I really hope I’m making sense and not just making a fool of myself because that would be real stupid too, but you miss it all, all my hints and flirting, well, maybe my flirting isn’t that good but I fucking put on a dress and danced for you, with you, Jesus, Seb did you really think I was just inviting you round mine late at night when my parents weren’t in for videogames? I mean, don’t get me wrong I like that, and I wouldn’t change our friendship for anything but… but maybe I want something more and maybe it’s stupid of me to think that but… I like you, Sebastian, I really, really like you.”

She finishes her speech with a loud breath out, a pink flush on her cheeks that has nothing to do with the weather, and her eyes downcast, more interested in the grass that her best friend whose eyes pierce into her very soul.

“Ok, so maybe I’m stupid,” Sebastian finally says after what seems like an eon, “but maybe I didn’t want to ruin this either, you know, us, I think I’d rather have pined for you for life than lose you as my super kickass best friend. I thought if I kept it inside, I could keep you forever, even if it wasn’t how I wanted and, well, maybe I thought it was wishful thinking and then, unsurprisingly, overthinking that made it all seem one sided. But I, uh, I really like you too.”

Abby lets out a breath she doesn’t realise she was holding, finally looking back at him. He looks, for lack of better words, stunning. Cig stubbed out against the bottom of his shoe at some point, dark hair having fallen over his face casting a shadow over his skin which is brightly pale in the moonlight, his cheeks tinged pink and lips wet no doubt from nervous licking. And she has never wanted to kiss him more now than ever before.

“So, we’re both idiots then?” she asks, laughing more out of nerves than anything else.

“Yeah,” he says, softly, “guess we’re both idiots, though I don’t think I’ll ever hear you say that ever again.”

“What that I really like you?” she says, nothing but faux innocence.

So, he does as he always does; sighs and then rolls his eyes. Then, he does as he never has before; he leans in, and down, and captures her lips with his own, tenderly and warmly. And she could definitely get used to this, cool fingers on her cheek, and the smirk she feels against her lips.

Sebastian pulls back, his smile gentle and eyes unworried in a way she hasn’t quite seen in a while, “no, that you’re also an idiot.”

She snorts, eyebrows furrowing and nose twitching, and she shoves him away a little too hard to be completely playful and he lands back with a winded sound but he laughs.

“Idiot.”

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[dolcetters]

headcanon  004.  /  the  devil’s  nest  +  relationships

after escaping the fifth laboratory, dolcetto and the other surviving chimeras followed greed down to dublith. here, they slowly settled into a new life and began to forge a family all their own. learning to live with strangers--let alone strangers with damage, unique needs and habits--is never easy. but over time, dol found himself attached. and as painful as losing his second family would be, he’d never consider that attachment a mistake or a vulnerability he shouldn’t have allowed himself. they made life worth living.

axel

things between axel and dol started out rough and never really got better. their personalities clashed immediately, and their tempers weren’t far behind. none of this was helped by axel’s occasional tinkering with alchemy, something that would quickly agitate dol or just generally annoy him. despite this, they were able to work well together when a job required it... usually because “work” allowed them to put any anger toward a different party rather than each other.

fights between them would usually start with dol trying to fix something in the nest--be it the sink, a door, installing a new lock, etc--and axel would state that it would be quicker if he just used alchemy. dol would say that if they wanted things done right it’s best do just do it themselves and not with shitty science-magic. things would amp up from there. thankfully, one would storm off before anything turned physical. apologies were given in small gestures rather than words. they may have frequently fought and been at odds with each other, but it never took away from the loyalty and trust they felt.

bido

to call dol protective of bido would be a bit of an understatement. it’s very much an “i’m the only one allowed to gripe at him” sort of situation ( and said griping would come from a place of worry, much like from a scared parent ). he quickly caught on that bido’s experiences in the labs had left him unstable in more ways than one, and it didn’t take him long to start putting himself between bido and anything--or anyone--who made him uncomfortable. 

despite considering himself bad at giving advice, dol would always listen carefully to bido whenever something had him anxious. he’d make a point to try to mend the situation however he could and go out of his way to make sure bido was safe and guarded when things at the nest got dicey. bido would also sometimes bring back small trinkets or oddities that he’d find while out eavesdropping or exploring, and dol would place them around the shelves and bottles as a bit of extra decoration to give the bar’s front a personal touch. bido was never much shorter than dol, but dol started referring to him as “the little guy” as a term of affection. 

blondie

similar to axel, dol’s relationship with blondie was frequently rocky. this was, in part, because blondie was often one of the first to poke fun at dol when the dogs would influence him. though the two of them would rarely choose to hang out around each other, their spats never got worse than just spats. 

blondie would taunt, dol would yell, and that would usually be the end of it. in some ways, this was also a way of checking on each other. on days blondie didn’t tease, dol would get the idea something was up. and on days dol wouldn’t bristle or bite back, blondie would know something was off. while they never talked anything out, they could sometimes be found having a smoke together in silence on the roof. being a comfort by company. blondie did enjoy hanging out with vulch, however, and this would frequently cause rifts between him and dol.

cain

while his temper could be on par with axel and dolcetto’s, cain was always much quieter and withdrawn. he kept to himself most of the time and didn’t start fights, preferring to be the one who barged in and finished them. he was definitely a “background snarker”, staying silent throughout a conversation until an opening to throw in a jab or smartass remark would present itself. and he had no bias regarding who the jabs were aimed at. sometimes he took your side, other times he’d take you out with the trash. 

while cain and dol got along, all things considered, the guy sometimes gave dol “off” vibes. cain stuck to the shadows, moved around the nest with uncanny silence, and had a habit of seemingly just “appearing” in rooms to lurk and butt into conversation whenever he liked. they did work well together, though. similar to martel, dol and cain were often able to “sense” what move the other was about to make--and they worked off each other fluidly in combat. dol also made sure to help guard cain’s blind spots while in a fight, even if cain didn’t need it. they rarely got into direct fights with each other. any tension usually came in the form of annoyed, tired stares and rolling eyes.

gills

in the same vein as cain, gills often preferred to keep to himself but was rarely found alone. he liked to follow at least one person around the bar and sometimes strike up light conversation with them, though he never stayed past his welcome. dol’s relationship with gills could be described as solid enough. gills respected boundaries, and dol never minded his company or curiosity. 

due to his disfiguration, gills never got to leave the nest too often--especially during day hours. dolcetto would often make it a point to find him after a run or a job and tell him about anything interesting he may have seen in as much detail as he could. and, in turn, gills would share stories about what he could remember before the labs. he’d been a bit of a nomad, if he recalled correctly, hitch-hiking on train cars and seeing as much of amestris as he could. as fine as he was with his nickname, gills wished he could remember his birthname. it became another reason dol was grateful for the older chimera who had once lived in the cell across from him. who’d made him promise to repeat his name to himself, again and again, every “night” before he fell asleep. so he wouldn’t become just another number.

glen

since glen doesn’t live at the nest, he just works there, his relationship with dol was always a little... walking on eggshells. glen respected dol’s need for privacy and personal space, and dol respected glen’s unwillingness to share too much about his life outside of work. there’d be times when glen would ask something he probably shouldn’t have and it’d just be five minutes of awkward, tense silence between the two of them before one of them eventually wandered away or found an excuse to leave. 

overall, their relationship was very surface level. much more acquaintance than friends. and while dol trusted glen with tasks like being a bouncer around the bar or standing guard around the entrances, glen would not be considered trustworthy ( by dolcetto’s standards ) to protect the nest’s occupants as individuals. there would always be an underlying fear that--backs to the wall--glen would sooner sell them out than hide them. he had a life and family outside of the nest’s walls, after all. and while that fear WAS there, dol never took it personally. he understood. all the more reason to ensure he can protect the nest, himself.

greed

complicated. may have been the best word to describe dolcetto and greed’s relationship before the raid on the nest. while dol grew to highly respect greed, value him, and dedicate himself to working for him in return for greed granting him a second life, there were more than enough times that the homunculus just about drove him absolutely batty. greed would take any input dol gave on a plan or idea into consideration, but it’d always be a bit of a coin flip. either he’d take it or he’d completely leave it. and while the latter didn’t always offend dol, nor did he take it too personally, it would sometimes leave him aghast. greed’s sometimes lackadaisical attitude toward his own physical safety would often bring dol to the verge of verbal outbursts or a need to snarl, pace, even go on an aimless run ( all energy runs out eventually, boss, and if you keep wasting yours on senseless shit you’re not gonna have it when you need it ). their relationship pre-raid could easily be described as strictly business, though a bit stronger and more personal on dol’s end. he didn’t really have a word for it at the time.

it wouldn’t be until after the raid, when greed and dolcetto would cross paths again, that dol began to feel out that word. while greed was still greed in many ways, he’d changed in others. their situation had changed, too. they weren’t running a back-end area of a city anymore as info-brokers... they were fugitives again, sure, but the stakes were higher. the threat of loss, heavier. they were each pieces of something torn apart and neither wanted to be separated again. it was during this period of travel, of getting closer to the promised day, that dol began to see greed more as a brother than a boss. someone flawed but reliable, someone who could look at everything wrong with him--the wrongs he’d done--and not bat an eye. and despite knowing damn well just how out of his league he’d be, dol refused to leave greed’s side during the promised day and did whatever he could to keep up with him as everything unfolded. so when greed died, tearing them apart for a second time and cementing dolcetto as the only remaining survivor of their found family... something in him shattered. he quietly disappeared in the crowd after the dust settled, and he’d remain in hiding until greed returned a final time.

gunshow

much of gunshow and dolcetto’s interactions could be considered playful and relaxed. they’d often exchange harmless banter while doing chores and odd-jobs around the nest to keep things up and running, and said banter would never become antagonistic or risk crossing boundaries. gunshow was laid-back, maybe a bit too much for his own good, and he easily rolled with whatever punches were thrown at him. any hot-headed remarks dol would make--usually out of accident--would just roll off his shoulders. they got along well, even if they didn’t usually seek out each other’s company. 

