#maybe i should take this as a reason to write my own. carry the torch for those lost. make sure it doesnt happen again. like batman or w/e

[branmuffins22]

NOOOOO

A REALLY GOOD HUMAN AU TRANSFEM VEE FIC GOT NUKED 😭😭😭 IT WASNT EVEN FINISHED YET 😭😭😭😭😭

RIP, Moths In Her Hair by untitledprincesscarolynproject (?). you will be dearly missed by me and probably (hopefully) several others.

[endlesslystarlitskies]

Lost and Found- Part 4

A/N: Hello again! I’m going to do my best to do one chapter a day, as right now I have a couple chapters written up, so hopefully that works out. Please let me know what you guys think. I am starting to worry the pacing of the story is a little weird, so let me know! Also, I’m not trying to get lazy or anything, but I also don’t want to be repetitive, so a lot of the fighting scenes are glossed over. Let me know if it looks bad. Thank you to everyone who’s followed the story so far! Hope you guys like it as much as I’m enjoying writing it again!  Genre: Horror, action, adventure, Romance, Slow-Burn, 

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.  

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned, Ella has little regard for her own life and is dealing with the loss of someone closest to her while also fighting to survive with waning self-preservation instincts. Please be cautious if that triggers you.

Word Count: 4,399 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Story Masterlist xXx

When Ella had first seen Ashley, she had been on the hill in the woods when she passed by the church, never having been directly by it. The torches had caught her eyes, making her move forward to see what was going on, and it was there she saw Ashley being carried into the building, struggling as much as she could against the large, robed man that was carrying her. Ella could tell the girl wasn’t from the village, and she had wondered if she had been like her- an outsider wandering into something they could have never seen coming.

Ella had stayed there for an hour or so, but there had been infected everywhere, and they didn’t seem like they were going anywhere any time soon. Whoever was in there, they didn’t want her getting out. Ella still waited for as long as she could before she had to move on to find food and water, promising to return with help. And now here she was, not too long after that. Maybe Leon hadn’t been the help she expected to find, but he had proven himself pretty damn reliable already, as well as determined, so she would say she accomplished that goal.

Ella and Leon made their way past the graves and through the surprisingly unlocked gates, but unfortunately there was a larger locked gate in front of the church that required some sort of circular key, which meant they couldn’t get in.

“Damn it.” Leon growled, and Ella felt disappointment fill her. They were so close. Ashley was likely just beyond those doors, and they couldn’t reach her.

She knew that upset Leon the most, Ashley being the only reason he was here after all.

“I’ve got to update my contact.” He told Ella, taking a step back as he pressed on the earpiece. He didn’t seem too concerned with her overhearing, though he did walk a few steps away.

“Condor one to Roost. The church is sealed up.” He got straight to the point, and Ella just leaned against the gate as she listened in on his conversation out of curiosity.

“And baby eagle?” A female voice responded, Ella able to hear her this time. The code name made sense considering, but Ella still found them kind of silly. Baby Eagle? They really couldn’t come up with anything better than that? She supposed the United States Government didn’t have to be creative, though.

“Negative, nothing yet. But they sure do have this place locked up tight.” Ella had to hold back her scoff at that, thinking that he should have seen it when they first brought Ashley here. You would have thoughtSaddler was in the church.

“I see. I can think of one reason they’d want to do so.” Ella couldn’t help but wonder why they talked exactly how you’d think they would in a cliche action movie, a small breathy chuckle escaping her. Leon glanced over at her, but continued to talk to the woman on the other end.

“Oh, she’s here. That’s for sure. I’ll find a way in. Condor Out.” Ella didn’t miss the fact that he didn’t mention her, and if she’d have to guess, he didn’t mention her in the factory either. She didn’t think too much of it, assuming that his contacts wouldn’t care to know about anything other than Ashley.

Leon turned to her after breaking contact, noticing the look on her face.

“What?” He questioned, his expression showing that he knew she had been judging him the entire time.

“That was the most cliche conversation I’ve ever heard. ‘Condor one out’? You might as well have said “over” while you were at it.” She laughed, Leon’s expression of annoyance only furthering her amusement. “Either those action movies are really accurate, or you’re the definition of a cliche 90’s action hero.” She snorted in the middle of her laughter, receiving his now signature roll of the eyes.

“You know that reminds me, I realized I had an extra granola bar, but suddenly I’m not feeling very generous.” Ella’s laughter immediately stopped at that as she gave him a surprised look. He was just telling her this now? Did he think that one granola bar had been enough to satiate her hunger? “Oh that’s just cruel.” She almost pouted. “You would deny someone who’s been wandering around the woods for almost a week food? I thought you were nicer than that.” She laid on the guilt trip immediately. “Not only that, but it’s someone who’s saved your life on multiple occasions. Have you no heart?” That earned her a look of “really?”, and she shrugged. “I would do anything for that granola bar. Don’t test me.” She warned, and he shook his head, before reaching into his pack and tossing it to her.

“Go nuts.” She grinned, tearing open the wrapping and taking a bite out of the sweet snack. She didn’t even like granola bars, but having not eaten much the past few days, it was practically the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. With that, she followed Leon as he scaled the barrier to the church, quietly eating her snack. It reminded her that she needed to get more water soon. . .her throat was getting dry.

“Now I’m wishing I had more. This might be the quietest you’ve been.” She rolled her own eyes, but not even he could ruin the moment she was having as she ate the granola bar, opting to enjoy it in peace.

Her not replying with a witty retort seemed to surprise him as well, but his attention was quickly taken by the wooden door he found to the right of the church, it surprisingly being unlocked.

Ella followed after him, her eyes taking in the small room that was lit by a lantern on a wooden table. Papers were scattered everywhere; a map being pinned up to the wall that Leon took interest in first. Ella was right behind him, munching on her bar as she tried to read the scribbled and smudged writing.

It wasn’t too hard, and it mentioned that they had locked Ashley in the church when they learned Leon was here. That made sense. It hadn’t been very long after Ella watched them carry the girl into the church that she ran into Leon.

More importantly, however, the writing mentioned that the key was being held in the lake, guarded by a monster. Naturally.

“Well, it’s a good thing someone wrote the location of the key here on the map that was behind an unlocked door.” To be fair, Ella had learned early on that most of the villagers weren’t very smart. An effect of the infection, she supposed.

That also made her think that Leon was infected with the kind that didn’t deteriorate the mind, as his senses and intelligence didn’t seem the least bit affected thus far, which meant he would turn out to be powerful if he fell to the infection. Like the man in the hat, or the man with the necklace.

She decided to keep that to herself.

“Yeah, convenient. But it’s all we have to go on.” He had a point there. Ella turned away from the map, looking to the table that held the lamp on papers. She noticed a photo, picking it up and examining it. It was Ashley, the girl lying on the ground with her hands and ankles tied.

“Hey Leon, look.” She turned, showing him the photo as well as the writing on the back. It mentioned an appointed time, which couldn’t be good. Ella found herself once again wondering what it was they could want with the president's daughter. . .

“Hey, that Saddler guy can control the infected, right?” Ella questioned as the wheels in her mind turned.

“Yeah, I think so.” Leon responded, as it had been mentioned a couple of times in the notes and letters they found.

“Then maybe that’s why they want her. They want to control someone in the white house.” It seemed like the most likely reason considering, but that begged the question: What did they want control of the Whitehouse for?

It also meant that like Leon, Ashley was likely infected too, which meant that their goal had just gotten that much more difficult. At the very least, it meant they weren’t going to kill Ashley, so that was good.

Ella could see that Leon was thinking along the same lines, his expression full of contemplation, before he nodded.

“Yeah. Let’s get moving.” Probably a good idea.

xXx

There was a tunnel below the room they had been in that Ella had found, the two making their way down and finding their way towards the lake there. They ran into another village, taking care of the few people there, and finding a couple of gems and a fancy looking ring for their troubles.

The lake was below, but there was no way to get to the body of water from the settlement they were in, as it was attached to the side of the mountain, so they had to continue forward. Making their way through a narrow path, they came across an open wooden drop gate, and directly after it was possibly the most terrifying thing Ella had ever seen.

A gigantic hammer, one end of it being sharpened.

“Good luck finding someone big enough to use this thing.” Leon scoffed, and Ella gave him a wide-eyed look.

“You did not just say that.” She groaned, and Leon turned to her, confused. “I don’t know how much you read books or watch movies, but that has got to be the most obvious line of foreshadowing I have ever heard in the real world.” Leon’s tendency to follow cliches was seriously becoming less funny.

“You know what. . .I’ll actually give that to you.” He sighed, offering no argument as he replayed what he had said in his head.

Now more cautious than before, they headed into the open area beyond another wooded drop gate, and it took less than five seconds for both Ella and Leon to hear a deep, rumbling growl that was sounding behind giant double doors with a single large piece of wood keeping it locked.

Ella didn’t even say anything, just looking at Leon and gesturing to the doors with one hand, the word “see!” clear in her expression.

He grumbled in a low voice, Ella barely hearing him, but she was pretty sure he said, “Yeah yeah, I know.”

Satisfied that Leon had seen her point and hopefully learned his lesson, she focused on the way out of the clearing.

They were very quiet as they made their way to the other side of the opening and past the monster that was behind the gate, not wanting to risk catching its attention and figuring out if that single piece of wood was enough to keep it at bay.

Fortunately, they made it by, though Ella had a terrible feeling they would be back and next time, they wouldn’t be so lucky. xXx After making it through a little cavern in the mountains (Ella had been surprised the Merchant wasn’t inside), they came out the other end at a cliff by another section of the village overlooking the lake, and that was when Ella noticed the people in a boat.

“Leon, look.” She got his attention, the man pulling out binoculars and getting a better view. It was hard to tell for Ella, but it looked like they had dumped something, before driving off, leaving it floating in the lake Ella couldn’t even finish questioning what it could be as a giant creature suddenly emerged from the water, swallowing whatever they had dumped and making Ella gasp in surprise.

She hadn’t needed binoculars to see that.

“What the hell was that?” She murmured. She remembered the mention of the monster, but she had never imagined something like that.

“Trouble.” Leon breathed as he put his binoculars away, once again shocking Ella with how casual he was about seeing something so terrifying.

Whatever it was he had gone through before; she could only imagine it was absolutely horrifying to make him desensitized to what they had just seen.

She couldn’t imagine what it had been.

Deciding to not comment on yet another instance of his cool and casual reactions, she followed him down to the docks. The fact that he wasn’t the least bit worried about the monster was baffling to say the least.

She didn’t know how he did it because she didn’t even want to step foot onto the dock, let alone get into the small boat that was tied to the wood.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved when Leon learned the boat was out of gas, but that did mean they would need to explore more to find it. xXx It took taking care of yet another section of the village, but they finally found fuel, much to Ella’s disappointment.

Really, she knew that if they wanted to get the key, they had no choice but to go on the water, but she had been hoping to somehow find another way. They had no such luck.

To even get through the village to the fuel, they had to travel in water, unfortunately, which meant traveling in it once more to get back.

“Remind me to have us dry our boots when we have a second.” She sighed, her survivalist teachings coming into play once more as she thought about the dangers of wearing wet boots for too long.

“We don’t have time for that.” Leon argued, and Ella glared lightly at him.

“Yeah, you know what else we don’t have time for? Trench foot.” She pointed out. “Trench foot Leon! Do you know what that is?” She had a feeling he did because he didn’t argue further. Heading back to the dock, Leon filled the motor with fuel, before turning to her.

“Stay here.” He told her, turning back to get in, and as much as Ella didn’t want to argue, she didn’t want him to go out on his own either.

“Wait, hold on-” She had started, but Leon cut her off.

“We both know that thing is going to attack. It will be harder to deal with it if you’re in the boat too. Let me take care of it on my own, and then I’ll come back.” His tone was firm, showing he didn’t want to argue this, and Ella didn’t really want to argue it either, even if she felt bad letting him fight it on his own.

“How are you even going to kill it?” She asked him, not understanding what plan he had.

“There are harpoons in the boat. I’m going to let it come to me.” Ella couldn’t help but think that sounded like a terrible plan, as so many things could go wrong.

That clearly showed on her face because he sighed. “You got a better idea?” He asked her, and unfortunately, she did not. She had half a mind to suggest not going in the water, but she knew that they didn’t have a choice on that front.

“Okay fine, whatever.” She relented with a sigh. “You know, sometimes I don’t know whether you’re brave, or just stupid, but I guess those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.” She lightly jabbed at him.

“Ha ha, now get back. This dock doesn’t look very stable.” He didn’t have to tell her twice. However, as she stepped off the dock, she remembered something.

“Wait, hold on!” She called, stopping Leon just as he was about to start the motor. Going into a little shack not too far off, she grabbed more harpoons she had remembered seeing when they had first come to the area, before bringing them over to him. “There. I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s better than what you had originally.” At least she could help somewhat, and Leon gave her an appreciative nod.

Officially getting off the dock, Ella watched as he started the boat, before driving off into the middle of the lake. She had a feeling that this wasn’t going to end well. xXx

It had taken less than a minute for the thing to come for Leon, and Ella watched in horror and panic as the line of the boat caught on the monster, dragging it along with it as it swam and making Ella’s heart race with worry. Leon had to be sparing with the harpoons, only having so many, and he also had to watch out for things in the water that could damage the boat if he hit them.

Ella was truly and utterly useless to help, as it was too far out for her gun, and she had nothing else on her that could hurt that thing.

The good news was, Leon had a great arm, and great aim. When he did throw the harpoon, he almost never missed, and he always managed to get it in the head.

She had no idea how he did it, but after the tenth or so harpoon to the head, and the last one to its eye as it came straight for him in an attempt to swallow him, it died.

Relief washed over Ella as Leon and the boat seemed relatively intact, and she once again made her way to the edge of the dock as she waited for him to come back. She could honestly hug him after all of that, because for a moment there she thought he wasn’t going to pull it off. S

As Leon moved to start the motor once more, he suddenly froze, Ella’s brows furrowing in confusion. Why would he stop? Was he seeing something else in the water?

Ella hoped that wasn’t the case, as he definitely wouldn’t have enough harpoons to take down another one.

However, the next thing she knew, Leon seemed to be coughing up a lung, before disappearing out of Ella’s sight as he fell forward into the boat.

“Leon!” Panic once again seized Ella as she realized that Leon was possibly hurt and out in the middle of the damned lake, far away from her.

What could she do? There had to be something!

She could swim out there, but what if there was another one of those things? Or just another monster? Or what if the one from earlier wasn’t actually dead?

Despite her worry, Ella knew she couldn’t leave him out there, it being too dangerous.

“Oh fuck, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” She murmured to herself as she kicked off her boots and pulled off her socks. Next, she set her gear down on the dock, not wanting any of it to get wet, though she kept her knife.

Lastly, she pulled off her flannel, leaving her barefoot and in her shorts, tights, and black t-shirt. She was going to have to disinfect her shoulder again after this.

Not letting herself think about it any further, she dived into the murky water, shoving away her fear and swimming towards the boat. xXx Ella’s limbs were exhausted, and she was soaked to the bone as she drove the boat back to the dock. Leon was still breathing, much to her relief, but he was out cold. She had checked his arms, and sure enough, his veins were black, and more were becoming visible.

He got onto her for not being careful and look at what he was doing.

Dragging Leon out of the boat was no easy feat, but soon, she got him under the shelter of the wooden shed, laying him down on the dirt and resting his head on a couple of folded thick sacks she had found.

As much as she wanted to just fall back on her ass and rest her sore muscles, she had to start a fire, disinfect her shoulder, put their boots by the fire to dry, and-

There was just too much to do, and she couldn’t rest yet.

xXx

Eventually, Ella was sitting by the fire, holding her knees to her chest and letting the warmth permeate the cold that had settled in her core. Her and Leon’s shoes and socks, and her flannel were as close as they possibly could be to the fire without risking them being burnt, and her now filled water bottle was coming to a boil on a makeshift stand over the top of the flame. Her gear was sitting off to the side, but within reach if she needed it.

Leon was still out cold, but he didn’t seem to be in pain, so hopefully he would be okay.

Ella had disinfected her shoulder and did her best to replace the bandage, leaving it exposed so her wet shirt didn’t soak it.

She was exhausted, her eyelids heavy, and she had to fight to stay awake. She had to take her water off the fire soon, and make sure her flannel, the shoes, and socks didn't catch. She also had to make sure no enemies arrived, though she had set a tripwire of her own that had anything she could find that would make noise if someone hit it. So, unless someone came from the lake, she would know if there was anyone coming.

But it wasn’t just that. Leon had had blood on his hand, which meant he had coughed it up, and she was almost scared he was going to suddenly die on her.

She got the water done, able to stay awake long enough to let it cool and put the iodine tablets in, but after that, she couldn’t keep her eyes open, Ella laying her head on her knees and letting the warmth of the fire lull her to sleep. xXx She was startled awake when Leon suddenly gasped, sitting up and checking his arms as if there had been something wrong with them.

Ella was up in a second, moving over to him.

“Hey, you’re okay! You’re fine!” She assured him, not touching him as to not risk startling him further. He looked at her, panting slightly as he slowly seemed to snap out of whatever confusion he had been in.

He didn’t say anything, just taking a moment as he looked around, noticing that his shoes and socks were missing, the little camp she had made, and their clothes by the fire.

The fire was small now after not being tended to for who knows how long, but the socks and her flannel seemed to be relatively dry. Ella only hoped their shoes were dry enough.

“Um. . .Yeah, you know, trench foot.” Was all Ella could find in herself to say to explain herself. She had warned him she was the survivalist nut of their friends.Leon didn’t say anything about it, just nodding as he looked down at himself.

“How long was I out?” He asked her, his voice a little scratchy.

“Um. . .to be honest with you, I fell asleep. Swimming to and climbing in the boat and dragging your heavy ass out of it and into shelter wasn’t easy. But I know it had been at least an hour and half before I fell asleep. Maybe a little more.” She answered, the soreness of her muscles all to happily reminding her of what she had done.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He murmured, and Ella couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at his words.

“Well sorry, but I had no idea if you were dying or hurt or what. You go off and fight some big ass water monster with a few harpoons, without thinking twice, leaving me on the dock to just worry about you the entire time, useless to help, and then you pass out all the way in the middle of the lake! For all I know, the boat was damaged and filling with water, and you could have drowned! So, excuse me if I give a shit about you and-” He stood up, putting his hands on her shoulders, having a habit of cutting off her rants that way.

“Okay, I get it. I’m sorry.” He tried to soothe her, though he had a shitty comforting voice. “Thank you.” That was a little better, and Ella found the annoyance and anxiety disappearing as she took a deep breath, the warmth she could feel from his hands doing most of the comforting if she was being honest with herself. She told herself it was because her clothes were still a little damp, making her a bit cold.

“You’re welcome.” She breathed as her hand came up, gently resting on his wrist. She didn’t even consciously do the action, but Leon didn’t seem to mind it much. “Are you okay? You coughed up blood. I think the infection is getting worse.” She voiced her concern, and he pulled his hands away, standing up straight as he looked to his arm, noticing the difference in his veins.

“Yeah, I’m fine now.” Ella didn’t know if she believed him, but she couldn’t really argue as she knew it would be pointless. “Let’s get going.” Ella deflated slightly, but she knew she should have expected this from Leon. He never just took a breath, always being on the move. Ella knew better than to protest, despite being worried about his health.

With that, they got their socks and shoes on, and Ella was relieved to feel her boots were mostly dry. Her flannel was warm as she pulled it over her shoulders, feeling nice against her muscles, and she let out a breath, gathering all her gear and putting out the fire, before following Leon to the boat.

It was obvious she was still concerned about him, as she was quiet and lost in thought as she sat in the front of the boat, staring out at nothing in particular.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Leon told her as he steered the boat towards the boathouse, Ella looking over at him. She knew he was trying to comfort her, and she appreciated that, but she couldn’t shake off her worry. She just nodded, not saying anything, despite wanting to; the question at the tip of her tongue.

‘Yeah, but are you?’ She hadn’t known him for very long, but with everything they’ve already been through together, she felt closer to him than most of her “friends” or acquaintances back home, strangely enough. That wasn’t saying much, though. The only person she was truly close to had been Alice. Even so, as much as she didn’t want to feel close to him or care too much about him whatsoever, considering the situation they were in and the fact that she had already lost so much, she couldn’t help it. She had a feeling that would come back to bite her in the ass.

[buckets-and-trees]

First, how impossibly cute is Brambleberry Cove??? I adore that being the name of the town!

I have so much to say that I hardly know where to start!

I felt it! Steve can just have this wonderfully soft and warm effect that's so palpable - you're particularly adept at this, writing him in a way that's sweet without turning saccharine. BUT OH! I'M ALREADY READY FOR STEVE TO BE HOME!

This was such a beautiful moment captured - for Seaside Scoops, but also for Steve and who he is as a person - applying love and care, and then for their relationship that also could mirror the "yellowed with age and lack of upkeep" and how the reader feels like she's let everything go with him.

I also love that you so naturally incorporated Steve's canon drawing skills into the narrative.

OKAY, MOLLY!

What I love about this is that you wove these themes and imagery of the town, of ice cream, etc, into the story like wonderfully blended harmonies. But this caramel sound of the laugh? It made me just absolutely melt as a reader, but pump my fist in the air as your friend who loves your writing skills.

BUCKY!

Obviously I had a little happy thrill seeing him! And I loved that he was there, but he didn't overtake the story in any way - a beautiful side character use/moment.

And I love that he we know he absolutely was more than happy, eager, and ready to call Steve to take you home, undoubtedly knowing the torch Steve carried for you that maybe had returned to burning a little brighter now that you were back in town.

(And then later I love the mention/implication that Sam is one of the town's police, haha!)

um. everything about that. everything. I can't. surge of fluttering anda need down under.

This entire expository + smutty + emotional scene in the truck was LITERALLY SO GOOD!

I was heart-achey when the reader said not to steal away or minimize their first time togther. It was so beautiful!

and then

T h i s w a s e v e r y t h i n g.

I was literally breathless for how intense but tender this was while in the middle of all the heat and sexual intensity of the choking and just.

yeah.

couldn't breathe myself.

So, little aside of me reading this story... it's been a crazy week, and so I was saving this to the weekend to read. I ended up with an unexpected spot of time to start reading on Friday night, so I did, and I got through a good chunk of the truck scene, and then I was like, "Okay, we gotta stop here, we're clearly in a big smut scene, and then I'll have like 5k more to savor this weekend." But yeah, turns out I was basically almost done with the story. And I bring this up for a couple of reasons. First, the read up to that point just flowed so quickly, I didn't feel like I was hacking away at it, it just happened. Second, UM, MA'AM, I WAS READY FOR SO MUCH MORE! I JUST DIDN'T WANT IT TO END!

Which leads me to say that I genuinely think you should keep the idea of writing this into a novel close at hand, even if you don't do it right now. Your writing has always been good, Molly, it's why I'm always eager to devour your work and have been diligent about trying to read almost everything you've written in the last year or so (sometimes it's genuinely a character or kink I'm not into, and then I might pass, but often I still go for it because it's your writing), but I genuinely think that some of what you've given us here is your best work. This honestly has legs to stand on its own if you really wanted to pursue it. No pressure to, but I would encourage you to.

gif by sally @tvgif

first and last

pairing: childhood best friend!steve rogers x female reader

summary: after more than a decade away from your home town—and your childhood best friend—you return. everything is exactly the same, but also, entirely different.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), fluff, angst, smut, drunken antics, some arguing, drunk masturbation (f) with an audience, semi-public, choking, dirty talk, praise kink, begging, boundaries, very light bdsm vibes, references to past sexual intimacy (piv sex, oral sex [f receiving]), nicknames (buttercup, baby), aftercare

word count: 8.8k

a/n: this is my entry in @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar Challenge, and i've been working on it since june so i'm very excited to post it!!! i wanted to make a sundae i'd actually eat so i used the prompts Butterscotch (childhood friends) and Caramel (drunk/delirious/not in their right mind). it also might be a bit literal to have Steve working at an ice cream shop but whatever!!

i mentioned when i teased this fic that i'd thought about turning it into a much longer story/potentially saving it for a novel, but honestly i just don't know when or if i'll ever have time to do that. but these scenes don't necessarily follow right after each other, so if they feel disconnected, that's why. they're just the ones i wanted to write 😅

The sidewalk of Brambleberry Cove was warm from a full day under the August sun, the concrete gritty with sand beneath your bare feet as you walked the rest of the short distance to Seaside Scoops from your rental house a few blocks away. 

The sun dipped low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the coastal town like stretching fingers reaching for the Atlantic Ocean. You could hear the steady sound of the crashing waves over the near distant sand dunes, their rhythm a background to your walk. 

It could’ve been a peaceful moment—you were back in your home town, surrounded by familiar sights and sounds and smells. But you were in a wretched mood, and all you could focus on was everything wrong with the world and your current place in it.

There was, of course, the throbbing pain in your big toe from when you’d stubbed it moments ago on the cursed, charming sidewalk, as well as the slight sting on the sides of your foot where your flip flop straps had torn. Your ruined shoes dangled from your fingers because Brambleberry Cove didn’t have a trash can on every street corner like the city you were accustomed to living in. 

In addition to those grievances, the straps of your bathing suit—which you hadn’t worn in far too long and hadn’t realized had become too small—were digging into your shoulders and hips uncomfortably. And, though you’d only been walking for five minutes from the little bungalow you were renting, your thighs were already beginning to chafe beneath the simple dress you’d thrown on. 

All told, you were not in the mood to appreciate the simple beauty of Brambleberry Cove. Instead of admiring the sun-bleached cottages that gave way to the small coastal shops lining main street, and letting yourself sink into the comfort of being back in your tiny beachside home town, you were fixated on everything wrong in your life—both in that moment and the larger scheme of things.

In your defense, though, there was a lot wrong in your life. There’d had to be to get you back to your home town after so long away. 

There was the dream job you’d lost, the ex who’d left you for someone else, and the friends who’d all promised to be there for you, but then vanished when you actually needed help. The only people who’d come through for you were your parents, who’d had a friend willing to rent a little Brambleberry Cove bungalow to you for a fraction of its normal summer price since it was already August and they weren’t going to make much more money anyway. 

You’d had to pack up and leave the city where you’d built your life for 15 years, and move back to your home town, which you hadn’t seen in nearly that long since your parents had moved out west shortly after you’d graduated high school. Being back home made you feel like you weren’t only taking a single step backward, but moving leaps and bounds in the wrong direction. It made you feel like a failure. 

