#my managers pissed off but I am like……vibrating with rage

[s-cullayy]

TEN HOURS cut from my schedule next week holy fuck I’m calling my union

[kariachi]

Random quick fic- some proper aftermath for the shit Ben pulled at the start of Store 23.

~~

There were two levels of Serious Mess, Kevin had learned. Gwendolyn pacing back and forth, on the phone with her grandpa, swearing heavily? That was level one. Level two was Argit calling him while this was happening.

“Would you like to know what your buddy’s been up to?” Already bracing himself, he leaned against the nearest wall and shut his eyes.

“Is that why the Tennysons are losing it?”

“He destroyed four Vaxasaurian eggs.” Kevin stopped breathing, eyes blowing wide. “There’s video.”

“Confirmed unedited video?” You had to make sure. Killing Ben over a lie would be on theme for him, but Rabbi Fisher would be very disappointed and Gwendolyn would actually kill him. Argit scoffed.

“Of course confirmed unedited, you think I’d call you over a rumor like this? Besides, it was taken and released by J9‘s third, uh… Haavee! Haavee, and Helen’s confirmed she’s a Ben 10 fangirl and can hardly manage to work Instagram filters. Not exactly the type to have edited a vid to make him look bad. Apparently, the kid’s been in a tizzy since everyone realized what it was he was blowing up at the start of the vid, she didn’t know at the time.” Kevin forced a deep breath to keep the sour rage building in his gut at bay.

“Send me the vid? I need to see this for myself.”

“Sure thing, Ravrsa. Oh, be on the ready for a call from your brother, too, right now he’s busy with the parents but, I’m thinking he’s gonna have things to say.”

He was sure he would.

~~

“Just tell us why you thought that was a good idea. Please, any explanation.” Somewhere between pouting and scowling, Ben looked to the ceiling for strength.

“I had to stop Liam, and they were just eggs!”

Cooper and Manny took a long step back, dragging Gwendolyn with them. The lights flickered erratically as Kevin sparked, not that it mattered since Alan flared up bright enough to light the room better than they had anyway. Helen was actually vibrating, hard enough you could hear the hum.

“Okay,” Pierce said, stepping forward with hands raised, “we do this youngest to oldest- no grumbling, Kev- and nobody fucking kill him, the Jobaris are going to want their fair slice.”

~~

“And to the shock of literally nobody, the Plumbers have suspended Ben for six weeks while they ‘investigate’.” As one, the youths of the Hollow Tone Pack huffed.

“This sorta shit is why our parents quit.”

“Literally.”

~~

“Lucy’s removed every post on her social media that includes Ben and refuses to acknowledge he exists.”

“That’d be because Lenopan lay eggs too.”

~~

“I cannot believe this.” Heaving a sigh, Gwendolyn crossed her arms. She also stayed securely by the doorframe.

“It’s not like I approve, but he’s still my cousin!”

“He still thinks the rest of us are overreacting! About him destroying eggs!” The back of her parents’ couch creaked worryingly under Kevin’s grip. “And you’re going to ‘testify to his character’?!”

“He made a mistake-”

“He killed four unborn children! To stop their kidnapping! How far up your own ass do you have to be to stand up in front of their parents and defend his character!?” Nose crinkling, she drew herself up with a glower.

“Kevin!” He flashed menacing Ossy teeth.

“Love you to pieces, Gwendolyn, but this is a line in the fucking sand.”

~~

“Just- how the fuck am I supposed to trust them? There’s at worst even odds I’ll be laying eggs and here’s Ben pretty much saying they don’t count, and G saying she disagrees but still wants to support him in court- And they’re surprised and upset that I’m pissed off about it!”

“You know, I do know plenty of people who’ll take a bitch out for a decent price.”

“Please, don’t tempt me, Mom, it’s one of those days.”

~~

“Okay, I know you said you never wanted to hear about Tennysons again,” Argit said, draping himself over Kevin’s shoulders as he worked, “but there’s big news.” Rolling his eyes, Kevin sighed. Several months was enough time to start moving forward, but not to lose that sting of sharp betrayal. Not just for the egg thing, but because after ages of them being proud that he was trying to ‘be better’ and ‘be good’ Ben went and pulled that shit and it supposedly made no change to whether he was good.

If Kevin had done that, it’d be seen as a backslide, or proof he was a horrible person. Ben did it and it was a ‘mistake’.

Watching half his fanbase jump ship in response could only soothe so much when the person who mattered hadn’t.

“Let it rip.”

“Benny lost the lawsuit. Four mil settlement.” It was bittersweet news, and hardly a drop in the bucket of the money Ben was going to have some he hit twenty-one and got access to his royalty payments, but Kevin grinned all the same.

“Good.”

[the-iceni-bitch]

Masterpiece

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP ninja and puppy)

Words: ~900

Summary: Ransom gets a little jealous.

Warnings: explicit language, implied p in v sex, kinda revenge porn, slimy ex Steve Rogers, slightly possessive Ransom, warring testosterone, 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Just a silly little dirty thot about ninja and puppy that popped in my head and I popped out in like an hour.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications.

“Ran, I got arrabiata and I got bolognese, you want one or should we do halfsies?” You grabbed a bottle of wine before heading into the living room where Ransom was sprawled over the couch watching TV. “Oh god, why are you watching this?”

“What?” He turned to give you a lazy smirk as you frowned at the sight of your ex showing some reporter through his Brooklyn brownstone on the screen. “Your parents wouldn’t shut up about this asshole, and I got curious.”

“For fuck’s sake.” You rolled your eyes as you sank into the couch next to him, huffing when he pulled you against his chest and kissed your hair. “This wasn’t what I had in mind for this evening.”

“Yeah, well I wanted to see just how big of a douche you wasted your time with.” He chuckled when you slapped his hip, winding his arm across your chest and pulling you closer while you grumbled at him. “Not that you can tell with all these softball questions.”

You just hummed agreement as you grabbed your glass of wine and took a sip, growling when the reporter asked if there was anyone special he was going to be spending the holidays with and he went off on his usual spiel about no one special since the girl who broke his heart. The same fucking one your parents tried to lob at you whenever they called to check in. And now they were doing the fucking art tour, because Steve was such a sensitive painter and made all the girls soak their panties. He probably got that reporter to suck his dick after this interview. Fake ass nice guy schtick…

“What the fuck is that?” Ransom’s hiss brought you out of your little internal monologue with a snap, your head whipping towards the screen until you let out a hiss of your own.

“That rat bastard!” You were frozen with rage as you watched Steve talk about the painting that was on screen to the reporter. The ‘tasteful nude’ painting of you spread out on his couch while soft sunlight filtered through the window and managed to obscure the most private parts of your anatomy, and you couldn’t see your face, but still.