due to the lack of automail experts in the area, gunshow often had to deal with an annoying malfunction or two when older pieces of his arms would start to wear or break. dol was the only one he trusted to try fixing them ( axel tried to fix them with alchemy once and it did not end well ). these “fixes” were usually akin to “slap some duct tape on it”, but they worked well enough until they were able to find something that actually worked or someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing. and since it was automail, dol didn’t have a problem with touching or tinkering with gunshow’s arms... though, he did still have a problem with gunshow touching him directly with his hands. metal or not, hands are hands. he hates being grabbed.

martel

one of two people dolcetto knew before the labs, martel was easily one of the nest members dol was closest to. they met in academy and developed a bond through friendly competition. discovering that they had both wound up as experiments in the labs was... much more bitter than sweet. their cells weren’t close to each other, and often they’d only get glimpses of one other when moved from room to room. more time was spent worrying that one of them would die and simply “disappear” than they got to be comforted by a familiar face. it wouldn’t be until greed ransacked the labs that they’d be reunited in earnest. 

once in dublith, much of their healing was done together or with roa. martel tends to be the most mischievous of the three, sometimes causing trouble for the thrill that dol “angrily” would bail her out of while roa remained stern but amused. dol never doubted her abilities, be it in combat or in intel. he admired her wit, her resourcefulness, how laser focused she could be. and martel was one of the very few people in the nest who could touch him--usually on the shoulder or forearm--without him feeling overly anxious. he may have fallen uselessly in love with her, in a sense. though whether or not these feelings were ever reciprocated is unknown. they never got the chance.

owen

in a similar way that axel and dol clashed immediately, owen and dol clicked immediately. owen had an easy-going nature and a quiet patience to him, keeping a level head without problem whenever the more explosive personalities started tension in the nest. he’d often fall into the role of a mediator, and this was extremely important during the first several weeks of freedom as the fugitive family struggled to get to know each other AND adjust to life outside the labs. 

owen preferred to keep to himself. not because he didn’t like the company of his family, he just enjoyed quieter moments and being left to his tasks or hobbies. dol was drawn to this since he knew he’d always be able to just sit in whatever room owen occupied without the pressure to start and hold a conversation. owen often encouraged dol not to be so hard on himself, and dol was always the first to step in with light reminders whenever owen’s memory would start to fail him. they kept an eye on each others backs, as one’s weaknesses were often the other’s strength. this quiet, but strong, bond between the two is likely what lead to owen’s uncharacteristic rage when bradley stabbed dol from behind. as well as dol frequently being haunted by the image of owen’s corpse after her woke up from shock.

roa

the second of two people dol knew before the labs, roa came into dol’s life shortly after arriving in ishval. the older man had been stationed for a while ( and would remain for some time after dol and martel were taken underground ), and he soon took dol under his wing. while not a father figure quite yet, roa served the role as a mentor of sorts, helping dol and martel adjust to the shock of being on the field rather than training. and when he eventually wound up in the labs, it was similar to the situation dol had with martel. less the comfort of a familiar face, and more the constant worry that the glimpse you got of them in the corridor may have been the last time you’d see them again.

dolcetto, martel, and roa stuck close to each other throughout their first several weeks in dublith. roa was often the calm between their storms, the voice of reason when tension would build. there was a lot of his father that dol saw in roa. they had the same silent strength, cool-headedness, and wisdom. dol would often seek out roa for advice and insight, or simply go to him when he needed a sense of security and safety. roa was another of the few in the nest who could get away with touching dol, and he was the only one who could wrap a whole arm around dolcetto without the threat of losing it. though the reasoning was never given, roa gifted dolcetto with his old wedding ring maybe a month or two before the raid. somehow, he’d managed to keep it with him after all this time. dol didn’t really know what to do with it, but he kept it safely stored in one of his matchboxes. it wasn’t until after the raid that he found a chain necklace to keep it on so he could ensure roa would always be close.

smokes

sort of in the same realm as glen, smokes and dol had a very surface-level relationship, much more along the lines of acquaintances than friends. smokes was always a bit more clumsy and unaware than glen, however, when it came to conversation and certain topics best left off-limits. which lead to more frequent hostility on dol’s part. didn’t help that smokes tended to be much more sociable than glen did, sometimes butting into circles he hadn’t been invited into.

it might’ve been smokes’ lack of tact that lead to dol being less interested in being around him. he tended to try avoiding the guy when he could; this was actually because he thought smokes was nice just... stupid. and he didn’t want to end up hurting him in an outburst, be it physically or emotionally. the guy meant well, he was just... fucking stupid. and, as with glen, dol trusted him more as a bouncer or front guard than he ever would protecting the occupants of the nest.

vi

if dolcetto sees his father in roa, he sees his little sister in vi. though shy and timid at first, once vi deems you trustworthy and comes out of her shell, she’s mischievous, curious, energetic and full of personality with a bizarre sense of humor. similar to gills, vi rarely got the opportunity to leave the nest, both because of her disfigurements and because of the potential danger she could pose to those around her if her wrappings even slightly slipped. her wrappings would also cause her frequent depression as it effected her not just from a transitional standpoint but just... in general appearances. she’d get jealous of the women she’d see in the bar who got to wear heels and dresses and had hair to style ( as the condition of her skin paired with her wrappings would often cause her hair to fall out ). if there was ever an opportunity to bring back something vi could try on in private, dol would be one of the nest members to actively seek something out. like how roa took dol and martel under his wing, they took vi under theirs. 

despite her unnerving and almost frail appearance--wrappings or her semi-translucent skin--vi is far from helpless. put a gun in her hands, and she’s an excellent shot. she’s also unbothered by the effect her skin has on others that she’s come to consider a threat, and won’t hesitate to use it as a weapon. a fight broke out in the bar, once, with a rival gang, and one of the opposing members caught her in a headlock, pistol to her temple. while dolcetto distracted him with insults and threats, vi pulled the bandages around her hand loose with her teeth. and the moment an opening came--when the gang member pointed the gun at dol--she clamped her bare hand over his face, poisoning, burning, and marring it immediately. then she stole his wallet and his gun, using the loose cash to buy dolcetto some cigarettes as a thank you. dolcetto hates... hates... that he was never able to find her during the raid. after everything went to hell she just. disappeared.

vulch

out of everyone in the nest, dolcetto got along with vulch the absolute least. even though he considered vulch family, he almost detested him. any familial bond that existed was much more spurred from “we have the labs/trauma as common ground, and we owe it to each other to keep ourselves safe” than it was any sort of connection. vulch never had any sense of self control, and he got off on riling up the members of the nest who had hotter tempers ( because, as big and literally thick skinned as he was, he knew he could handle them lashing out ). and he frequently targeted dol due to how easy it was to poke and prod at his animal-related sore spots and because dol was significantly smaller than him.

dolcetto would often do whatever it took to avoid having to work with vulch, be it during a shift at the bar or some sort of job for greed. he’d never abandon or leave vulch for dead if things went south, of course, but he knew things would be less productive and efficient with the two of them in the same room for a prolonged amount of time. the way vulch spoke to, and about, women would also often drive dol up a wall, and he’d frequently mutter to vi “the next time he does that, slap him with your wrappings off” as a joke. martel once stabbed vulch’s hand while it was flat on a table--pinning it there until he eventually tore the knife free--and there was much rejoicing. 

[aclosetfan]

Aight here’s a 16teen-esque mall au for the ppg that I’ll never write, but enjoy thinking about and have heavily outlined (its long, so most is under the cut):

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup aren’t related in this one, but you’d figure they were. Bubs/Buttercups are fraternal Twins (Mom/Dad=Keane/Prof)

Blossom’s mom is Ms. Bellum, who is dating Ms. Ima Goodwoman. Sedusa is actually a good woman in this lol, she just doesn’t vibe with blossom very well.

It also doesn’t help that Ima’s son, Butch, is now an even more permanent fixture in Blossom’s life. She had always thought school was enough. 

Later on in the story, Bellum and Ima get married and Butch&Bloss have to come to terms with being step siblings (they break up their parents and end up having to parent trap them back together)

This new relationship between Butch&Bloss works out perfectly for Brick because Brick’s bestfriends with Butch and also has a low-key crush on Bloss. They have English class together and while he very much has a goth persona that he can’t compromise (obviously) by a preppy girl like Bloss, he still enjoys fucking with her. Too bad she has that boyfriend :(

Wait what happened to the mall part?? Here we go: 

So, to preference, Bloss is a very smart young women. A real intellectual. Tons of smart extracurriculars. She’s definitely going places, but an Ivy League school costs money. So, she gets a job at the local mall in the bookstore. Bookstores in malls aren’t doing to hot financially and hers gets bought out. It’s going to be replaced by a more mainstream Barnes and Noble, but applications for employees don’t open up until after construction. She’s out a job and for some reason (maybe it’s her horribly inconsistent schedule) no one’s hiring her!! She’s worried about a gap in her resume, but her Mom ends up having the hookup. Turns out her mom’s boss (the mayor, who’s not the Mayor in this one) actually owns the lone hot dog (& pickle) stand in the mall, and it needs a new person to man it. 

(((This is a call back to when blossom, in the show, had to get a job at that hot dog stand 😂 she has to wear the same uniform with the stupid hat. )))

Her best costumer is actually Mayor, which perplexes Blossom because that can’t be a financially sound business move. His weird wisdom guides her.  

ANYWAY, she takes the job and finds out the stand (and the embarrassing uniform) is unfortunately located in front of. . .

. . .HOT TOPIC. 

Who works there??? Lol obviously Mr. Doom and Gloom himself--Brick!

So, Brick’s pretty much the manager there, right? Wrong, but he is a decent employee. He doesn’t actually need a job, but he’s a counterculture rebel, right?? And rebels go against their parents wishes, right?? And his dads (Mojo and Him) don’t want him working in a filthy mall because they’re rich and there’s better things to do. But he’s pretty anti-them so (🖕) he gets the job (Mojo also does not at all understand goth culture)

And then, because the gods favor him, not only does he end up getting to bug Bloss in English, but ALSO on his work breaks. He ends up eating more hotdogs then he ever thought he would in his life, but also, eventually, ends up becoming her study partner. Another fun and great thing for him is that as the story progresses he gets to watch her relationship with that-Jared-guy crumble right before his very eyes, which just adds fuel to his fantasy fire. 