But you tried not to think about all that on your short walk to Seaside Scoops, instead focusing on the pain in your toe and the digging ache of your bathing suit. 

By the time you saw the familiar neon sign for the ice cream shop, it felt like finding an oasis in the desert. You picked up your pace, ignoring the way your body protested, the soles of your feet no longer used to walking on the sandy sidewalk like you’d done countless times growing up in Brambleberry Cove. 

You could see through the window that there was a short line in Seaside Scoops, and you hurriedly pushed through the door of the shop. Once inside, you breathed in the familiar scent of sugar and hot fudge and reveled in the feel of the air conditioner ghosting over your sun-warmed shoulders. 

Surreptitiously, you shoved your ruined flip flops into the garbage just inside the door and got in line behind the couple with their two small children. You glanced around the shop, not really taking it in, and hoped whoever was working behind the counter was still lax on the ‘no shirt, no shoes, no service’ rule that had theoretically been in place since before you were born—but had never been enforced in practice. 

Finally looking to the counter, wondering idly if you’d recognize who was working or if it’d be some local teen that had been a baby the last time you’d been to Brambleberry Cove, you were shocked to see who was working at Seaside Scoops. Your belly swooped like you were standing on a boat on the choppy sea, your heart racing when you recognized the man behind the counter. At one time, he’d been the boy you’d shared so much of your childhood with, so many of your summers with. 

When you got a good look at him, you were almost surprised you recognized him so fast. He was no longer the scrawny teenager you’d left behind when you’d gone off to college and never looked back. He looked so different from the boy you’d known well enough you could recall his face in perfect detail, but, in so many ways, exactly the same.

On the whole, it was a shock to see the man Steve Rogers had become. 

Sandy brown hair fell on either side of his handsome, suntanned face, swept back like he had a habit of running his hands through it countless times a day. A short, well-kept beard decorated his strong jaw, bracketing a set of soft pink lips that were curved in a devastating grin. His bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the fluorescent lights of the shop, and when he spoke to the family in front of you in line, his voice rumbled like the distant roar of the ocean.

Seeing Steve Rogers for the first time in over 15 years made something loosen in your chest, anxiety uncoiling from around your heart and shaking free for the first time in a long time. A sense of safety and comfort washed over you, and you had the sudden thought that this was how you were supposed to feel about coming home. 

But you shoved that thought aside and continued your perusal of your childhood best friend, making note of all the ways he’d changed from the boy you’d known.

Thick, golden biceps were bare and bulging beneath the edge of his white t-shirt, and dense, brown hair covered corded forearms as Steve folded his arms on top of the ice cream case. He was tall—tall enough to lean over the case to talk to the kids with the couple in front of you, asking them about their favorite ice cream flavors and if they’d like to try anything new.

The kids, a boy and a girl, both stared up at him with wide eyes, shyness and wonder clear in their twin expressions. They looked to their parents for permission before shyly revealing what flavors they’d like to try. Steve gave a deep, hearty chuckle at their timidness, and complimented them on their choices, which seemed to make them both loosen up a bit.

Inexplicable heat flushed through your body at the sound of Steve’s deep laughter, and the easiness with which he interacted with the kids. You’d never been particularly good with children, mainly because you’d never had much of a chance to interact with any, and you’d never felt any particular desire to be around them. But seeing Steve looking like he did talking to those kids made your belly swoop again and something inside you pulse with a need you didn’t want to fully unpack.

Shoving those thoughts into a box in the back corner of your mind, you forced yourself to look away from your childhood friend and up at the menu that listed all the ice cream flavors. You’d been to Seaside Scoops hundreds of times in your life, if not thousands, and, at one time, you’d had the list memorized. 

Hopefully you still had that knowledge tucked away somewhere in your brain, because you weren’t taking in anything you were reading as you not-so-patiently waited for Steve to finish up with the customers in front of you.

It felt like forever, and by the time the family took their cups and cones of ice cream toward the side door that opened up into an outdoor seating area, you’d already cycled through three rounds of the same argument with yourself about why you should leave Seaside Scoops without talking to Steve. You couldn’t imagine your first conversation in 15 years going well.

But you couldn’t leave without talking to him. Not when he was right there and it had been so long and you were dying to know everything that he’d done in the last 15 years since you saw him last. 

Still, it took you a few extra seconds to gather the courage to lower your eyes from the menu board and finally look at your childhood friend. When you did, your gaze caught immediately on Steve’s, and your heart gave a little flip at the devastatingly charming smile on his impossibly handsome face.

“Hey there, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, his tone as friendly and familiar as it had always been. All of a sudden, it felt like no time had passed at all. 

“Hi, Steve,” you said, trying for the same casualness he’d achieved, but your voice sounded faint and faraway in your ears. The corners of your mouth flickered in a tremulous smile.

You couldn’t understand the surge of emotion filling your chest and rising in your throat, pricking at the backs of your eyes like you wanted to throw yourself into your oldest friend’s arms and sob about everything wrong in your life. 

The same deluge of emotion had hit you when you’d stubbed your toe on your walk to Seaside Scoops and you’d had to stand there by yourself, sucking in deep breaths of salty Brambleberry Cove air, nails biting into the flesh of your palms to keep yourself from breaking down. 

Just as you’d done then, you beat back the emotion, blinking your eyes rapidly to rid them of tears. Still, a thought needled you as you stood across the counter from Steve—the knowledge that if you did let yourself break down and cry, he wouldn’t hesitate to fold you into that broad chest of his, wrapping you up in his thick arms and holding you so securely, the world might not seem so grim anymore. 

You chalked it up to nostalgia and the rough time you were having, forcing yourself to take a deep breath and paste on a bright smile. Casting your eyes around Seaside Scoops, you pretended to give the place a real look, though you didn’t really notice much as you continued to blink back tears. 

“You work here now?” you asked lightly, looking at the new standee in the corner.

It was a cartoon shark holding up a sign advertising Seaside Scoops and their many ice cream flavors. But what caught your eye was that it looked a bit like the shark Steve had drawn for you when you’d gotten a bad grade sophomore year and wanted to cheer you up. It even had the same little sailor hat sitting perched on top of his head—which only made sense because sharks didn’t have blowholes, he’d told you at the time.

You’d smiled then, and you smiled again remembering it.

“Uhh,” Steve started, and you turned tear-free eyes back on your old friend, your gaze drawn to the way his bicep bulged against the sleeve of his t-shirt as he scuffed the back of his neck. There was a little bit of a sheepish tinge to his smile. “I actually own Scoops now,” he said in a rush, like he was confessing to something, though you couldn’t imagine what. “I bought it when Mr. Wallace retired down to Florida.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say, glancing around the ice cream shop with a keener eye.

The shark standee wasn’t the only new thing in the place. Everything, from the tables and chairs to the menu board and counter, looked slightly newer than you remembered. Nothing was wildly different, which was why you hadn’t noticed it when you first looked around. Everything just looked better than it should if it had aged a decade since you’d last stepped into the shop.

Something about it made you think Seaside Scoops looked exactly like your memory of it—but the polished, perfect version in your head, instead of the place as it had been. Yellowed with age and a lack of upkeep. It was genuinely astounding what Steve had done with the place and it took you a few moments to find the right words, though they still felt pale in comparison to the bittersweet nostalgia in your heart.

“The place looks great,” you said with a half smile as you turned back to Steve. A small thread of pride wormed through your heart at seeing what your oldest friend had accomplished and your smile widened when he brightened under your praise. “I like the shark,” you said, hooking a thumb over your shoulder at the standee. 

A bit of pink tinted Steve’s cheeks above his beard, and he cleared his throat. 

“Is a dipped twist still your favorite?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject and your smile dimmed just a little. The Steve you’d known had been shy about showing his art to anyone but you, and it seemed that you’d been gone long enough to be lumped in with everyone else. 

You swallowed back a lump in your throat and nodded. “Yeah, that’s still my favorite,” you answered, more than a little surprised Steve remembered your order.

Sure, you’d gone to Seaside Scoops together countless times as kids. It had been your hangout spot for most of your childhood, and even into your teen years. You’d study together over a cup of cookie dough with sprinkles for Steve and a cone of vanilla and chocolate softserve dipped in chocolate sauce for you. But that was more than a decade ago.

Your heart gave a heavy squeeze when you remembered the night before you’d left Brambleberry Cove, the way Steve reminded you of the promise you’d made as children—that you’d always be friends. Your stomach twisted into knots as you were confronted with the reality that you hadn’t kept up your end of the deal. You’d left, and you’d allowed your oldest friend to become a stranger. 

You wondered if Steve remembered the promise you’d made, the reminder he’d given you as a parting gift, or if he’d forgotten. You wondered if he’d ever want to be friends again.

Steve’s back was to you, his wrist flicking expertly beneath the softserve machine as he filled up a sugar cone with the twist of chocolate and vanilla. You forced yourself to push aside the memories of the past, blinking back more tears before Steve could catch them in your eyes. 

You and Steve weren’t friends anymore, and you needed to accept that. It was unreasonable to hold him to a promise he’d made more than two decades ago, especially when you were the one who’d left and had barely tried to stay in touch between college classes and exploring your new city.

With a great amount of effort, you kept your mind blissfully blank as you let your gaze trail idly over Steve’s broad back, unable to stop yourself from noticing just how wide his shoulders were, or the way they moved beneath the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt. He really did fill out the shirt well, his sides tapering down to a thin waist. And his ass looked particularly good in the curve-hugging denim of his jeans. 

As Steve turned around, you raised your eyes quickly and arranged your expression into one of innocence. Steve paused, giving you a shrewd look like he would’ve done when you were teenagers and you were hiding something from him, but then he just shook his head and laughed under his breath, turning to the chocolate sauce where he’d dip your ice cream cone. 

“So, what brings you back to Brambleberry Cove, buttercup?” Steve asked, his gaze focusing on dipping your ice cream just right, a look of determination on his face that was endlessly endearing. 

You grimaced at the exact moment he glanced up at you, and he chuckled at the face you made. The sound was smooth as warm caramel and sent a new wave of heat rolling down your spine. 

“That bad, huh?” he asked, genuine interest in his tone.

Although there was a point in your life when you could’ve told Steve anything, and the urge to do so still lingered deep in your bones, you knew your relationship was different. You couldn’t dump all your problems on your childhood friend after not talking to him for 15 years. You didn’t even know if you were still friends anymore. 

Plus, there was a small crowd gathering behind you as the late dinner rush started to filter into Seaside Scoops. Even if you’d wanted to tell Steve everything that had happened to you in the 15 years since you’d last seen him, it wasn’t the time. 

So you just gave him a sad smile and accepted the ice cream cone from Steve’s hand, ignoring the butterflies and ticklish warmth that fluttered through your body at his touch. You gripped the sugar cone tight—but not too tight—so you didn’t fumble it. 

“Yeah,” you whispered in answer to his question, leaving it at that. There was an awkward beat, and your eyes dropped to the ice cream that was already beginning to melt despite the air conditioning in the shop. Thankfully, you had an easy way to move past Steve’s questions. 

You pulled some cash from the wristlet where you’d also stashed your phone and I.D., asking, “What do I owe you?” because you figured it must’ve been more expensive than what you remembered. And you didn’t want to risk looking up at the menu and catching Steve’s eye, not wanting any of the emotions or heat that seemed to flood you whenever you looked at him.

But a large, warm, golden hand closed over your fumbling fingers, startling you enough to look up into the sky blue eyes of your childhood friend. Your lips fell open in surprise as tingling warmth worked its way up your arm from your hand, wrapping around your heart and making it beat harder. 

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other. Steve really had grown up and changed so much, the evidence in the weathered grooves of his forehead and the lines between his brows, but his eyes still looked the same—soft as clouds, warm as the summer sun. 

“It’s on the house,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, the thrum of some emotion you couldn’t identify laced through his words. “It was nice to see an old friend,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze before he pulled his away.

It wasn’t until Steve straightened up to his full height that you realized he’d been leaning over the counter, and your faces had been very close together. Heat crept into your cheeks at the realization that Steve had been in your personal space, and all you’d thought about was his eyes. 

Shoving all the money in your hand into the tip jar, you muttered, “Thanks, Steve.” As you zipped up your wristlet, you noticed that some of your ice cream was in danger of dripping onto your hand.

Without thinking, you licked quickly around the edge of the sugar cone, a soft moan slipping free when the cool sweetness of the ice cream hit your brain.

Steve made a strangled sound that dragged your attention away from your treat, finding your childhood best friend looking away and coughing into his fist, a deeper pink flushing his cheeks. You quirked your eyebrow in confusion when he looked back at you, but his expression gave nothing away and you had to wonder if you’d imagined the noise. It had almost sounded…aroused.

Shaking that thought clear from your mind, you gave Steve a smile and began to step away from the counter so he could help the next customer.

Steve’s eyes lingered on you, and he offered you one last charming, friendly smile, raising his hand in a wave. “Don’t be a stranger, buttercup,” he rumbled, his low words managing to reach your ears over the chatter in the shop. He gave you a long look, emotion swirling in those familiar eyes of his, and your breath caught in your throat.

The intensity of his gaze and the warmth in his parting words hit you straight in the gut, and you stood stunned in front of the register while Steve turned and walked to the other end of the ice cream case to help the next people in line. 

For a long moment, you couldn’t get over the way Steve had been able to read your mind, to pluck the thought that you were strangers to each other out of your brain and then tell you he didn’t want that to be the case. Your mind raced with questions. Did he still think of you as friends? Did he remember the promise you’d made all those years ago to always be friends? How did he know the exact right thing to say? 

But then the rational side of your brain resurfaced from wherever your heart had momentarily buried it, and you remembered his farewell was a normal thing for people to say to each other. Especially people who hadn’t seen each other in a while and likely would again because they both lived in a very small town. That’s all it was, just a normal goodbye. 

Not Steve Rogers somehow reading your mind because he knew you so well. 

With those rationalities ringing in your head, you dashed out of Seaside Scoops and it wasn’t until your feet had carried you to the next block that you remembered your broken shoes and stubbed toe and chafed thighs. 

But those problems didn’t seem quite so bad anymore. Not with the delicious ice cream cone in your hand, and the sunset casting Brambleberry Cove in gorgeous, golden light—and especially not with Steve’s warm, honeyed voice ringing in your head, calling you buttercup. 

It had felt so normal to hear the nickname roll off Steve’s tongue that you hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t realized how long it had been since you’d last heard it. But, just as it had when you were younger, it filled your chest with a bright, golden warmth. You grinned to yourself as you strolled back to your little bungalow, licking up the melting ice cream as fast as you could.

Your mood was decidedly better, and you enjoyed the walk home, refusing to think too much about why exactly you felt lighter and happier and less miserable about being home in Brambleberry Cove than you had before going to Seaside Scoops. It was just the ice cream, obviously. There was no other reason.

“You’re staring.” Steve’s voice was low, the undercurrent of laughter in it almost mixing with the sounds of the distant waves. You could hear them through the open windows of his truck as he eased the vehicle down the winding road leading away from the docks on the north side of Brambleberry Cove. 

His comment dragged you out of your drunken haze, and you took a deep breath to get your bearings. Your lungs filled with the salty nighttime air of the sea and the earthy leather interior of your childhood best friend’s truck, a small smile curling the corners of your lips and your eyes sliding closed. When you forced them back open, you realized he was right.

Huh, you really were staring at Steve. 

Your head was swiveled to the side, your cheek pressed to the brown leather of the seat back, your eyes fixed on the profile of his face that was highlighted in the glossy silver of the moon and warmed by the golden light of the town’s street lamps. 

You couldn’t find it in yourself to feel embarrassed or ashamed for staring at Steve, though. And it was at that moment you realized you were drunk. 

It didn’t surprise you. After all, you were the one who’d thrown on some jean shorts and a cute top and then took yourself to Shanty’s, the only place in Brambleberry Cove to go if you were a local looking to avoid tourists. 

You’d been happy to see Bucky Barnes, your other oldest friend after Steve, manning the bar. But you’d been much less happy with him when he’d insisted on calling Steve to take you home after you’d downed more than your fair share of liquor. 

It was probably for the best, though. You were drunk and horny and if you weren’t careful, you would’ve gone home with Brock Rumlow. Just thinking about it made you grimace at yourself and your poor almost-decisions. 

Focusing back on Steve, you couldn’t fault Bucky too much for calling your old friend to pick you up—not when it had ended with you able to watch his side profile while he kept his eyes on the road. It felt practically shameful to indulge yourself so much. That is, if you’d had any shame left, but you’d drowned it all in alcohol.

“You’re still staring, buttercup,” Steve rumbled, the humor clearer in his tone. The edges of his mouth were flickering beneath the silvery golden light of Brambleberry Cove at night and you knew he was trying to suppress a smile. It was fascinating to watch, but then Steve rubbed his hand across his mouth, scrubbing through his beard, and it broke you free of your drunken trance.

“I just can’t get over how different you look,” you huffed, raising your arms and flopping them back against the seat in your best approximation of a shrug. “And how exactly the same.” 

Steve barked a laugh, the sharp sound bringing a smile instantly to your face. You’d never heard him laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but love that you were still discovering new things about him, even after knowing him all your life. 

He glanced over at you, his expression bemused like he was sure you were drunker than he’d thought. You probably were, but that didn’t stop you from being right, and you tried to convey that in the brief moment he looked at you. 

Steve’s gaze slid quickly down your body, not like he was checking you out—more like he was checking to make sure your seatbelt was still buckled and you weren’t in danger of doing anything ridiculous. You were only in danger of saying ridiculous things, at least, according to him apparently. He shook his head after he’d turned back to watching the road.

“You’re gonna have to explain that one to me, buttercup,” Steve said, a little bit of gruffness in his tone. He cleared his throat before he went on. “Usually when someone we went to high school with comes back, they tell me they never woulda recognized me.” 

You gave an unladylike snort, drawing another surprised laugh out of Steve before he bit off the sound to let you speak.

“Well those people should have their eyes checked,” you muttered scornfully, pushing yourself up from where you’d been slumped against the warm leather seat. You twisted your body in your seat so you were facing Steve, your eyes tracing the lines of his face from across the cab. “You still have the same eyes,” you pointed out vehemently, as if Steve was arguing with you, even though he wasn’t. “And your nose still has that little bump in it, and your lips are still so soft and full…”

You trailed off, realizing far too late that you were saying your inside thoughts out loud. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you watched Steve as he processed what you’d said—the way his fingers scratched a little nervously at his beard, those twin lines forming between his brows. Your gazed traced every curve and line and divot in his face, examining his expression, wanting to memorize it and save it for the rest of your life. 

“I don’t think any of those people noticed those things,” Steve murmured, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it over the slight breeze drifting through the windows while he drove through town. 

Your heart lurched at the implication of Steve’s words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take them back, even if they were dangerously close to revealing something you hadn’t even had the courage to admit to yourself yet. 

Instead, you focused on your anger at the hypothetical people who weren’t recognizing Steve just because he’d grown up, gotten tall, gotten buff, grown out his hair and his beard and looked altogether very different to the skinny teenager he’d been.

“If they didn’t see those things, they didn’t really see you,” you muttered to yourself, indignant on Steve’s behalf, but trying to keep it to yourself. Apparently, you weren’t good at moderating the volume of your voice, because Steve snorted at your remark. 

“No, no one ever saw me as well as you did, buttercup,” Steve said, his voice low and warm, and your heart promptly rioted in your chest. 

There was something so dizzyingly wonderful about hearing Steve say such intimate words to you in that deep, caramel voice of his, genuine affection shining through his tone. It took your breath away for a moment, and your brain short-circuited. 

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him…something. The thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself yet. But you were still you, and your brain tripped at the last moment, and instead you blurted, “Do you ever think about our first time?”

Steve choked on a snort, his eyes darting to you with honest surprise. You couldn’t blame him. You’d had no idea those words were gonna spill from your mouth until they were out, but you supposed they weren’t as bad as what you’d almost confessed, so you didn’t try to take them back or change the topic of conversation. You waited with bated breath for Steve’s response, and whether he remembered your night together when you were both 18.

When he saw you were anticipating his answer, he spluttered, “You mean when I came three seconds after getting inside you?” 

You began to smile, because he remembered, but then Steve continued talking.

“Y’know, I told Bucky about that once,” he said, his eyes fixed so fully on the road that you got the impression he didn’t want to meet your gaze and your stomach plummeted. “I was drunk, and didn’t know if it really counted as sex. Bucky was no help, of course—he said he didn’t know either since it was so quick.” 

Something new was swirling in your gut, and for long moments you could only sit there on the warm leather of the truck and stew in that hot, feral feeling. It must’ve showed on your face because, when Steve finally looked over at you after you’d been quiet for so long, the truck lurched forward, his foot pressing too hard to the gas.

“Don’t worry,” he rushed to say, guessing at what was upsetting you and guessing wrong. “I didn’t tell him it was with you.”

“Don’t you dare,” you snarled, the words bursting out of you with a ferocity you’d never used in your life, let alone when talking to Steve. But you were furious all of a sudden, and it wasn’t until the words were spilling from your mouth that you understood why you were so angry. “Don’t you dare try to take this away from me, Steven Grant Rogers.” Your voice was seething and barely recognizable, but you couldn’t stop. “You were my first, and it was perfect—because it was you.” 

Steve glanced over at you, something like shock written across his face, but when he looked back at the road, his brows settled low over his eyes. The muscle in his jaw popped and you knew he was grinding his teeth together, taking his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke. It took him a long moment to respond.

“You deserved better.”

The noise of your scoff was loud, even to your ears, and you strained against the seatbelt still buckling you into the passenger seat as you leaned toward your childhood friend.

“You ate me out until I came three times, Steve!” you cried, holding up three fingers as if the adult man your friend had grown into somehow didn’t know how many three was. “No man has ever made me come so many times in one night as you did then.” 

When Steve still didn’t look at you, just kept driving with his hands gripping the wheel and the muscle in his jaw popping, you huffed an exasperated sound and flopped back into your seat. Your back was to the leather as you crossed your arms over your chest and stared out at Brambleberry Cove through the open passenger side window. 

The silence grew until it was suffocating, and you needed to break it. So you said the first thing that came to mind. Again.

“You’re who I think about when I touch myself, Steve.” Your words drifted from your side of the truck to the other, carried on the light breeze floating through the cab. “I think about you and that night, and it gets me off every single time.”

Steve made a strangled kind of sound, like a growl that was torn free from his throat against his will. Then he was quiet, and he was quiet for so long, you thought that was the only reaction you’d get to admitting the truth. Until…

“I think about you, too, buttercup.”

The confession hung in the air between you, settling heavily onto the leather bench seat in Steve’s truck, the air rushing in through the open windows buffetting around it. 

You didn’t feel Steve’s admission sink into you. There was simply a before and an after. And in the after, you were moving. You were unbuckling your seatbelt and scooting across the seat toward Steve until your bare knee brushed against the denim of his jeans. 

He shot a startled look in your direction—which, in a distant part of your brain, you registered as completely adorable—before quickly pulling over to the side of the road. He was just throwing the truck into park when you slid into his lap, straddling his thighs and pressing your chest to his. 

“We should do it again,” you purred, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning close. When Steve didn’t respond right away, just kept giving you that surprised look, you thought he might not have understood you, so you explained, “Have sex.”

Steve closed his eyes and a light tremor shuddered through his body as his hands settled respectfully on your waist, a few of his fingers brushing the skin where the edge of your tank top didn’t quite meet the waist of your shorts. Then, it was your turn to shudder, the feeling of his warm, calloused hands against your bare skin making heat flood between your thighs, your core warming and your body melting into your old friend’s hands.

“Please, Steve,” you whispered, tipping your head forward until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his, so close you could taste mint chocolate chip ice cream on his tongue and it took everything in you not to lick into his mouth desperately. Your voice was practically a whine as you went on, “Let’s see if we can do better this time.” 

Steve’s hands shifted to your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to almost hurt, and you thought he was going to give in. But then he swallowed audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and he pushed you gently away, his head tilting back against the leather seat so your lips no longer teased him with an almost-kiss.

“You’re drunk, buttercup.”

Steve’s voice was a delicious rasp, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sound of it even as the meaning of his words settled into your drunken mind. You pouted at your childhood friend, hoping the fact that he hadn’t pushed you off his lap entirely meant he wasn’t saying no.

“And horny,” you said, the words slipping from your lips on another whine. Of their own volition, your hips squirmed on your oldest friend’s lap, trying to get closer, trying to find some kind of friction to work against the aching heat pulsing between your thighs. But Steve’s firm grip held you in place. “Stevie.” His name was nothing but a pathetic whimper. 

A low growl rumbled in Steve’s chest, and then one of his hands was abandoning your hip to cup your face, tilting it up so he could loom over you. The lines of his face were hard, stubborn, and the look in his eyes left no room for argument. 

“You know I won’t touch you when you’re drunk,” he bit out, his voice soft, but as firm as his hold on your body.

A memory slammed into you—you and Steve planning your first time together. You’d made a deal at the start of high school that if neither of you lost your virginity through all four years, then before going off to college, you’d lose it together. 

When the time came, you’d been a little nervous, even though it was Steve, and you’d joked that you could take some wine coolers to the beach and get it over with, just like all the other kids in your school. Even then, Steve had looked at you stubbornly, and said, without a shred of willingness to waver, that he wouldn’t touch you if you were drunk.

Back then, it had sent a shiver down your spine, and it had much the same effect more than a decade later in his truck. Your body trembled with arousal, and you pushed feebly against Steve’s hold—not really trying to break it, just enjoying the feeling that came from realizing how strong he was. Those biceps and corded forearms of his weren’t just for show.

“What about just the tip?” you murmured, the words tumbling past your lips before you could think better of them, knowing there was no use trying to argue with Steve when he’d made a decision. But you were clearly thinking with something other than your brain, because the words kept coming. “That’s not sex, just the tip—please, Steve.” You were begging shamelessly, but your shame and embarrassment were still nowhere to be found since you were still definitely drunk.

Steve’s jaw ticked so hard, you could’ve sworn you heard the muscle pop in the quiet of his truck as he ground his teeth together. 

“Buttercup,” he growled, a warning in his tone. “That’s not happening.”

Your fists gathered in the front of Steve’s t-shirt and you yanked on it restlessly, not trying to do anything more than annoy him. “Whyyy,” you whined, drawing out the word until it was nearly a wail. Unslaked heat burned in your blood and, while you knew why he was refusing to have sex with you, in the moment, you couldn’t understand why your oldest friend was torturing you.