“Is that you?” He didn’t know why he was asking, it was obviously you. He couldn’t decide how he felt about your ex showing a nude painting of you off to whoever was watching this thing. Yes he could, he was pissed.

“I’m gonna kill him.” But apparently not as pissed as you, he took your wine glass from you before it shattered in your grip. “That blonde asshole.”

“Ok, think that’s enough of that.” Ransom shut off the tv when you started vibrating with barely contained fury, cooing softly and rubbing your shoulders to help you calm down. “Let’s go eat in the dining room.”

“But…”

“No baby, let’s not give that dick another thought.” Like he wasn’t obsessing over how that motherfucker probably jerked off to that painting every night.

It was two days later when you brought up the blonde bastard again, frowning at the sight that Ransom had greeted you with when you got home.

“This is because of Steve, isn’t it?” You chewed on your lips and tried not to laugh as you looked at the white sheet and the buckets of body paint.

“Maybe.” Ransom brushed his lips behind your ear as he pressed his chest to your back and worked at unbuttoning your blouse. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“Not necessarily.” You let him slide your blouse off and worked at unzipping your skirt. “I won’t say I haven’t been wanting to get back at that dick a little bit, but I fail to see how this is going to achieve that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.” Ransom purred when you turned around once you were fully naked, lifting his arms over his head so you could peel off his sweater and humming when you pressed your lips to his nipple.

“Sure you do.” You grabbed a bucket of paint and dipped your fingers into it, smearing it over his chest while he grabbed his own bucket. “We could just do this, though, you know I love feeling you up.”

“We could, but I want my own piece of art to show off.” He grinned at your laugh when he poured the whole bucket over your tits, turning you around and shoving you on the bed unceremoniously before climbing on top of you. “Now hold still, want to make sure we can tell it’s you.”

—————————————————————————

“Hugh!” You were angry all over again, walking through the front door and getting even more mad when you got a look at the painting hanging over the fireplace. “Hugh Ransom Drysdale! Where the fuck are you?”

“What’s up babe?” You were gonna smack that smug smirk off his face, little cocky bastard.

“You put our sex painting on Instagram.” You were seething, your vision getting red at the edges as he just shrugged at you and dipped his bourbon. “Which I could have maybe been ok with, but you tagged Steve in the damn post.”

“Did I?” He gave you a look of false innocence as you moved to stand in front of him, and you hated him so much because it was hard to stay super mad when he had that extremely pleased look on his face at how much chaos he had probably caused.

[randomshyperson]

Seeing u getting many requests there, that's really cool you deserve it (though I hope it doesn't overwhelm u or smth). May I request smth? A WandaXReader where they're always arguing and being sarcastic to eachother but it's just sexual tension. Maybe smth with the lines "why are u laghing did I tell a joke?" "why don't u look inside my head and find out". I think it would be pretty cool. It doesn't have to be smutt though, only If u fell like it (also a dom!reader would be nice). Thank you!

Hello Anon! Hope you’re doing fine! 

Sorry this took long. It was really hard to write actually, because I don't feel anger towards Wanda and thinking about fighting with her was really weird haha But I hope you like this. 

Attraction and Reaction / / AO3 

Warnings: 18+, Smut, language.

Words>  2.415k (One)

Part Two Here

It was no secret on the Avengers team that you and Wanda did not have the best of relationships. 

There were numerous warnings from Steve and Tony, and even Natasha, due to the number of arguments and disagreements that took place. You were sure that no action was taken just because you two function well on the battlefield, even if you don't get along off it.

At this moment, for example, you were in a meeting with the rest of the team about the next Avengers mission, but you weren't really paying attention as you scribbled on your notepad. And then your cell phone vibrated, and you pulled it out of your pocket to check it.

- Can you pay attention, Y/N? - Tony asked, and you looked away from the notification of a message from Carol to look at him. But before you could answer, Wanda muttered with irony:

- Typical.

You blinked, feeling a familiar irritation fill your entire body.

- Is there anything you wanna say to me, Maximoff?

- Just for you to fuck off.

You were going to hit back with a angry response, but the team let out a loud impatient grumble.

- Don't even start! - Tony ordered with a serious expression. - I need to go over all this, you can kill yourselves after the presentation.

- No one is going to kill anyone. - said Steve, and you giggled. - Just continue the presentation, please.

Tony rolled his eyes and resumed the presentation. You let out an impatient sigh and tried to pay attention. Fortunately it wasn't much longer before Tony finished. As the members began to get up, Steve signaled for you and Wanda to stay in the room, and you grumbled as you sat back down, throwing your feet up on the table.

- Girls, this can't go on any longer. - Steve said in a serious tone.

- I don't know what you are talking about. - You mock with your arms crossed. Steve doesn't laugh.

- I'm not joking. - He warns. - You need to work out your differences.

- Things would be easier if Y/N wasn't such an arrogant jerk. - Wanda says, and you let out a wry exclamation.

- If Wanda wasn't completely mental and stubborn it would also be easier for us to get along.

Wanda turns in her chair to look at you, her expression of anger.

- Oh, I'm the unstable one? Remind me who is known to lose her head around here?

You roll your eyes impatiently, but before you can respond Steve shouts.

- Stop it, you two, that's enough. - He says. - You are suspended from the next mission.

- Excuse me? - you exclaim looking at him.

- Until this conflict is resolved, you will work together. - He clarifies and you let out a nervous laugh, frowning. - You will be team partners, and you will learn to get along. That is my final decision. Now you can go.

You get up from the table in annoyance, and hurry to leave, with Wanda right behind you. As you stand in the hallway toward your rooms, she shouts:

- This is all your fault! You have to talk shit all the time, don't you?

You let out a wry laugh as you stop walking and turn toward her.

- You're so annoying. - You grumble with your hands in your pockets. - I can't believe I'm going to be stuck with you.

Wanda lets out an annoyed sigh, and you notice her reddened eyes and the magic slipping from her fingers, and you look at her in defiance.

- Come on, do it. - You tease. - I dare you.

- Girls! - shouted Natasha as she turned into the hallway, and quickly got between you and Wanda, putting her hands on her shoulders to calm her down. Wanda blinked in confusion, lowered her hands and her eyes returned to normal. - You two have lost your minds, haven't you?

Your heart was racing, and you thought it was the adrenaline. Licking your lips, you let out a laugh and gave Wanda one last angry glance before turning and heading for your room.

//-//

Steve was really serious about the suspension. The vast majority of the team was out of the tower heading to some city in Europe, and you and Wanda were basically grounded in the tower while Steve left Bucky checking up on you two.

At that point Bucky assigned you and Wanda to train together, and you didn't understand how the best alternative to resolve conflicts was to make you fight, but you didn't question it.