So tbh this story actually really works out for Brick. He gets to spend time with the girl he secretly likes and has a decent shot at getting her to date him!! Blossom, on the other hand, suffers, but who’s there to help her through this suffering?

Well, obviously, Bubbles (and BC)! Bubbles works at Claire’s. She does well on the floor, but does not at all like piercing ears. She’s not good at it. She messes piercings up too frequently and blood freaks her out. Her coworker Mary often has to step up and do it for her. Still, she likes all the sparkly stuff in the store, so it’s generally a good fit. As of right now, Bubbles really just vibes in this story. Her biggest source of conflict is with Boomer, who works at the Spencer’s across from Claire’s.

Boomer is what Brick calls a shitty scene kid. He isn’t, Brick’s just mean, but Boomer rolls with it. Tbh he just likes dying his hair a shit ton of colors. He isn’t an ideal employee and is often found taking one too many breaks, but he’s charming and doesn’t make too many bad jokes about the dildos on display in the back, so they keep him around. He should honestly be on Claire’s payroll instead, because when Mary’s not available he’s the one who does the piercings (and the right way too, he might add, not with that fucked-up piercing gun) for Bubbles. And while that might make him seem like an overall helpful guy, do not be fooled. Bubbles always pays a price.

Boomer also has a shitty mom (femme fatale; she didn’t want a son), so his at-home life isn’t great, but he puts on a brave face. Brick and Butch essentially share custody of the boy. He has a room at each of their homes, which throws Blossom for a loop because not only does she have to share space with Butch later in the story, but also with Boomer (who she ends up tutoring). 

Speaking of Butch, he was fired from Spencer’s after Boomer got him a job there because he was “immature.” He was also fired from Hot Topic for basically the same reason. Then he landed a job at the Sporting Goods store, but again ended up getting fired (but this time it legitimately wasn’t his fault. His manager was just out to get him, as explained later) Now, he works for the malls arcade arena (they have go-karts and bumper cars; it’s one of those good arcades, ya feel?), so he runs a lot of kid’s bday parties. And to everyone’s surprise, he’s actually really good at it. Apparently, Butch really vibes with kids jacked up on sugar. Parents like him too because he flirts with the moms and pulls the dads into “friendly” but competitive go-kart racing betting pools. 

The person doing the actual hard labor at the arcade is Robin. She gets stuck in the chuck-e-cheese-like costume way too often. She’ a good voice of reason for everyone else, especially Butch. She’s his favorite co-worker.

Going back to the sporting goods store. Buttercup works there. She’s the best sales rep they got. It helps that she’s crazy athletic and is on track to get a pretty decent scholarship with some D1 schools. (What’s she play? Idk? Whatever your heart wants) She can’t say though that she’s the most popular amongst her coworkers. She got in a fight with Mitch, which also meant she got in a fight with the twins that follow Mitch around. She definitely didn't get along with Butch when he worked there. And she thinks her manager’s kind of creepy and he’s only gotten creepier since his partner Snake broke up with him

She doesn’t know why Snake broke up with Ace, but she’s pretty sure it has to do with Butch getting fired

Now, this one’s going to throw y’all for a loop, but the reason she gets in a fight with Mitch is because Mitch was picking on her boyfriend Elmer (THATS RIGHT IM SHAKING IT UP—but don’t worry 😏 I love the greens too much).

Elmer works at the comic/geek shop with Mike. She obviously likes her boyfriend and is big buds with Mike. Elmer’s pretty insecure tho and thinks BC’s going to break up with him all the time. This really bums her out. She doesn’t get why he thinks that (b/c she’s out of his league, but she’s oblivious) because she really likes him. Unfortunately, it gets to the point that she eventually decides she has to break up with him because she can’t convince him to trust her (still their relationship is cutesy side plot for a long bit). It’s her first big heartbreak. A heartbreak that is. . .

. . .ideal for Butch because he’s realized he has more then friendly feeling for her. See they weren’t friends AT ALL beforehand, but his new sibling relationship with Blossom has catapulted BC squarely into his life. Slowly they end up going from workplace enemies to eh to friendly to friends to (😉).

A significant turning point in their relationship happened to involve Ace. Butch was on his smoke break and saw Ace making Buttercup uncomfortable. That same night he sees Buttercup trying to leave and Ace/his gang are trying to pressure her into following them. Butch takes offense to this and ends up walking Buttercup to her car. She argues she doesn’t need him saving her, which he readily agrees to, but explains that any excuse to beat that creep Ace up is a good excuse. Afterward, anytime BC has to work close, Butch walks her to her car.

Eventually, he explains to her that he was the one who inadvertently convinced Snake to get out of their toxic-ass relationship with Ace. Ace found out and that’s why he was fired. So, now, he has real beef with the guy. Him and Ace don’t get along at all. To the point where Butch was banned from the sports store, but he sneaks in to see his friends and mess with BC. 

HAHA does the story ever end???? 

The story ends when Barnes n’ Noble opens. Blossom gets the job, ditches the old boring boyfriend, gets the goth boy, saves her mom’s relationship, and gains a sibling. 

The format of the story would be pretty episodic, with a conflict/resolution in each chapter. But what’s written above highlights the over arching plot lines

and holy shit! how could I forget the cherry on top??? Brick and Princess are cousins, and she does NOT let him forget this. 

((If you want more specific details ya gotta ask. there’s a lot more then just this.)) 

[reaperintheroses]

When I’m ready (pogues x sister!reader)

Word count: 2,598 warnings: Bisexual reader, angst at the end, fluff. A/N: There will be a part two rest assured. I just got into outer banks and I absolutely love it! I’ve had this idea for a while now actually so there are just a few things I want to clear up. You are about 14/15 in this fic. The pogues themselves aren’t actually in here a bunch until the very end just because this is meant to set up a plot line. Also a beater for those of you who don’t know is a really shitty old car that you don’t mind getting dirty. You use this to throw surf boards and such in.  Beta’d by the lovely @uwubonebabie I also took insporation from baby pogue. The best part is baby pogue is her creation, so you can get tons more baby pogue content on her blog. She’s a super sweet gal and you should go check her out. 

Part Two :)

It was bright. You could feel the sun tickling your skin. Prying open your eyes you turned to look over at the small alarm clock on your bedside table. 10:14. Damn it. Your brother and his friends were probably already awake which meant that you were going to have to sneak out without drawing attention to yourself. Grabbing a chair you pry your window open before going to change and grab your longboard. Throwing open your dresser and tossing a tank top over your shoulder before reaching for the shorts on your bean bag. Looking back at the text that Anna sent you last night about what the plan was you reached into another drawer and grabbed a swimsuit. Having thrown on your outfit and tied up your hair so that it would be out of your face you reached for the longboard that normally lives by your bed-side table. Looking down you cursed yourself from last night. You were adjusting the kingpin because it was coming loose and left it out on the counter. Groaning in frustration you snatched your phone off of the bed-side table before quietly opening your bedroom door and slipping out. Trying your hardest to be quiet you grabbed your longboard off of the counter. Grabbing your shoes and backpack you ran to the door. You were so close before you heard your brother behind you. Hoping that he was just rummaging around in the fridge and wouldn’t see you, you crossed over to the door. No such luck. “Hey (y/n) where are you going?” Double damn it. Turning around to face your brother, you pasted on a smile and replied “Oh just to go pick up a book from that cute Indy place by Figure 8.” That wasn’t entirely untrue. You just weren’t telling him your entire itinerary. “Well, I can drive you there if you want.” He had a good point. It was a twenty-minute ride on a longboard depending on foot traffic. He could cut that in half if he drove you. Close to replying that you would actually like that he added on to his previous statement “and afterward we can go pick up Kei and Pope to save them the time.” Groaning in your head you realized that getting a ride from your brother, after all, wouldn’t work out and you needed to get going if you wanted to make it on time and still have a couple of minutes to go pick up your book from the store on the way. “Sorry John B. I really need to get going and I like the ride over there anyhow” You could see the protest written all over his face so before he had a chance to argue you threw open the door to the chateau, grabbed your longboard, and barreled down the steps. 

Placing your board on the ground before placing your foot on the deck you turned around and did a quick inventory of everything in your backpack while you searched for your headphones. “Wallet?- Check”, Spare keys?- Check, Chapstick?- Check, Hair ties?- Check, Towel?- Check” Finding the desired headphones you plugged them into your phone before selecting a random song. Hearing the familiar toon fill your ears, you lifted your foot off of the deck before situating yourself on the board. Putting your phone in your back pocket, you pushed off the ground. Steering yourself around your brother’s van you emerged onto the main road and let the music posses you. Mindlessly pushing to keep your momentum, you allowed yourself to let your mind drift. You started to think of your brother and his friends. You wished you could be more honest with them. You had a feeling that they were starting to suspect something was up when you began to decline their offers to go boating for the day. At first, it was once every few weeks. Then it started to become a little more frequent, but not enough to be super noticeable. Then it became a weekly occurrence. You wanted to tell them the truth about Anna, really you did. It was just so hard to assume that they would be excepting when you’ve heard all the horror stories about what happens to kids when they tell their family. Deciding you didn’t need to stress on it at the moment. Letting you thought wonder once more you felt a smile, a real smile, when you thought about Anna. Everything about her was amazing. It didn’t feel real. You felt your smile fall though when you remembered that she wanted to meet your brother and his friends that you considered family. You really liked her, that much was obvious. You knew that she deserved to meet them and you couldn’t give her excuses forever. Turning once more the road opened up into the heart of the cut. Stepping on the deck to stop the board you started the walk through the town allowing yourself to go on autopilot again. 