Steve’s hand slid down from your cheek to wrap around the front of your throat, and you stilled immediately, something about the possessive, dominant gesture making you calm. That was new, Steve hadn’t done anything like that when you’d first been together, but you liked it more than you would’ve expected. Your lips were still parted, your panting breaths gusting out of them, your heart racing, and you were finally calm and quiet.

Your oldest friend’s eyes roamed over you, taking in your reaction. At first he seemed surprised, but then a glint of something you’d never seen before sparked to life in the depths of his blue eyes. You watched his gaze drop to your mouth, and nearly whimpered at the way the corner of his lips flickered in the ghost of a smirk. But then he fixed his gaze back on yours, pinning you in place with that stubborn look in his eye, though it was slightly dimmed in favor of that new, hungry glimmer. 

“I won’t fuck you only to wake up tomorrow and find out you regret it,” Steve said, enunciating all his words clearly despite the fact that his teeth were grinding together “That you only wanted it because you needed to scratch an itch.” 

Your lungs dragged in a soundless gasp and you finally understood his reticence, even if you couldn’t imagine ever regretting doing anything with Steve. But when you opened your mouth to protest, Steve’s fingers squeezed the sides of your throat. 

Your words died on your tongue, and your mouth went slack, your eyes going hazy with pleasure. You couldn’t have been more obvious that you liked the way Steve choked you if you tried. And he read your enjoyment easily from the expression on your face, that look of hunger sparking brighter in Steve’s eyes before he went on.

“When I fuck you again,” he growled, his words a promise. “I don’t want you drunk on anything but my cock.”

“Stevie,” you whined his nickname again, the name only you were allowed to call him, your lips forming into a pout. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he’d said ‘when’, and not ‘if’, about having sex with you again, but you didn’t want to push your luck. And besides, unslaked need was still burning brightly through your body, consuming most of your focus. “I need…something, please.” You let out a little whimper and squirmed in his lap again, unable to stop yourself.

Steve huffed a laugh, his thumb stroking down the side of your neck, over your thrumming pulsepoint, while the fingers of his other hand slipped half an inch into the waist of your shorts, only far enough to dig harder into your soft curves.  

“I’m not going to touch you more than this, buttercup,” Steve began, his voice a low, delicious rumble that you swore you could feel in the clenching of your core. “But I didn’t say anything about stopping you from touching yourself.”

Your eyes widened in excitement, and you wasted no time in acting on the implication in Steve’s words. Holding his gaze, one of your hands slipped free from his shirt and trailed down your body. When you reached between your thighs, the backs of your fingers brushed against a thick bulge in the front of Steve’s jeans. 

It twitched against your soft touch, and you gasped in delight, loving the proof that Steve’s body recognized you just as much as his mind.

But when you twisted your hand, intent on giving Steve’s bulge a friendly squeeze, his hand darted down from your hips to your wrist, his fingers circling around you and stilling your hand. “Buttercup,” he rumbled, another warning. 

A shiver raced down your spine and you reveled in the way it made you feel to hear Steve say your nickname like that. It occurred to you that it was new—you’d never heard him say it quite like that before, with frustration and arousal flooding his tone. 

You wanted to hear every flavor of your nickname on Steve’s tongue. You wanted to hear him whisper it like a prayer, and groan it into your lips while he kissed you. You wanted to hear Steve shout your nickname while he came with you. 

But the look in Steve’s eyes was stubborn again, and you knew you’d have to wait to hear all the ways he could say your nickname. 

“OK, Steve, ‘m sorry,” you mumbled, twisting your hand in his hold and pressing the tips of your fingers to the seam of your shorts, your hips jerking forward to seek more of the friction you offered yourself. 

Steve’s hold loosened, but he didn’t let go of you entirely, like he didn’t trust you just yet. But you didn’t care, your fingers were pressing into your clit through the thin denim of your shorts, and you were rocking your hips to grind against them, your wetness soaking through your panties almost immediately.

The moment when your fingers found just the right spot, you sucked in a sharp breath, your spine arching and your hips pressing down hard against your hand. Your head tipped back, your eyes narrowing into slits as you held Steve’s gaze. You moaned while you rubbed tight circles against your clit through your shorts.

“I’m going to come embarrassingly fast,” you huffed in warning, your chest heaving already with labored breaths. 

But Steve only smirked, a touch of smugness in the curve of his lips.

“Don’t worry, buttercup, I remember exactly how sensitive your sweet little clit is,” he rumbled, and you moaned loudly. His fingers flexed against your throat, digging in enough to quiet your sounds and making your eyes widen as your hips lurched in their rhythm. He chuckled at your reaction before continuing on.

“I remember sucking on your puffy little pearl, your thighs squeezing my head, my fingers buried deep in your tight, warm hole,” Steve purred, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to drive your pleasure higher. “I remember the exact way your pussy gripped my fingers when you came, like you wanted me deeper—deep enough that you could feel me in your belly.” 

“God, Steve,” you groaned, your head falling back listlessly on your shoulders, too heavy to keep it up. But Steve’s fingers dug into the back of your neck, and you understood the wordless command immediately. You lifted your head and caught your oldest friend’s eye while you kept rubbing your clit, pushing yourself closer to coming apart in his lap. 

“I remember how big your cock felt inside me,” you confessed, spurred on by Steve’s own filthy words. “I remember how long it took for you to sink your thick, fat cock into my tight pussy.” You paused only to take a quick, hitching breath. “I was already so close when you came, and I remember, I thought, maybe if you hadn’t been wearing a condom, maybe I would’ve come, too.” 

The lines of Steve’s face shifted, hardening, his jaw ticking wildly and his eyes going molten fierce, like the blue at the center a campfire that burns too hot to sit near. 

“Don’t fucking say that, buttercup,” Steve growled, his voice gravelly like he was chewing on seashells. “If I hadn’t been wearing a condom, I would’ve come so much faster—I never woulda made it all the way inside you. Woulda been coming with just my tip inside your warm, wet pussy, baby—woulda been too risky, buttercup.” 

Your eyes wanted to fall closed as you moaned, but you didn’t let them. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Steve, not with that furious and ferocious hunger in his eyes, his desire for you etched into every single line and curve of his face. 

You were so close. You just needed a little more to push you over the edge.

“Fuck, Steve, I know I shouldn’t, but I love the thought of you coming inside me, filling me up, making me yours,” you confessed, the words bubbling up from the very depths of your soul. It was on the tip of your tongue again, that thing you hadn’t admitted to yourself. Instead of letting it free, you moaned, long and loud, your fingers rubbing faster against your clit and your hips grinding against your hand. 

“Christ, baby,” Steve gritted through tightly clenched teeth. His fingers were digging into your hip again, diving further beneath the waist of your shorts, nearly skimming the edge of your panties. His other hand tightened around your throat and dragged you into him, until your face was right in front of his and he could watch every twitch and change in your expression as you pleasured yourself. 

“Come on, baby,” he said, his voice urgent with need. “Come before I do something we’ll both regret.” 

The hand that wasn’t wedged between your thighs pressed to the center of Steve’s chest, just above his heart, and a moment later, you felt his warm palm cover it. He was still holding your throat, his fingers digging into the sides hard enough that you knew he could feel your fluttering pulse beneath his touch. And you could feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, the rapid pace nearly matching the frantic one in your chest.

“Come, buttercup, come for me,” Steve commanded, his eyes holding yours. For a moment, it felt like he could see straight into your soul. It was a scorching intimacy you hadn’t felt since that night you’d first been with Steve, and you were helpless to it.

“Stevie,” you cried his name as your pleasure rose up and consumed you, sending you over the edge into a earth-quaking orgasm. Your body writhed in Steve’s lap, your hips grinding gracelessly against your hand as you collapsed forward, leaning into the grip of his hand around your throat. You sobbed your pleasure, the waves of your release wracking your body for long moments.

Eventually, the final swell ebbed and the last of your energy receded with it. Your damp forehead fell against Steve’s cool, dry one and you struggled to catch your breath. His hand slipped from the front of your throat around to the back of your neck and he smoothed it down your spine. 

He held you close, whispering in your ear, “Such a good girl, buttercup, you did so good.”

Once you finally settled, Steve shifted, his beard grazing your lips as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Can I take you home now?” he asked.

You huffed a laugh and slumped against his chest, laying your head sleepily on his shoulder. “I don’t think I can move yet,” you said, slurring your words with tiredness. And drunkenness.

Steve chuckled, but made no attempt to move you. You only felt him lifting his arms around you, though his hands didn’t settle on your body. 

“If you see Sam while you’re back in town, don’t tell him I did this,” Steve murmured in your ear. Then you felt the truck rumbling to life and getting back onto the road and you realized where your oldest friend’s hands were. He was driving you home, with you still sitting boneless in his lap.

When Steve arrived at your rental house, not too long after, he helped you down from his truck and looped an arm around your waist, getting you into the bungalow. Thankfully, you were sated from your release in his truck so you didn’t try to proposition him again, just dutifully did as he said, changing into your pajamas in your bedroom while he waited outside the closed door. 

Then he let you lean against his broad chest while you brushed your teeth and washed your face, before guiding you back to your room and tucking you into bed. Last, he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that was so comforting, and made you feel so safe, your eyes fluttered closed and a soft smile curled your lips.

Before he could leave, your hand darted out and grabbed Steve’s wrist with surprising precision given your state and the fact that your eyes were closed. You dragged them open again, blinking away the bleariness until your childhood friend’s face came into focus. 

“I don’t regret anything we’ve done together, Stevie,” you mumbled, the side of your mouth hitching up in a lopsided smile. “I’m glad you were my first.” You lost the battle with your eyes and they fell closed. You also, apparently, lost the fight against biting back your feelings, murmuring sleepily, “I want you to be my last.”  

For a long moment, Steve was quiet. He seemed to wait until you were just on the edge of sleep before responding to your drunken confession. 

“Tell me that again when you’re not drunk, and I’ll believe you, buttercup,” Steve murmured, ducking down to press a kiss to your hand, still wrapped loosely around his wrist, before carefully extricating himself. 

You were snoring before Steve closed and locked the front door of your bungalow behind him. He walked down the short path to his truck, which sat at the curb, a subtle smile on his lips and a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

[ms0milk]

Firstly~ just discovered you and LOVE your writing! <3 Your Hc’s about stealing the haori and King Kyō and the panic attack are *chef’s kiss* Secondly! as a black fem who’s obsessed with her hair (and Kyō’s hair does things to me ; w; )would you ever please consider doing an Hc or story about Kyō x reader and/or other hashira positively interacting with the reader’s curly hair? ^//////////^ fluff or smut it doesn’t matter~ hair worship and love are everything! Tysvm and I hope to read more of your work soon! <3

thank you so much!!! and huuuuuuUUUUNIE you know i fantasize about these beautiful folks taking care of me and my natural hair too, especially mr. golden boy himself — pls enjoy <3

s/o with natural hair

| ft. rengoku, mitsuri, tengen, sanemi, shinobu

Rengoku

I honestly think someone with natural hair would be a perfect match for Kyo, since a large part of his identity is being boisterous, especially how he stands out with his loud, fiery mane

when he meets you, your hair is obviously one of the first things he notices and he comments on it LOUDLY

“I’ve never seen hair curl in such a way as to defy gravity!”

the other pillars nod in agreement and carry on, except for Tengen who just sits back and smirks at the attention Rengoku gives you for the rest of the day ;)

if you ever feel insecure, he has plenty of his own hair stories to share with you since he often stands out for a similar reason

“did you know that the mothers of the Rengoku family stare at a lit torch for three hours every day while pregnant? that’s why my family’s hair all looks like this!”

um

i did not know that, no.

maybe you can get out of that

when it comes to taking care of your hair though

uuuuh

Rengoku is at least ready to learn

“I have to wash my hair today Kyo, you should probably run errands without me”

“nonsense! I’d much rather go with you, I can wait, it’s no trouble. How long will you be?”

o-o

ten minutes later you’re both in the shower because he insisted his help would speed things up

he’s a little rough the first few times he helps part, but once you stress how important it is to be gentle, it almost brings you to tears how focused and happy he is while detangling

he wants you to feel beautiful and above all else, for every part of you to be healthy. hair included

Kyo has a deep respect for the skill that goes into caring for your hair properly

you’ve put countless hours (months, years!) into practicing this skill, just like any swordman and their technique

so prepare for him to brag about all the unseen hard work you put into a specific style when the other hashira compliment you

500/10 haircare boyfriend

Mitsuri

maybe contrary to popular belief, this girl loves your hair so so so much, but cannot be trusted to help you take care of it

she just gets too excited

“mitsuri which style is better? this one or–”

“EEEEK!”

she’s on the floor

“roji, look how long my–”

“GORGEOUS Y/N”

it always makes you blush but doesn’t exactly save time

she also does not have the gentlest hands

inhuman strength and all

so she may not help on wash day

but she’s a great cheerleader, no matter how long it takes she likes to lounge in the bath with you

mitsuri does excel in two specific departments

1) decoration

she loves tying ribbons in your hair so you two can match

and she loves decorating your styles with beautiful pins, so you twinkle and jingle like a geisha

the hair products she buys you smell like she robbed them from heaven

2) protection

she’s on Y/n hair guard 24 hours a day 7 days a week

never forgets an umbrella in case you get caught in the rain

she will throw her literal body underneath of you to keep your hair from getting messed up

you’re too cute for that, no way

tengen's priorities are wives, civilians, himself

mitsuri’s priorities are y/n, y/n’s hair, herself, the mission, lunch, both your outfits, teammates

100/10 enthusiasm

Tengen

words almost cannot describe how perfectly this man treats your hair

like

he just thinks you're so fucking flamboyant and loves you so much

tengen will sit in the bathroom with you after a mission and wash your hair for you

how does he know to pre-poo??

he doesn’t pull your hair a single time and he’s somehow already conditioning it in eight even sections?? it’s been ten minutes??

the scalp massage alone is orgasmic

you look at him sideways for a few days after that first time, bc this man must be the biggest slut you’ve ever met

and a skincare routine??

truly run through

besides his finger detangling skills, what he really loves to do is style

he’s got golden hair pins, lengths of ribbon, beads, jewels

he can part, smooth, twist, plait, shingle, braid–

– is that a crochet needle??

watching his large hands do such nimble work is just a reminder of how much he loves you

if your hair is long enough, he makes sure to braid it back before a mission so that it doesn’t get in the way during an important fight

or get cut, literally god forbid. he would go on a rampage

your bed sheets and pillows are all silk

tengen and the wives all want to sleep near you because the smell of your hair is so sweet and soothing

you make the house 10x more flashy by just being in it, and the other hashira are always in awe of your elaborate bejewled styles, tengen’s ego almost can’t handle it

1000/10 can do my hair better than my stylist

Sanemi

literally doesn’t even bat an eye the first time you meet

curly hair? big deal. inosuke wears a pig on his head

but i mean

have you seen his hair..?

i’m pretty sure he just wakes up and jumps out the window to start his day

but he loves you so

the first time he registers the significance of your hair is when he’s impatiently waiting for cuddles for you to get out of the shower

“what’s taking you so long dumbass? get in bed! if you’re mad at me for something, making me sleep alone isn’t gonna weasel an apology–”

“sanemi jesus christ, i’m not finished washing my hair!”

“you’ve been in there thirty minutes already! wasting all my goodman water– how the fuck lo–”

“long, sanemi. this will take a long time. go to sleep, give me some peace”

sanemi is determined to know how you’re so bad at washing the hair you’ve had all your life, that it could possibly take hours to do

fucking amature

he’ll show you

wait–

huh.

when he storms into the bathroom you’re squatting on the stool beside the tub, surrounded by potions and clips

this…this is not usually what washing hair looks like

“move over!” he grumbles when finds his bearings

usually you just laugh off any extra aggression from him; he would never hurt you

nonconsensually

but this time! lives are at stake

“sanemi no.”

you’re not usually so serious with him, so he settles down next to you quietly. grumpily. but still refusing to give up

“if you want to help, then you have to do what i say.”

the next few, sleepy hours, are some of the sweetest in your relationship so far

he’s not the most skilled hairdresser, but he takes this new job so seriously

he slowly detangles from tip to root

c’mon nemi maybe not that slowly, it’s fucking late

smooths your hair shaft down with cold water so the twists aren’t frizzy

and the whole time he’s fuming

but seeing the attention he’s giving each strand, and how delicate he’s being despite his raging frustration, sets your loins heart alight

you’ve never seen him so quiet and still

he’s not big on creative styling, but he’s determined to get the basics down

he offers to shave your head every time he gets frustrated with a tangle

like mitsuri, this man will fight a puddle if it means keeping both your hard work safe

(he helps you every single wash day now)

and in moments of still

when he wakes up before you

when you’re distracted with work

any time he comes up behind you

he begins to admire your little curls more and more because of how carefully you love them

so he loves you a little more carefully too

250/10 a little confused but he’s got the spirit

Shinobu

much like kyojuro, she seriously respects the dedication it takes to not only keep your hair healthy but keep it looking so beautiful!

she sees how much time you put into taking care of you hair, and because she loves you she wants to help any way she can

she’s not big on hands on care; she’s worried she might hurt you or worse, damage your hair

but she’s a scientist!

an inventor!

and she’s gonna make the Taisho era your personal beauty supply store

she makes every single product you use, determined to give you only the best

how’d she silk press your hair in 1905??

you have a colorful array of silk scarves and bonnets because this girl runs a high-fashion butterfly mansion

did someone say wisteria-infused hair care??

smells good all day, and is deadly in battle!

one of her proudest inventions

“if a demon touches your hair in combat, their epidermis will be affected by a low-level poison!”

“ko, you made my leave-in poison?!”

“only for demons honey”

you’re not sure how she did it, but for some reason you attract butterflies when you’re out and about now

“what– what the fuck– ko!”

she races outside when you call from the garden, worried your hurt, but you’re just standing deadly still while three butterflies flit around your head

you’re in awe

are you magical?

you never figure out her secret

your hair has literally never been so soft

it’s growing like crazy, your protective styles can’t keep up

Kocho may not be hands on when it comes to washing, but you can always rely on her for a trim

she’ll sit you on the floor and trim your hair section by section

your curls always bounce back so well when she’s finished, you’re amazed how she takes off the perfect amount of length!

it is literally the most stressful event on her calendar every month

^^^she refuses to admit it’s a challenge for her

she practices on the girls before ever taking a pair of scissors near your head

Aoi had fucking crazy bangs for a few weeks when you first moved in and you never really thought much about it

650/10 you feel like a lab rat sometimes but you know you’re being pampered

[ramzawrites]

Can I request a scenario of SMP members meeting reader who is a Warden hybrid? (I know the caves and cliffs update has yet to come but I like the Warden and I think they need more love.)

Warden!Reader meets the SMP

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Fundy, Ranboo, Philza, Niki, (mentioned) Tommy, (mentioned) Tubbo, (mentioned) Dream

Warnings: N/A

Series: A drabble request :)

Summary: Fundy and Ranboo wanted to do some mining together, maybe even make it a competition, in a new cave that Fundy found only to meet a new person.

Word count: 2578

Authors Note: My ADHD kinda went wild at the end so this might seem a bit more disconnected and rushed and I apologize for that. I also hope you are happy with this, you may always give me feedback or tell me if I got it wrong :] I might get back to this someday to write something more involved but college is kicking my ass :|

„I swear to you no one has been here yet. It should be full with resources!” Fundy rambled as he checked his equipment out one last time. His trusty netherite pickaxe resting on his shoulder.

Ranboo was holding onto his pickaxe with both of his hands. His body language screamed nervous but his expression was that of doubt.

“This isn’t too far out from L’Manberg. I bet they already mined it dry also if you have been here already how can I be sure you haven’t scouted out the best place yet?”

Fundy just rolled his eyes and continued to walk inside the cave that seemed to be surprisingly big and led further down into the depths “I have not. Besides you’ll be mining right next to me so you can basically check up on me. The wager still stands?”

The Endermen Hybrid sighed “Yes, sure. Let’s just get this over with. I won last time anyhow so let’s just do it.”

For some reason Fundy approached Ranboo again for another mining competition. Was it revenge for last time? Who knew. Ranboo just knew he didn’t have anything better to do and hey, he might find some diamonds or other useful minerals.

As they walked deeper into the cave Ranboo soon noticed the rather weird fauna covering the floor, walls and ceiling. When he checked for a reaction from Fundy he too seemed enamored with the plants. If anything this was probably proof that he was indeed never inside here.

Fundy opened up his backpack and got a torch out which begun burning with a fast flick of his flint and steel. While both had semi good eyes when it came to the dark due to their hybrid side they were still surprised when they saw everything in a better light.

There were especially a lot of vines snaking around the walls that carried some sort of orange fruit.

“I have never seen anything like this” Ranboo mumbled in awe “Well, I think”

Fundy nodded “Mhm, me neither. This is amazing!”

As he yelled that out both heard a rustling coming from behind them. Before they could react properly Fundy was crying out and flew through their landing a few feet further into the cave.

“Fundy!” Ranboo yelled out surprised. He ran over to his friend and got his sword out. What in the world was that?

The fox Hybrid was coughing and clambering for breath, his eyes wide in shock from whatever just hit him. Not sure what to do in this situation Ranboo put one of his hands on his back as a sign that he had his back but still positioned himself with the sword in front of Fundy. That’s when he finally saw what hit him and threw him through the air.

It was a person. A hybrid by the looks of it.

They were standing in front of him, tense and ready to jump in for another attack. Their eyes were directed towards the ground. White orbs that seemed to look unfocused. On their head were beautiful greenish antlers that wove around in on themselves. It reminded Ranboo of twigs bound together while moss was growing on it. These antlers were more or less directed towards them.

Scared that this might be the sign for another attack Ranboo yelled out a soft “I’m sorry! I have no idea what we did but we are sorry!”

For some reason this seemed to work. The person seemed to be still in their attack mode but their shoulders relaxed a little bit “Then go. This is my home. Leave.”

“Oh my god you are a Warden Hybrid.” Fundy suddenly rasped out.

“A what?”

“You know of us?”

Fundy nodded and got back up, he was still a bit taken aback from the punch against his back “I only heard and read a bit about Wardens. They are strong, blind creatures that detect vibrations via their antlers. It’s said that Wardens are so strong they could kill a human in full netherite armor with just two punches at best. Now, I can see that you are blind, have antlers and you are certainly strong. I’ll give you that.”

The Warden Hybrid looked conflicted. They put their arms back down but looked still tense “Yes, that’s pretty much it. So, if you weren’t here for finding more about Wardens or even hunt us? What are you doing in my cave?”

This surprised Ranboo. They were still very wary of the two but they also seemed to be curious. Maybe it was just nature or they didn’t get the chance to talk to other people much and now used their chance. Whatever it was, Ranboo was glad for it. He didn’t look forward to being flung through the air like Fundy if he could avoid it.

“Uh” Ranbo nervously scratched the back of his head “We wanted to go mine and make it a competition. Didn’t know someone was living here which is surprising since this cave is actually pretty close to our main city.”

The stranger perked up at that “A city? With more of you?”

The two nodded in response only to realize that the Warden couldn’t see it so Fundy spoke up “Yeah. Do you- Do you wanna see, uh, visit it? We could introduce you to more people.”

They looked unsure but slowly nodded “Only if you promise me that if everything is too much for me, since I haven’t talked to people a lot, you will lead me back here.”

Ranboo let out a deep sigh. For some reason he was scared of their reaction “As a fellow socially awkward Hybrid I promise you we will do that.”

“You are a Hybrid?” They sounded so surprised, almost shocked at that.

That reminded him “Oh, yes. I guess we should properly introduce ourselves. I’m Ranboo, an Enderman Hybrid and my friend whom you punched is Fundy, a Fox Hybrid.”

“My name is Y/N” they introduced themself. “And I’m sorry for punching you. I just thought you were here to kill me.”

While Fundy was frowning, obviously not happy with this he sighed “Yeah, it’s alright. I understand.”

Together the group walked out the cave. Both Fundy and Ranboo had to get used to the light while Y/N was curiously spinning around, probably looking out for any vibrations their antlers picked up on.

It was actually surprising how difficult it was to lead Y/N back to the city. They would always get distracted by anything that moved or made sounds around them. It didn’t help that both were lowkey absolutely terrified of them.

Every now and again Fundy would rub his back. Honestly if there wasn’t a huge bruise that would be the most surprising thing about this situation.

At some point they finally reached L’Manberg and it seemed as busy as usual. Meaning it was a calm day with a few people around. Most just spent their time on their own somewhere outside the city dealing with their own projects.

The first person they came across was Niki who was busy carrying a few packets of seeds in her arms. As soon as she saw the two Hybrids she came walking over with a big smile and a wave.

“Oh! Hey guys! Who is that?”

Y/N tensed up as soon as they could tell that someone was running over to them and refused to move.

“Hey, Niki. We wanted to go mining but met Y/N here. We are showing them the city and wanted to introduce them to the people here.” Fundy explained.

Niki nodded, taking the information in “Well, it’s nice to meet you Y/N. My name is Niki. If the two are too troublesome you can always come to me for help. Also I’m sorry if this comes off as rude but I really love your antlers. They look really pretty. Can I ask what kind of Hybrid you are?”

“They do?” Y/N blurted out. An embarrassed blush appeared on their face “Oh, uh, I’m a Warden Hybid.”

Niki didn’t know what a Warden was so Ranboo gave her a short rundown, including mentioning how Y/N just threw Fundy through the air as if it was nothing. Not that he really saw it besides the flying part.

“That sounds amazing!” Niki marveled. Fundy gasped in anger at that.

Niki readjusted the seeds she was holding on to “Okay, I have to go since Puffy is waiting for me but I hope you have a good day here Y/N. I think Phil is in the middle of the city right now working on his house if you guys want to see him. Actually got these seeds from him!”

Everyone said their goodbyes and watched as Niki continued walking. A bit worried Ranboo took a good look at how Y/N was doing. While they looked nervous they still had a smile on their face. He assumed they were having fun.

“You good? Want to meet Phil? He is my grandfather, actually. He is usually a nice dude.”

Y/N massaged their own hands “Yes, this is good. I mean yeah, uh, yes. I’m nervous but I’m enjoying it.”

Fundy gave them one more look over before they continued walking, leading them into the heart of the city and indeed Phil was walking around his house deep in thought. Probably thinking about on how to improve his little abode.

“Grandpa!” Fundy yelled out happily which made Y/N flinch for a second.

Philza swiveled around only to stare at the group in shock “Oh my god.”

“We met someone new!” Fundy explained excitedly.

“Yeah, I can see that!” he yelled out.