- I want a clean fight, girls. - He said sitting on the stool beside the mat, while you and Wanda climbed into the ring from opposite sides.

- Tell it to the little witch, there. - You retort, looking at Wanda, and she frowns at you.

- You're really going to piss me off before you fight me, aren't you?

You roll your eyes, getting into a defensive position. Bucky lets out a chuckle, getting to his feet. He picks up two sticks, and hands one to each of you.

- You two need to practice using bladed weapons. - He explains and sits back down.

And then you advance on Wanda, who narrowly defends your blow. She counterattacks with the stick towards your legs, but you jump and throw the stick at her, who ducks quickly. You take two steps back, preparing to attack, and as you launch a series of quick strikes which Wanda fights back, you manage to trip her, and watch with a wry smile as she falls backwards onto the ground looking extremely annoyed. But your smile dies when Wanda punches the tatami and her magic escapes, throwing you away.

You fall backwards, feeling your whole body boiling with rage, and get up quickly, but Bucky has already stepped onto the tatami and gets in front of you before you can reach Wanda, who has also gotten up.

- Let's just calm down, okay? - He says seriously, looking between the two of you. - A five-minute break? And no magic next time.

Wanda rolls her eyes, turning to leave the mat. You start to take off your training gloves. 

- What's the matter with you two? - Bucky asks looking really curious. You roll your eyes impatiently.

- I don't want to argue about this again.

Bucky lets out a sigh, leaving the ring. You look around, and notice that Wanda is in the corner of the room, drinking some water. She is sweaty, and her hair is disheveled, and you look down at her exposed collarbone, feeling your throat suddenly dry. You imagine yourself kissing and biting the exposed skin as she moans your name. You blink, trying to push these thoughts away, and then step out of the ring.

- I don't want to practice anymore. - You announce it before you leave. You think Bucky says something, but you have already left the academy.

//-//

Bucky decided to try a different tactic to improve your relationship with Wanda. He described it as a trust technique, which was something he and Sam tried for a while. 

So here you were in one of the empty rooms of the complex, sitting in a chair facing Wanda. Both of you had your arms crossed.

- Let's get started girls. - announced Bucky, standing in front of you. - I'm going to ask you some simple questions, and I need you to answer them honestly.

- Yes, sir. - You retort with mild irony, but Bucky doesn't mind.

- Y/N can you tell me something you like about Wanda?

You let out a dry laugh. But seeing Bucky's expression, you realize that you are going to have to answer.

- I like it when she shuts up. - You retort, and Wanda lets out an annoyed sigh.

- And I like it when you are not around.

- And I...

- Enough! - Bucky interrupts angrily, pressing his fingers to his forehead. - Let's try something else then. I have brought you a list of questions.

- This should be interesting. - You sneer as Bucky walks up to the living room table behind the papers.

When he reaches for the papers, he decides to stand against the table, looking at you.

- Well, Wanda. Tell me, what behavior do you think Y/N should change towards you?

Wanda smiles wryly.

- I wish she wouldn't talk to me.

- That's fine with me. - You retort grumpily, and Wanda looks at you angrily. Bucky sighs with impatience.

- I am serious. - He says. - Do you even know when this conflict started?

You laugh.

- I'm not the one who brought the enemy back to the team. - You point to the time when Wanda fought alongside Ultron.

- Seriously? - She replies incredulously. - Of course you had to bring that back.

- They are just facts.

- The only fact here is that you are an arrogant jerk...

- You just know two adjectives, don't you? - You mockingly interrupt.

- Oh, I have other adjectives for you, yes. - She retorts with irritation, starting to list them on her fingers as she speaks. - Immature, rude, selfish...

- Don't forget hot. - You hit back with a smile, and Wanda rolls her eyes, but before she can continue, Bucky gets up from the table.

- Okay, you guys are going to do the silent exercise. - he says. - Five minutes looking into each other's eyes. Now.

- You're kidding, right? - You retort incredulously, but Bucky's expression is serious.

- Now. - He repeats and you roll your eyes before looking away from him to Wanda.

It's weird, especially in the first few seconds. She looks at you with an impassive face, and you look at her with the same expression. And then you realize that she has very beautiful eyes. Has it been five minutes, you think, starting to feel strange. You hold your gaze, but your thoughts start to wander, and you imagine that you want to leave. But looking at Wanda like this, your thoughts begin to take a completely different turn.

You imagine Wanda sweating like that day at practice, only this time she's with her legs spread wide while you fuck her on your bed. Then you imagine her spreading her legs for you now still sitting in her chair, while you kneel down and touch her until she loses all control.

You also imagine pushing her down on the table, fucking her until her scream. 

And then a noise startles you, and you blink in confusion, looking away.

- Damn, sorry. - Says Bucky looking at his cell phone that is ringing and vibrating in his hand. - It's Steve. It might be about the mission. Try not to kill yourselves while I talk to him.

Bucky rushes to answer it and out of the room, and you let out an impatient sigh. Getting up, you walk over to the desk, looking at the notes he has made.

- Couple therapy techniques. - You read aloud with irony. - This is a joke.

- We wouldn't be here if you weren't such a pain in the ass.

- Yes, it's all my fault. - You retort, throwing the papers on the table and leaning on the furniture. 

- Are you implying that this is my fault? - she replies angrily. - You're the one who has hated me for no reason since I came here!

You blink in surprise and then you're laughing. You never hated Wanda. Your laughter seemed to irritate her even more because she stood up and assumed an aggressive posture.

- Did I tell a joke, by any chance? Why the hell are you laughing? - She asked irritated, you bit your lips, she was hot as hell with her jaw clenched.

- Why don't you take a peek into my mind and find out? - You challenged, looking at her with intensity.

Wanda looked slightly surprised, but didn't flinch. And then her eyes turned red, and you showed her exactly how you felt about her.

You moving towards her, grabbing her around the waist and kissing her mouth firmly. Your tongue in her mouth, as she moaned against you. Your hands going down a little, steadying her before lifting her onto your lap to carry her to the table and have her sit down without breaking the kiss. 

Once seated, you would move your kisses down her collarbone, sucking on her skin until it was red and sensitive, while your hands went inside her shirt at the waist and up to her breasts. You imagined Wanda moaning in your ear, asking you to touch her. And then you would. 

Guiding your hand up her thigh, you would lift her skirt, running your fingers along her skin, until you touched her where she wanted you to. And you would kiss her hard when you reached it, hard enough to make her lose her direction. 

You would start by superficially caressing her through her panties, until she began to tremble and push her hips against you.

Then you would push the panties aside, and penetrate her all at once, feeling her hot and wet in your fingers, while she moaned loudly against you.