When you reached the cute little bookstore along the very edge of the cut you halted. Placing your longboard on the side of the building by the door, you smiled this was one of your favorite places on the island. Turning and pushing open the door you heard the little bell jingle overhead, alerting the employee behind the counter to your presence. Looking over to smile and wave you walked back to the back of the store going to grab the book you had been eyeing all month. Having finally saved up enough money from working at the hotel boardwalk area you were excited to be able to read a new book instead of the same one you had been reading for the past month that you bought last time you had enough money to spare. You walked up to the front desk and handed the book to the sweet girl. Reaching around to grab your wallet you felt your phone buzz once and then another time once you had located bag that you used to store all of your spare money for things you could want but didn’t need. Grabbing out a 5 and a few ones, you set the money on the counter before reaching back again to grab your phone you looked at the screen to see one message from Anna asking how far away you were, and one from John B. asking what time you were going to be home so he and his friends could come to grab you to go swimming and watch the sunset. You did some mental math in your head so you could give an accurate answer to each person. After putting your phone and wallet back you turned around to give the cashier a final smile and tucking the book in your bag as well. Pulling open the door and hearing the little bell jingle one more time before grabbing the longboard that you had previously discarded, you made sure that everything was secure in the bag before looking back up the road. Pushing off you once again let your mind go elsewhere. Turning left you saw the familiar entrance to the small beach that only locals really knew about. Walking out onto the sand you looked around for the familiar features. Placing your board on the ground and setting your backpack down on top of it, you dug out the towel you had shoved in there earlier. Standing back up you looked around again before you felt the wind being knocked out of you. Hitting the sand, you felt a weight pressing down on you. Looking up you were greeted by Annas smiling face. “Hi.” She smiled and rolled off of you. “Hey yourself,” you replied. Looking over you smiled at your girlfriend. “So where did you drop your stuff?” You looked down at your backpack before looking back up at her. “Just up the beach,” she looked off into the distance before looking back at you, “You asked for the bic shortboard, right?” You smiled, glad that she remembered what your board preference was. Even though you would have been fine with whatever she brought. Picking up the discarded towel you shook out the sand it had already collected. Shoving it back into your backpack you scooped up your belongings and gestured for her to lead the way. Setting down everything you looked over to the two boards in the sand. Dropping everything you turned to Anna and asked if she had followed the prep instructions you sent her last night. After getting her confirmation you smiled at her just the tiniest bit. People were always telling you to smile more. Your brother and his friends especially. Smiling for you was a rarity, even before the whole thing with your dad. Sometimes it felt like with Anna you didn’t have to be someone else, that you didn’t have to wear a different disguise. Like when on a rare day when all of your brother’s friends weren’t completely against you tagging along you had to be the reckless pouge who was always willing to do crazy shit. Or when under the watchful eye of Cheryl you had to pretend that everything was alright and that your uncle was taking good care of you and your brother. Around Anna, you could be the you that you wished you were brave enough to be around everyone. She was looking out onto the ocean, studying the waves. When she turned to look at you and saw you staring at her she broke into a face splitting grin. “What’s going on in your mind.” She tilted her head and blinked. “Just really happy that I have an awesome girlfriend,” you turned looking out to the ocean. She let out a huff of laughter. “Well this awesome girlfriend really wants to know how to surf, and she really wants her cool surfer dude girlfriend to teach her how to do it so she doesn’t have to ask her brother.” She smiled up at you and waved towards the two boards that she had brought from her house. Her brother is a huge surfer so it was amazing that in her 15 years of life, Anna had never even picked up a surfboard. Hopping up you laid the boards on the sand to that they were facing each other. You instructed her throughout the entire standing up process and how to turn. Looking at the low tide you decided that now was a good a time as ever. You smiled and cheered for her and after about three or four attempts she actually was able to stand up for about two seconds before falling off to the side. Being able to get in a few short waves yourself made the day even more successful. Given the fact that it was the prime of low tide, there weren’t any massive white claws but it was still fun to get out and show off in front of her and show her what she would be able to do by the end of the summer. Once the tide started to pick up Anna decided that you guys should probably head back. Dragging the board back to the entrance to the small beach you walked them over to her family’s beater that her brother would come to pick up in twenty minutes. You laced your fingers through hers as she tugged you over to the sidewalk that leads to the cut. You let her do most of the talking and gave the appropriate response when she paused long enough to let you cut in. You guys finally made it to the pier where the pavement started up again. Knowing this is where you parted ways you turned to smile up at her. You smiled a lot today. You breathed in the senses of the cut. The sound of a boat motor slowly approaching the dock you guys were standing on. The smell of frozen fish coming out of the open door from the market across the street. Folks who knew each other shouting greetings. “Can we do this again later this week?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Leaning upwards you beamed and put your lips to hers. Even though you meant for it to be a small peck you weren’t complaining when she didn’t let go. In the back of your mind, you heard the boat motor getting closer but you just ignored it. Letting go of Anna’s hand you slid them up to her neck and felt her encircling her hands around your waist. The boat motor got super close to the dock that you were standing on before you heard it stop. You continued to kiss her until you heard it. The very small clearing of a throat. At first, you thought it was just some old kook woman who came to grab her fish sense it couldn’t be delivered to her today. You broke away looking around to see who decided to make it their business who you macked on and prepared to flip them off before going back to talking to Anna for a few more minutes before she had to head back. Seeing no one you went back to look at Anna when you made eye contact with your brother. Your smile dropped immediately. You wanted to look back at her and act like nothing was wrong, really you did. But you felt you just couldn’t face her right now and act like nothing was wrong. Not only did your brother’s entire friend group just see you kissing her you felt like she wasn’t just your secret anymore. Like she was some lost kook princess that you could just hide away in a tower and keep to yourself forever. “I need to go” you mumbled looking at the ground. “What?” She asked trying to get you to look at her. “I said, I need to go. I’ll text you later,” you replied still looking at the ground. “Oh, okay,” she frowned, “See you around, I guess”. She turned around, looking hurt. You avoided eye contact with the four pairs of eyes that were staring you while you pulled your phone and headphones out of your backpack. “Hey wait, (y/n) why don’t you just hop in here and we can talk about it?” You heard Kei say to you. Ignoring her, you turned the volume all the way up and put your phone back into the backpack before giving an aggressive push against the ground. Navigating yourself around people on the sidewalk you made it onto the main road leading to the chateau in record time. You needed to make it back before them so you could avoid all contact.

 Seeing the familiar gravel and grass combination that made up the driveway you jumped off and hoisted your longboard under your arm. Running up the steps and pulling open the door before twisting the door nob and shoving open the door. Flying down the hall you came to a stop in front of your room door. Opening and closing the door you locked it before dropping your longboard in its normal spot and tossing the backpack onto the bed. You kicked off your shoes and placed them in your closet. You texted a quick explanation and apology to Anna. Not bothering to see if she replied you flopped onto the bed. You felt the first tear slip down your cheek and it wasn’t long before you tasted to salt too. A few minutes later you were sobbing. 

[lightsupinthenorth]

Just a Harringrove ficlet I couldn’t get out of my mind. 

Read on AO3

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Ever since he had been drugged by the Russians, Steve could sometimes hear people’s thoughts. He couldn’t control it, and it didn’t happen all that often, but it was becoming more and more frequent. It had freaked him out, at first, and now it just made him miserable. He wished it would just stop.

Really, he didn’t need to hear Keith insulting his intelligence (he did that out loud plenty enough), or his father thinking about his latest affair at the breakfast table (the rare times Steve’s parents bothered to show up in their own house), or, God forbid, Karen Wheeler daydreaming about Billy (gross).

Speaking about Billy. He was the first (and hopefully the last) to find out about Steve’s newly found ability (if you could even call it that, considering he had no control over it whatsoever). Steve had not been planning on telling him. In fact, he had been adamant about not telling anyone.

No one would want to hang out with someone who could see inside their head, and Steve didn’t know what he’d do if his friends stopped hanging out with him. His life sucked enough as it was, he didn’t want to end up completely alone in addition to that.

Billy and Steve had become friends after the whole Starcourt debacle. Steve had visited him pretty much every day when he was in the hospital. The accident had changed him a lot, either that or it had made the real Billy stop hiding behind his anger.

He had been wary of Steve and his intentions, in the beginning, but he had warmed up to him soon enough, and nowadays they spent a lot of time together. He had developed a huge crush on Billy along the way, too. That probably explained why Steve had let his guard down enough to slip up in his presence.

They had been in Steve’s kitchen, eating the dinner Steve had spent most of the evening cooking.

Billy had said “Damn, that’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

And Steve had asked: “Wow, thanks. You really think so?”

Billy had stopped eating and had stared at Steve, wide-eyed, completely frozen in place. That was how Steve had realized Billy had actually not spoken, but rather thought, his compliment. Oops.

“What the fuck, Steve?” Billy had finally asked, finding his voice again. He hadn’t really sounded angry, but that had done nothing to reassure Steve, who’d started panicking.

“What…? I… uh…” He had searched his brain for a believable lie, but had come up empty. Stupid, he was so stupid! He had felt like crying.

“Steve, come on, breathe.” Billy had told him, putting a hand on his over the table.

When Steve had finally calmed down, Billy had asked: “what was that about?” and Steve had told him the truth, nervous but relieved to finally admit it to someone.

“I… can’t control it or anything… It’s just… I hear what people think, sometimes…”

“Does it happen often?”

“Not really. It’s the first time I hear anything from you, in fact.”

“Oh… so, you can’t hear any of what I’m thinking right now?”

“No. Not a thing.”

“Okay.”

Billy had seemed to take it in stride. It must only have been a façade, though, because after that evening, he had started ignoring Steve.

Steve would still see him around, sometimes, because Hawkins was a small town and they kept driving the kids around everywhere, so they were bound to cross paths. Billy was civil every time, but he never talked to Steve for long, always finding an excuse to leave quickly. And Steve might had been dumb, but he wasn’t THAT dumb. He knew Billy didn’t want to be around him anymore because of the intermittent telepathy. He thought Steve was a freak and wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

Steve did his best to appear unbothered around the kids, but the end of his friendship with Billy had hit him hard. He had accepted since the beginning that they wouldn’t ever be more than friends, but now they weren’t even that anymore, and it hurt. Steve felt abandoned, and he spent many evenings on Robin’s couch, crying in a pint of ice-cream. He was pathetic, and if he didn’t get it together again soon, Robin would stop hanging out with him to.