Y/N wasn’t sure if that was good thing or not. This Philza seemed certainly surprised but they didn’t know if that was a good surprised or a bad, though if that was Fundy’s grandpa they were inclined to believe it was a good sign. They only held onto to this belief because otherwise they would be too scared to do anything.

Philza cautiously eyed Y/N “Who is that?”

For some reason Fundy seemed so proud of himself “This is Y/N and they are a Warden Hybrid.”

“Yeah, I know that! I’m just surprised that they are following you two so willingly. Wardens are usually wary if not downright hostile to other people! What did you guys do?” honestly Philza sounded more offended that Fundy dared to think he didn’t know what a Warden was. Which was fair to be honest. If anyone here knows anything about Wardens it’s probably Philza.

He didn’t wait for an answer from the two troublemaker but instead turned to Y/N “I’m really sorry if the two roped you into this. I’m Philza, by the way.”

Surprised Y/N shook their head and used their hands as well to gesticulate that they were alright “No, no, everything is alright. They offered to introduce me to some people. I don’t get the chance to talk to people often so I agreed.”

This seemed to calm Philza down and his worried expression got exchanged by that of awe “Wow. I have never seen a Warden Hybrid. I wonder what traits you have inherited.”

“Oh! They are strong!” Ranboo suddenly interjected. Fundy seemingly was still not over being flung around since he was glaring at Ranboo once he said that. To be fair he wouldn’t stop bringing it up to everyone.

Philza laughed “I feel like there is a story to it.”

“It was my fault. He scared me and I overreacted.” Y/N begun explaining what happened and how they now ended up here in the city talking to Phil. He seemed understanding but still lectured the others for being not cautious enough.

He asked a few more questions, mostly to make sure Y/N was doing alright and felt comfortable but after they sufficiently calmed him down he decided to continue with his project and leave you guys be.

Both Fundy and Ranboo showed Y/N around a bit in hopes of meeting other people but it seemed the city was empty. Apparently Tubbo was off doing something somewhere and when Ranboo offered to venture out to find them Y/N said that they were feeling a tiny bit overwhelmed and would prefer to go back to their little cave.

Ranboo didn’t hesitate and help them find their home again, Y/N even showed him the hidden little nook they were living in as thanks. It had a bed and a ton of little things and baubles they apparently made themself with the weird plants and vines of the cave. Even offered Ranboo to eat one of the weird orange fruits that hung off of the vines. It tasted a bit weird but good nonetheless. It was certainly different and Ranboo wasn’t sure if that is something he would eat a lot. Y/N seemed to enjoy it a lot though which he made sure to write down in his little memory book.

The next day Ranboo and Fundy met up again to look for Y/N. They would hang out with them for a bit but leave them alone after a short while.

This would become their routine for a while. Always checking in on Y/N at least once a day even just for a few minutes. Bringing them things that they think could be interesting for them and now and then Y/N would ask to visit the city again.

Over time the rest of the SMP learned of them as well. Most were surprised and baffled when they met them. A lot haven’t heard of Wardens and the few people that have like Philza, Dream, Fundy and Techno showed a healthy amount of respect towards them. Especially after hearing of their strength.

For quite some time whenever Y/N came to visit, which would happen more frequently and at points on their own accord, Dream would hang around them. Keeping his eyes on them. They didn’t know what to make of that but seeing as he owned these lands they felt not comfortable with telling him off for it. He tried to sneak around but Y/N’s antlers would pick it up most of the time.

Tommy loved to hang out with Y/N. He was absolutely amazed by their ability to sense almost everything around them as well as being amazed by their strength. Just to test this he asked them once to have a bit of a competition of how far the two could throw different things. It was no real competition. Y/N won easily.

Tubbo usually watched and joked with them and while he too was amazed with their abilities he was a bit more reserved, though once the shenanigans started he was very much involved with everything.

In the end they became so involved with everyone in some way that they offered them to build a home for themself in the city. Y/N didn’t immediately jump on that idea though it took them a few days before they agreed to build a house in L’Manberg. They did point out though they will probably still spent more time in their cave. Nonetheless a lot of people came together to help me them set up their own home.

It confused Y/N a bit at first that so many would come together for them. It made them feel good though and even safe. Maybe living inside of L’Manberg wouldn’t be so bad if the others are around.

[saphirered]

Heyo! Saw you wanted some individual character requests! I'm a sucker for Grog, and there isn't enough out there for him, so I was wondering if you could do a Grog x Sorceress!reader where the reader doesn't think grog would have a reason to like her since she isn't a melee fighter. Thank you so much!

P.s. Your writing is amazing, and I always love reading your works! ❤️

Thank you for the request! I'm glad you like my writing and hope you enjoy this one! Turned out a bit longer than I intended but that means more content. Anyway, Enjoy! 😘

Seated on the stone balustrade feet dangling over the edge looking over the city in front of you you twiddle your thumbs. You needed a moment away from everyone to sort your mind on your own. There’s a solitude in the dark clouds looming above and the first drops of rain signalling an oncoming storm and it’s never failed you before. Even while there’s no one around, you can confide in such storms knowing your words will be heard but carried away upon the wind and drowned out by the rain and thunder. A good storm won’t judge or hold a grudge. It will simply accept and listen. So here you’ll stay speaking your worries into the abyss and hope for some clarity or ease of mind and heart.

Back inside Grog sits on one side of the table, Scanlan at the other. They hold their respective tankards at the ready as the gnome counts down. By the end of the countdown they swing back their drinks finishing them as fast as they can being cheered on by the rest of Vox Machina and other witnesses to this drinking game. Grog’s determined to win this. While he’s pretty sure his tankard is actually a bucket with a handle, it’s more to scale compared to the gnome’s. Ale spills over the sides of Scanlan’s drink but Grog keeps it neat. No wasting ale after all.

With one last big chug Grog finishes the drink, slams it down on the table roaring in victory as the table shakes beneath his hit. Scanlan puts the remainder of his drink down on the table wiping his face disappointed. Grog looks around the crowd. Some are happy celebrating with him, others pass over money to the happy people for paying up on whatever amount they lost in their bets. How could they even consider Scanlan would win. He’s the best of the best after all and no one can out drink the all mighty Grog. He doesn’t spot you among the crowd and the victory doesn’t feel as sweet anymore. He really hoped you could have seen this one. Where had you gone?

Before Grog can get up and go find you he’s given a refill and the next challenger approaches. New bets are placed, Vex massages his shoulders giving him a pep talk and noting how he’s been making her a lot of money so better keep it up. He doesn’t want to disappoint his friends. One more game. Then he’ll go find you wherever you went.

The next game comes along, and another, and another but he’s done. No more games. When another challenger approaches and the game starts he doesn’t pick up the tankard and pushes away from the table. People ask him what the hell he’s doing but he ignores them. They’ve kept him long enough so he just up and walks before they can stop him. Grog leaves the room but Pike follows behind him worried for her buddy. He never refuses a good ale or a challenge, let alone the two combined.

“Grog? Grog, wait up!” Pike rushes after him leaving the banquet hall behind. Determined Grog still keeps walking but slows down his pace enough to let Pike catch up with him.

“Where are you going? There’s still plenty of ale to be drunk!” Pike reaches for the goliath’s hand to pull him to a stop. He does and turns to face Pike.

“I think I’ve had enough.” Grog says and Pike gasps. Never, never does Grog think he’s had enough to drink. Something must be wrong with him. Is he ill? Does he have a fever? Did someone poison her buddy’s drink? She might go on a war path if someone did and ruined his fun! But Grog seems okay. Physically that is. He’s fine.

“Do you know where she went?” Grog asks, maybe Pike can help him find you and maybe she can talk to you why you left. He doesn’t think you’d want to talk to him about that kind of stuff and while he’d consider himself a good listener, if something’s really up Pike always knows what to do. She can help.

“Who?”

“The pretty sorceress.” Grog states as a matter of fact and it is. Anyone who dares say otherwise clearly need some of those glass thingies Percy keeps on his nose and make him look smart.

“Oh, I don’t know Grog. She left to go get some fresh air.” Pike searches her mind to see where you might have gone. There’s a few places that come to mind but it’s all narrowed down to just the one when thunder rumbles through the sky. She knows exactly where you went and by the looks of it so does Grog.

Grog knows there’s only one place you really love to watch a storm unfold. You’ve told him before and you’ve even watched some storms together there. He shares a look with Pike and picks up his step going where he knows you’ll be, still dragging pike behind. When she doesn’t move fast enough he swings her up on his shoulders, running up the steps as far as they’ll take him, dodging a torch and pushing aside a guard here and there.

Then around the corner he sees you. Feet dangling over the edge, a single push away from what could possibly be a death drop, hand outstretched catching the rain with a sad smile on your face. You’re absolutely gorgeous. More alluring than anyone ever could. If he could paint, Grog would make sure this moment would be captured for eternity just so he would never forget. Maybe he can get some money from Vex to hire a painter? If Scanlan did it, why shouldn’t he?

You’re seated alone at the top of the tower. Lightning flashes through the clouds, sometimes branching down to strike the ground be it mountain or forest, you’re in a valley of safety surrounded by the storm. The drops of rain hit your outstretched arm extended beyond the cover of the overhanging. Cold as they are to the touch you watch them glide around your arm with movement until they too, continue their descend.

“…Sometimes I wish I would just have the courage but I don’t.” You speak into the skies. A burst of lightning strikes in the mountains, the sound echoing and even this high up you can feel the slight tremor of the ground. You know a storm is no sentient being but you read it like a reply no less and continue.

“I’m not a fighter. I don’t know how to wield a sword or an axe. I can barely lift one. We have such vastly different lives. Grog’s got no reason to like me in any way.” Thunder strikes again you smile briefly. You’ve come to terms you’ll always like Grog and your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. The only reason you’re even spending time together in the first place is because you’re both involved with Vox Machina in one way or another. You’ve got hardly anything in common so if you hadn’t met through them Grog probably wouldn’t even have thought about you twice.

That may sound sad and you’re thankful for getting to know him but Grog has his own life and interests so why should he bother indulging you in yours. He’s already not a big fan of magic and you won’t bother attempting to teach him. It’s not like it’s any interesting stuff and he’d probably be bored out of his mind the entire time. Then again, the theoretics of magic might just not be your strong suit either. It’s more of a natural born gift.

Grog gets this weird feeling in his chest as if he’s been hit by something and it’s being twisted. Kind of like when he got shot by an arrow and Pike had to remove it. It’s not a good feeling. Checking for injury just to make sure he’s fine. It’s clear to him he feels this on the inside; his heart bleeds a little for you. You shouldn’t think that way. He likes you. He likes you a lot actually so you couldn’t be more wrong. Pike nudges him to set her down. He does as they remain around the corner, leaving you unaware of their presence.

“Go talk to her.” Pike whispers and Grog panics for a brief second. How is he even supposed to do this? What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t know how this psychology stuff works. That’s what Pike’s for. If people feel sad they often come to her, talk about their worries and problems and then they feel better. How’s he supposed to do that? He’s not Pike.

“She needs you, Grog. I know you like her and she needs you. Go talk to her.” Pike nudges him on into your direction. The goliath isn’t physically moved by her effort but he does move. If Pike says you need him, if you really need him then he’ll be there. Looking over his shoulder one last time to ask Pike for some advise she’s already half way down the stairs leaving you with him. Grog thinks hard for a moment but thinking isn’t his strong suit either so he’ll do what he always does; face the problem head on.

A throat clears behind you and you almost slip from the fright it gave you. A heavy step rushes forward and an arm wraps around your waist pulling you back before you can fall. You’d have spells to save you in case you did fall but you’d rather not and are grateful for your valiant saviour. The bare arm wrapped around your waist is covered in tattoos, markings and scars and engulfs the majority of your middle. It doesn’t take a fool to know this arm belongs to Grog Strongjaw himself.

Flustered you allow the goliath to pull you back onto solid ground and off the balustrade entirely before he lets go of you, making sure you’re right on your feet. How much of your conversation with the skies did he hear? Did he hear anything at all? Grog steps back and stares at his boots. He doesn’t only appear to be more embarrassed than you feel but also apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please don’t fall again and please don’t be angry at me.” Grog closes his eyes tightly afraid you might be mad at him as he was the cause of you almost experiencing a death drop. You’re basically gods but if we’ve learned anything from Keyleth; that doesn’t save you from a splat.

You step forward grab one of his hands in yours drawing his attention. With your index finger you tilt his chin up just enough so he’s looking at you and not over you. These gestures are enough for Grog to open his eyes. When there’s no look of anger on your face the tension in his body falls away just slightly. There’s still some rigidness from nerves but he’s closer to usual Grog.

“Chin up, big guy. You saved me too. I’m not mad.” You smile and the smile is returned. The air is still somewhat awkward so you decided you best get this over with and clear it up.

“How much did you hear?” You ask. The blush rushing to Grog’s cheeks and frantic glancing around to make sure no one else is here to witness it tells you he heard enough.

With a deep sigh you step back to the balustrade sitting down upon it once more but now to face Grog instead of the sky, your hair blowing lightly in the breeze, the rain and occasional illuminated sky behind you leave him staring yet again forgetting your question. He’s just captivated but you calling his name snaps him out of it. Saved it. Still got it. As long as he doesn’t turn to ‘drunk Keyleth’ levels he’ll consider it a win.

“I-uhhhh…. Why don’t you think I like you?” Grog twiddles his thumbs rocking back and forth from his tiptoes to his heels in anticipation of your answer. He knows he heard you tell the sky but he wants to be sure because if he gave you any reason to believe he didn’t like you, he did do something wrong. He’ll pick you over any of those other fools down stairs. He might just even pick you over the best ale. He’d already picked you over the ale he’d been offered. If that isn’t testament to his fondness of you, then what is?

“Ah, so you did hear that. I just- I think-. Ugh, why is this so hard?” You try to express your reasons but words are difficult and feelings even more so to describe yet still you try. Grog waits patiently either way.

“Do you think we would have been friends were it not for our lives being tied together as they are now?” You ask the dreaded question. You don’t even know if you really want the answer afraid that it may break any semblance of hope you had somewhere in your mind. Grog’s brow furrows, deep in thought but mostly confusion.

“Of course we would be. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter. I stay back with my spells and incantations while you run in axe swinging taking down anyone in your path. I read while you train. I sit around in my tower watching the skies while you go out and drink the town dry looking for a fight to enjoy. I could never do what you do and I do not dare to assume you’d have any interest in doing what I do.” The thoughts and feelings find words. A tension lifts from your chest like a breath you didn’t know you were holding just by speaking your mind to the goliath in question.

Grog knows damn well you’re not a fighter in the traditional sense. No steel or arrows for you but that does not mean you’re not a fighter in your own right. If he’s learned anything a fighter comes in many shapes and forms and you fit the description perfectly. You’ve shown determination and strength, courage against all odds and immense skill. You are a fighter.

“When I run into danger kicking ass who’s had my back every time?” Grog asks. There’s a harshness and authority in his voice indicating he’s leading somewhere and you better answer.

“We all have-“ Grog cuts you off.

“No. You have had my back every time.” He corrects. “Who comes watch me train, throwing spells to keep me on my toes? Who does it while reading her books completing not one but two tasks at the same time?”

“I do.” You admit.

“And who helps me kick ass in bar fights? Who cheers me on or joins me in any gamble or drinking game? Who is the best drinking buddy? You are. Now, who spends time with you watching storms whenever they occur up here in the tower or anywhere else?”

“You… do…” Grog’s right.

“I like to spend time with you because I like you. I don’t care you don’t swing an axe. That firestorm you do works just the same and looks way more badass. I’m not the smartest but I know two of the same are not always useful and can be too much. What are you going to do with two when you only need one. You need difference so they compitry- complitarity- colmpli-“ Grog struggles with that word. He’s heard Percy use it in a similar context but why is it such a difficult word to recall. He still tries and just hopes you’ll get what he’s trying to say.

“Complimentary?” You ask. You fear Grog might get himself a migraine if he tries any harder. You still don’t think that’s the correct use of the word but you get it. He’s trying to lift your spirits and it’s working.

“That one. Yes. Complimentary. I don’t just like you, I love you for who you are. You’re special and being different makes you special.” Grog admits he tries to fight the heat rising to his cheeks from admitting what he did but when he sees your smile grow, that’s enough to push his pride aside and let it be. Maybe he can do this thing Pike usually does after all? Maybe not unless it’s you. When he tells you he loves you he means it. When he has to say it to the likes of Vax he’d rather eat his own boots for lunch.

You gesture with your hand and beckon the goliath over to come closer. You rise to stand on the edge of the balustrade and wrap your arms around Grog’s neck holding him close. You feel his arms wrap around you in turn and pull you closer to where your feet barely touch the stone.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” You pull back to look Grog in the eyes as he still holds onto you and take his cheeks between your hands giving him a quick kiss. Grog’s eyes light up and lifts you up higher offering you a kiss of his own. Sweet and short and filled with glee. He sets you back down on your feet but doesn’t let go of you yet.

“Do you want to go back downstairs? Last I checked there was a drinking game going on? Should we show them what we’re made off?” You grin and the proud look on Grog’s face tells you enough to know exactly what you’re talking about.

“Let me tell you the tale of my grand victories-“ Grog starts as he begins leading you back down the stairs, arm wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his side as you walk.

[koipalm]

jjk spoilers!

jjk is.. not the best! its not bad, but its lacking narratively.

jjk is set up with a lot of core values right at the start, but the most persevering is basically the saving of others, especially at the cost of your own heath and safety. this is pretty much literally right from the start at yuuji’s introduction to the jujutsu world, which is basically outlined as “we are the people who save others from their own inner demons”. this isnt a new or innovative kind of value, in fact, its pretty instilled into most of the shounen genre and in others as well, the idea of helping others even at cost to you.

yuuji really embodies this, especially after the death of his grandfather, which basically gives him the motive to work with sorcerers (at his own cost) in order to save as many people as he can. im not saying he did the wrong thing, because it is true that he is in a unique situation of being able to help people, but im also saying that as a child, this isnt ON him.

this IS expressed in jjk, when principal yaga tells him that it isnt enough to save people, because using others as your own drive will eventually fall through. so yuuji is able to also cement his desire to live! even gojo tells him that its ultimately up to him, and nanami tells him that as an adult, its his place to step in for a child.

so yuuji struggles with both his impending execution and his desire to live, which is especially shown after sukuna shows him the destruction he wrought in shinjuku. but this isnt to really say that its the perfect narrative. just because characters state things that are true (or more like... the bare minimum? definitely more than a lot of other shounen mangas allow though, the bar is on the ground) that doesn’t mean that their execution is the most desirable! time and time again, yuuji is put into situations where he sacrifices himself for others, and these situations end up teaching him that this weight, of everyone else around him, is pretty much up to him to save, no matter the cost. of course he struggles with this, but to be honest, i was kind of expecting for a more “groundbreaking” narrative like the one that came from mob psycho: that kids should be kids, and they shouldn’t have to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders- that they can run away from battles, and let the adults handle them instead.

but im not sure jjk really does enough to teach this lesson. in the end, its more like an unfortunate situation; “yes, kids shouldn’t have to do this, and they shouldn’t have to sacrifice themselves to save everyone else, but they do, and it works”. which... isnt really the greatest takeaway? of course gege could just be writing a really shitty situation that tries to do the best with what it has, but i really wish there was more of a push for the kids in jjk to not have to save everyone else, and that the adults can deal with these issues because it isn’t fair to ask a kid to do it.

it got me thinking that the reason i like gojo more than nanami is because he has a more bleak outlook on the world, which is what he expresses to yuuji. although he does say that yuuji is the child in the situation, and thus its nanami’s job as an adult to shoulder the burden, not him... that kind of does get simplified when nanami essentially passes the torch to yuuji upon his death. (yuuji is still a kid!! maybe something like “youre not alone” or “its not all on you” could have been better!! gege get back here and fix your writing!!!) nanami’s take is basically that the world sucks, so ill prepare the kid for it. which... works, but i like gojos take better, which is- yeah, it sucks, and kids shouldn’t have to do this, so ill do my best to give them the resources and the confidence to change it, while trying to reform the situation as much as i can from my end. if you tell a kid that something sucks, theyre gonna ask why not just change it!! the answer is always “its more complicated than that”, which is an incredible defeatist take that sets kids up to just take a shitty portion in life. and maybe, just maybe, kids don’t have to sacrifice themselves and living well is more than enough.

which brings me to mai. finally, a character that just wants to be normal and safe! her character revolves around wanting to save herself (and her sister) by staying out of the limelight, which could quite literally get them killed. but she also doesn’t want to necessarily be this “force of good” that a jujustu sorcerer is said to be. maki doesn’t necessarily want that either, but the power it gives her over her own autonomy was too good for her to pass up.

mai’s character really wants to stay safe, which is why it was doubly harsh when maki left. not only did her sister abandon her, but she herself was forced into a dangerous, self sacrificing profession in order to prevent backlash from their family. in the end, shes a self preserving person that doesnt necessarily have the drive to save people. considering the narrative jjk is trying to push, i thought that she could be okay! that it would validate her in wanting a normal life, and believing it was enough to save herself (and her sister). She didn’t have that self sacrificial streak for others, or a desire to overcome her imposed boundaries. considering that jjk does imply that these things don’t actually make her a horrible person to not want to save everyone else in the vicinity or become a leader, maybe her character can be true to that. nvm she sacrifices herself

so i get this idea that gege was trying to push with her, that she and her sister are narrative foils and it only makes sense for mai to die to maki can progress. but does it? does it really? i thought you just said it was enough for kids to be kids gege. a character comes up that isn’t immediately getting hurt to save everyone and rising up the ranks but its fine right? its enough for a kid to want to live themselves, isnt it gege? they aren’t selfish right gege? they shouldnt have to “redeem” themselves by being self sacrificial, right gege? fucking get back here and explain this bullshit gege

anyways! my point is that gege writes things but apparently its too much for him to actually see them through

[celestial-ringleader]

https://celestial-ringleader.tumblr.com/post/658246663116341248/mushroom-cookie-bears-send-me-a-character-and

Remy & Pietro??

@lucifers-favorite-child Buckle in y’all because this is gonna be a long one

Remy LeBeau:

favorite thing about them: So. Many. Things. I can’t decide on one so I’m just gonna list off my top three:

- His entire aesthetic is just so cool to me?? I love the idea of his character, just him being a thief (and an heir to an entire Guild on top of it) but I also like how he’s often seen as siren-like with how he can pull people in and smooth-talk his way out of almost anything. Also his eyes are so fucking cool idc what anyone else says. The black with red sclera is just so awesome.

- His powerset, omg people seriously underestimate what he’s capable of. Some think his power is just throwing explosive cards when it’s so much more than that. Like do you have any idea how useful it could be to manipulate energy?? He could literally make a moving object stop because he can just sap out the kinetic energy within it. On top of that he made a missile explode in Excalibur which I think was an interesting way of using his powers.  Also his goddamn reflexes are broken as all fuck, like he can sense a bullet coming even before anyone else notices it and dodge it perfectly. And if he’s quick enough he can hit it back at the person who shot at him. It’s fucking insane. And let’s not forget that in an alternate universe he was able to kill the Dark Phoenix and destroy his whole planet in a fit of his powers overloading. So.

- This is gonna be cheesy, but I love the way he talks. I like how no matter how much time has passed, he hasn’t changed how he speaks and is proud of it. Besides, his accent is just,,,so good.

least favorite thing about them: Aside from the moments where he’s characterized and portrayed poorly, I can’t think of anything.

favorite line: “I ain’t a thief, or an assassin. I’m an X-Man and I’m never comin’ back.” He said that to Belladonna in X-Men: The Animated Series and it stuck with me so much.

But also the line “You need ta get a life. Seriously.” is so good too. Just ANXF in general had a lot of good lines.

brOTP: Oh boy I have so many so I’m listing them off:

-Remy & Ororo Monroe

-Remy & Laura Kinney

-Remy & Anna-Marie (and before I get people asking, I personally don’t ship them romantically. Not saying no one else should, it’s just a personal preference.)

And some bonus crack brOTPs:

-Remy & Neena Thurman

-Remy & Felicia Hardy

OTP: There’s a lot here too,,,

-Remy/Pietro Maximoff (obviously)

-Remy/Fantomex

-Remy/Johnny Storm (this is more of a crack pairing, but I blame rping on discord for this)

-Remy/Kurt Wagner

-Remy/Warren Worthington III

nOTP: Honestly Remy is so shippable with a lot of people so I don’t really care all that much. Like,,sometimes I like people exploring him in toxic relationships (like with Sabertooth or Mister Sinister) so I really don’t care skjvbdkj

random headcanon: I like to headcanon that Remy has ADHD, which mostly shows itself through him having special interests, stimming, and having a bad case of RSD (Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria) because of past trauma associated with him being abandoned by those close to him. Also I like to imagine he uses playing cards to stim and his special interest is science fiction and space operas. Let him be a nerd.

Also he’s an Omega Level mutant. There I said it.

unpopular opinion: Okay, nobody get out the pitchforks and torches, but I don’t like this common headcanon that he’s a himbo and a narcissist. Usually a himbo is described as a character who is dumb while also being kind and beefy, but Remy just doesn’t tick all those boxes in my opinion. He’s incredibly clever and learns quickly, but he also doesn’t waste his time with knowledge that won’t help him. Like maybe he can’t do basic calculus but he understands how to get a lock to break based on it’s materials. Also because he was a physics teacher and I’d buy that he understands physics very well, especially since energy is such a big part of physics. So to me, he isn’t a himbo, he’s just a decent man. And as for the narcissism thing, he just doesn’t fit into the personality of someone with NPD. In fact, most of the time he talks down about himself and thinks himself less worthy....the exact opposite of a narcissist. Sometimes he’s just full of himself because he loves himself for once and that’s perfectly okay to me.  

song i associate with them: “Blood on my Name” by The Brother’s Bright, it has a southern gothic feel and it fits well into his backstory. Also “Poker Face” because why not. And also “Addict” by SilviaHound (yes it’s a Hazbin Hotel song but the vibes fit him so well)

favorite picture of them: I have,,,way too many I like. But these ones are just so good.

Also this one because it genuinely made me laugh

okay and now onto pietro

Pietro Maximoff:

favorite thing about them: There’s so much I love about Pietro so I’ll just list it off again ajkdbvkj

- His powers are actually really fucking cool. Like people think he can just run fast but forget that running fast is just one thing he can do. He can literally vibrate himself fast enough to go through walls, he has been shown to have some control over metal like Erik, he ran faster than the speed of sound (and possibly light), and he can leg press over 2,000 pounds. Also his superhero name is just so good, not even being ironic, the name Quicksilver is so badass.