You would bring your hand to her hair, pulling gently to expose the collarbone you wanted so badly to kiss, while Wanda would get overwhelmed with such intense satisfaction. You would push your fingers into her until her walls tightened around you, and she began to spasm, whimpering."

Wanda stumbled backwards with a surprised exclamation and a breathless sigh, the sound of the door opening and Bucky entering the room woke her up. You licked your lips, feeling extremely turned on by the playfulness.

- I see you didn't kill yourselves while I was away. - said the soldier, putting away his cell phone. Then he looked up at you two, and frowned. - Is everything okay?

You cleared your throat, trying to smile. But then Wanda spoke first.

- Everything's great. - Her voice came out a little hoarse. - We talked a little while you were out there. - She lies, but you cover it up. - Y/N and I are going out together for a while, to try to resolve this situation without involving the team.

Bucky looks really surprised, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing, and then Bucky smiles.

- Wow, that's great news! - He says - I am proud of you guys.

- Can we go now? - Wanda asks looking anxious. 

- Sure, go ahead. - He says, still smiling. Wanda looks at you and the gleam in her eyes makes your stomach turn with anxiety.

You walk silently out of the hallway, and there is such tension in the air that it is hard to breathe.

About five minutes later, you are in your room, settling your differences in the best possible way.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

All night long.

CHIBS TELFORD.  ┃ SOA.

❝ request by @filipthescot: Holaaaaa mi amooooor!! If you feel like it, I'd love to read Prompt 4 from the smut list with my man Filip😇💚

❝ request by @ladyreapermc: Number 2 for the smut prompts with my favorite Scot Chibs? Please? 🙏🏻

❝ request by @irenne-stans: Could you do the fluff promt #10 with Chibs please 🥺💗

❝ prompts: “One more cheesy pick up line and I’m gonna bend you over the table and fuck you in front of everyone”. / “I know you think about me at night”. / “It smells like… I don't know… jealousy?”

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ warnings: nsfw, smut, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, mention of bodily fluids, explicit thoughts, language, and i think that's all.

Gif credits to the author.

MASTERLIST.

Chibs is burning in rage watching you flirt with the new prospect, sitting on the bar with a glass of whisky in his hand and the other arm over the clingy wood. He's trying to figure out what it's been so fun to make you laugh this way. He's a man of jokes too and he hasn't seen you like that with him. That's pissing him off. And all that he wants to do right now is to put his gun on that guy, where the sun doesn't shine and blow out his guts.

But he has to pretend he wasn't looking at you like a maniac the moment you turn around to walk straight to the bar and grab another beer. Resting your forearms on the edge to wait for your drink, you tilt your head towards him.

“What's that face for? Someone told you Nessie doesn't exist, uh?”

Slowly, too slowly, he moves his eyes from the prospect to you. Annoyed. About to punch anyone that crosses his path right now.

“'Am not having fun like ye, that' fo' sure”. Chibs replies, taking a sip from his drink.

You frown funnily at his words, not really believing what is happening right there. “It smells like… I don’t know… jealousy?”

Waving a hand close to his face, you pretend to be smelling the environment around the two of you, before he slaps it playfully as you finally have erased the sour grimace from his face.

“C'mon, Chibsy. Don't deny what is clear to my eyes”.

“Ye're blind, lass”.

About to challenge him, you take a step closer placing your index finger on his collarbone, dragging it over his shirt down through his torso. You see him gulping inevitably, clicking his tongue with feigned annoyance, putting your eyes away from yours. “I know you think about me at night”.

Chibs purses his lips not enjoying that game you're playing and, that under his opinion, will end up worshipping himself in the darkness of his room while thinking about you —like uncountable times he has done.

“The prospect had the balls to talk with me, but he's a five on my scale”.

“Bad luck fo' him”.

“Good for you, isn't it?” You say poking the tip of his nose graciously, earning again his complete attention. “From one to ten, you're a nine and I'm the one you need”.

The Scottish man chokes on his drink as the liquid falls through the wrong side, making him cough while cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyebrows are frowned angrily, thinking you're just making fun of him.

“Stop playen'”.

“I'm not playing, but if you want, I know a game. It's called Titanic”.

Rubbing his face with his free hand, Chibs snorts deeply, laying his eyes on you waiting for a continuation or an explanation.

“You can be the ocean and I'll go down on you”.

“One mo' cheesy pickup line and amma bend ye over the table and fuck ye in front of everyone”.

Licking and biting your bottom lip, you grab the glass in his hand to empty it with a gulp to leave it over the bar, an instant before gripping your fingers around his wrist to drag him straight to the dorms. You've been waiting too much time for this to happen. And yes, maybe you were playing at first, tasting the water. But he wasn't lying when he has threatened you. Of course, you two earn more attention than you could expect, when the crew watches you disappearing from the party —between cheers and claps and finallys.

As soon as you're locked inside his room, your lips crash with his. You're too necessitated, so is he; devouring your mouth while your fingers manage to undo his belt and the zip of his jeans. Chibs grunts with his tongue inside your cavity and his huge hands squeezing your ass, anxious to feel that same warm wrapping around all his hard length. And you aren't going to make him wait, having the same burning desire for tasting him.

Pushing him to the nearest wall, reclining his back against it, you roll down his black tight jeans and boxers to his ankles —as promised, you kneel. Chibs can't take off his eyes from yours, looking at you begging in silence to alleviate the bittersweet pain concentrated in his hardness. God, he has dreamt about this thousands of times. Your tongue swirling around his dick, your throat welcoming him, your lips sucking his soul out from his body.

So when you fill your mouth with his thick length until your nose touches his pelvis, Filip can't help but close his eyes uttering a pleased grunt echoing the room. His fingers land automatically on your head, forcing you to hold his reddened glans against your walls, making you gag vibrating his whole anatomy. He could cum just by feeling these same shivers another time.

“For chrissake…” He moans swinging your head back and forth, whilst your left hand massages his balls.

Chibs has never felt this good. He's trying to keep calm and control himself from fucking your mouth as he'd like to do right now. Brutality, fastly, without mercy. He can't wait to see his cream spilling down the curves of your lips, making you choke on his dick.

“God… Ye look so beautiful”. He whispers as good as he can.

His vocals cause you to smile somehow, increasing the pace of your dance wrapping his whole extension with the only intention of driving him crazy. And you're getting it, preventing Chibs from breathing quietly. A mix of gasps and whining comes from the deepest place of his soul, helping you with the rhythm needed for more. He buries his dick down your throat, filling your cavity and forcing your walls until your uvula trembles above his most sensitive skin.

He knows he's so close, ashamed for not lasting more than a couple of minutes. He's a man that can please you all night long, but the wait has wreaked havoc in him. Too much time spent on imagining how it would feel. Too much time spent on imagining himself pawing your body, nailing his ringed fingers into your soaked cunt. Too much time spent on imagining hearing you moan his name, begging him to let you cum while riding his face.