Also, she kept asking him why Billy and he didn’t spend time together anymore, but Steve stayed vague. At first, he had wondered if maybe Robin was experiencing the same problem as he was, but when he had finally asked her if she was suffering any side effect from the Russian drug, she had answered in the negative. Unfortunately, it had led to her returning Steve the question. Of course, it had. So, he had lied, saying that sometimes he didn’t want to tell the truth but couldn’t help but tell it anyway.

No one else could find out about the telepathy. He wouldn’t be able to deal with Robin leaving him too, or the kids looking at him like he was some freaky science experiment. There was a chance they’d like it. They were weird like that. But Steve wanted to be their friend, not their science project.

He heard their worried thoughts about him often, these days, but he didn’t do anything about it. He felt bad about preferring to keep his secret over reassuring the kids, but he just… he just couldn’t bring himself to tell them.

“Why are you and Billy not hanging out anymore?” After Robin’s insistent questioning had finally stopped, Max was taking over. Just Steve’s luck.

“We’ve just been busy with our own stuff.”

And wasn’t that the worst lie ever? As if Max didn’t know Steve was doing jack-shit beside going to his boring work and spending evenings at Robin’s.

She rolled his eyes but didn’t reply. Steve still heard her think “ugh, boys are dumb”, and “I’m gonna kill my brother”, though.

He nearly yelled at her not to mention anything to Billy but stopped himself right on time.

A few hours after he had dropped Max at her house, there was a knock on his front door. Steve was moping on the couch, curled in a ball, in front of a shitty talk-show he wasn’t paying any mind to. He was planning on ignoring whoever was at the door, but the person wouldn’t quit and kept banging on his door. Honestly, what the fuck. He had a doorbell.

“Harrington, I can see your car in the driveway. I know you’re here. Open the fucking door. Please.”

The please was added as an afterthought but coming from Billy it still meant a lot.

And fuck. What was he doing here? Max had talked to him, hadn’t she? Maybe Billy had told her Steve’s secret. And maybe she would tell the other kids. Oh God, no one would want to see Steve anymore.

It didn’t explain why Billy had come here, though. It could have been to beat Steve’s face in for being a freak, but somehow that didn’t make sense. Billy wasn’t like that anymore. Plus, why wouldn’t he have done that sooner? He had known about Steve for weeks.

Steve opened the door, trying to appear calm.

“Hey… can I come in?” Billy asked.

Steve nodded and stepped aside. They went to the living room but neither of them sat down.

“Look Steve, I’m… I’m really sorry.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. That wasn’t… that wasn’t what he had been expecting.

“I freaked out… about what you told me the other night. I just… I was afraid you would hear what I think about you. But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I shouldn’t have just started ignoring you like that. I should have told you the truth. I was a coward and I’m sorry.”

What did Billy mean? Had he never liked Steve? Had he just been tolerating his presence all along? It had to be it… why wouldn’t he have wanted Steve to hear his thoughts if they had been positive?

It sadly made sense… Steve had been the one initiating their friendship, after all.

“Oh… well… Thanks for apologizing. And yeah, you should have talked to me, and you didn’t have to spend all this time with me if you didn’t feel like it. It was nice of you to try, though.” Steve rambled, fidgeting with his hands.

“Hey, hey, Steve, what the hell are you on about?”

“Well, you obviously never wanted us to be friends, but you played along for my benefit. It’s fine, I get it”

“Uh uh, sorry but no, pretty boy, you don’t ‘get it’. You’re getting it all wrong.”

Steve dropped his gaze. Of course he was getting all wrong. He was stupid.  

“Steve, listen to me, please.”

Something in Billy’s tone made Steve look up again.

“I didn’t want you to hear what I think about you because… because I have feelings for you… the romantic kind, I mean. So, I fled, because you obviously don’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want it to ruin our friendship. But hey, would you look at that, I ended up ruining it anyway.”

Billy laughed self-depreciatingly.

“Now, you’re the one getting it all wrong Billy.” Steve said, his expression not giving away anything.

“You mean you still want to be friends?” he looked as hopeful as surprised.

“No, I don’t want to be friends.”

Billy’s face fell, and that just would not do, so Steve took the two strides separating him from Billy and pulled him by the collar of his shirt until their lips collided. Billy moaned, either from the surprise or the kiss or a bit of both. And when they settled in Steve’s bed later on, cuddling together, and that Billy thought “Fuck, I love him so much”, Steve decided that the telepathy might not have been the worst thing to happen to him.

 *

This was super rushed, I hope it didn’t suck too much

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who's willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XIII

December 28, 2277.

“Wait. Enclave? What the hell is an enclave?” Butch asks, brows furrowing.

“In this context, they’re the other group of power-armored assholes running the other radio station with patriotic music, and fancies themselves as the United States of America, though I think they really are what remained of the USA. They’re also the bitches responsible for my dad’s death, so there’s that,” Percy tells him.

“Holy shit,” DeLoria murmurs, throwing back another shot. “Hey hey wait, how do you know that? I didn’t pay much attention to history class but I don’t remember Mr. Brotch mentioning anything about the American government going all psycho with power armor.”

Percy pauses, brow wrinkling. “Dad mentioned something when I was younger, about how some of the history books we study as kids didn’t paint the entire picture, and when we were reunited in the wasteland, at some point when one of his scientists switched to the Enclave radio during dinner, he asked her to turn it off. Said it was run by fascists that came from a failed pre-war government.”

“But how does your old man know about that when the vault was sealed- oh. Oh right. The Overseer lied to us.” Butch finally gets it. “Damn.”

“Yeah, and look at where that got us. I always suspected that things weren’t always what it seemed. Plus, the truth slips out of Old Lady Palmer’s mouth whenever she mentions dad “arriving” in the vault. My doubts were confirmed when I looked through Almodovar’s terminal, before I opened the door. There were scouting reports. Pictures of giant ants.”

The bartender serves Percy another shot and she gulps it down before resuming her story. The number of cigarettes in DeLoria’s box is dwindling, and so did mine.

“Then when I got to Megaton, some of the locals knew about the brainwashing stuff, and all the pieces of the puzzle fell in place. Finding out that dad was parroting the Overseer’s propaganda hurt. The worst part is? I haven’t forgiven him before he died.”

“I um… I’m sorry, Perce.”

My friend shrugs at DeLoria. “It is what it is. I miss him already. He’d know what to do. I wish I didn’t argue with him before those assholes...”

A sniff resounded in the mostly empty bar. Soft cries escaped Percy’s lips, tears streaming down her red face. I wanted to offer an arm, a hand, anything , but DeLoria already wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Right. Great. That’s probably for the better. Sticking my non-existent nose in her business is becoming a dangerous habit.

Last night was probably a mistake.

“Okay, I think you had enough alcohol for the night,” the barkeep announces, and takes the scotch away. “The two of you, make sure she sleeps it off.”

“Hey Butch, you said you were gonna start a new gang, right? May I suggest ‘Our Dads Got Fucking Killed by Fascists’ for the name? We three could be the first members,” Percy slurred in between sobs. How she can find humor in the situation is beyond me.

“Yeah, she’s wasted alright,” Butch mumbles. “Hey, um, I don’t exactly have caps on me yet. Is Perce gonna pay the tab?”

I scoffed, fishing around Percy’s pack to pay off our bill. After tossing a few caps to the old lady, I helped Percy to her feet, and so did DeLoria. It was a struggle. I am a few inches shy of seven feet, DeLoria’s around six, and Percy is just a little taller than five. DeLoria looks at me with a weary smile. The two of us did the best we can to ensure this small girl doesn’t land face-first into the ship’s metal flooring. Us both being inebriated and Dogmeat bumping into us every three seconds did not help. I heard a patron that frequents the bar snicker at the sight of us, a girl about Percy’s age with the shittiest pigtails I’ve ever seen. On a human, anyway.

“Y’know what? Just carry her,” said Butch, rubbing the back of his neck. “This isn’t working. I need to get some shuteye for my first day as a barber tomorrow too. See you two around.”

“Goodnight, Butch,” Percy slurs, half of her ass leaning on a nearby table for support.

I nodded at the greaser and he left the premises, the confidence in his gait replaced with drunk swaying and awkwardness. Gathering our gear, I carried Percy’s pack and weapons on my back, then I swept her off her feet in a bridal carry.

She’s gotten lighter.

“Hey, big guy,” slurs Percy, hiccuping. “You do know that I am -hic- perfectly capable of walking, right?”

“The last time you said that, you almost fell off the boat.” I started heading towards the exit.

My friend sighs, shaking her head in resignation. “I might as well enjoy riding you then.”

I froze in my spot. The girl with the shitty hair snorted her drink and outright laughed at us. I couldn’t bring my eyes to look at Percy but I know that she’s even redder now, and she felt a few degrees warmer in my arms.

She stammers, slightly flailing. “I mean, I might as well enjoy you- the ride! I might as well enjoy the ride! Dammit!”

“Sleep it off, Percy.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” the bartender barked at us. “Get the fuck out of my bar and go hump each other someplace else. I’m closing shop.”

We left in a hurry.

Percy was breathing softly, seemingly asleep when we arrived in the Weatherly Hotel, the only clean place to sleep on the boat, where we were greeted by the owner and a Mr. Handy. Beside her, the boy we rescued and brought from Grayditch stands up and runs to us.

“Hey! You two came to visit! Whoa, what happened to her? Is she hurt?” the boy exclaims.

“She’s fine, just tired. We need a room.”

“Hi, Bryan,” Percy slurs. She wasn’t asleep after all. “Shouldn’t you be asleep already?”

The owner smiles. “She’s right, Bryan. Off to bed.”

“Aw. Aunt Vera, I wanna hang out with Percy and Charon more.”

“You can do that tomorrow when Percy is feeling better,” Vera replies, and she nods to us. She had the room unlocked and I stepped in, placing Percy on the bed, and I dumped our gear on the floor. I locked the door behind us afterwards.