- I love his relationship with Wanda, like sometimes it’s written really bad but other times it’s the cutest thing ever. Like he feels so protective over Wanda because of the environment they were raised in, but at the same time he learns when to let go of his own insecurities and let Wanda be her own person. Like,,their sibling dynamic is one of my favorites.

- His entire backstory is so tragic and I love it. He always feels like he isn’t good enough and tries to be as good as he can despite it all, but he’s also unabashedly pissed off about the circumstance he’s in. Like Pietro has every right to be bitter and I love seeing him call people out on their bullshit (especially in Quicksilver: No Surrender when he calls out people for marketing and appropriating Romani culture) 

least favorite thing about them: ...I literally can’t think of anything akjdbvkj

favorite line: Oops it’s all gamquick

Remy: Are you being difficult on purpose?

Pietro: What other reason is there to be difficult?

And also-

Pietro: Well, that’s a step up from a blow-up doll, isn’t it?

Remy: Did anyone ask you?

(Yes these are both from ANXF)

brOTP:

-Pietro & Wanda

-Pietro & Lorna Dane

-Pietro & Clint Barton (not MCU)

OTP: Okay I really only have two but I’m gonna gush about gamquick for a minute-

-Pietro/Remy LeBeau: I don’t even know where to begin with these two, I guess to start out with they both just look so good next to one another. They also bounce off one another banter-wise very well and while neither of them take bullshit from anyone, they still don’t mind messing with one another because it’s strictly playful. Also both their backstories are similar and lends itself to them finding solace in one another, they both recognize each other’s pain and will try their best to alleviate it as best as they can. They both understand what it feels like to be abandoned and abused and would never inflict that on each other, they both came from poverty and find it hard to fit into the “normal world”, but also Pietro usually never shows his softer side to anyone, but with Remy he’d make the exception because Remy wouldn’t hurt him like that. It’s also cute to explore them being able to settle down and get away from the superhero life for a while, but also them being a battle couple is A++

There’s just so much to say about them ajbdvkj

-Pietro/Namor Mckenzie: This became one of my favorite Pietro ships mostly because of @imperiuswrecked​ but also because apparently they were gonna be a couple in House of M?? Like that sounds so good to read about! Like Pietro is more carefree than Namor in some instances and it would be nice to see Namor relax a little bit more around Pietro. But also because I love imagining them being That royal couple and it’s so good.

nOTP: Pietro/Crystal. Just no. That ship is a garbage fire and it should’ve burned out ages ago.

random headcanon: Pietro has darker roots because his hair used to be the same color as Wanda’s before his powers manifested themselves. Also I like to headcanon/draw Pietro with darker skin.

unpopular opinion: Sometimes Pietro is seen as being misogynistic towards Wanda and I hate that interpretation of him. He’s protective over her, but he still allows her to make decisions on her own. Also people need to stop blaming Pietro for the events of House of M. For the love of god stop that shit.

song i associate with them: “Dollhouse” by Melanie Martinez

favorite picture of them: Need I say more? Pietro carrying his Cajun bf goes without saying

This was a lot of fun to write out and there’s so much more I can say but for now I’ll leave it here ajdbvkj

Ask Meme

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 56 - Dir en grey live with audience scheduled! and, Thinking about the aftermath of inappropriate remarks.

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, with this week's episode of The Freedom of Expression. Joe, Tasai, welcome. Um, I think it was two days ago, Dir en grey announced that we will do a live show.

T, J: *applause*

T: How long has it been?

K: Well, as for proper lives, its been since last year in February when we were on the European tour. We did do the no-audience lives since then, but as for lives with an audience, thats how long its been.

T: Its a big decision, isn't it?

J: Yeah, and people have been waiting, right?

K: Well, I think people will have a lot of opinions about it, and its a bit hard to say to people, 'Please come!'... Well, as for why we havn't been doing lives, of course its because of corona..there was a risk there. As for the live venues, within these restrictions we weren't sure whether we would be able to complete the type of show we wanted to do...Like, the audience can't use their voice etc. So I was a little concerned when I thought about that, but at the same time, it's strange to say 'it can't be helped', but I thought we could at least try it once. You know, like a live show within these restrictions. We might even get some new feeling or new atmosphere out of it that we've never had before. I mean, we might not, but like, rather than not doing it and worrying, we could just give it a try once, and it might even turn us in some new direction. Then after we do it, we can think about what to do next.

J: I see. Yeah, if you spend all your time thinking it over, nothing will happen, right?

K: Yeah. Well, its not bad to do that though, I just wonder whether we might be able to create a new kind of experience in this way. We won't know if we don't try..

Kami: Um, if you don't try, you won't be able to say what it was like, will you?

K: Well, yeah, thats right. I'd like to experience it.

T: Yeah, within the restrictions, see what type of performance you can create.

K: Well, and people are slowly beginning to restart this kind of thing.

Kami: Um, doesn't it kind of feel like having a school fieldtrip, but being sick so you couldn't go, and then afterwards feeling sad that you missed out?

T: Haha

K: No, its not like that.

T, J: Hahaha

J: Nearly, Kami.

T: Yeah, nearly.

Kami: I didn't get it.

J: Your example was very easy to understand, but it was wrong.

T, K: Haha

Kami: Ok.

K: Well, well, I mean, it wasn't the right example, but the feeling is similar I suppose.

Kami: Ah! See, it is similar! I was right!

J: Oh, Im sorry Kami.

T: Haha

K: So, we're gonna do it. So for anyone who wants to experience this, I'd like you to come and see us... Ok, well..

J: Yes, today's topic is...well, this topic is a little old already, its about Mori Yoshio and the Olympic committee. He has made a run of problematic comments like 'if there are a lot of women, the meetings will last longer', and 'famous people could carry the Olympic torch only through rice fields', and has been forced to resign. Well, this has been big news, but well, this program is about 'The Freedom of Expression', so from that perspective, could you not say that he just slipped up? He slipped up, but shouldn't he still have freedom of expression? Of course, I think these were careless remarks, uttered without a sense of responsibility, but whats the best way to deal with a situation like this? What about just telling the person in question to stop it? Is that enough? So, thats the theme today, in regards to freedom of expression, of course you are free to say what you want, but what should be done if what you say is thoughtless, or clearly at odds with the common view in society? Is it ok to just criticize the comments only? So its quite a serious topic about the freedom of expression today.

T: Well, as for me, if I had to say...I'd say im in the 'if it creates further discussion then its ok' camp. Um, he's a tv celeb now, but do you remember when Sugimura Taizō won his first election? He said, 'I want to go to the high-class restaurants', you know, like political meetings at high-class restaurants? And he was criticized a lot for that. But when I interviewed him in person, I asked him about how he had felt at that time, he said he was simply just curious about whether this type of thing really went on in the world of politics. It was a pretty innocent thing, but when he said it, he was called into question massively. Thats what he said when I asked him. So I don't really think we will make any progress in situations like this, if we don't stop and think about why a person might say things before we launch an attack.

J: I see. Kaoru, what do you think?

K: Nothings come out it in terms of making a bad thing better. I think its a good thing to start a discussion out of it afterwards.

J: Yeah

K: Of course if its wrong, its wrong, but it seems natural to ???*1

J: This all reminds me of this difficult word we hear in the media a lot, 'political correctness'. Like, being forced into the political medium ground, and if you ever make a small mistake with what you say, you'll be accussed of being wrong. People are scared of being targeted like this...Even when you see press conferences, people will only ever talk about thier own position, so as an observer, even press conferences get boring. I'd like people to speak their raw words more, I want to hear what they really think. But if they did, they would be accused of saying the wrong thing. Its like you said Kaoru, if their mistake was shared it might end up heading in a better direction, but if people just immediately and triumphantly scream, 'Thats wrong!', then I have a feeling its gonna carry on like this forever. Its important to think about whether the mistake can be repaired. Anyone makes mistakes. Whatever you say, it will be different from what some other people think. And rather than fixing the mistake, I think some people see it as a game of winning or losing.

K: You can't just say 'sorry', can you?

J: No, you can't. Why is that??

K: This type of person (*Mori*) can't say it for some reason.

J: Like, 'I'M SORRY, I'M REALLY SORRY FOR WHAT I SAID!!

K: ??*2

J: Then they would understand their mistake, and be able to fix it. I think that would be ok!

T: Yeah, we should give people a chance. If you don't point out their mistake, and let them say sorry..

J: Even though it would be good to create that kind of grown-up environment, with everyone on the attack so much these days, people are so cautious about what they say now, the press conferences are more like rituals. Its become a kind of never-ending ritualistic exchange.

K: If nothing is done, Mori will never learn, right?

J: Thats right.

K: If someone just tells him he needs to change his ideas, he can take that to heart..well, did he?

J: Haha, well, I don't know, when he's that old, I don't know. But I think he probably felt something, surely. Also, we ourselves are getting old, and when we get that old, some stuff that was correct for our generation will suddenly become wrong, right? We could say something, and people would be like, 'Eh?!', even though it was fine for our generation. We are bound to be caught up like this eventually. Honestly, there will be people who saw this press conference with Mori, who didn't realise what was wrong at first. You know, with Mori's remarks.

T: People from his generation may even sympathise with him, they might not understand.

J: Yes, yes, yes. But if it was made into a public discussion, they might start to understand the problem. There might be people in that generation who don't understand that saying this type of thing about women is complete prejudice.

T: But as you said Kaoru, when people get that old, the don't like saying sorry.

K: Ah, yeh.

T: So, I want people to be aware of the discussion that can happen after that.

J: It just makes me think eventually, we'll be in that generation. It will happen to us.

T: You might say this type of thing, Joe.

J: Yeah.

K: You already do, don't you?

J: Maybe. I might have harrased people without realising it. I might have said things to people which I thought would make them happy, but actually made them think I was really annoying.

K, T: Ah, yeah.

J: When you're in that kind of position with a huge public stage, you will suffer huge effects, but when you're in my kind of position, its not as decisive, so there is a possibility I'm also doing that. Its possible Im becoming like Mori.

T: Will your radio listerners be saying, 'Joe always says that kind of thing!'?

J: Yeah, now you mention it, Hiranabe was pretty bad. haha

T: Yeah, you could just write Hiranabe here instead of Mori, and it would fit. haha

J: Haha, he would definitely say that kind of thing. So, anyway, yeah, we have to be careful with this.

K: Well, even just discussing it like this is a good step.

J: It is, yes. Ah..Kami is quiet today.

Kami: Well, I thought this was pretty bad.

J: It was bad?　

Kami: Yeah, a long time ago I used to say things about women, and I got a fierce backlash, and realised I was wrong.  Um, it was a road trip with a few adults to an onsen, we went in a few different cars. During the drive I was talking about how women always take ages in the toilet, and one of them said that she is actually really quick in the toilet.

J, T: Haha

Kami: It was possibly bad timing that she started to need the toilet just then. She said she'd be quick, so asked us to stop at the next convenience store, so we stopped at some place like that. And I was like, 'Eh?! Already?! You're back?!'. She was so fast! So after that, I repented, I realised it wasn't the same for everyone. Then I gave up the front passenger seat for her.

J: Hahaha

T: What kind of story is this?! Kami thinks the front passenger seat is some kind of treat?

Kami: Well, anyway, that happened to me. People usually have this image that women take a long time in the toilet, don't they?

J: Yeah.

T: Are they fixing their make-up and stuff?

J: Some might be, yeah.

K: Well, men also have the stand-up option, right?

Kami: I realised at that time that it all depends on the person.

J: I see.

T: Ah, thats good, Kami learned something new?

Kami: Yeah.

J: Yeah, in regards to toilets.

K: If you took a long time in the toilet at school, they used to say you were doing a poo, right?

J: Ah yeh. You had to do it quickly, or they would be saying it all day. They would be saying like, 'This guy did a poo'. I wonder what its like for kids these days? 

T: Yeah, I'd like that to disappear. I want the toilet to be peaceful.

K: You felt something was coming if you went in the stall, right?

J: Yeah, they would throw water over the top, and shout 'This guy's doing a poo!'.

T: Yeah, yeah.

J: What was that all about?!

T: Well, I think boys' toilets should all be just individual stalls.

J, K: Ahh, yeh.

J: So you can't tell whether someones doing a no.1 or a no.2?

K: But recently there are people who sit on the toilet on their phones not actually pooing, aren't there?

T: There are, yeah. Even if I'm outside desperate to go.

J: Yeah, you can tell they aren't even trying to go, or they've already finished. Its totally silent in there. Or you suddenly hear them answering their phone. Its like, 'Hey! That cubucle is for doing a poo!'.

T: This is a big problem amongst men.

J: It is.

K: Ok, shall we finish on that note, haha. Please subscribe. Thank you very much.

*1,2 Couldn't catch/figure out.

To top

[thetransguard-archive]

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck. 

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all. 

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that. 

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.” 

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

[hopeassassin]

Rally’s Scribbles in the Work

So after that lovely anon blew my mind away with their kind words and wonderful support, and because I keep telling you guys about my writing plans without actually giving you even a teensy little detail, I have decided to stop being coy and actually likely get your hopes up a bit by dilvulging small details and bits of plots of what is currently going on in my G-Drive. 

This will be a brief recount of what I have currently baking in the AoMomo oven, so let’s dive right into it! Please note that the numbers are in no particular order - I just keep revisiting each of these stories and writing a bit more to them whenever I feel like it. So there’s no ranking and no importance, just a number to keep proper count.

1. “Knight of Renown” Dragons and Knighthood AU, based on that one AoMomo pic with Momo ithe Knight and Dragon Aomine that I reblogged a while back and I actually let me imagination go a bit too much in the tags. I ended up actually rather enjoying the premise I set up in the tags so I actually started writing that one out!  Completion rate at about: 5%? I’d say? Less? :D 

2. AoMomo Music AU - a dearly beloved project that I am pouring a lot of love and attentioin to. That’s why it’s coming along super slow. It’s been in the making since November and I chewed it and mulled through it so thoroughly that I’ve grinded to a halt with it. Intending for there to be 2 chapters, and I am at about 25-30% of chapter 1 currently ready currently. At the pace I’m going, it might be another full year before you actually get to see this bad boy up, but when you do, I’m sure you’ll see all the care and effort that went into making it perfect. Honestly, no joke here, I am intending for this to be one of my rare masterpieces in this tag. So I’m not gonna rush it!

3. AoMomo Car Accident AU where Daiki barely manages to save Satsuki from being run over by a hit-and-run and ends up being the one run over instead. This was my first piece of writing after coming back to AoMomo last summer and yet completion rate is a sad thing. I want it to be flawless, a perfectly agonizing, thrilling type of torturous read that gives you a great sense of relief by the end of it. Needless to say, the clusterfuck of negative feelings is a bit difficult to hold onto for a prolonged period of time and the work is coming along slowly. Planned at about 5 chapters, I have 2 complete ones and the 3rd one is at about ... 30%? Hopefully before this year’s whumptober, we’ll have a finished piece!

4. AoMomo bond character study, which went in a direction I did NOT expect nor intend. It was suppsoed to be an idea that you will see also listed below. But I started this one from their early childhood and somehow, instead of focusing on the kids and their bond and their weird interactions with each other and their first moments of realizing they are of opposite genders, it turned into something much too fun to let go of and the ideas for scenes just kept piling. It’s going to be a long one, very explorative and very in-depth character study on the bond between these two and how it changed over the years, and their first encounters with their sexuality inbetween (because that was really the main idea that I started with... xDDD;;;) Currently at 1 chapter complete, chapter 2 somewhere around 50-60% completion, and at least 6-7 chapters to come after that, soooo.... :’DDDD YEAH. THIS ONE AIN’T SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY ANYTIME SOON.

5. AoMomo deciding to practice stuff on each other, because I am a sucker for this trope.THIS will be what the idea under previous number 4 was SUPPOSED to be like, but it instead spun out of control. So this one, under number 5, is going to be the smutty, idiots bumbling through physicality to discover that they actually have serious feelings for each other kind of piece. Chapters are planned at about at least 6-7 or so, but not my usual monstrocities! :D First we start with practice kissing, and we move our way up from there! 

6. “The Evil of Humanity” AU - a dystopian futuristic kinda mecha AU, sort of an amalgamation of some of my favourite anime in the genre - a bit of NGE, a bit of Gurren-Lagann, a lot of Darling in the Franxx rewrite and improvement, in distinctly AoMomo colors. I poured a lot of thought and love into initial outline of main moments for this one, and I really hope to make it an epic, thrilling action/adventure with a big dash of romance kind of read! Chapters currently not even planned properly, because I need to sit down and consider this seriously. It will definitely be more than 10-15 though, and they will be my usual chapter lengths so.... likely no time soon. :D 

7. Aomine Fanclub - I got a plot bunny some time ago and I shared it here and my friends were spurring me on with it, so I started trying it out a little more. I’ve written out like... maybe 30% of this one as well, but need to re-read and reconceptualize to get it back on track. The issue with this one is that I’m not really sure where I want to take it, thus it’s on the back burner at the moment.

8. KagaKuro AoMomo double-date kind of story, where Aomine is asking some curious questions of Taiga about going to America and pondering if any of his immediate friends know what Satsuki wants to do with her life. I’m really invested in this one but haven’t started properly writing it out yet beyond just sketching out the idea so I don’t forget it. (I’d say 1% complete here.) Really looking forward to using the idea of Kagami being super impressed with AoMomo perfect sync when playing as a team in arcade games!

9.Laws of Attraction Chapter 2 - You might be surprised at this, but I’m actually super invested in this one. Likely the reason why I am delaying so much working on it - I feel like all my great scene ideas are just too chaotic and I have a hard time starting the chapter flowing properly. I had like 4-5 false starts already and I’m feeling a bit skittish with picking it up. But I have such AMAZING concepts on where to take it after it revvs up the engine, so... Maybe sometime this year! Completion rate: 0% written, but at least about 30% ideas built up for the installment!

10. AoMomo college rooming together story - sort of an expansion on my fill for one of the prompts way back those years ago in AoMomo week. I really dig the concept and the trope of sharing spaces with someone you consider nothing more than a friend and then gradually learning to appreciate each other for something so much more. I am definitely doing this one some day, but not anytime soon, likely.

11. A random idea bit me the other day (read: a month ago) and I actually wrote out like... maybe 25% of it already as well. A random comment from Wakamatsu miffs Satsuki but then she realizes why he’s asking dumb questions and she comes to realize that something is wrong with the equation: either Dai-chan likes someone really close to them and she hasn’t realized, which is unlikely, or Dai-chan likes HER and is super blase about it in a way that betrays his feelings not at all, which is even more unlikely. Being a curious  individual, she sets out to find which it is! Some hilarity should ensue but mostly just some mess-with-Dai-chan fun!

12. Touou summer training camp at the sea - progress is practically 0, I wanted to write a summery piece and set my mind on this, but nothing beyond has come to me, so I’m not forcing it.

13. AoMomo cultural festival fic in second year of high school (meaning something approx end of Oct -> beginning of Nov.) with Daiki being in a distinctly Haruhu Suzumiya role at that festival (has anyone even seen this anime? I adored that episode to freaking bits, man, it’s engraved upon my soul) and singing Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” and one more song just like Haruhi did. And Satsuki just beholding the phenomenon he becomes in no time flat while he lays bare his passion for life for all the student body to see. Shippiness will happen in private afterwards!

14. You Can Leave Your Hat On Chapter 2 - Probably like 2-3 years ago while I was still in the damn woodwork and wrestling with real life and adulting being crap, I remembered this AU premise and I got super hyped on the idea of Club Owner Dai-chan being a flirt with innocent Satsuki who got dragged to his joined and fell in love at first sight with his shenanigans. I’ve already played around for like 7k words with the second chapter of this but I’m still not where I want to be at, so it will take a while longer to flesh it out.

15. Idol Worship - a story that I promised my mate aricana some 6 years ago the premise for which I am super hyped for but not quite engaging with it yet. The idea was that Momoi finally starts gettiing the dates she has been pesting Kuroko for for years, and Daiki feeling terrible about beholding that, whilst Kise is being pestered by Horikita Mai for a date and instead ditches her with Daiki because he knows his former Teikou classmate is a huge fan of her. Mai-chan isn’t particularly happy but somehow ends up enjoying her time with Daiki and starts considering actually pursuing him instead of Kise when she sees what an interesting soul he is, with the torch that he’s carrying for some girl in his life he doesn’t really talk about but is evident from the little things he drops off as hits. AoMomo shenanigans will start to ensue properly when Satsuki realizes that Daiki is actually having a close female friend who is not her but is Horikita Mai instead, Dai-chan’s perfect woman, practically. She doesn’t take well to the news and has to grapple with why that is! And what to do with these newfound frustrating emotions!

16. Obstruction of Justice Chapter 3 - MAYBE SOME DAY, I WILL GET TO WRITING THIS. Last summer I inteded to do just that but instead, Wild Side of Justice was born. And it became a spin off of sorts on its own. ORZ. I WILL FINISH THIS SOME DAY, I do have some plans for it and I do have the desire to pursue them. I just need to be in the right headspace for it ahsjkfhkjaf

17. A PWP story of Kagami arriving early for a practice match at Touou and somehow walking in on AoMomo getting busy with each other in very unexpected and explicit ways that Kagami did not see headed his way. Because, we need more PWP in this fandom, honestly.

18. And since we DO need more PWP, recently when checking the 30 lemons community on LJ (shut up, I’m not ancient, YOU’RE ANCIENT) I was wondering how exactly a smut plot around the “Taken by the Faceless Stranger” could work for Aomomo and I came up with this Masquerade ball that they end up both attending because of their friends and meeting each other and hitting off fantastically just chatting the night and then banging in a niche in the long castle-like premise of the ball. :’DDDD Cuz it’s me and if I don’t have something like that in the works, you know i’m likely sick.

ALL OF THESE I am planning on eventually finishing one day. ONE DAY!

For now they are in various states of completion and in various stages of being cared for and improved on with more ideas added and fleshed out.

I am not joking when I say I am very invested in this fandom. I just have difficulty getting to writing out these ideas when I spend like 60% of my free time playing my mobile games. :D 

So there you have it. I didn’t want to say anything about these because 1) I don’t want to get your hopes up. You Can Leave Your Hat On 2, for one, has been in the making for 3 years, very on-again-off-again kind of way, and I just... can’t do that to you guys. I have decided against posting any incomplete fics so I don’t torture you guys and my muse doesn’t abandom me forever for them. So when something is complete, it gets posted promptly for your viewing pleasure!

And 2) If I divulge too much of the story, I feel like my hype of it may disappear completely. Ehh, my muse is a willful creature, what can I tell you... 

So let’s hope at least SOME of these get to see the light of day soon!

[mrs-takami-keigo]

Summer Nights

For my second piece of work for the BNHArem collaboration I give you Summer Nights. Honestly this was so much fun to write. The theme was Summer, and summer to me means vacation and romance! You can find all the summer goodness with BNHA by other amazing and talented Authors here! 

Pairing: Shouto x Fem!Reader

Description: You’ve always watched summer romances in movies and read them in books, but you never thought it in a million years it could happen to you. 

Rating:SFW

Word count:6.0K

“Look! It’s the beach!” Ochaco beamed as she pulled on Tsui’s arm dragging her across the white sand. Soon Mina, Hagakure and Jiro followed behind them, giggling once the cool clear waters of the sea touched their feet.

‘Even at twenty-one they can’t control themselves.’

Shouto stepped out of the van putting on his black Ray Bans sunglasses, the summer sun beat down on the exposed skin his white v-neck didn't cover. Even with his dark sunglasses on, he could tell the hawaiian sky was a picturesque light blue. Vast beaches full of travelers and locals alike. The air was fresh and crisp with the smell of local restaurants mixing it to it. Tall palm trees rustling in the breeze, Shouto was sure he had never felt so calm in his life.

“Hey we should stay as a group to check in!!” Iida started after the group when Momo stepped in, placing her small hand on his shoulder.

“Oh let them have their fun. We’ve all been so busy these past three years with hero work, we deserve this vacation.” With a defeated sigh and mumbles of how irresponsible people could be, their old class rep turned around making his way to the entrance of the hotel.

“Okay boys! Me and Iida are going to go check in. Can you help unload the van and meet us inside!” Momo waved her hand as she passed the group of hotel staff, their mouth’s were slightly hung open admiring her stunning beauty.

“Man, why do the girls get to have fun and we gotta do the work? I thought this was a vacation?” shaking his head at his lightning powered friend's whine, Shouto reached into the back of the van to pick up his hard black suitcase.

“Shut up and just grab a damn bag, dumbass!” Bakugou snatched up his own suitcases before shoving past everyone stomping his way into the hotel. Shouto and the rest of the group followed behind the hot tempered blonde. The sliding glass doors opened for the group  where they were greeted by hotel staff members who had genuine smiles gracing their features.

A woman walked up to Shouto,”Aloha, welcome to honolulu.” She reached up and placed a lei with beautiful purple and white orchids around his neck. Giving her a soft smile in return Shouto continued his journey into the massive hotel lobby.

Shouto had stopped in the middle of the semi-busy area, lifting his sunglasses to sit on top of his head pushing his hair back, so he could admire every detail of the building. The only word he could come up with was glamorous. The lobby had white and grey marble flooring, tall white pillars with intricate flower designs lined in gold wrapped around the cylinders holding up the extravagant ceiling. Gold moldings lined the high ceiling and a giant crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room. Seeing as how it was summer people were all over, be it at the check-in/out desks, the concierge or even sitting on the wine colored couches and chairs that were placed strategically in the lobby.

“Wait, watch where you’re go-” Before he could react, Shouto felt someone bump into his back, forcing him to rock forward, sunglasses clattering to the floor. Looking over his right shoulder he caught a glimpse of your soft hair on top of your head before he felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. Feeling like everything turned into slow motion, you lifted your head, Shouto’s eyes widened.

‘Beautiful.’

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Your voice sounded like a sweet medley that calmed Shouto’s heart. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No I’m fine, a-are you okay?” He turned his body so he could face you, now he was able to take in all of your beauty. What you wore was so simple but you made it look stunning. A white tank top with the word bridesmaid in black lettering, a pair of blue denim bermuda shorts and black platform sandals, that's all you had on but still managed to take his breath away. You went to pick up the sunglasses that fell when you bumped into him, that’s when he noticed one multi-colored and one pink and purple crystal bracelet on your wrist.