And of course, he's going to fulfill his fantasies tonight, leaving your legs shaking and your pussy flooded by his seed.

Just to think about it, Chibs has to contain his breathing when you abuse your throat one last time, feeling how he empties his heat inside your mouth. Ripping his chest by swallowing a loud delighted grunt, as his hands continue pressing your head deeper, you cough slightly until he loosens his grip. Filip doesn't give you time to recover, urging you to stand up, colliding your mouth to taste himself in your saliva. The best combination he has ever savored.

With a tight hand gripping your throat he makes you turn around, pinning you to the wall, using the other to eagerly roll up the gems of your dress and push down your wet panties enough to slam to curved fingers inside you. You cry out with his lips stuck in yours, pounding you with so much savageness that he needs to husk you, or the whole Charming will hear you.

“Ye… Bad girl… Playen' with the prospect ti make me feel jealous…” He groans huskily, not being able to think about it as his thrusts cloud your head. “Gonna make ye understand why whiskey is better than bourbon”.

“Please, Ch— Chibs… I fucking beg you”.

You want him to fuck you, that's evident. You want him to fuck you in every single possible position, in every single corner of this damn town. And he's going to do it —but…

“Say ye're sorre”. He hisses onto your ear, nailing his fingers as much deep as he can, forcing your limits and pushing them to beyond. “Say ye're sorre fo' making me wait, fo' playen with me”.

“I am… I a— am sorry”. You sob placing your hands on his shoulders looking for some balance, as he raises you on your tiptoes. “I am so sorry, Chibsy… Please… Please, fuck me”.

“'Corse I will, my love. Till ye beg me again, but ti stop”.

If you've liked it, lemme know in a comment, I’d really appreciate it. Reblogs are welcome too, so more people can enjoy it! ✨

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[jamiedc-they-them]

One way ticket (Platonic)

Requested Imagine: An argument with your parents sends you to your best friend, and on a journey of self discovery. 

The door to your house swung open, and a tired you walked in through it. You closed the door, your back resting against it as you closed your eyes. Today had been a hard day, lots of studying and deadlines.

However, part of the weariness now came from being at home. It was something you weren’t exactly thrilled by.

 “Evening, dear.” Your mother called from the kitchen, your step father barely paying you any attention.

 “Hi, mum.” You greeted in return. She gave you a smile. If it was your old dad, he would’ve said something.

 But, they just had to fall out, didn’t they.

 In your room, filled with posters of films and large posters of book covers and your favourite characters, you sunk into your bed, back hitting it first and you exhaled. For once, a moment of peace.

 Your phone vibrated, and your reached for it. You saw the caller ID, and smiled.

 “Dickhead.” She greeted in her usual manner. You could practically hear the smile on the other end.

 “Maeve.” You weren’t as creative with the nicknames, but she didn’t care.

 “Tough day?” She asked, there was some softer part to her tone there.

 You let out a breath, “In a way.” Was your cryptic answer.

 It wasn’t, however, cryptic to her, “Parents again?”

 “They haven’t done anything yet.”

 “That ‘yet’ is the concerning part, Y/N,” As she spoke, you heard the door to her home unlock. She was home too, “If they’re giving you any trouble, you call me, ok? Spend the night at mine. Nothing wrong with taking a break. Or just walking away” She assured you as you heard her keys hit the counter.

 You always were a bit envious of your best friend, how carefree she was. If only your father didn’t cheat, maybe the month long that turned into a forever long break wouldn’t have happened.

 “Yeah, he was a bit of a prick for doing that, wasn’t he?” Maeve’s voice was softer still when she spoke. Seemed you said some parts of that out loud.

 You paused, hearing call up to you from downstairs, “That’s dinner. I’ll call you later.”

 There was silence, she must’ve nodded and then remembered she was on the phone, “Yeah, sure thing.”

“So, son, how was school?” Internally, you cringed at the misgender, but didn’t correct your father. More importantly, neither did your mother. They had made their voices known on that want of yours, to go by something else, something they called a “none entity.”

 “Good, yeah, thanks.” You answered, going back to your food.

 “That it?” He asked, making you look up at him.

 “Is what it?” It wasn’t meant to be a challenge.

 He took it as one, though, staring you down as he spoke, “Was school just, ‘good’?”

 “Yeah, I mean nothing really happened, mum can attest to that.” You answered, trying to be careful with your word choice. Your father’s choice of words explaining his action was what caused the break.

 He looked to his wife, and she nodded, confirming it.

 “You been hanging around with your friends?” You nodded, “They still…preferring to go by the plurals?” Again, you nodded, “Youth of today, doomed, I swear.”

 “Because you don’t like a pronouns?” Ok, you shouldn’t have said that, and you immediately regretted it right after as there was a pause. It was sharp, and it was a direct pause.

 Your father stopped eating and looked to you, “Excuse me?”

 “I’m sorry, I –” You started to apologise. But you knew you had crossed a line.

 You were in your room the next moment, having ran up there yourself to escape your fathers growing wrath.

 You found your phone, dialling the number you needed instantly, “Maeve – I… I don’t –“

 “What’s happened? Are you safe?” Was the first thing your friend asked, concern leaking through the phone.

 “I don’t – I…I think Mum’s calming him down. But--”

 “You know the bridge?” You nodded, and Maeve seemed to know that you had nodded, “Meet me there.”

 “What?”

 “Meet me there.”

 “Can…can I stay the night?” You asked. You heard her door open and close, and her breathing became more laboured as she walked.

 “Of course you can.” She answered.

 “Ok, bridge, right?”

 “Bridge.”

“Ok, see you there.”

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

You had nothing with you, just yourself. You didn’t even have a jacket. You were still in your school clothes, but the night was cold.

 Maeve was there, just as she said she would be. When you saw her, she was smoking, but eyes were scanning the water.

 She heard you approaching, and turned to you. Her eyes softened at your figure. You probably looked lonely, and you looked anxious. You were.

 She approached you when you stopped, bringing your timid figure into a hug. She didn’t say anything, she just held you.

 You appreciated it massively, how she didn’t say anything, just hugged you.

 It lasted a few seconds, but when she released you, you were teary eyed. You were scared, but you weren’t alone. You were scared still.

 She gave you a sympathetic smile, “Let’s go home.” She said, arm looping into yours and bringing you with her to her home. Yours was behind you, not too far away.

 Unlocking the door, she opened it up and ushered you in, closing the door behind the door and flicking on the light and taking off her jacket.

 “Do you want something to eat?” She seemed to just know without ever being told the circumstance you were in. It made you feel for your friend, wondering how she was able to just know what you had gone through.