While I made sure nothing was out of place, Percy was sloshing water in her mouth, which she spat in a bucket. Staying clean even when she cannot take a full bath are some of her habits and rituals that I got used to. They’re probably good ones. She’s not resistant to disease like I am.

I turned to check on Percy. She had stripped down to her underwear, glasses haphazardly tossed to the bed.

The alcohol in my system is impairing my judgment. I should be turning around and should not be watching Percy tend to herself, but I just watched her. Life in the wasteland claimed some of her softness, and she had a few scars here and there, but she’s still attractive. Her legs are toned from all the walking we do, and her shoulders slightly are wider than her hips. When she turns around though, her behind is… something else.

Wait.

I’m looking at her bare ass.

I need to turn around. I need to turn around, but my body isn’t letting me. I can feel myself tenting at the crotch of my pants. This isn’t good.

When she turned to me, naked, swaying, and smiling, I thought I was in another dream, but I felt her warm breath and I know I’m awake. Things are happening too fast. My eyes dared to meet hers, then it trails below, to her small erect nipples, wet and shiny from her half-bath, and the dark patch of fuzz between her legs.

Damn it. I wanted to claim her. Act on the fantasies I have about her on nights that my body was too warm for my own liking. Put those nipples in my mouth. Bury my face between her legs. Pin her against the bed and make sure the entire boat hears her cry out my name.

“Big guy. Come to bed with me?”

But I hear the slur in her speech, and it took all of my willpower to shake my head.

“No. Percy. You’re drunk,” I say to her firmly.

“And?”

“I don’t want you to do things you’ll regret later, and I do not want to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

“Wait, who said anything about- I just want to sleep next to you again, Charon.”

“Naked?”

Mouth open and brows furrowed, she looks at herself, and curses. “I am- oh no, I am so sorry, holy shit,” Percy apologizes. “Fuck. Fuck! Stupid ass drunk idiot! I’m never drinking again,” she says to herself.

“Keep your voice down. I’ll go look for something you can wear.”

“Dammit, Charon I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to harass you like this, oh my God-”

“I do not feel harassed, but I appreciate the apology. Now, refrain from making any more noise,” I tell her, and I reach into her pack. A flimsy red nightgown was the last thing I expected.

“Percy, is this fine? This will not protect you from the cold much.”

She looks at me, then at the thing, and snatches it from my hand. “Yes! Um, thank you Charon. I found it when we were looting and-”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Percy. Get dressed.”

She nods, turning around and dressing herself, then she clears her throat. “All clear. Your turn.”

I cleaned up and changed into something more suitable for sleeping, Percy’s back in sight, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. When I finished changing, I got in bed.

We lay on the bed next to each other, but she seems so far away.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Charon. I don’t want you to think that I’m like some of your former employers who, uh, used you for your body.”

“I don’t think of you that way.”

“That’s a relief. You’re important to me.”

I look at her, and she’s facing me now, eyes soft and filled with a feeling I cannot describe. “Thank you. You are important to me too.”

Burying her face in my chest, she wraps an arm around my waist. I pulled the covers over us, and I held her.

“Night. Love you.”

February 7, 2278.

Two days after DeLoria’s first visit, he came over again. He brought with him a few of Percy’s belongings from Megaton, including Dogmeat’s teddy bear. The mistress entrusted a copy of the house key to the greaser, much to my dismay, but the dog has been restless without Mr. Bubbles and having it back gave me some relief.

It smells more like dog slobber now than it did Percy, but Dogmeat is still comforted by it. He misses her. I miss her too.

Dr. Li said she is getting better, but she’s still cautious. The doctor told me to not have too much hope; she had seen patients seemingly recover only for them to crash after a few days. It scares me. I wouldn’t know what to do with my life if Percy dies.

Dammit, I don’t want to think about that. She is going to live. Percy is a tough gal.

At this point, only Dr. Li, the greaser, and I are allowed in Percy’s room. She caught one of the scribes she entrusted attempting to extract blood from my partner without her authorization. I know something’s up, but the doctor isn’t budging. What is she hiding from the Brotherhood about my partner?

One of these days, I might need to confront her.

Smoking isn’t allowed in Percy’s room, so DeLoria and I just chewed bubblegum in silence while I maintained our equipment. I sorted out Percy’s change of clothes, came across that flimsy red sleepwear, and tucked it under her other belongings, what’s left of my skin burning hot. I’m doing my best not to let my mind wander to that night. Butch is fiddling with his Pip-Boy, identical to the one my partner owns, and I sigh in relief in knowing that he didn’t see me touch that thing. He already has several wrong ideas.

While I was hastily putting it away, a slip of paper fell.

It turned out to be a photograph. She found a camera when we stormed Paradise Falls, to save some kids. I remember the look on her face when Little Lamplight’s brat of a mayor told them that slavers took their friends.  We ended up opening the slave pens and trashing the place. Percy and I told them to find Hannibal Hamlin in the Washington Monument. Meeting Hamlin was one of my nicer memories from the past few months.

I’d do anything to see the determined gleam in her eye again.

I look at the photograph. It’s of me and the dog. Why would Percy keep something like this?

In the photo, I am asleep, taking a nap on the couch, and the dog was laying on my chest, looking at my partner behind the camera. I flipped it over, and there was some writing on it. Months of being taught by Percy paid off. She taught an old dog new tricks: I learned how to read.

“1-13-2278. Charon and Dogmeat.” This was two days after we got rid of my contract.  “The two loves of my life, after scotch,” she wrote under that. There’s a hollow heart drawn next to it.

I snort at the caption, knowing Percy’s sense of humor. Calling me Mr. Dreamboat, joking that I am her boyfriend… hell, she managed to freak out a few of the bigots in Tenpenny Tower with it once.

Now that I’ve thought about it… the playful nicknames, the touching, the concern, her putting me above herself, the trust she puts in me, the “love you” she mumbled while piss-wasted when I slept next to her in Rivet City; how did I miss all the signs?

Was I too taken in by the belief that smoothskins cannot harbor these feelings for ghouls? What did that damn kiss in the rotunda mean?

Does she even know the consequences of that kiss? If blondie wakes up and tattles to the Brotherhood about the Lone Wanderer kissing her ghoul bodyguard before running inside the chamber, it will ruin her. They might treat her even worse than before. My fears of people hurting her because of being associated with me gets worse as the days pass. There are so many things I want to ask her, so many things I want to talk about, but she’s still lying there, unconscious, under life support.

This can’t be the way things end.

Does she love me the way I love her?

I just want to know my place in her life.

[fallen029]

Within: Part I

Part I of a request from hey-youu-pssss for some werewolf Laxus action. I split this because I got a bit carried away with it, haha, but more soon, promise. 

.

Things had been in a stead standstill for the Strauss family for the better part of a decade. The untimely deaths of both the patriarch and matriarch would come to pale to the near total inhalation of the clan faced during the great plague. It had irradiated much of the country, changing both the physical and ownership landscape involved. While the other great families dealt in their own ways, the eldest child of Elvin and Miren Strauss eventually found herself next in line of ascension all at the tender age of ten.  

It was rather unorthodox and would have been vetoed during normal means. Not only due to the age, but most importantly due to her gender. Women were very rarely considered the head of families in those times, were not thought to own land or command houses. And yet, as the plague ravished the land and the end-times felt rather imminent, it was hardly of consequence and no claim was fully realized in place of her own.

Mirajane Strauss, with very little guidance or help, found the weight of the world placed upon her shoulders at an unimaginable time in an unfathomable way. There was hardly any time to mourn her parents, her family, her friends, as she was tasked with keeping the family affairs in order.

A distant dream, it felt like now, and when she thought of those early days, she had to smile a bit wryly. Swallow a bit of air, clear her throat, blink back any wetness that might have found its way into her eyes, and continue on.

She couldn’t quite claim that she’d been all alone, during the thick of it. She had a both a younger brother and sister who, honestly, she imagined she was lucky just didn’t possess any desire for power themselves. It would have been rather easy, in those tumultuous periods, for either to have killed her off or, in her brother’s case, honestly just stake a claim. As the male heir, he probably had more of it and if he’d been interested in pursuing that, could have found himself the head rather easily.

But neither were quite interested in all of that. Elfman Strauss, while a rather broad shouldered and striking young man, was also a bit of a, well, a mama’s boy. But when she was taken from him at such a young age, he clung instead to his older sister who he’d never think of undermining. In fact, he’d get quite agitated at any sort of suggestion, even to that day.

He saw his older sister as the only reason the Strauss name held any value currently and credited her with saving not only his namesake, but even his own life.

Elfman would never allow anything to befall his beloved older sister. Not without putting up a fight.

Lisanna Strauss, however, would never have had a claim to the estate and lands, were either sibling alive, and perhaps that was why she was so insistent that they take care, in the later stages of the plague, when socializing was becoming commonplace once more. There was nothing more frighting to the youngest Strauss as the idea of ever holding power.

The small amount she had now, only in riches and the prospect of marriage, frightened her greatly.

Being from a noble family was the pits and she spent every day from childhood to the tentative adulthood she was now reaching rejecting what it meant. She hoped to never find herself in control of anything, really, and balked even at the idea of marrying into it. As the youngest sibling, a daughter of one of the head families, she was meant to be married off young and into more nobility. Perhaps even far from home.

Were her parents still alive, some of her older relatives, this probably would have happened around her sixteenth birthday. Which in itself was devastating to think about for the young woman, only just now surpassing her eighteenth. Instead, it was still her older sister that most men were interested in courting and she watched those many awkward dances from the distance, instead spending her days balancing between doing the bare minimum Mirajane required of her and goofing off out in the surrounding woods with her best friend Natsu, the orphaned servant employed at the manner.

It was a rather precarious situation that Mirajane found herself in, those days. While surely leading the family out of the plague would go down as her crowing achievement, her putting off marriage and the inevitable power transfer that would involve, was surely a feat in itself.

She was meant to marry someone of equal or lesser power than her. Or at least both she and her small group of close associates thought so. It would help her to consolidate power. When she married, she could either assist the family in absorbing more land or join them to one of the neighboring families. Either wasn’t exactly favorable for her siblings, who didn’t rightly wish to see her leave their estate and, at least in name, leave Elfman as the head of the household and Lisanna, unfortunately back in the spotlight once more for suitors.