You reached out your hand offering his glasses back. “Yeah I’m fine!” Shouto slowly took his glasses back from you. “But um next time maybe don’t stop in the middle of the entrance, it’s a little dangerous.” Shouto swore he felt his heart stop when you smiled at him.

“Hey! Come on, everyone is waiting for you!” Both you and Shouto looked over at your group of friends, all of them wearing the same top as you except one, calling over to you.

“Looks like I gotta run, don't wanna upset the bride. Oh and sorry again.” You sent him one last smile before running towards your friends. Shouto watched as your friends kept making glances at him before you turned to look back at him. A smile graced your lips as you sent him a small wave of your hand. One of your friend’s, the bride he assumed because of her shirt, leaned over and whispered something in your ear. Her action caused you to have a shocked expression before turning away from him quickly. Shouto let out a small chuckle, wondering what your friends could have possibly said to have made you so flustered.

“Hey, did you forget something Todoroki?” Deku’s voice brought him back to reality. “Why are you just standing here?”

“It was nothing Midoriya, just looking at the interior.” Looking at his close friend he let a small smile pass his lips. “Let’s go join the others shall we?”

Making his way back to his group, Shouto passed one more look over his shoulder only to see you were already gone.

‘Who is she?’

It wasn’t till that next night at the luau did Shouto see you again. You and your group walked past his table, his observant eyes catching every smile you passed to your friends as you found your seats. The way your royal blue floral sundress that came down right below your knees blew in the night breeze. You had your hair tied up in a ponytail, a beautiful Hawaiian hibiscus was placed on the base of the ponytail. Shouto tried to make it not apparent that he was watching you but couldn’t help himself, the more he looked at you the more he noticed. 

The tables for the luau were long wooden picnic tables enough for your group and his to fit together. Finally picking a spot on the bench, he had a perfect view of you, on the other side of the table slightly to the left closer to the stage.

“Those girls down there are beauties aren’t they?” Denki slung his arm over Shouto’s shoulders, taking a sip of his soda, Denki saw that Shouto had never stopped looking at you. Clearing his throat Denki decided to speak louder. 

“Isn't that the girl you were talking about last night? The one that bumped into you and you said smelled like a beautiful garden of roses, daffodil’s, peony and a hint of dahlia?” Shouto tore his eyes away from you to glare at his so called friend, ready to freeze or burn that big mouth of his off, just wasn’t sure which.

You heard the blonde as he spoke to the man you ran into the day before. Watching as the embarrassed male slammed a hand over his blonde friend's mouth and saying something through his teeth, making the others eyes widen. You couldn't help but chuckle at the dynamic of the two, the blonde looked like he was a puppy that had just gotten scolded.

The sound of your chuckle caught Shouto’s attention, he looked at you with a horrified expression. He realized that you heard what Denki said, meaning you know what he said about you. A light blush formed on his cheeks before he turned his gaze down to his drink, playing with the little umbrella it had in it.

“I think he likes you.” Your friend nudged you in the ribs with her elbow a smirk formed on her lips.

“I don’t know. I only bumped into him and said less than ten words to him.” You kept your gaze on him. He kept fidgeting with that paper umbrella trying to look at anything but you. “Maybe he’s just embarrassed cause I told him it wasn't smart to just stop like that.” Those pesky butterflies were still in your stomach from when you first made eye contact with him. His face looked like it was sculpted by angel’s themselves. Then his eyes, god those eyes, you felt like if you had looked at them any longer you’d turn into a blubbering mess.

“Well I found out from some of the staff here that he and his whole group are actually pro-Heroes from japan. It’s kind of like a summer vacation/reunion for them.”

“Even on vacation your journalistic self can’t help but find out the latest scoop huh?” You stuffed a freshly baked roll in her mouth, earning a light slap on your shoulder.

You heard the start of drums starting to pound in a rhythmic beat signaling that the show was starting. You paid attention to the performance of the hula dancers as they told stories with their fluid movements, it was beautiful. The night carried on with more performances, food and fun moments between the performers and the audience. The show soon came to a close, leaving you wanting more. But ever so often you felt the gaze of a certain hero, your heart racing every time you felt it.

“Wasn’t that awesome?” Your friend had her arm intertwined with yours as you walked the torch lit pathway back to the small villas. You could only hum in agreement, not really paying attention to what she had been talking about. For some reason your mind was still jumping back to the red and white haired man. There was about him, something that made you want to know more about him.

Not watching where you were going you bumped shoulders with a woman who was passing you causing the room key that was tucked into your pocket to fall out. With a quick apology to the women you resumed your walk down the path never realizing the key fell out of your pocket.

“Excuse me!” You heard a man shout from behind you, making you and your friend stop. “I think you dropped this.” Turning around you saw the man that haunted your thoughts jog up to you holding the room key that had fallen. Stuffing your hand in your pockets where that key should be you had finally realized it had fallen. He was soon in front of you the key was being held in between his thumb and pointer finger, holding it out for you.

“I’ll meet you back at the villa.” Your friend sent you a sly smile wiggling her eyebrows as she pushed you a little forward towards the awaiting man.

“Oh um thank you. I can be such a clutz sometimes.” Reaching out a hand, your fingertips brushed against his, gently taking the plastic object back. It may sound cliche but you were sure there was a small rush of electricity that ran through you with just that slight contact.

“It was no problem.” He rubbed the back of his neck once the key was back in your hand. Now it was your turn to look at him like he did you. He was a decently taller than you by a few inches, his red and white hair framed showing off the impeccable structure of his face. The scar on his left side didn’t hinder his beauty in any way. His sharp eyes were just as mesmerizing as they were the other day. The white and turquoise striped short sleeved button down outlined his broad shoulders, the first few buttons open showing off the silver necklaces he wore. Black khaki shorts that seemed to go perfectly on his long legs, and black leather boat shoes. All in all he looked like the perfect man to you.

“What’s your name?” You're not sure what came over you ask that. You could have just walked away after saying thank you but for some reason you couldn’t.

“Shouto Todoroki. And yours?” You told him, only to have him repeat it back. The sound of your name rolling off his lips set your heart racing. “It’s a beautiful name.” Silence fell between you two. “This may sound a little forward but would you like to take a walk on the beach with me?” You can tell he was hesitant to ask you, but that only made you smile.

“I would like that Shouto.” He smiled back at you as he moved to the side so you could start walking back towards the beach. The walk for the most part was in silence, just the gentle sound of the summer’s night breeze dancing through the palm trees.

“So, I hear you’re a pro-hero in japan.” You decided to break the ice, hoping to get to know him better. “What’s that like?” By the time you decide to speak you two had made it to the end of the concrete pathway where the sand from the  beach started. Stopping you bent down to take off your wedges, not wanting to walk in the sand with them. Looking next to you, you noticed Shouto doing the same. Once he got his own shoes off you both picked up the shoes and made your way down the beach.

“How did you find that out?”

“I have my sources.” You shrugged flashing a playful grin at the man accompanying you.

Shouto chuckled at your response. You could feel those butterflies fluttering again. “It’s hard work, but worth it. To be able to protect people is the main reason why I wanted to become a hero.” His voice was a little gruff at times but calming at the same time. “What do you do, are you a Pro as well?”

You had reached the shore, the sounds of crashing waves roared across the empty beach. The full moon high in the sky reflecting beautifully off the dark sea as if it were the moon's personal mirror. “No, unfortunately.” A wave crashed, making its way up the sand, the water tickling the tips of your toes. “I was born without a quirk.”

You turned your head to Shouto, his face showing expressions of being apologetic and of sheer panic, you were used to it by now. “But it doesn’t bother me. I may not have a quirk but I still have powers.” You wiggled your fingers like a witch would do in the cartoons you would watch on TV when you were younger.

Shouto tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I have the power to let couples have their dream weddings.” You let out a laugh as the confusion became more apparent. “I’m a wedding planner. I may not be a well known one but one day I will be. That way I can do my part for people, it may not be as impactful as what you do but it’s still something.”

“I think that’s an amazing power you have. To be able to help people with their dreams isn’t a small feat. It's something very admirable actually.” The smile that graced his face was nothing short of breath taking. It was almost contagious how his smile made your own wider.

There was a silence that fell between you two again, but you were comfortable around him. Just what was it about him that made you feel like this around a stranger? Was it because he was a hero or was there something else to him? Something deeper? You wanted to find out.

“Can I ask you a question? And I’m sorry if it’s out of line but how did you get that scar?” You had turned to face him, stepping closer you got a better look at the imperfection on his skin.

“Oh this,” he raised his palm to it gently grazing the scar with his finger tips. “My mother poured boiling water on my left side because it reminded her of my father.”

An audible gasp left your lips as you stepped closer to him. Not sure what came over you but you raised your hand to cover his. “I’m so sorry, Shouto. I shouldn’t have asked.”

His body froze. You were so close to him, your scent encased him, pulling him further into your mysterious spell. What have you done to him, he felt like his heart was about to explode whenever you simply looked at him. But to have you this close and touching his hand he was sure he had seen the heavens open, and you were the angel greeting him.

He leaned slightly into your hand. “It’s fine, it happened so long ago. It’s a part of how I became the man I am today.” Taking your hand in his, he walked you both over to a set of lounge chairs. 

He then explained his childhood to you. What his power is, who his father was, how Deku helped him make his fire his own, everything. As he told his story you felt water gather in your eyes. He had been through so much, and yet he was this kind, confident and all around beautiful man.

Shouto honestly couldn't explain why he opened up to you the way he did. It took his classmates, his closest friends, much longer to get this deep with him. You made him feel like he could open himself up, that he didn’t need to be ashamed of his past.

You two went well into the night, sharing stories of your past and dreams about your futures. It wasn’t until you saw the sky start to turn lighter did you realize that it was almost six in the morning. You’ve spent more than seven hours with a man you had just met. Shouto offered to walk you to your villa that you shared with your friends, in which you gladly accepted.

Shouto walked down the same path from before, glancing to his right to look at you. The blush of dawn illuminated your skin, shining brightly through your tresses. That serene smile on your lips made his heart do backflips. He was so caught up in watching you he didn’t realize that you were both standing in front of the villa.

“This is me.” You moved to stand on the stoop in front of the door, making you eye level with Shouto. “I really enjoyed tonight Shouto.”

“So did I.” His voice was soft like he didn't want to speak too loud in case it broke the spell you had on him.

“Well, I guess I’ll just see you around the hotel.” You gave him a short wave as you turned to open the door.

“Wait.” You were stopped by Shouto’s hand as he got a hold of yours. Looking down at your connected hands you felt like your body was on fire. “May I see you again?”

Raising your eyes from your hands, you met his gaze. He had a slight blush forming on his cheeks, his eyes searching yours for an answer. You couldn’t help it, no matter what he did you always felt a sense of happiness around him.

“I would really like that.” You watched as relief washed over him, his shoulders visibly relaxing, his brilliant smile came back.

“Tonight at nine, can you meet me at the beach again. If you’re not busy that is.”

“I think I can fit you in my schedule.” with hands still connected, Shouto raised your hand to his lips. Placing a gentle kiss in the back of it.

“Then I’ll see you tonight.” He released your hand, taking a few steps backwards, his eyes never leaving yours.

Turning around you unlocked the door, opening it. Stepping through the door you closed it and pressed your back against the wood. Taking the hand he held on to, you placed it above your racing heart.

“Shouto Todoroki , what have you done to me?” Still feeling like you were on cloud nine you made your way to your room, hoping to get some sleep before your friends decided to go sightseeing.

Over the next five days of your vacation, you met up with Shouto every night at nine on the beach. Tonight was no different. This was what you looked forward to each and every day, to see Shouto, to hear the stories of his days in highschool with his friends, to spend all hours of the night with him just talking.

Walking to the beach you noticed Shouto was already there. His dark jeans rolled up his calves as he stood in the water, face turned up to the sky. You could feel the air in your lungs be sucked out. The way the moonlight was reflecting off his porcelain skin, made him look like an unearthly being, highlighting the sharp features of his face. Silky strands of his two-toned hair flies in the wind, a smile plays on his lips. He was perfect.

Rolling up your jeans, you walked into the water to stand next to him. “It’s a beautiful night isn't it?” The cold water rolled over your feet coming up over your ankles. It was one of the chilliest nights you’ve had all summer. Thinking maybe you should have brought a light jacket with you, you rubbed your exposed arms trying to generate heat.

“It is, now that you’re here.” You could feel the heat in your cheeks start to rise. One thing you learned about Shouto over these nights was that he wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Are you cold?” Shouto started to come closer to you, wrapping his left arm around your shoulders, his body touching yours. It was then you realized he was using his fire side to keep you warm.

“Thank you, Shouto.” His quirk had amazed you when he told you what it was. On the third night he had done a small demonstration, showing you how it works. You could still remember the excitement in his eyes when he made you a small ice figurine of the flower you had in your hair that first night.

Suddenly you thought back to what your friend asked ‘So what are you gonna do once we have to go back to reality?’. You only had two more nights to spend with Shouto, two more nights to live in this fantasy. What were you going to do, you didn’t live in japan and he did. You were just a wedding planner and he was a hero, you lived in two entirely different worlds.

“Hey Shouto, I wanted to give you something.” You broke apart from him, already missing the warmth he gave you, you faced him. “Remember when you asked me about my bracelets?” he nodded his head, watching as you reached in your back pocket. You pulled out a crystal bracelet much like your own, only this one had black and a light brown small round stones on it.

“I got you one, this is a protection bracelet.” You took hold of his wrist, sliding the elastic object over his large slightly calloused hand. “It’s made from black obsidian which is known as a grounding and protective stone and tiger eye; it's going to help bring you balance and help you release fear and anxiety, aiding you in making unclouded judgments and understanding. I thought that you could use this seeing as how you have a tough and dangerous job.” You played with the little polished stones now on his wrists. You wanted to give him something to remember these summer nights with you, because you knew this is all it would ever be, summer nights and a summer romance.

“I feel bad, I didn’t get you anything.” He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand slide down to the ends playing with it between his fingers.

“You don’t have to, the memories of these past few nights are all I need.” his eyes stared into your own, like they were trying to say something to you but you couldn't figure it out.

You gasped as Shouto pulled you into a tight hug. His hand stroking the back of your head, long fingers running through your hair. “Sometimes memories aren't enough. Tomorrow night I promise, I’ll give you something you can always remember me by.”

That night you spent it like all the other nights, only difference was Shouto had held you for the better part of the whole night. Soon it was time to say goodnight, like every night. Once you closed your door Shouto headed back to the villa he shared with his friends, he looked at his wrist staring at the bracelet. He had to get you something just as meaningful in the morning. Letting out a sigh he looked back up at the star lit sky, tomorrow night he was going to ask you if you wanted to continue this romance once the vacation ended.

You had butterflies in your stomach all day long. Something about what Shouto said last night had you on your toes. Deciding you were going to dress up tonight you put on a black and daisy printed spaghetti strapped dress that came up to right above your knees. You made sure to spray your signature perfume, knowing that Shouto liked the smell of it just as much as you did. After talking with your friends about it, maybe it wasn't so bad to carry on with this romance after leaving Hawaii. So many people you know and even couples you planned weddings for had done the whole long distance thing. ‘This could work!’ You smiled as you picked up pace making your way to the beach.

Once you reached the beach you noticed Shouto wasn't there yet. It wasn’t like him to not be here before you. Shrugging it off you made your way to the lounge chairs you and Shouto declared as your spot. Pulling out your phone you decided to play a game or check your social media sites while you waited for him.

Five minutes turned into thirty, thirty turned into an hour and before you knew it you wanted on that beach for almost an hour and a half. You felt silly for never getting Shouto’s number, what if something happened to him and his friends. You were about to get up and make your way to the front desk to ask them to call his villa for you when you saw a hotel staff member run towards you.

“Excuse me are you,” He said your name, before handing you a beautifully wrapped box and a letter. “Mr.Todoroki asked me to give that to you.” without another word the man turned around and left.

Sitting back down you placed the box on your lap as you opened the letter.

‘To my Flower,

 I’m so sorry to have left without a word but something came up back in japan and they needed all of us to come back immediately. These past few days seemed like a fantasy for me, YOU were like a fantasy for me. I was afraid that one day I would open my eyes and you would be gone, that you were only someone I imagined. You are a woman who must be too wonderful, too beautiful, too great to be true, it's odd to think that a man like me could catch your eye and possibly your heart.  

I was going to use tonight to ask you if this could turn into something more than just a past memory, if this can become our reality. If you want to become MY reality. Inside the box is something you could cherish forever and my contact information. Hope to hear from you soon, my flower.

-Shouto

Folding the letter back up and placing it against your stomach, you switched your attention to the small box. The wrapping paper was a beautiful lilac and gold metallic marble pattern, with a mesh white ribbon wrapped around it, a perfect bow on top. You almost didn't want to open it, it was so beautiful.

Pulling the ribbon you gently untied it from around the box before pulling at the paper. The gift had a little weight to it, your mind wandered trying to come up with what could possibly be in there. Once you got rid of the paper, you were left with a small dark blue velvet box. Slowly you opened the lid. You nearly dropped it as a gasp passed your lips, hands shaking, water gathering in the corner of your eyes.

Inside was a Hawaiian Hibiscus hair pin made out of red sapphires, he remembered your favorite flower. You had mentioned it to him the first night and it was never brought up again. You ran your fingertips over the stunning stones, taking it out of its case you clipped it to the side of your hair. With it securely in place you looked back at the box hopping to find a small card with his phone number.

Confusion struck as you noticed there wasn't a card in the box, tilting your head you turned the object over shaking it hoping something was going to magically fall out. But nothing, going back to the letter you re-read the last line over again just to make sure you did read it right. Grabbing the envelope you ripped it open but once again, nothing.

Shouto forgot to leave his number for you, you had no way of contacting him. Was this fate's way of telling you this wouldn't have worked?  Did fate save you from an impending heartbreak? You looked up to the stars as tears started to flow from your eyes. You and Shouto were never meant to walk down this path together, at least not in reality. Now you only had these summer nights to remember the man that set your heart on fire. With tears streaming down your face you held the letter to your heart.

“I’ll cherish these memories forever, Shouto.”

It’s been five years to the day and you haunted Shouto’s memories. Those nights were still fresh in his head, if he closed his eyes he could still feel that soft breeze on the beach, your scent wafting around him. The way your smile was somehow brighter than the sun, your laugh was like a lullaby in his head, he could remember it all. When he landed back home he had expected you to have sent him a text message but nothing, even days, weeks, months later there was nothing. He was devastated, he truly wanted to believe that you had felt for him the way he felt for you but he was mistaken.

“You're still thinking about that girl icy hot?” The sound of Bakugou’s rough voice brought him out of his reverie. He had been put on patrol with his old classmate, there was a big convention going on in town so they were put on duty to make sure nothing happens in the surrounding area.

“No I’m not.” Shouto continued to walk alongside his friend, as his hand played with the bracelet on his wrist.

“Tch don’t lie, every time the summer comes your head gets further in the clouds. It’s been five years man, let it go.”

He’s tried so many times but couldn’t, you were all he could think of. He tried looking for you but didn’t know where, he racked his brain thinking back to the conversations but you never said where you lived now. He was hoping that one day your paths would cross like they did in Hawaii on that beautiful summer day, and just hope he wasn't too late.

“Come in Ground Zero and Shouto!” The heroes could hear the dispatcher call for them in the hidden earpiece they had.

“Shouto and Ground Zero here, what’s going on?”

“Looks like some criminals decided to show up at the convention center. Other heroes are on their way but you two are the closest!” Looking at Bakugou, Shouto watched as he blasted himself in the air going towards the center.

“Time to get your head out of the past icy hot and focus on the present!!” Shouto was never one to take advice from the hot tempered hero, but maybe this time he would.

They arrived at the scene to see people running and screaming out of the convention center. police officers and EMT’s trying to get people to safety and taking those who were injured “Bakugou, you get the attention of the criminals, keep them busy until backup arrives, I’ll go in and try to evacuate as many people as I can.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” He took off into the building, one thing over the years hasn't changed and that was Bakugou’s anger.

Running to the back of the building Shouto found an entrance that seemed to have not been noticed by the criminals, Shouto figured he'd start the evacuation from the back working his way to the front making sure everyone was safe. Running into rooms, and halls he got out as many as he could making sure the coast was clear for the civilians to run to the exit.

He had gotten everyone out and was about to go aid Bakugou when he heard a woman screaming as she was being held back by the police. “My friend is in there! She’s still in there!” There was sheer panic and desperation in her voice .

“Do you know where she is?” Shouto was slightly out of breath having ran through the entire building.

“She was in the dressing room of the main hall!” Shouto nodded his head at her before running off back into the building. ‘How could I have missed her!’ Gritting his teeth Shouto pushed himself faster, he had to get to her and then go help Bakugou.

“Oi Todoroki where are you?” He could hear Bakugou over the earpiece.

“There is one more civilian in the dressing room, once I get her to safety I’ll head over to help you.”

“Help me?” Shouto heard a loud explosion followed by Bakugou laughing. “Who said I needed your help, just figured you'd want in on the action!”

Shouto was about to respond back when he heard the sound of someone screaming. Using his ice as a booster he slid down the escalators leading him to the main hall where the woman’s friend said she was. Slowing down and stopping right outside the door, Shouto heard the criminal speaking to the woman.

“Just come out and nobody gets hurt!” Shouto used that as his moment to freeze the criminal, surrounding him in ice. “What the-” The criminal tried to break free but couldn’t.

“It’s useless, you can't break my ice.” His voice was low and deadly sending shivers down the criminal’s spine. Shouto walked into the room, tables were flipped glass was broken but the woman’s friend was nowhere to be seen. “Miss, you can come out, it's safe now.” He walked closer to the stand up closet, figuring that’s the first place a person would hide. Shouto put his hand on the small door knob ready to open it when he got a whiff of it.

‘Roses, daffodil’s, peony and a hint of dahlia? It couldn’t be, there's no way’.

Nearly ripping the door off it hinges, Shouto’s eyes widened as he saw you. A mix of black mascara and tears streaming down your face. Your body shaking from fear hands clenched into fists on your side. You opened your eyes, meeting Shouto’s shocked ones. That’s when he saw it, that hair pin he gave you all those years ago, placed on the side of your head.

“Shouto?” Was the last thing you heard yourself say before everything went black.

[heiterbroward]

Riverdale prome

Ok so first things first, I expected this episode to be bad...but I didn't think it would also be boring af! Kinda awk for an ep called "climax" to be as anticlimactic as it could get without boring people to literal death.

Anyway, let's start with Bughead. Is there a reason the whole town is at their beck and call? Like all they have to do is ask and suddenly Kevin, Cheryl, Reggie, etc. will all stop what they're doing (which is nothing but still!) to do favors for Bughead...including making a snuff film? Like ok...first of all, why do they want kids watching this to google what a snuff film is? But also, they were all pretty excited to take part, even Kevin. Like we get it, they all get turned on by it! Jk it's not sexual (isn't that the excuse they used for the tickle porn plot? Anyways...).

Also, the part where it was playing Hal's tape at the weird place, Betty looked shaken by it and had to stop for a min. But I thought her dad being the Black Hood is badass and a good card to pull any time they need to hurry up and solve a case? At least, that must be what she wants Jughead to think. And he takes at face value that she's unaffected so he can keep living out his fantasy of dating Dark Betty! I'm surprised he didn't suggest that she kill him on tape! Jk tho bc they have great communication. Also nice to know Jughead can just threaten someone to beat up Brett bc he has Serpent connections in prison. Like damn, all Bughead's schemes are contingent on nepotism. No way the Jughead fake death plot would've worked if they didn't have FP (the police), Charles (the FBI), Dr. Curdle (the medical examiner), etc, all in on it! They're kinda like Nate from Euphoria js. Like are you a mastermind, or do you just have the privilege of having the town wrapped around your finger?

Don't even get me started on Varchie. Archie looked miserable af the whole time, so I guess he must've become totally joyless since getting rejected by Betty. But don't worry, he'll still ask Veronica to hop in the shower for a quick bang even though she gives him the ick as of late. Did he even ask her to prom? Idk! Kinda shipped him w that one dude from Katy Keene, but that's another story. I also thought Veronica singing "Carry the Torch" would be more sad bc it would show Veronica looking at Archie and maybe show flashbacks of them or something and the irony would be that he doesn't even feel those words about her like she does him...but they just showed a flashback of Barchie in the bunker and barely even showed Veronica during it at all. Like even in a scene where she should be important and her perspective should be shown, she's still an afterthought. Toni, too, but I'll get to Smithers in a min.

Also loved how there was no confrontation. Like Veronica didn't even get mad or anything...we didn't even get her thoughts at all actually beyond her crying. Like what does she make of all this? Doesn't matter I guess! Also funny how Archibald downplayed it like "it was just one kiss!" It's like ok? Last time, it was one kiss. This time, you sang a song about soulmates, kissed again, sang a song about finding each other in a wicked little town while experiencing mutual pining, had an emotional affair and multiple meet ups in the bunker, had enough feelings to write a love song to Betty, and was about to leave Veronica for Betty until Betty shut the idea down. But yeah, it was just a kiss!

Stg Varchie are gonna end up like the song "Me and My Husband" bc is there a reason she felt compelled to handle the situation with so much grace? Maybe too much? Can't let yourself get too upset bc it might "implode" Bughead? So what? Isn't Jughead entitled to the truth, or does Veronica still value Betty's feelings over her own for some reason? And Varchie will just date until graduation, then break up...why? It's like there's this invisible force that's making the couples feel like they have to stay together to uphold the status quo or something. Such toxic positivity. Let's act like nothing is wrong bc draguation is coming up! Ugh, don't even remind me of how Archie didn't even do drag in the Hedwig ep. But anyway, all their interpersonal relationships have become so fake and performative. Varchie's convo felt like a couple trying to discuss the best way to go about breaking up to have the best PR...everyone is afraid to rock the boat too much. And everyone else is reacting so unemotionally that Veronica feels out of place for crying even though her reaction is the probably the most normal. Just seems like Varchie both dc about their relationship at all at this point. And they're gonna put them back together bc her husband will be Hiram Jr. and she'll have no other options? K!

Speaking of toxic positivity, what's up w this message that you have to stand by your family no matter what? Veronica's friends were all in on knowing about Barchie and not one person decided to tell her the truth. And that mixed with Hiram's "disease" just made it feel like the only people on earth who will ever prioritize her are her toxic family. Same with Cheryl. Like since when is family the most important to her? She goes back and forth between loving and hating Penelope. And how am I supposed to think her Nana is someone good for her to be around when she raised a monster bootyhole like Clifford? Like you don't have to be endlessly loyal to your family if they do nothing but cause you trauma. No one is entitled to your loyalty.