 She grabbed a spare plate, filling it with the Chinese food she had picked up on the way home.

Together, you both sat on the couch, eating in silence. She didn’t seem to mind, but she did curl up, feet touching your own.

 “Thank you,” She looked to you at your words, “For this, I mean. Thank you.”

 She smiled, “Anytime. I know what it’s like to have shitty parents.” She said, despite the attempt of humour, you detected the sadness that was there.

 “Sorry.”

 She shook her head, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” She told you. You both went back to eating, but she did grab a blanket for you both.

 When you were done, you just started venting. You didn’t even mean to, it just all started to spill out. The whole time, she did not speak, she only let you talk and vent and rage about it all.

 There were tears, your own tears as you spoke. Maeve passed you a new tissue every so often as you spoke.

 “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. You can stay here as long as you –”

 “It’ll just be for tonight, I’ll go back tomorrow.” She looked like she wanted to say something, but nodded in granting and respecting your wish.

 “You can have the bed.” She said, and your eyes met her’s in an instant.

 “No, Maeve –”

 She held up a hand to stop you, “I’m not arguing about this, Y/N. I don’t mind you going back tomorrow, but if you’re staying, then you take the bed.”

 “…Why?”

 She rolled her eyes, “Because I know how to be comfy on that sofa. Besides, can’t have my best mate here and have them be uncomfortable, can I?”

 You resigned yourself to your fate, going to the bedroom, but not before you both shared another hug.

 As you went to bed, you saw a piece of paper on the floor. Picking it up, it was a form to be a guardian, but the name was blank as to who it was. So, you just left it.

 You woke up in your school clothes, you hadn’t exactly had time to change. But ‘school clothes’ you were wearing a smarter shirt than usual and some jeans.

 Maeve entered your room, toothbrush in her mouth, “Morning.” She said, even if it wasn’t as clear as it could’ve been, what with the toothbrush and all.

 “Morning.” You said in return, getting out of bed.

 She spat into the sink, before leaning against the doorway, “You can borrow some of my clothes. I’ll make sure they aren’t too embarrassing.” She said, lightly, before going to the drawer to find just that.

 “Might as well go out, right?” You joked, referencing to the opinion your parents had on your identity.

 She laughed, “If you’re up for it.”

 “Mum will say what she says, but I can’t let her define me, try and make her understand it.”

 Maeve just nodded, but there was some conflict there.

 Your mother worked at school, she was a science teacher – it was where her view on your identity came from.

 You had her today on the schedule, you liked science enough, but you knew this would be an…awkward session.

 Maeve had walked with you. She had called Aimee and told her she would be with you today, and the other woman understood, giving you her love. So, arm looped in yours, Maeve and you entered school.

 “First period, you ready?” She asked, putting her head on your shoulder for a moment as you continued going down the hallway to the lesson. You ignored the looks from people in the hallway. Otis had his mother to contend with, now so did you.

 “As I can be.” You answered honestly. As you got the doorway, she gave you a wink, before she went in first. After a few moments, so did you.

 It was to make your mother think anything other than the fact that you had gone to Maeve for help.

 As you went to your seat, you felt your mother’s eyes on you the whole way. When she went back to teaching, you saw that she had a slight darkness under her eyes. She had stayed up. A feeling stirred in your stomach. However, you went back to looking at the lesson.

 You did pay attention, just not all the time. Sometimes, you’d find yourself writing notes or just looking them up yourself in the textbook, just to avoid looking at your mothers gaze.

 However, as the bell rang, you were one of the last to leave. The other, was Maeve. She sat on the desk, legs swinging as she looked between yourself and your mum.

 She never hated your mum, or your dad. They had their flaws, but it was mainly their apathy to who you wanted to be that pissed her off.

 Still, she didn’t voice it, which was something that was unusual for her.

 Your mother looked up at you as you put a book on her desk. You looked nervous, eyes darting a little, but you managed to get the words out, even throwing a bit of humour in with your tone.

 “Parlay?” Behind you, once she approached, Maeve smiled a bit, before it turned a little bit – just a little – more threatening to your mother, a warning.

 As stated before, she didn’t hate your mum, just hated the discomfort it caused you.

 “He’s not angry, not now anyway. If anything, a little impressed.” Your mother said. The little amount of praise, despite it being so little, stirred something within you.

 Maeve saw how your shoulders relaxed a little. How you seemed to almost not expect it, but be deeply appreciative of it at the same time. She made a mental note, and her smile became more sympathetic.

 “Talk about it at dinner?” You asked, your mother nodded.

 “Talk about it at dinner,” She said, standing up and packing her own bag to leave for the teachers lounge, “And I can finally meet this girlfriend of yours.” You sighed, seemed you wouldn’t be able to fully escape their ideas yet.

 As she left, you turned to Maeve with your eyebrows up, but a tired expression on your face.

 “Dinner?” She asked, light smile on your face.

You laughed, putting your hands to your face before moving them around and interlocking them at the back of your head, you smiled at your friend, “Dinner.” You confirmed.

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

 You had gone back to Maeve’s place without her. She had something to do with the clinic, which you understood and so she gave you her keys, telling you only to leave the door unlocked for her.

 So, it was just you, alone in the home. You actually looked around it now, seeing the little things, like how the cups were stacked neatly, how the plates had been washed. She took care of this place, she cared for it. It was a shithole, but she stayed and looked after it.

 If she stayed and managed to make this place work, maybe you had hope with your parents just yet.

 Your thoughts went back to them, your parents. Maybe you had been too hasty, maybe they’d just accept you back with open arms. Maybe, for once, they’d be sorry. You had stood up to your father, that was new.

 Maybe you’d still have a place to go.

 The door opened, and Maeve entered, she tossed her bag onto the sofa and took her jacket off, giving you a smile as she saw you getting a drink.

 “Sorry I took so long, Otis held me up.” She said, gently moving you aside and doing the same – getting a drink – for herself.

 “It’s alright, he’s a good guy but can…I don’t know.” You conceded, not really knowing how to explain your other friend – a mutual one of yours.

 “Much?” She filled, you nodded.

 “Please don’t make a scene tonight.” Your friend took a sip of her water and looked at you, almost a little taken aback by your words. You further explained, “I need to go well, Maeve, please. I can’t have it turn into another row. I can’t have another uncomfortable breakfast, again.”

 Maeve stopped you, “Wait, ‘again’? Your staying?!” She couldn’t stop the surprise that one.

 You cocked your head, “Course I am. Why wouldn’t I? They’re my parents –”

 “Not good ones.” She pointed out.

 “They aren’t the worst.”

 Again, she couldn’t help herself, “They aren’t exactly the best either,” She sighed, putting her glass down and approaching you, putting her hands on your shoulders, before using one hand to cup your chin and turn it up to face her, “You are so much better without them, Y/N. They don’t accept you for who you are. I’m sure in some way they love you, just like my mum did. But, you know what I did.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, you did know what she had done.