But it didn’t seem as if their older sister seemed to keen on any of the interested men anyhow. Not truly. She spent balls and social occasions fielding interests and gaining the reputation of a bit of a prude. Not that it mattered. Many attributes had been shackled to the woman in the past and she wore them all far better than most. Mirajane knew what she wanted and, though she didn’t share it with many people, she was confident that, eventually, she would get it.

Laxus Dreyar was from the Dreyar clan, a revered and respected family who’d managed to survive the plague with very little harm. Their position in the country, surrounded by jagged cliffs and backed into the rougher side of the sea, had allowed them to quarantine far better and shield themselves from much of the damage. Makarov Dreyar, their aging (and to some decrepit, even) patriarch still resided over the family. The next in line was his cantankerous son and, finally, his brash and bold grandson Laxus. The three made up the main family and were well regarded in the land as being a bit...eccentric and surely not the best family to align yourself with.

They would be of no use to the Strauss family. Too distant and too chaotic. Mirajane was meant to marry into true stability to the house once more. It was hardly meant to be between she and Makarov’s grandson and ye, following a chance encounter, the woman found herself rather smitten with him.

It was strange, clandestine almost, or so she told herself, the way that the pair of them happened upon one another. He’d been once more, as frequently was the occurrence, had a falling out with both his grandfather and father and had been banished from both the Dreyar estate and the home his father kept on the opposite end of their hold.

Not that this was a much of a problem. From the time he was a teen, he frequently was sent away to different dignitaries and even, once, the Kingdom’s capital. Now a man in his twenties and with enough inheritance and gold to his name to inspire much work ethic, he found himself a bit of a nomad, staying around with friends of the family when they would have him and sleeping around with women when they wouldn’t.

The Justine’s were a lesser family that was a ward of his own, but Laxus had always been friends with the heir apparent. Freed was a quiet man, reserved, and functioned well as a cohort for Laxus in that he balanced the other man out. Dreyars were naturally ferocious and it had been many a fight that Freed had to lead the other man away from- And some that he wasn’t so capable.

Freed, who was sent by his father on business to meet with the Strauss family in regards to a few trade agreements, invited Laxus when to accompany him with little care. He didn’t know the Strausses, neither of the men did, and it would be nice to have company on the rather lengthy journey.

They weren’t even meant to meet with her. Mistress Mirajane. It was one of the lesser lords in her hold that Freed was to trade a few person documents with. But this sounded dreadfully boring to Laxus and, though he’d accompanied the man most of the way, he begged out of going to the stuffy environment that would be a lesser lord’s house. No. Sounded like a shitty time, honestly.

It was midday when Laxus found himself roaming around an unfamiliar city, more or less scoping out what possible night life it might offer. Not much, honestly. But it was as he was roaming about, hands shoved down in his pockets and his standard fluffy coat floating from his shoulders that he saw her.

She was seated at a patio cafe, looking over a small book of some sort as a much older man sat before her, speaking rather animatedly though the woman didn’t seem quite as interested.

He knew who she was immediately. Or at least had a good idea. It was the true Strausses, of the old blood, that possessed the snow white hair and bright blue eyes. He’d seen old photos and such of the family, anyways, growing up in the privilege of tutors and thorough education. His grandfather used to sit in on his lessons sometimes, giving him a cookie when he was able to name all of the major houses and holds; maybe something better if he could name all of their lesser houses and the neighboring.

The Strausses were remarkable, when he was growing up, for their resilence and young leader. He used to dream of one day being able to do the same as her. Once the old geezer and his father were out of the way. He imagined, when he was a boy, that he’d be awfully good at leading his hold. But now, distanced and miserable in most aspects, he looked on disdain at most everything.

But not that woman that day, as his chest ached a bit, when she lifted her eyes at just the right moment to meet his and he was hardly ever so smitten with someone. A woman. He got them quite easily with his status and money. They usually threw themselves at him and were hardly a concern. Something other than gold to burn through.

Something harsh raged through him then though and he didn’t think he could ever break her gaze, that he would ever break that gaze, even if it were only a few seconds, perhaps less, as it felt eternal. Honestly, the only thing that caused him to finally look away from the woman and she him was the loud sound of a carriage horse in distress and some yelling from the street.

It had reared up on its back legs, the creature had, fighting against two men who were trying to calm it and most everyone walking about stopped to stare in surprise.

“Oh, Uncle, go help them,” Mirajane said quickly to the man sitting beside her as both she and him stared with concern at the scene that was quickly arising. “You’re so good with them. Horses and things. I… Please, Uncle, go help.”

“O-Of course!” The stout man rose to his feet quickly and rushed right from the table he was sharing with his liege, rushing across the street to where, honestly, the horse was being subdued and comforted.

As he left though, Mirajane found herself standing as well while Laxus, after a weary glance over at the horse, found his feet bringing him over, instead, to the patio cafe. At his approach, he noted two heavy set men seated nearby tense and advert their gaze from the horse scene and instead on the new, strange man.

“Lady Strauss,” Laxus spoke loudly as he approached, keeping gaze with her while the woman, in turn, only shut her little book and looked the man over.

“I prefer Mistress,” she remarked simply and he almost bit his tongue as yes, Freed had mentioned that to him, on the off chance they happen upon her. But perhaps it would have been for the better, should he have bitten the appendage, as at least drawing a bit of blood from it would distract it from the growing ache in his chest when she smiled at him all the same. “But I am sorry, I do not believe we’ve been acquainted before. Are you a member of my uncle’s house?”

She knew this couldn’t be, how could it? The way he carried himself and his clothing gave off significant standing and birthright, but still, she knew most everyone that would qualify those standard in the immediate area.

“No.” As he came to a stop in front of the table, he said quite loudly, “I am Laxus Dreyar. Grandson of Makarov Dreyar.” And his words alone were enough to put the two burly men at ease. To her only now, he said much softer, “Here on business.”

“Business?” She scrunched her nose in such a precious way as her blue eyes seemed clouded momentarily. “Were we meant to meet, Lord Dreyar?”

“Laxus.” He took a hand from his pocket, but rather than reach out to take hers, he instead bent low, at the waist, in a way he wasn’t fully accustomed any longer. As he rose, he assured her, “I prefer Laxus.”

Rising herself, Mirajane took his hand however, once he’d righted himself, and she shook it with a heaviness no woman he knew possessed, but made the pang in his chest only grow.

“Mirajane,” she told him as a soft grin fell over her face, when she released his hand. “I want you to call me Mira.”

“Who is this then?”

And her uncle was back then, stuffy and put out as he eyed the strange man with clear disdain, but it didn’t matter. It was too late. Everything was too late, fates already sealed.

He wouldn’t be going back with Freed, no matter how much Justine insisted that he not do as he was thinking, to rethink all of his thoughts, least he wind up in a far worse situation with his grandfather than he already was, but nothing could dissuade a man in love.

“You’ve met many Ladies before,” Freed argued with a heavy frown that final time he tried to get through to his longest friend. “Your feelings always pass.”

But his words meant nothing and when Freed returned to his father, it was with a sigh and lie over the Dreyar grandson finding other business in the hold to attend to.

Given his rather high status, it was easy enough for Mirajane to write off giving him a room on the estate property, a guest cottage not far from the main house, and things moved so fast from there.

It was a cool autumn night, the first one that Laxus spent on the property. He’d spent the past few at an inn near her uncle’s house, where she was staying for a few herself, and they’d had dinner a few times. Spoken. A lot, honestly, for the short amount of time they’d been allotted. Neither was too sure who’d suggested him following her all the way back home, but when he boarded her carriage with her, it was to the disdain of her uncle and maybe some whispers of others, but Mirajane assured everyone who questioned her that it was purely business.

And yet, it was anything but.

She’d had many men in her life attempt to get fresh with her before and even reciprocated at times, but things felt much different with Dreyar. He sat beside her, in the carriage, wrapping his coat tightly around her shoulders as he spoke, at her request, of his home. Back on the cliff. Of their customs she’d forgotten or perhaps not even been taught, given how ravished their lands were during the time period this was mostly be passed on to her. She asked, also, what he knew of the Strauss hold, of their lands, and Laxus more honest than he’d ever been in his life, whenever he spoke to the woman.

“This feels,” she whispered softly in his ear after their first true embrace, when she welcomed him to the guest cottage his first evening on the estate, “so improper.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied as he ran a knuckle over the soft, pale flesh of her cheek. “We can move slower.”

But they couldn’t.

They never would have been able to.

Elfman and Lisanna were, quite quickly, suspicious of her sister and, more over, distrustful of the new man she’d brought back to their property.

“We don’t know what you’re doing here,” Elfman grumbled softly to him that first night, over dinner, when Mirajane was distracted and he was able to lean over towards the other man, “but watch yourself.”

And he, quite clearly, would be a problem.

The other one, the younger one...not so much.

“I,” she complained to him with a frown that evening as he was headed down the path back towards his temporary resting place, “use that guest house during the winter time for very important activities. So you better not plan on staying around for long, Mr. Dreyar.”

“Lord,” he corrected her simply, “Dreyar. And it’s not proper, you following me around you know. People we get the wrong idea.”

“You got the wrong idea,” was all Lisanna insisted to him as, at the tree line, where he’d have to follow the path further, to arrive at her apparently prized location, she stopped to glare at his back, “if you think you’re sticking around.”

But oh, he was.

And Lisanna wouldn’t be the Strauss most making that short trek to the guest house that autumn.

It wasn’t hard to spot the Mistress in those days, previously very tied up in her travel and work, now taking long strolls along the property with Lord Dreyar. All over the property. Even down to the cottage, citing a desire to glance over the changing of leaves and the season.

“I’m meant to marry soon,” she told Laxus, one day, when upon their walks they both nosed instead through the cracked door of the cottage and lost themselves in his disheveled sheets for what was, honestly, not nearly long enough.