Also, Choni's breakup felt just as robotic as Varchie's. Like "i will always remember our times together TT" or something and Toni says "ok bye babe." Plus was it supposed to be cute or iconic that Cheryl demanded prom queen like she demands all her parts in the musicals? Bc maybe for once they could've tried to give her a human moment and had her campaign for someone else to win. Or maybe have all her friends team up and vote for her without her demanding it to signify that she has actually managed to build some genuine friendships over these last few years. But of course she hasn't. No one has. Who talks in this show unless they need a favor?

Cheryl also kinda came off manipulative when she only expressed remorse when Toni was about to break up w her. She didn't think she did anything wrong before that bc she has never respected Toni's boundaries and views Toni's desire for autonomy as a personal attack/betrayal. This mixed with her losing touch with actual people who have been there for her (Veronica and Archie) in favor of becoming suddenly buddy-buddy w Bughead (even though they blackmailed her to save FP and only talk to her when they need a favor) and forming a possessive (and apparently not emotionally fulfilling since she was still seeking out Jason's corpse for companionship when they were together) relationship with Toni that she has now lost has left her feeling alone again...just like she did after Jason died. She hasn't made any progress in the past four seasons in working through her trauma and has only gotten worse. She needs to seek out healthy relationships with people who hear her out and offer her empathy/compassion but also stand their ground and have appropriate boundaries. Kinda like her friendship w Veronica in season 1, but it's not season 1 so I quit!

Also, is there a reason this was marketed as a storyline for Toni even though her perspective was shown zilch times? Right...but instead, Cheryl will go on about being "a victim of the family curse" while still standing by her family. Somebody help my bestie bc she needs to gtfo and go date Donna! I said what I said!

P.S. When Mary said endgame...and she thought I wasn't gonna clock her on that! Plus if Fangs wanted prom king so bad, why didn't he get mad that Kevin didn't stand up to Cheryl on his behalf or even try? Idk at least then, they would have dialogue!

[rae-gar-targaryen]

oneirataxia, but make it comedy | marcus pike x reader

A/N: Part of the Sleepover Weekend.  Oh, shit, did I ever get carried away. “Write a blurb,” they said, “it’ll be fun,” they said. “You won’t write 3.3k words of a fake-dating Marcus Pike fic. Surely not. Surely the fuck I will. Buckle up, babe. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Pairing: Marcus Pike (The Mentalist) x fem!Reader

Warnings: Romance is its own warning. 

Word Count: 3.2k of fake dating tropes, bad jokes, Marcus getting a lil sassy (he gets it from his mom, apparently), and coffee abuse.

Summary: Marcus invites you home for the holidays; but there’s a bit of a string attached to the invite. Based on the prompt: “Your mum hates me.” “She doesn’t hate you…she just doesn’t like you.” 

NOT MY GIF

--

You were absolutely going to kill Marcus Pike.

Okay, not kill. Maybe maim?

As you met his mother’s eyeline over the rim of her tea mug you could have sworn she sneered at you a little.

So, no. Most definitely kill. Marcus was number one on the list. And his mom? Number two.

Let’s back up a little here--

You and Marcus were both agents at the Bureau together. You were part of the Art Squad, and have partnered with Marcus on missions a time or two. Honestly, you thought he was kinda cute. He had a sweet vibe to round out his killer intensity when he was in the field. And once you started talking to him, he had a kind of puppydog energy you found so darn endearing.  But in your sporadic interactions with Marcus, it never felt like he was being his fullest, true self. Like he was holding back a bit.

Still, you didn’t press. Pike’s business was Pike’s business.

Beyond him bringing you coffees a few times at team meetings, your interactions were limited. And he brought coffee for other people sometimes, too, so you tried not to read much into it and to damper your little crush.

It wasn’t until the two of you were partnered to go undercover together at a gala that you think Marcus really, truly saw you. You two had made an excellent team-- posing as a husband and wife undercover to sniff out some art thieves.

Marcus, in his pressed suit, had looked every inch of just dashing. You tried not to let yourself get too carried away in your daydream. Your dress was uncomfortable, and rode up a bit, if you were honest. You hoped Marcus didn’t notice.

But he told you you looked nice, ever the gentleman. And you were so busy looking for your mark that you didn’t notice how often Marcus was really looking at you.

After the gala, Marcus approached you more.

The idle, “Hey, how was your weekend” became, “Have you heard the new Black Keys album?”

You started to feel like he really understood you-- and the agency must’ve thought so, too, because they partnered you more and more.

Sure, Marcus knew you. So it was honestly fucking baffling to you why he’d even ask this of you--

“You want me to what?” you asked Marcus, your tone taking a slightly interrogatory edge.

“Uh, come to my family’s house for the holiday? I know you were going to spend it alone anyway, so really, you don’t have to--” Marcus sputtered a bit, his invitation seemingly sweet on its surface. But you were no dummy, you knew what you’d heard.

“No, Pike. Don’t act like you’re doing me some huge favor. I fucking heard you--” you started.

“Then why’d you ask me to repeat myself?” God, he could be so smug at times. That sinful little smirk around his full lips making you want to smack said smirk right off of his handsome face.

“Pike, I’m not going to pretend to be your little girlfriend at some family holiday shindig just so you can convince your mommy you’re not a perpetual bachelor, or whatever asinine reason you have for this request,” you chided.

The nerve of this guy! And to think, you’d had an Alicia Sliverstone-sized crush on this sweet, good-looking Paul Rudd wannabe!

“Come on, it’s not like that,” he protested, trying to win you over to his (obviously terrible) idea.

“Then what’s it like?” You demanded.

“It’s, uh.. It’s complicated. I was just hoping you’d do this for me? Please? Partner?” He implored. You almost gave in. Those damn puppydog eyes slightly too endearing for their own good-- but, no, you have always been a stick-to-your-guns kinda girl. Marcus Pike’s failed, mid-2000s rom-com of an oddball request wasn’t gonna change anything. But still… you were curious.

“Nope. No way, Pike. If you can’t be honest with me, then why would I do something so obviously-insane for you? Don’t act like I’d be doing you the favor when it’s obvious it’s a favor to you… especially if you won’t even tell me why. We’re partners, we’re supposed to trust each other.” You were resolute.

Marcus looked like he was going to tell you. In that moment, maybe he would have… He opened his mouth slightly as if to speak, before shaking his head slightly and closing his mouth again. As if he’d thought better about trusting you. Fuckin’ insulting.

“Sorry, Ace. I can’t tell you that.”

And with that, you left the room. Screw Pike! Screw him screwing with your feelings. A favor. Honestly!

Two days later, Pike walked into your office with your coffee of choice in one hand, and an apologetic look on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry about the other day. You’re right, it was crazy… it was crazy,” the second time sounded more to himself than to you.

“Bring me caffeine, babe, and all is forgiven,” you chirped, trying to lighten the mood. But it was clear Pike was thinking about something deeply, churning it over in his mind, his ochre eyes swimming with the sea of his own indecision.

“Pike, don’t think too hard. It’s not good for you. I can smell the smoke coming from your ears,” you teased gently.

“Teresa,” he said softly.

“Excuse me?”

“Her name was Teresa. She was my fiance… briefly. It… ended badly. Embarrassingly. I’m not-- I haven’t really been the same since. But I fucked up,” Marcus rambled. You nodded, trying not to interrupt him so he could continue. “I dove in too fast, proposed too soon. She didn’t really want me.”

Your heart panged at his confession. You’d had no idea. Honestly, your status as newbie agent didn’t really afford you to the inner workings of Marcus Pike, and you didn’t want to incite gossip by asking around too much. Being an inquisitive agent because it’s our job isn’t much of a guise if your crush becomes too obvious. Poor Marcus.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Marcus. I really am,” you placed a hand on his shoulder. “No one deserves that. But, um, what does this have to do with you asking me to spend the holidays with you?”

Marcus sighed.

“I told my mom about Teresa. When we were together, anyway. She knows it ended badly. I couldn’t take her smothering. Her pitying glances. Her everything. So, when she asked me about coming home for Christmas, I said I couldn’t because I was spending it with my girlfriend. I panicked. She then insisted I bring said girlfriend to Christmas at their place,” Marcus rushed out. “The problem being, of course, said girlfriend is fictional. Imaginary. Just like some bogus forgerd painting,” he chuckled a bit at his own attempt at humor.

Of course, of everything Marcus had just said, you were most surprised to hear that he was, in fact, single. File that one away for later.

“And your first thought was to ask me to be your fake girlfriend? Pike, that’s a little Hollywood. And not in a good way,” you chided.

“I know,” he moaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “And now she won’t let it go. So please, please, kid. Have pity on me? Come be my girlfriend for a week at Christmas?” He gazed at you pleadingly. “And you were an obvious first choice. You’re a stunner in the field, and smart. I thought you could handle it.”

Damn those eyes. Damn that face. Damn Marcus Pike.

If you hadn’t been caffeinated and in a better mood than the other day, you probably would have said no. Regardless of your caffeinated status, you definitely SHOULD have said no. And yet, here you were, drinking your coffee like it’s your dumb bitch juice.

But still, you couldn’t resist teasing a little.

“Don’t try to flatter me, Pike, it won’t work. I know I’m a good agent. But here, now, I’m just imagining you whining to your mom.” You put on your best, piteous John Mulaney impression, “Can my giiiiirlfriend come?” you mocked.

Pike rolled his eyes at you.

“Fine,” he said, popping himself up from the edge of your desk where he’d been irresistibly leaning since entering your office. “Enjoy your Christmas alone with your cats. I’m sure the ugly sweater looks great with cat hair stuck to it.” He started to walk out the door.

What possessed you to do what you were about to do?

“Pike,” you hollered, stopping him in the doorway. He turned.

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Maybe it was because you really did feel for him. Which you did. Maybe it’s because you didn’t want to be alone. Which you didn’t. But maybe it’s because you were still carrying a torch for Marcus Pike, and the idea of spending Christmas with him was too good to pass up. Even if his whole family was there. Oh, shit. You are so screwed.

He jumped up, wrapping his arms around you quickly.

“Great!” He intoned. “Because I already told my mom it was you.”

“I’m gonna let that one go for now, Pike,” although you were secretly imploding. “Because we need to set some ground rules.”

“Fine.”

So, here you find yourself, days later, standing in the threshold of the Pike family home, where Marcus’s mother had been smothering her son with kisses and coos, waxing poetic about how glad she was that her “baby is finally home!”

And then, like a demonic switch has been turned, she turns to you and greets you (if you want to call it that) nothing short of ice-fucking-cold and a chirp of, “So this is the tart you work with!” before turning on her heel and walking to the kitchen, hollering for Marcus to put his bags down and follow.

The rest of the week passed like that, Marcus’s mother flipping moods so fast it made your head spin like the little girl from “The Exorcist.” Ironic, really, since it was Marcus’s mother who was the damn demon.

“So, Jennifer, where is your family from again?” She’d been calling you “Jennifer” for the entire time. She knew damn well that wasn’t your name. You grinned and bore it, for the sake of her beautiful, idiot son sitting at the table at your side.

You mumbled your name, trying to politely correct her.

“Is that not what I said?”

Honestly. This woman was a piece of work.

“You know, Mrs. Pike, we could get to know each other a lot better if you started with the right name.” You were just trying to lighten the mood a little, but not able to resist a slight jab at this old goat of a woman.

“I’m sure I’ll learn your name, dear, if you stick around long enough for it to be important to remember,” she replied primly, sipping her tea. You wanted to knock the china cup out of her little rat hands.  

UNBELIEVABLE, you thought. Here, you were suffering this horrid woman because at the behest of the ghost of Teresa Lisbon, the recipient of a punishment for a crime you’d done nothing to incite. Guilty by association was still guilty, though, apparently according to Marcus’s mother. If another woman had broken her son’s heart, she obviously felt entitled to regard you with suspicion and disdain.

Marcus was nothing short of apologetic in the peace and quiet of his bedroom, expressing profuse regret from his spot on the floor where he slept. Because of course he would be a perfect gentleman to you and allow you to sleep in his bed during this whole whatever-it-was. And if he was trying to be a gentleman, he was failing. That tight white t-shirt stretched across his fine, firm chest was just fucking rude.

“Marcus, it’s fine,” you insisted. “You have no control over her or her opinions. And I’ve seen and dealt with worse. Federal agent remember?”

As the week pressed on, you were able to temper the rudeness of Marcus’s mother with the intensity of your ever-growing feelings for Marcus. Seeing him at home, in his element, in relaxed clothing was doing something to you. And you weren’t quite ready to admit it. You spent quite a bit of time together, reading in front of the crackling fire in his family’s cozy living room. You played boardgames against his younger brother and his sister-in-law, teaming up to destroy the competition at Codenames.

You’d thought maybe, just maybe, Marcus was developing feelings for you, too, his touch lingering on your waist as he shuffles past you in the kitchen, sending you soft smiles over the pages of his books as you two read. But the more you thought about it, the more you were convinced that Marcus was just being nice and putting on a show for his family.

Until that old goat opened her mouth.

The family dinners were the worst. Marcus’s mother always seemed to sit across from you just so she could glare into you with that unyielding gaze of hers.

“Jennifer, a word?” She asked, as you got up to help clear the table.

Yeah. Where were we? Oh yeah, you were DEFINITELY gonna kill Marcus for talking you into this.

Marcus put the dishes he was carrying down, and squeezed your hand gently.

“It’ll be fine,” he whispers to you, before pressing a soft kiss to your temple, your brain instantly going dumb and numb at the contact, like you were listening to the people in the room from underwater. Nevertheless, you followed her into the kitchen, where you stood, alone, a marble-topped island counter the Switzerland between the two of you.

“Yes, Mrs. Pike?”

“I’m going to be frank with you, dear, I don’t like you,” she stated.

You’d had enough. The wrong name, the cold shoulder, the glares, the hmphs of disdain whenever you talked about the cool cases you were working on. You’d just had enough.

“No shit, Mrs. Pike? I just assumed you’d greeted all of your guests this way, and that’s why there were so many of them here. Because of your warm hospitality,” you snipped.

“Don’t get cute with me. I’m not about to applaud a relationship with my son if it’s just going to end badly.”

Now that gave you pause.

“That Teresa girl really did a number on him. So excuse me if I’m not going to sanction any old relationship. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. Not if you’re just going to break his heart. You’re just his co-worker and it should stay that way. Unless you’re serious, especially with the way he looks at you,” she stated firmly.

And you could honestly forgive her in that moment. Almost, anyway. “The way he looks at you” ringing in your ears. You had to say something-- and snark was getting you nowhere. So, you spoke from the heart-- before you could think about it too hard.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Pike. I wasn’t around for any of that. I don’t know much. Only the little Marcus has told me. And I'm not keen on making him relive any of that, or cause him heartbreak,” you paused. “But I wouldn’t do that to him. Because I care about him. Deeply. I really do,” and you just kept going... “I know I’m probably not what you envisioned-- I’m too dedicated to my job, it’s not glamorous, I’m not some subservient little housewife. I’m brash, I’m annoying. All of these things are true. But the biggest truth? Your son means everything to me. And that I won’t apologize for.”

And with that, you left. To go find Marcus and give him a piece of your mind.

You marched upstairs to Marcus’s bedroom, where he was perched on the bed with a book in his lap. You fist your hand into his sweater before yanking him up and planting a firm kiss on  his mouth. Marcus stilled in shock, before reciprocating, kissing you back, cupping his hands to your cheeks. You pulled away, heat pooled in you cheeks, blazing in embarrassment at what you’d just done.

Honestly, what the hell did you just do??

Marcus regards your silence by raising an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what the hell was that?” Marcus asked.

You rushed the words out, knowing you’d retract and redact them from your brain if you waited too long.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m so sorry. Your mom just really got to me… she thinks I’m another… her,” you spared reference to Teresa’s name, mindful of Marcus’s melancholy that followed when she was mentioned. “But I’m not her. I love working with you, Marcus. And I’ve always had a thing for you, if I’m honest. Which I am. But it wasn’t until she really started pushing me that I realized… I care about you, Marcus. I want you, I really do. All of you, even the parts that hurt. I want you,” you professed.

Marcus stood there, shock etching his features, eyes widening and mouth starting to gape.

You bowed your head, blinking back furious tears as you stared hatefully at your shoes. Why would you do that? You thought. You’ve ruined everything, all because that old grackle dug at you too much. And now Marcus hates you.

Marcus’s hands were suddenly in your downcast eyesight, palms resting on your cheeks and urging your face and eyes upward to meet his gloriously shimmering midnight ones.

“I want you, too. God, you drive me crazy, you’re such a punk at work. But, fuck if I can’t stop thinking about you. You make me crazy. And I thought I was the only one. I’d go back to my apartment at the end of the day sad, because I knew you wouldn’t be there. My love is not really the overwhelming kind. Jesus, I just go home and drink rosé and watch ‘Remains of the Day,’” he implores. “But I mean it when I say I want you, too.”

And with that, he slides one hand from its resting place on your cheek to the back of your neck, scooping your face upward for a soft, slanting, warm kiss.

Needless to say, you were fine with Marcus relinquishing the spot on the floor in favor of lying next to you in bed for the remainder of the week.

Now, you held hands while going for brisk, winter-air walks around his neighborhood, despite his mother’s withering gaze. You were always touching, never far from the other’s hand or mind. Marcus’s brother teasing you good-naturedly about your interlocked fingers being “PDA.”

You head back to your lives and back to reality, but still on cloud nine. Sharing kisses before separating to one another’s respective offices at work. Spending weekends at one another’s apartments, making out against any and every surface you can find, your thigh slotting between his as you press together during every conceivable moment you can.

One of these nights finds you laughing about the inception of your relationship, when, inevitably, Marcus’s mother comes up in the conversation. You had spared him the gory details of your kitchen scene in favor of a simpler retelling.

“Honestly, Marcus, your mom hates me,” you implored. “She told me so.”

“She doesn’t hate you…,” Marcus trailed off, “She just doesn’t like you. I’m pretty sure that’s what she told you, if the grapevine was correct,” he smirked.

You slapped him on his chest. The nerve of this guy!

“But that’s okay. Because I like you enough for the both of us,” He said, smiling as he presses his lips to yours for a sugary sweet kiss.

[silver-mist]

BTS In The SOOP EP4 - HOBI’s REVENGE (The full recap)

I havent done a recap since Ep 1 and technically that wasnt a recap but more for fun. However, after watching today’s episode, I felt inclined to share some thoughts as I found this to be such a lovely and heartfelt episode that truly exemplified not only each member and how they are as well as dynamics between them so im making this exception. This may be a long read for some but if you make it to the end then ❤️and feel free comment. Welcome to a summary/analysis of my thoughts throughout this episode full of cute moments between certain member “ships”. I put that in quotations to point out that I look at these platonically in a friendly way (with the exception of 1 lol) but also as a way to emphasize how each member looks to another as different likes and circumstances arise. We all can fully see that OT7 truly have a special bond unlike other idol groups who pretend for years only to be discredited later. However, it shouldnt come as a surprise that some members are closer to some than others and that isnt a bad thing, just like we all may have that 1 or those 2 people we wanna tell first when you have a major life event or need to just talk. That is the main reason for my recap today, to talk about these and how it genuinely warms my heart because even though they may not act like their full real selves here, after all, this will be seen on broadcast by the general public and not just fans, this is probably the closest we get to their domestic normal selves, no narrative, no event or photoshoot to prepare for, just them doing things as they go. 

We start off after the dinner scene where everyone has dispersed into their own thing. Cue to V sitting by himself in the main house about to sing karaoke. As anyone who has followed him along the years, you already know that he often prefers his own “me” moments and its just cute to watch him start singing to his hearts content that its even pointed out by his hyungs as they sit outside further away chatting. Its nice to see him happily enjoying whatever he feels like doing with no care in the world but I do shy away from calling him an introvert as he can be the social butterfly. 

We then cut to Namseok sitting outside, drinking some beer, having a heart to heart. The rap line has obviously been close for a long time but the way Hobi speaks about his chat with Joon that night and how it feels natural and not awkward shows you that they gravitate towards one another vs possibly some other members in terms of lets say normal adult discussions where its not about jokes or laughter but just growing up and responsibilities or random hobbies and its a beautiful thing to see. Between Hobi wishing he could sing (I think he has a lovely voice and should try it out even when he thinks he isnt good) to Joon talking about writing in a journal or feeling like this is a break they should have where they retire, its cute, its normal non celeb talk, and just a moment between 2 likeminded friends. I’ll finish off this scene with another *Joon should just not touch things in general* moment when he drops the mosquito defector and all Hobi does is smile and reply... 

(Friendship Goals...)

Jimin decides to join shortly after but doesnt have a beer in hand, the hyungs are quick to point that there is some in the other fridge but Jimin dismisses it and goes to sit as all he wants is to be in their company awww. He mentions that he will take some cold medicine and Hobi immediately questions if he’s feeling unwell to which he replies that he is in fact not feeling well. This cause an immediate reaction of concern from the hyungs as Joon tells him to put his hood on to evade a bit of the cold air and Hobi insists in a serious manner to not disobey and do as they say after jimin says its fine. Double awww 🥺

Their night ends with Minimoni heading out to another mini tournament of ping pong because why not, Jimin trying to convince Hobi to watch them because awww, and Joon telling Jimin to not torture Hobi like that 😂. Joon reading the room and knowing its not his thing cracks me up, baby mochi just wants him around haha.

The scene then cuts to the next morning where we finally see Yoongi waking up from him sleep nest in the search for water. He is still out of it as he cutely blames someone from taking his water to only realize a few moments later that that someone was him 😂.

Lil meow meow cutely wobbles out of his camper to go get a drink only to suspiciously look around like he’s spotting the cameras. Perhaps to make a Yoongi Part 3 impromptu advertisement??? We all know how good he is at those 😂. He finally asks himself “What should I do”. Story of my life he probably thinks in his mind... meanwhile I go, just rest. 

We then cut to another episode of the Chronicles of Jin: The “It’s still Hot” saga where I genuinely wonder why he still chooses the tent when im sure another arrangement is possible but do you boo. As always, the forever RJ representative cutely wears his pj’s as he heads to the main house not before stopping to do the most random thing ever... 

The editor’s caption speaks for itself lol.

He finds his way inside to stumble upon baby Tae still kinda sleepy looking complaining to the sink where dishes were left unwashed the prior night. His annoyance cracks me up and then he starts to play with a mini skillet/stove? and we finally get a moment of Tae cooking... yayy. He cutely complains as the rice is not staying together and tests out the sugar level to then realize it needs more and its adorable. Hobi wakes up and heads downstairs to encounter Jin at the piano again and cutely heads towards Tae to smack his butt and ask for some food, cue VHOPE cuteness, which later continues when Hobi wants to time Tae’s food with his jog haha. Tae again complains about the dishes and proceeds to drag a chair closer to the stove because I guess the 2 second distance from the table is too much? 😂Cute..

Back to 2Seok which to what I have seen in videos is not often, agreeing to go for a jog as well as disagreeing on how to go about it. Jin is like America (we go out to the store in sweats with unruly hair and not give an F LOL) and Hobi is like Korea (Where everyone dresses nice no matter what the occasion) Side note* this is my perspective as an american who has visited korea, they just do fashion better over there and I want to buy it all ☺️. I guess Hobi ends up finally convincing Jin to change because next thing they are out and about in their morning jog.

Back to baby Tae and random inexplicable moment of the episode #2... He removes the plate from the chair then proceeds to sit on the floor to taste his treat when the chair is now empty...🧐😂

2seok is now on their jog down the road and Hobi stops to rest on the side with Jin judging him “We only ran for 3 minutes and you already want to rest?” LOLOL. He then proceeds to take some of Hobi’s water and insists on carrying the bottle back because it makes him look good on camera. LMAO Jin, stay humble always... 😂. Hobi just does a literal SMH.

Cutscene to the view where different rooms are shown at once and I spot the second room next to Jungkook in the floating house with the door open.. Hmmm who opened it I wonder? Was someone using the room??

Back to V being his cute self enjoying his “me” time. He proceeds to play again with the rc boat and I almost panic a little at what seems like he may fall into the water trying to place it there. Good thing he doesnt but he gets the wrong control remoter and rushes back to get the right one. Once it finally moves its like all is right in the world. Cute. We get a short glimpse of him in the floating house and seeing that Jungkook is still fast asleep.

We then see Yoongi back at the top house heading in to read his book, shortly after the 3 amigos V, Hobi and Jin are walking in as Jin previously mentioned he was hungry, cue to start of meal prepping. 

We finally see the final member we havent seen wake up, baby mochi in all his fairy like self is still in bed. Tae is the first to open the door to his room and proceeds to cutely jump over him, play around, get pushed back and complain and then just lay on top of him with his butt facing the door. Excuse me while I melt in cuteness..my VMIN heart... ❤️

Only to literally do a 180 and LAUGH my ass off when Hobi walks in, sees them there and just goes NOPE.. walking out 😂

Apparently 2seok have decided on their meal plan and the ever so helpful ray of sunshine seems at a loss on how to set the charcoal on fire, note that he could have asked Jin but he heads to Yoongi for help (Bring in some SOPE love :)). Either way here I was hoping Yoongi would just chill and it seemed like that was the plan until he saw Hobi’s lostness and eagerness to help so he decides to step up again and help out. It’s kinda evident he didnt plan to when he goes “Oh ok” after being told what they plan to eat but proceeds to jump in at Hobi’s lostness in terms of making a fire. Cute. 

Cue back to Hobi disturbing the soulmates and whatever little cute slaps Tae was giving Jimin to probably wake up to ask him to fetch the torch because hes finally done running between the houses like last episode lol. The ever obedient Tae obliges immediately, Jimin remains in bed. 

Were back at the main house and maybe not every caught on but its ADORABLE how Joon goes out with the plan to play with the boat like Tae but leaves it abandoned to see where all the other members are. Note, he is for some reason limping all of a sudden and I think it may have to do with why he left early for personal reasons, I hope he was ok. Potential theory, could Jin slapping the boxer bag have anything to do with it? 🧐.

Anyways, even with his leg issue he literally walks around to the other house, checks on all members and ends up back at the main house sitting next to Jungkook, encouraging him as he is building a glider and then ultimately telling him he will keep him company by sitting next to him and reading a book. Even takes care of him by bringing him a drink. Awwww KookieMonster ❤️

anddd were back to the others in the upper house. 