 Part of you resented her for having the strength to do it. Still, you insisted, “I can’t just drop them like that, Maeve…How would I fund school? What about rent and –”

 “We’d figure it out –”

 Now it was you stopping her, or more so talking over her at her first word, “’We’?”

 She creased her eyebrows, “Yeah, ‘we’, you think I’d just leave you if you did it?” She almost seemed hurt at the accusation she was now accusing you of.

 “I just – I don’t think I can do that. I don’t even know how.” You confessed, voice sounding tired.

 “I do, I know how,” Maeve assured as she nodded a few times, “It’s called ‘emancipation’.”

 As she went to explain, the alarm on your phone went off. Looking at it, you saw it was a half hour reminder to get to your house for the dinner.

 “Just…please don’t mess this up for me…please.” Was all you asked of your best friend.

 Her eyes softened at the pain, the loss, and the fear that laid within them. She had more on her mind, more she wanted to say, you could see that clear as day. Still, she nodded, and said nothing.

 You stood outside your door with your best friend by your side. You had walked together in silence, both trying to prepare as much as you could for this event. The main thing you had said to the other being that you looked nice. You both did, you in your normal clothes, Maeve in a dress. She had even redone her makeup.

 You saw that hurt in her eye hadn’t fully left, but there was an almost apathetic look now. She was here to help you, not to appease your parents who she had plenty to say on.

 You knocked, the door opening and your father stood there in smart, but causal wear. Seemed he’d put some effort into it too. Out of the pair, your mother had the better job, but it didn’t matter. Job meant nothing to how you were as a person.

 He didn’t say anything, he only moved aside as a silent beckoning to enter. You both did so.

 Maeve took time to look around. She didn’t comment, just looked around. She then met your eyes, a bit of life returning and you saw them soften a little, she raised her eyebrows; “Fancy.” Her gaze seemed to communicate to you.

 You had no idea if she meant it or not, so you just smiled a thin one, trying not to show your nerves. Maeve, however, was good at reading people. So, as you went to the table in silence, she held your hand to provide some comfort.

 However, as you both sat at the table, you saw your mother had seen the hand holding in a different light. Of course she did.

 You saw her have a look on her eyes, almost a proud look. You felt Maeve tighten her hold on your hand, trying to supress a sense of frustration. It did pain you a little, but you tried not to show it. This was redemption with your parents, not a further regress.

 Still, she didn’t say anything, she remembered the promise she made. And Maeve Wiley was not one to break a promise…to the best of her ability.

 “So, you’re the mysterious Maeve we’ve been hearing all about?” Your mother asked as your father put food on the table. No, the irony was not lost on you.

 Maeve looked to you, a silent dialogue going between you two. However, your communication was clear, “I’ve never mention you to them.” She knew it wasn’t in a mean way, just wanted confirmation.

 She nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.” She said, bullshit smile on her face. The smile, however, eased your mother – hell, even doing the same to your father, for once he smiled and it was genuine.

 You envied it. But, as you put your hands on the table, Maeve held one. To your parents, it meant the opposite to what it actually was, she gave your hand a squeeze.

 “One step closer to being a man, my lad.” Your mother hadn’t been lying when she told you your father was proud. Christ.

 You looked at your father with the same distaste you always had for him, but now it was less easy to mask.

 So far, no food had been touched by anyone other than your mother.

 “See? Even got the look.” He seemed to celebrate your hatred. Not revel in it, just celebrate it.

 “’The look’?” You parroted back to him in a questioning manner.

 “Yeah, every man needs –”

 “Y/N doesn’t identify as a man, though.” Maeve spoke up. You moved your hands down to your side, keeping your eyes only on your best friend. You shook your head, begging her not to.

 She, however, only kept her eyes on your father, a challenging and daring look in her eyes, “Y/N is a they –”

 “Not this bollocks again. He got you doing it now, too.” Your father’s tone was filled with frustration.

 “Yeah, I guess they have, haven’t they?” Her eyes squinted a bit, she seemed to be daring for him to try it.

 “Let me guess, you two haven’t shagged either?” He sounded tired. Done.

 Wasn’t quite the bite Maeve was looking for, but she still took it, “Y/N doesn’t feel that way about anyone. They don’t won’t a partner in that way, and that’s just fine.”

 “It’s sick,” Your father looked to your mother, “Isn’t that right, honey?”

 She seemed to just be enjoying her food, but when your father asked, she hesitated. There were a few look in her eyes, fear wasn’t one of them, but shame was as she spoke, “Yes.” Her voice was monotone.

 “I think it’s time you leave.” Your father said, seemingly taking back control.

 However, Maeve stayed put, “Not without Y/N.” She was firm in that.

 “Get out, now, or I will call the police,” He then looked to you, “Is that why you brought her, to get it all out in the open these beliefs you have about yourself?” His tone was cold.

 “N-No.” You managed to stutter out.

 “If you lay one hand on them –”

 “Him, and I won’t. I’d never hit my boy, I just need it to get through to him that he can’t think the way he does.”

 “So, verbal then?”

 “If you want to be a snowflake, then yes, verbal.” He seemingly had no problem with saying that.

 So, Maeve stood up, and she gave you a pat on the shoulder and an apologetic look. Then, with a click of the door, she was gone.

 Silence permeated the room, and now your father had his hands on the table and his chin resting on them.

 “I don’t want you seeing her again.” Your father said, “Go to your room, I’ll bring some food up in a few minutes.”

 You didn’t say anything, only getting up from the table, “Phone.” Your father said. You brought the item out of your pocket and gave it to him, before going upstairs.

 You laid on your bed, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh. Could’ve gone better, but it definitely could’ve gone worse.

 You heard a knock at your door. You gave yourself a moment to try to get rid of the tears that were pooling in your eyes and told whoever was there to come in.

 It was your father, who was carrying a tray with a plate of food on. He placed it on the floor, before he stood at the door.

 “You know I just want what’s best for you, right?”

 It was bollocks, but you nodded, “It’s just…there are two ways of being. I’d rather you be Trans than be…this.” Harsh, but it was more honest, more controlled.

 Again, you nodded. You hated the words he said, but you nodded.

 “We’ll talk again, tomorrow.” He then left, closing the door more softly this time.

 You picked up the tray, apathetic look on your face as you ate the food. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest.

 This was your life, one filled with pain, but two parents that gave you a roof over your head.

 You heard a knock at your window, turning, you saw the last person you expected to see. It was the face of someone else who gave you a roof over your head.

 She waved to you. You put your empty plate down and looked to the door. He never did say you couldn’t leave. Then again, he also said you couldn’t be how you felt inside. So, you know.