It was against her neck as she clawed at his back and the man squeezed his eyes shut that he assured her soft, flushed flesh, “You will. You will, I promise you will.”

The fall gave way to winter and, though his placement on the estate was rather obvious to most, it was around that time that the news had made it back around to the Dreyar’s hold.

And there was a lot of discontentment over Laxus’ recent behavior.

He received a letter from his grandfather, urging him back home at once while the Strauss estate, instead, were not long after bombarded with letterhead from the residence of Ivan Dreyar, requesting the hand of the Mistress immediately.

“He’s doing it to fuck with me,” Laxus remarked dryly to Freed who, at Laxus’ urging over letter, arrived at the Strauss estate soon enough to discuss his next movements. “My father.”

“Forget your father, Laxus,” his friend retorted. “Your grandfather-”

“Gramps, that old geezer, he’s been trying to get me marry into another kingdom’s family. Out of Fiore.” He spit, Laxus did, on the ground, at the thought. “Fuck that. I’m not leaving Fiore. And I’m not leaving Mirajane.”

So it was decided, against the counsel of his friend and the chagrin of his family that the young Dreyar found himself officially beginning an engagement to the eldest Strauss.

“I’ll never take your land from you,” he promised her softly as they lay together one night in his cottage, which he’d stocked with champagne, roses, and the most important thing the woman was looking for; himself. “Your people. I don’t want any of that. I’ll even put it in writing. I...gave up on ruling people a long time ago. I just want you. In a way I’ve never wanted anyone in my entire life. If you will be my wife, I’ll take on whatever title you wish. But you will always be Mistress Strauss and I would never wish to remove that from you. I just want to be included in your life, not change it.”

And she smiled at him, sweetly, as she shifted to rest her forehead against his, gazing longingly into the man’s eyes as she assured him, “I just want to be in your life too, Laxus.”

There would be fallout for this, of course. A lot of scorned suitors now felt bamboozled as the woman didn’t even pick for the intended pool, but rather bypassed it entirely. The Dreyars, in particular Makarov, wrote that he would be arriving soon to meet his prospected new granddaughter-in-law, and the letter detailing this felt rather cross.

Ivan, for his part, merely sent once last request for his son’s betrothed’s hand.

Still, an engagement party date was put in place and Mirajane found that, eventually, a certain stillness began to fall over her regarding the entire thing. Being with Laxus had felt exhilarating for many reasons, but also the potential pain in him eventually being taken from her, choosing to leave her, hung over her head frequently and made him cling all the tighter to him. The resolution to this being found, the woman couldn’t help the obvious contentment that washed over her, even in the hectic days of wedding planning and house joining that would follow.

“Now that the chase is done,” Freed questioned his dear friend quite bluntly when he arrived for the engagement party, “you have not lost interest, Laxus, have you?”

“Of course not,” he replied as if this were a ridiculous question, but that was hardly the case. While it might seem as if the man was getting everything he wanted, Freed knew him well enough to know that   this was hardly what the man wanted.

Not at all.

Laxus liked for things to be hard. For them to be difficult. To anger his family and draw the ire of those around him. But as people only naturally warmed to this venture, it made sense that he’d fall out of interest with it, to fall into another ill conceived ploy for attention.

But when he looked his best friend in the eyes that evening, Laxus merely vowed to him, “I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a man. And I’m ready to move into that phase of my life. This is where I want to be.”

Forever.

The night of the engagement party was wild. It was a massive function with many neighboring Lords and Ladies. Even those from the further reaches of the Kingdom. The King himself sent word of his approval only days before and while Mirajane had smiled down at the letter, it was that night, when all her friends, family, and even those distanced to her gathered, just that once, before the eventual wedding, that her grin was at its widest.

He met so many people that day, Laxus did. Had to introduce Mirajane to so many people. Dodge a lot more people. Makarov had arrived earlier in the day, to much fanfare from the Strauss estate and though his grandfather originally wore his sternest of gazes, it only took one look into the bright eyes of his grandson (and perhaps the bosom of his bride-to-be) to understand the union.

“Will you get that short, Laxus?” Lisanna questioned him with wicked laughter that night when she passed him. “Like your grandfather.”

“Lord,” he retorted to her, “Dreyar. And Master Dreyar. Respectfully.”

But the little shit was anything but respectful.

For all the tough talk that Elfman had long given Laxus, he was a bucket of tears that night, falling all over his sister whenever he saw her and even into the arms of her affianced.

“I always wanted,” he sobbed into the shoulder of the ill-at-ease Laxus, “a brother.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t got one now,” the man grumbled, but Mirajane only giggled at the sight from where she stood nearby, with all her female friends, and for as suffocating as he always imagined be betrothed was, Laxus honestly was finally at peace as well.

He had much to drink that night, as did most people, but as the party raged on, he thought to head back to his cottage when the evening air grew colder, for his coat. It was as he stumbled down the path that he thought he knew so well, however, that it happened.

When he heard the rustling in the bushes, he thought that it might be some other guests, having snuck away with a beloved of their own, and Laxus imagined when he wouldn’t have to do such things with the Mistress. Finding a place, a proper place, in her estate. And while he’d like to give them their space, he had, unfortunately, found out what Lisanna (and her servant boy that she kept around, Natsu) had secretly been using his cottage for previously. What with how close to the cottage it was, Laxus imagined it was them, as he’d found them not long ago, together on the back property, hidden and yet now known to him, and he thought to break them up. Once more. If someone else stumbled upon them, it would be pure pandemonium and he hardly wished to deal with that.

But as he approached the bushed area in question, he sensed something else. A strong foreboding. The man hardly had time, however, to back away before it happened. A deep growl and then a vicious attack, his yells of pain being drowned out by the party not too far away, back on the estate and he was left eventually, mauled and beaten, forced to hobble and crawl the rest of his way to the cottage.

It had been a...wolf of some sort, he thought, hiding in the bushes and had sprang out at him. Powerful, sharp jaws had wrapped around his arm and ripped into the flesh, perhaps to the bone, and he thought he’d die, when he fell into his bed alone. Imagined he had that night, maybe, as he had the most vibrant and terrifying dreams.

Yet, he couldn't recall a single one, that next morning when Mirajane found him there.

Her shrill call of his name had sent most everyone running and, given all the blood in the cottage and the pathway leading up to it, the prognosis didn’t seem to bright. But most everyone was thankful (if not a bit confused) to find him blearily arise and brandish on the strangest of fang markings on his forearm and a deep scratch along his right eye.

“That wasn’t from the beast,” he muttered as he sat in one of the palours of the estate, his fiance and grandfather flanking him while the local proctor looked him over. “The arm...that was. But the eye was from some rock or something. It scrapped me on the way down.”

“Lucky you still have your eye,” the man told him bluntly. “Or your arm for that matter.”

“All that blood from those little puncture wounds?” Mirajane questioned as she rested a hand on Laxus’ shoulder. “That can’t be right.”

“Maybe the blood of that damn beast,” Makarov muttered gravely as he shook his head. “Hell hound, it sounds like. You get it good, boy?”

“I...I don’t remember,” Laxus whispered and he felt nothing like himself, nothing at all. “I don’t remember anything.”

“We’ll hunt it down,” Elfman vowed as he wiped at his eyes. “Hunt the whole damn property. Some of the men already are. If you didn’t kill it, big brother, we will!”

“Don’t call me-”

“Yes, big brother,” Lisanna agreed, noting with glee that Elfman, unknowingly, had stumbled upon something new to get under the man’s skin. “We’ll hunt it down!”

But they wouldn’t.

Not for lack of trying though.

For all the men that searched the forest and neighboring areas, no such animal could be found. Some wolves were slaughter, but none with the same, dark, piercing eyes that Laxus recalled.

“I thought,” Mirajane would remark a lot, when he’d mention the red lit, haunting eyes that he could still see, if he just closed his eyes, “that you couldn’t remember anything?”

“I can’t,” he assured her. “W-Well, I mean, I thought I couldn’t….but...”

Though the next few days were difficult, if not downright unpleasant, Laxus did eventually leave the room in the estate he was given to stay in. It wasn’t proper, after all, Mirajane had sadly remarked as she and her brother, as well as a bodyguard, walked with him that first time, back to the cottage, Dreyar trying very hard not to flinch when they passed the exact spot he’d been attacked.

But soon enough, Mirajane was able to add then and it helped anyways, when she smiled at him so sweetly.

Eventually, things fell back into their uneasy peace and Makarov returned home, with a promise to visit  before the wedding, signifying his blessing was more than bestowed. Freed too returned home unfortunately, but Laxus found that he was becoming rather accustomed to his regular day-to-day life in on the Strauss estate.

His woman seemed keen to continue on alone in most work and, considering he had little else to do, Laxus did as he’d done all fall, hanging around her siblings or other friendly workers he stumbled across. Winter now, there was snow for Lisanna to frolic through and toss at him though, oddly enough, the man specified that under no circumstance were she ever to build a snowman around him.

“I,” he told her plainly, “hate them.”

Which meant that Lisanna, who rightly didn’t care for them either way, was now determined to build as many as possible.

Still, life on the estate was nice..until about a month or so later.

Laxus grew tired early the night, retiring not soon after dinner and whispering in his beloved’s ear before he departed that no, he doubted he’d be up for a midnight stroll that night. She was disappointed, as the moon was meant to be gorgeous that evening, but relented with a nod.

When he fell into bed, it seemed almost instantaneous that Laxus found himself asleep. But, unfortunately, it was a rather fitful one. Filled with glowing red eyes and sharp pains as well as, in certain portions, an intense pleasure.

He didn’t know what to think, when he awoke the next morning to labored breathing and a few rather strange bruises along his arms.

“Even scratched myself, somehow, in my sleep,” he was grumbling to Mirajane over breakfast in the main dining hall when Elfman, who usually didn’t join them, came rushing in with one of the men from village.

“Elf,” Mira remarked as she rose to her feet immediately. “What-”

“One of the women was attacked last night,” he remarked gravely as the man beside him, the father of a young woman, looked equally distraught as he did murderous. But Elfman only looked to Laxus as he insisted, “By the same beast you were!”