SOPE taking the lead with building a fire..

TAEJIN figuring out the fish with Tae sporting an adorable hat and looking lost but still willing to help his hyung. Cutely Tae later makes Hobi aware on how this is his first time putting a knife on a fish and learning that a fish’s life is previous. AWWWW.. 

Its the little things that I like to point out, the members gravitate towards who they feel more in tune with. Tae to help Jin and Suga to help Hobi although the opposite would have be interesting to watch lol.

We then get Yoongi thawing out the ribs, Hobi trying to get veggies and LITERALLY pulling out the roots of a poor plant 😂, Yoongi legit pulling up a chair to read while cooking (poor thing haha), Jin crying because hes wasting the fish fillet as hes still learning, Joon adoringly looking at JK while he continues building his glider like a big brother, JK finally giving up and whining that hes gonna ask Hobi for help (HOPEKOOK cutely building a glider? yes please), JK looking over to see what Joon is reading, giving up again and ultimately moving out with Joon looking up like “You leaving me?” and then looking at the camera LOL. 

The 3 cooks up in the upper house are busy in their own thing when Jin asks for the location of the wrapper with SOPE rapping in return making a joke about them being the “rappers” haha. 

Back at the main house Taekook are cooking together. It makes me laugh at the difference between the hyungs cooking above. For starters, JK is cooking sausage for some time but I legit wanna teleport myself over there to tell him “Hey, cut it in pieces, you are burning the bottom of it but the inside is still raw” 😂... thankfully he does that eventually.... Meanwhile little sweet Tae is getting fancy on us and bringing his wine habits into the mix making an appetizer and struggling to open the Jamon packet even though (as the camera clearly zooms in on) the scissors are right next to him...These two are funny. 

Finally someone acknowledges that Jimin is still alive somewhere LOL and its none other than Yoongi who says it out loud in the kitchen then passes by his room but instead of waking him up just cheers him on then walks away haha (YOONMIN ❤️)

However that lasts for about 2 seconds before Yoongi comes back and ask Jimin to gather the others from the other house for lunch as the other members are busy and Jimin listens obediently by rolling over and calling Joon and with a hoarse voice letting him know Yoongi’s instructions. Poor Jimin, he sounds unwell 🥺. Joon goes to gather the younglings, Tae makes it up and decides to decorate the cheese with a red umbrella only to look dissatisfied and make it a blue one lol. They then have some random cuts of moments because JK’s sausages appear on the table but we never see him walk up and then he magically walks out the house but dont show any of that.. hmmmm. I’ll leave my thoughts at that since some people might understand what im alluding to :). 

Yoongi is taking out the ribs and accidentally drops a piece and we get the following reactions;

Yoongi: little scream 😱

Joon: Just use the 3 second rule 🙂

JK: Just wash it and then recoat it with more sauce and that should fix it 😄

To which Yoongi can only look slightly flabbergasted at the suggestion and throws it back “Do you wanna eat them?” hahaha

They all finally gather at the table including Jimin and I see that both him and Joon look a little off, I hope they got better soon after but for sure they seemed sick. Jin sweetly talks about always wanting to make the dish he prepared and how complicated it is and refers to it being a hard dish to make for a Family (the BTS bond is one of a kind). All the members admire the sampling of food, Jimin calls out the cuteness of Tae’s umbrella on the cheese, JK helps Jimin break the ribs apart, Tae tells everyone to try his appetizer, the member’s cutely all aww and ohh when they find out he cut the melon 💜, everyone but JK and Tae seem to know the dish, Hobi and Jimin cue to immediately try it for their friend so he doesnt feel left out, after trying it he cutely asks Jimin how it tastes and waits for his response, another awww, soulmate responds with its diff (which probably isnt his taste but eats it anyway for him ) lol and it zooms out with someone asking (sounds like Jin?) what they will have for dinner to have another member whom I cant tell reply LETS STARVE.  These clowns 😂but I get it, it took like hours to cook each meal.

They get ready to clean and apparently prep something for dinner with Joon washing the dishes and eventually asking Jk for help who is busy cooking rice eventually summoning Jimin who heard his name with Jk cutely smacking his butt to tell him Joon called him to then Jimin telling Joon not to worry and he will take over ( I reread this whole sentence and ran out of breath haha but then again im not here for proper grammer.. oopps). This leads us to a sweet domestic Jikook moment where he asks JK to help him dry the dishes and the other obliges and they just fall in routine.. just cute.

Joon heads back to the main house to pack and I honestly think he probably was heading for a doctor check up, he just seemed out of it 🥺

Jimin gets done with the dishes and ends up next to Tae as the soulmates cutely discuss the game he is playing and Tae announces his kills and loses.

Jimin is then next to Hobi in the other house who is getting ready to customize his shoes, he asks Jimin to join but he doesnt seem enthusiastic to the idea so Hobi just goes “I’ll just do what I like” and to me sounding a little sad since this isnt the first time hes asked Jimin to do an activity with him lol. Before walking away Jimin starts singing a song about it. Yoonjin are back again as buddies down the lake fishing and we get a sweet after interview of Yoongi admitting he is not interested in fishing but he does it because Jin invites him. You KNOW you only do those kind of things for your closest friends or family and that was sooo sweet. YOONJIN goals!

Back at the house we see that Jimin ultimately decided to join Hobi and we get cute JIHOPE moments. Im glad because I honestly got the vide since the beginning of in the soop that he wanted to spend more time with Jimin and hadnt had the chance. They both decorate a shoe each and are careful not to splatter on each other. I also spy with my little eyes... an Iphone?? tsk tsk tsk.. all the others are at least trying and Jimin is like nope hahahaha. If that was indeed a samsung then my bad.

Next thing we know JK and Jimin are harmonizing and sounded just beautiful, can we get another subunit please? I know they did Who and We dont talk anymore but a legit korean song.. anyone? Ok.. moving on haha

Now here is a group I havent seen hang out together often, I  know yoongi mostly keeps to himself but I was wondering if we would see any interactions longer than just passing food or related to meal prep between Yoongi and JK/Tae but here we are, the 2 kiddos singing and the hyung just watching on. Yay..

We later see Jimin revealing his excitement over the art project and im glad he enjoyed doing that with Hobi.

Hilariously enough, not long after, while deep into another song, Yoongi tells Jk that he needs to get out to pack. Jk’s reaction? Proceed to continue singing and kinda ignores hahaha. Cue to the camera angle still showing JK doing his thing and an exasperated looking parent *aka yoongi* just staring at him like 😐

They all head to pack their belongings and we fast forward to them playing games in the upper house. While Jimin is packing he walks out and asks to no one in particular where his hanbok piece is, then sees Jk playing in with the VR and proceeds to go up to tickle him cutely (domestic much? 🥰). This is ironically followed up by mischievous Tae wanting in on the fun by standing up from his spot and moving behind JK and after what seems like thinking it over, carefully tugs his pants down but not with the intention to actually pull them. JK laughs at this and goes “You shouldnt do that” hahaha. Which begs the question, did he know who tried to pull a fast one on him? LOL  

Everyone is back to their usual roles, the 3 cooks prepping the dinner, the maknae line just doing their thing between JK still in the VR game and Vmin cutely playing games in the corner. Yoongi seems like he NEVER rests, poor thing. He sees them prepping the ramen and suggest they add meat and ends up cooking meat. He is such a DAD and im all for it. While all this is happening there is a whole ruckus in the background and we hear the maknae line having a blast but only get a short glimpse of what is happening when the camera is still on the cooks. Apparently Jimin is now on the VR game and Jk decides to mess with him by taking a controller away and putting it behind his back, as Jimin tries to reach out to find it somehow, mischievous Tae is back at it and steals the other and moves it all the way to the other side presumably above the food shelf LMAO. I gather from the way that Jimin reaches UP and not straight out when reaching towards JK and the controller that this is DEF not the first time this has happened and when it has JK played the “I am taller and you cant reach this” stance, so of course Jimin’s instinct is to reach above his head hahaha.

They finally get down to eat and they all run to the table, I spook a cute Jikook moment of JM sitting next to JK and pulling the chair up leaving little room LOL, then Hobi still needs help so Jimin proceeds to go in to help with JK not far behind and a cute JiHopeKook hug alongside a Jikook sweet moment (I see that waist caress there JK 👀🥰😂😏) and they all make it back to the table with their meals ready. Tae makes sure to remind Jimin there is also meat for him to grab. Aww, ive lost count of the times that these two have been looking out for the other and its just so subtle but sweet af. 

Its time to finally go homeeeee. They all decide on who’s going in what car and then suddenly Jin remembers to check his fishing rod. 

Now... you may be wondering why I called this Hobi’s revenge. Well well well.. I want to say that slowly, Hobi decided to butter Jin up by hanging out all day long to eventually go full betrayal mode muahahaha. I kid I kid. But as life turns out, Hobi was presented with an opportunity to return the favor of Jin’s BV4 master plan to abandon him in New Zealand. Well well well... how the tables have turned. He tells his plans to the other nearby and they immediately agree 😂. Cue to a total pandemonium... Hobi rushing them in, Yoongi slowly walking to his car because of course he aint gonna run, Jimin trying to drag his suitcase, Tae running from the house in a cute manner probably going hehehehehe as he hears the plan, Jungkook walking up to them with no idea whats going on, having like 1 second to understand it, and then immediately running unsure of what to do until Jimin goes “Help me load this in!”. 

Jin finally approaches and they get in in time and start driving off. Jin finally goes heyyyyyyyy and cant believe what is happening, shouts out Yoongi, like you cant do this to me LOLOL. You can see Yongi’s big ass smile through the windshield which is even funnier. For a second he stops and it seems like Yoongi decides to have mercy on him, even open the door for him to stick his suitcase in. Hobi, Jungkook and Jimin seem to believe it as they are seen walking back up away from the car guessing the plan is a no go. That is until Yoongi goes full AGUST D and says “Who's the king, who's the boss?”... JK but lets just pretends he says that 😂, and literally does start driving off. Jihopekook see this and run their asses back to the car like little kids and laughing all cute as can be HEHEHEHEHE and they end up leaving Jin there LOL. Revenge is a dish best served cold and you just got served Jinnie.

Legend says Hobi slept well that night. 

The end. 

Hope you had fun reading this long post, probably will never do another since it took forever but I had fun making these gifs and pics and typing in my 2 cents hahaha. Borahae everyone 💜

[noladyme]

Chess. Chapter 6

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Violence, language, sexual themes, blood

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

“St. Roch, Louisiana. We’re staying in our own backyard”. Flag was reading from a tablet; as we were taken through a long hallway, leading from the cellblock, to what seemed to be a large garage.

I had a guards pistol aimed at me, as it’s owner followed my every move, with cold eyes.

I had spent the rest the day before, trying to wrap my mind around my new situation.

I was officially a prisoner at Belle Reve – a high security penitentiary, in the sweatiest asscrack of the Louisiana swamps. I was there for the kidnapping and assault of judge Jeremiah Kelper. 

The assault and maiming had been of such a horrible nature, that I was committed to this facility, without trial. My conviction was a formality, as I apparently confessed to the guards of Belle Reve, the night of my arrival.

I was to serve life, without parole.

There was no mention of the incident in Wayne Tower in my file.

Unofficially, I was the newest member of Task Force X, a top-secret group of meta-humans, and people with exceptional skills, required to complete missions of a classified nature.

These individuals also happened to all be convicted felons, and the scum of the earth.

There was Floyd Lawton; a.k.a. Deadshot. The man who never missed a shot. During dinner – sloppy joes, yum… – he’d shown me a picture of a cute 8 year old girl, who had his eyes.

“She’s a bit older now, writes me every day. She just got an A on her biology report!”, he’d exclaimed proudly. It was clear Floyd loved his daughter, more than anything.

Killer Croc – Waylon Jones. He was huge, terrifying; and made me feel safer than I had in weeks, just by his presence. Croc – as he insisted on being called – had won me over, by calling me cher’.

I’d talked to him about Sammy, and recounted some of the trucker stories he’d told me.

After Croc’d told me he’d once eaten a truckdriver, he said: “I’m glad it wasn’t your boss. He seems like a decent guy”.

I’d been surprised by the gentle and kind demeanor of Chato Santana; or, Diablo, as they called him. I’d seen a videoclip on the news once, of him torching a group of inmates at a prison he was held at. I thought he’d be a hothead – pun intended – but he turned out to be calm and remorseful about his violent past.

Harley. Now, she was a different story. She was about as calm as a puppy on poppers. She also seemed to have no remorse for anything she’d done, as the sidekick and girlfriend of the Joker. I was equal parts terrified and enthralled by her person.

She’d spent most of the rest of the day, singing lullabies to a picture of a hyena, and doing her nails. Once, she’d disappeared for about an hour, before returning to her former activities, with a satisfied smile plastered over her pretty face.

We soon discovered what Harley had been doing, when the napping Digger Harkness – Captain Boomerang, the australian – suddenly screamed; jumping up and down, scratching at his body.

“Ants! Bloody fire ants!”, he’d yelped with a shrill voice; running towards the bathroom.

He’d returned a while later, shaking his coat, and sending the giggling Harley a deadly look. His arms and neck were covered in tiny and angry red welts; that he’d scratched at for the rest of the day.

This was my new family. I was very aware that none of us had chosen to be here, but it seemed that we were all determined to make the best of it, until such an opportunity arose, that we’d be able to leave.

Apparently, Harley had tried to run multiple times – even having made it back to the Clown; and stayed of the grid for a few months, before arriving back at Belle Reve, with a pair of roller skates, and a taxidermized beaver.

I didn’t know when or if I’d be able to escape; so for now, I decided to settle in.

---

In the middle of the large garage stood a helicopter the size of a tank. In front of it stood six crates; each of our names written on the side of one of them.

The rest of the squad seemed to know the procedure. They opened their crates, and dug through them. Flag paced back and forth in front of us, carrying a machinegun.

“You know the deal”, he hollered. “Three weapons. Two ranged, one for close combat. Croc and Diablo, you are both the exceptions”. No weapons for them, I guessed.

“Oy, colonel”, Digger called.

“No, Digger”, Flag answered, before the aussie had a chance to ask. “Boomerangs do not count as close range, though they can be used as such. You bring two. No more”. Digger cursed under his breath.

They’d all been through this before. I couldn’t help but feel like it was the first day of school, and that I’d forgotten my backpack at home.

“You alright?”, Floyd asked from behind me.

“Yeah”, I answered. “It’s just…new. How do you do this? How do you work for these people, who treat you like shit, and then demand that you risk your lives for them?”. I bent to open my crate, and started going through the equipment in it.

“Look”, said Floyd. “Ain’t none of us here who wants to be here. Except for maybe Harley”, he smiled, and looked at the person in question.

She was swinging an oversized fairground hammer, almost knocking over a soldier who was busy checking out her ass.

“We do this, because we have to, for one reason or another”. He looked at me seriously. “I’m here for my little girl. Every time I finish one of these missions, I’m one step closer to seeing her again; and to show her that her daddy’s not a monster”.

I pulled out my jacket, stood up, and looked at it.

“You find whatever reason you need to do this, but make sure it’s important enough, not just to survive for, but to live for”, Floyd finished, patted my shoulder, and walked away.

I sighed and returned to my crate. I had no idea what in my life was important enough to live for at this point.

I didn’t have a family to protect or impress. That had all ended after Hatter had entered my life.

Sammy… he was a friend, but he’d be better of if I didn’t return. Ever.

That left my cats. But they were fine where they were.

So what?

I was interrupted in my train of thought by Flag, who suddenly appeared next to me.

“Hey. You need to get ready. Liftoff in 10”.

“Sir, yes, sir”, I retorted, and rolled my eyes.

I went behind a tall crate to change into my outfit. Leggings, top, boots, jacket; and finally, my claws. I tested the knives once, against the crate in front of me, carving through the thin metal easily.

Retracting the claws, I went to join the others.

Flag stopped me before I had a chance to enter the chopper with the rest of the crew.

“One last thing, Chess”, he said, and pulled out a strange looking harness, made out of some synthetic material and wires.

“What’s that?”, I asked, skeptically.

“This is an armed device, that will explode, should you decide to… smile, without being ordered to do so, by myself”.

I looked him, dumbfounded. “You’re gonna blow me up if I go invisible?”, I guffawed.

“No”, he answered. “I’ll blow that nano-bomb in your neck if you try to run away. This device will explode on it’s own, whenever its sensors recognize that you are using your powers”.

I shook my head, confused.

“If I’m not here to do that, then why am I here?”.

Flag used a strange key to unlock the harness.

“After what happened yesterday…” he started. I interrupted him.

“You mean when I didn’t run away?”, I spat.

He was unmoved by my exclamation.

“After what happened yesterday”, he repeated, “Waller seems to think it would be better if I take control of when you should… do your thing. You’ll be able to make things you touch invisible, as usual; but you cannot disappear yourself”.

He held up the newest addition to my outfit, to let me put it on.

“From now on, you will be wearing this whenever you are not in your cell. I can disarm the device at any time, for as long as I deem necessary”.

I stepped back, shaking my head.

“No”.

Flag frowned.

“Put it on”, he said, a slight edge to his voice.

“No”, I repeated, and crossed my arms in front of me.

Flag exhaled through his nose.

“Put it on, or I’ll put it on you myself”, he growled. I tilted my head, and raised my eyebrows at him.

“Is that a promise?”, I asked.

He raised his chin, and looked down at me.

“I can have one of GQs men do it”.

I ripped the harness from his hands, and begun to put it on; trying to figure out where each strap was supposed to go.

There were two straps, one going over each shoulder. One strap went around my torso, from my back to my front. Holding it all together, was one last strap, starting from my back, going down between my legs, and connecting with the others, on the middle of my chest.

Flag grabbed the straps in front of me, connecting them to a round disc, with a small red light in the middle. He tightened the harness as much as he could, making me bump against him; and locked the disc with the key.

“You go invisible; you die. You try to take it off; you die. You even think of trying to steal the key, guess what…”.

“I die?”, I jestered.

“You die”, he answered.

I tried to move around in the strange contraption.

“How am I supposed to pee in this?”, I asked angrily.

“We’ll climb that mountain when we get to it”, he answered, and turned his back to me, walking away.

“Old Fashioned”, I called after him. He turned around.

“What?”, he asked.

“If you’re gonna ride me this hard, it’s only polite to buy me a drink”, I said; turned my back to him, and walked away to join the squad.

---

Landing in St. Roch, our first destination was an old gas station just outside of town. It was abandoned by its owners; probably due to the explosions going off less than a mile away.

“You have your orders”, Flag called. “We go in discretely, locate our target, and take them out”.

“It’s probably going to be more complicated than that”, Diablo muttered next to me. Croc growled in agreement.

“You know, Flag, we’d probably be even more discrete, if you didn’t have Y/N here tied up like a Christmas ham”, Floyd smirked at him.

Flag frowned.

“This is Chess’ first mission. Let her find her legs before we throw her into it”, he said. “Let’s head out!”.

“Someone’s got a crush”, Harley said in a singsong voice, skipping past me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, I asked.

Digger chuckled, and followed her.

“She means, he wants a gander at your map of Tassie”, he winked back at me, and took a swig of the can of beer he’d taken from one of the fridges in the small store.

I shook my head, and feeling a machinegun between my shoulders – I was just thrilled that the Tweedles had joined us on this little fieldtrip – I followed the rest of the group.

Sneaking past a checkpoint – Floyd taking out the inhabitants from afar – we made our way downtown.

I heard crying from behind a dumpster, and stopped to see what it was. A young woman was hiding behind it; shaking in fear.

“Are you ok?”, I asked, reaching a hand towards her.

“Chess!”, Flag called, from a few yards away. “Get your ass over here”.

“She might need help”, I said, and stepped towards the crying woman.

She recoiled from my touch.

“No! Please leave me alone!”, she cried.

Floyd came up behind me.

“She’s afraid of us, Chess”, he said. “Just leave her alone”. He went back to the group, who continued down the street, leaving me alone with Flag and the terrified woman.

I backed away from her, a lump in my throat. Turning around, I walked up to Flag, trying desperately to hold back tears. Behind me, I heard the woman get up, and run down the street, away from us.

I looked up at Flag.

“I wasn’t going to hurt her”, I said quietly.

“I know”, he said shortly. “But she doesn’t”. He made to touch my shoulder; but changed his mind, straightened his back, and turned around.

“Let’s go, kitten”.

We joined the others.

“That was quick”, Harley smiled. “It’s ok, colonel. It happens to all men”.

“Lady, I will rip your pigtails off with my bare hands”, he growled at her, stomping to the front of the group.

“Never happened to me”, Croc winked at Harley, who beamed back at him.

Another checkpoint. Digger took care of this one.

Huddling up behind a couple of cars, we finally saw our target. A lieutenant of Ra’s Al Ghul, who had been stirring up trouble, laying the groundwork for a new stronghold for his master. They had chosen to set up shop in the town square; having tied up a group of around 10 hostages to a statue in the middle.

Flag started barking orders in a hushed voice.

“Alright. Floyd, you got the roofs. Keep in radio contact”. It was clear he trusted Floyd more than the rest of the group.

“Croc, see that van? Make sure anyone in it, and in the immediate vicinity of it, don’t have the chance to warn the target”. Croc went down on all fours, and disappeared into a nearby shrubbery.

“Diablo and Digger. I want you on each side of that building. If they do spot us; I want you to bottleneck them into that alley”, he said, pointing in the direction he meant. “GQ, you and your men join them. One on the flame, two on boomer”. Digger scoffed at the nickname.

“Harley; I want you… actually you just do whatever it is you do, without giving the rest of us away”, he sighed at her.

“Sure thing, boss”, she mock-saluted him. “Go team!”.

“You got your orders. Go!”, he finished; and the group scattered, each to their assigned positions.

“What am I supposed to do?”, I asked, feeling slightly left over.

“You stay on me”, he answered, and looked through his binoculars.

A few minutes went by. Hearing a growl from the direction of Crocs assigned post, I saw blood spatter on the inside of the windows of the van.

I heard Harleys voice yelling; “Batter up!”, followed by a clank and a loud scream.

Some of the lieutenants soldiers began scrambling.

“Goddamnit, Quinn!”, Flag cussed. “You! Stay here!”, he growled at me, and ran in the direction of Harleys voice, leaving behind his binoculars. I picked them up, and looked through them.

In the square, the soldiers were rigging up chains and wires around the hostages. Connected to the wires were multiple red sticks I recognized from movies I’d seen. Dynamite.

I looked in the direction Flag had gone. He and Harley were arguing quietly behind a bus.

I looked back at the town square. Our target was walking back and forth in front of the hostages, ranting about something I couldn’t make out.

I tried zooming in with the binoculars. Military tech for the win, I thought, and looked through them again.

In his hand, the lieutenant was holding what seemed to be a tablet. Large numbers read 5:00. The bastard walked up to a teenage boy, who had a stick of dynamite strapped to his chest. He put his hand on his cheek, and said something to him, that made the boy break down in tears. He then pressed a button on the screen. The numbers began to count down.

4:59.

4:58.

4:57…

Fuck!, I thought, and threw the binoculars on the ground.

Reminded of my harness, I rolled my eyes. Ok. So I couldn’t smile. But I did know how to move quietly and quickly. I pulled up my hood, and closed my jacket.

I snuck forward. I heard a gunshot and a grunt behind me, and looked back; seeing an enemy soldier on the ground, a bullet hole right between his eyes. Thanks, Floyd, I smiled up at the roof of a nearby building, seeing Deadshots white hood disappear back into the darkness.

I moved forward again, hiding behind a truck. A stone landed on the ground next to me; and looking in the direction of the thrower, I saw Flag waving at me.

“Get back!”, he mouthed at me angrily. I shook my head, and looked towards the hostages. Continuing forward, I suddenly heard a beep. Looking down, I saw the light on the disc on my chest turn from red to green.

Looking back at Flag – his wrist raised, pushing some buttons on what looked like a watch – I smirked, and nodded at him. Thanks, I thought.

A purr moving through my body; I smiled.

Readying my claws, I ran towards the square. A soldier looked in my direction, having heard my movement, but unable to see me. Oops. Quietly now, I thought, and scaled a car next to him, making as little sound as I could.

I saw Digger and the Tweedles running towards a group of soldiers exiting a building. They finished them of quickly, but not before having drawn enough attention to make the lieutenant aware of their presence.

He yelled something I couldn’t I understand, and dropped the tablet he had been holding.

Gunfire sounded, and I ran faster, making my way to the group of hostages.

I reappeared, startling a few of the hostages who screamed at me.

Picking up the tablet from the ground, I desperately began pushing the screen, trying to make the countdown stop.

2:35.

2:34.

2:33…

There was no way I could stop the detonation.

I spun around, ran to the statue, and began pulling at the wires.

“You’ll make it go off!”, the teenage boy from before shouted at me.

I ran to the back of the statue, finding a simple lock, holding together the two ends of the chain intertwined with the wires.

This I can handle, I smiled, and got out my kit.

I managed to break two of the lockpicks, my hands shaking from the stress of the situation. I looked at the tablet on the ground.

1:01.

1:00.

0:59…

Taking a deep breath, I gave it one more try. Please, please, please!.

The lock opened.

I grabbed one end of the chain, and ran with it around the statue, releasing the hostages. The teenage boy carefully pulled at the tape that held the stick of dynamite to his chest, and put the red stick gingerly on the ground.

“Thanks!”, he smiled at me, and ran. I smiled after him.

An elderly woman was having trouble keeping up with the others.

0:37.

0:36.

0:35…

“Just go on”, she yelled at me.

“No!”, I answered, and ran to put her arm around my neck. Stumbling a few steps forward, the woman was suddenly lifted from the ground, screaming, as Croc – with a smile plastered across his gruesome face – ran to safety, the old woman hanging over his shoulder.

We did it!, I thought, and went to run after him.

Someone grabbed my leg, holding me in place. Looking down, I saw the lieutenant – a gash across his face, and a gunshot to his chest – laughing up at me. His strong hands were holding on to my leg, making it impossible for me to move.

I looked towards the group waiting for me at a safe distance. The hostages were continuing down the street, running towards sirens and blinking lights.

0:15.

0:14.

0:13…

Flag screamed something at me, Edwards and his soldiers holding him back.

I yanked at my leg, desperately trying to get the dying man to let me go.

0:09.

0:08.

0:07…

I lifted my fist and screamed; cutting through my captors arm. He let go with a yelp; and I ran.

0:03.

0.02.

0:01…

0:00.....

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r​

@hyp-oh-critical​