 Quietly, you made your way to the window, opening it with her help. Neither of you spoke, but she didn’t need to, she only offered you a hand – and a silent question along with it.

 You looked to the door one more time, one that – outside of it – held only misery.

 You took the hand that was offered.

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

She held your hand the whole way home, leading the way. However, this time you worked with – an admittedly – shaky confidence.

 She opened the door, going to her bed room to get her dress off. You, meanwhile, got a glass of water and sat down. You knew your dad still had your phone, but that was ok.

 Maeve re-entered, now with pyjamas on, “What’s on your mind?” She asked, seeing a look on your face that told her you had a plan.

 “Mum’s gonna be at school tomorrow. But, I’ve made my choice, I’m done with them. We just need to do that…what’d you call it, ‘emancipation?’”

 Maeve nodded, “Ok, we’ll need some papers for the court. Plus, I have this,” At ‘this’ Maeve held up her phone and hit ‘play’ it was a recording of the meal.

 It was proof.

 “Ok, you got my back?” You asked.

 “Always.” She swore.

 So, off to school you went to execute your plan. You walked to the school grounds, talking and – for once, in your case – being happy and having a sense of agency.

 You had made your request to the court and made some calls to friends, now you just had to hope your parents wouldn’t try and stop it.

 “Otis and everyone else agreed? Just like that?” You asked, only having spoken to Eric while Maeve called everyone else.

 “A noble cause worth fighting for.” She said with a smile, parroting your own one.

 You believed those words, and you believed in your own course too, you believed in your own freedom.

 Going to science, you saw your other friends now sat there, awaiting you. It started out as normal, just with you in a more positive beat.

 That was, until the bell rang and your mother asked you to stay behind. Without having to ask, your other friend stayed as well.

 “So, you’re applying for emancipation?” She asked, tone flat.

 “That’s right.” You answered, sure of your choice.

 “You know we’ll fight it, right? There’s no way you can take care of yourself out there. You can barely handle us. Besides, who else is going to take care of you?”

 You felt a presence next to you, it was Maeve. However, you felt the others behind you.

 “They will.” You said, standing strong, “And, yes, it’ll cost us, but we’ll fight it. Because it’s worth it. You were toxic to me, mum. And, I think I deserve better.”

 With that, you and your new family walked out.

  It had been a long battle, one filled with ups and downs, but the others stood by you, chipping in however they could.

 Plus, Maeve found herself with a new sibling, so that was something. It felt nice, to be validated, to have your pronouns respected and your thoughts taken on board.

 As you returned home from school one day, Maeve had left a bit earlier. You opened the door, going in and throwing your bag to the floor and laying on the couch, “Good day?” She asked, stirring the coffee she had made.

 You looked to her with a smile, “Yeah, good day.” You confirmed.

[ahkaraii]

[ff15] for the price of an arm (3666 words)

(spiritual sequel to my fancomic here, cw: gore)

"My, my," said the dismissive voice that still haunted Gladio's dreams, over a decade since. "Another one come for a rematch?"

"No." Gladio could not see Gilgamesh, but he knew the old bastard was watching him. "Not unless you don't give the Marshal back."

"The Marshal...?" A low, echoing laugh bounced around the bridge, and was then lost to the fog beyond. "Oh, the little lion? I'm afraid I bested him, long ago... He has belonged to me, since. And now, I have reclaimed him."

"Give him back," Gladio rumbled, voice like gravel. "Or I'll take all of your little arms, and then your fucking head."

The laugh echoed, fainter still, until there was a still sort of silence, broken only by a hair-raising whisper. "You may try, Shield of the Chosen King. But you shall not succeed."

"Show yourself," Gladio said, coldly. "And I shall prove you wrong, Corpse-Stealer."

It was only years spent fighting in the dark that allowed Gladio the reflexes to parry the blade that sought his head, and the years prior to that the ability to recognize the youth attached to the familiar body.

"Cor--?!"

It was undoubtedly the Marshal, but his once-lined face was now clear of scruff and weariness. His eyes were sharp, bright, and filled with a vicious determination Gladio had only ever seen aimed toward their enemies.

"Cor! Wait--"

The man did not appear to hear him, already in transition to perform a flawless gyaku-inazuma giri, and after Gladio hastily parried that opening onslaught, a tsuki thrust that nearly tore through Gladio's throat, managing only to avoid being skewered by leaping as far back as his legs would allow him, though of course Cor followed through flawlessly, relentlessly, and Gladio swiftly found himself on the defensive, gasping through disbelief and then raw, unhindered fury.

"You DARE!" Gladio howled. "You DARE steal his face!"

"His face belongs to me," tittered that ancient, odious voice, bouncing off the walls to the beat of Cor's Kotetsu against Gladio's Genji blade. "All of him does. And you shall not take him from me, unless, of course...you best me."

Gladiolus had bested the Blademaster once, and he could do it again. But it was quite a different story to be fighting against the puppet-corpse of his teacher, his friend. "Cor, don't do this," Gladio spared the breath to say. "Cor, don't make me do this!"

Cor did not appear to hear him, and through sinking dismay and true grief, Gladio knew Cor would never hear him, for Cor was likely already dead. Cor Leonis had said his goodbye, and everyone had respected it-- even Gladio had respected it, in the end. But he'd come down here to reclaim Cor's body and bring it back to Lucis. Bring it back home. He'd meant to bury the Marshal next to King Regis, as Gladio would want someone to bury him next to Noct, when his time came.

He'd envisioned having to fight the Blademaster for it, but he had never imagined he'd have to ruin Cor's corpse to win it back.

"You are dishonourable--" Gladio screamed. "You are despicable--"

"I am, at that," the voice may have whispered, but Gladio was fully concentrated on Cor's blade, the whistle of it before it nearly took out his legs; the metallic vibration of it when it parried his own massive katana; the reach of it, always further than one might expect.

Cor did not fight silently, for all that he did not speak a word. He grunted and gasped and growled, and it felt awfully like he lived again, for it was his selfsame voice, the voice Gladio had grown up listening to and learning from, fighting with and fighting for. It was both a gift and a gutwound, to hear it again, in the flesh.

It could have been a shorter fight-- intense, furious, but inevitably lethal-- had Gladio not kept missing opportunities to cleave the man in two. He could not bear it. A part of him longed to prolong this, if only to keep the fiction going. That Cor still lived, that Cor could still come back alive.

Unfortunately, the longer Gladio drew it out, the more tired he became. And Cor, in the undeathly grasp of Gilgamesh, did not.

He became faster, and faster, and impossibly faster, until Gladio knew that if he did not end this soon, if he did not end this now, then it was Gladio that would be cleaved into pieces, and Cor-- who had not once batted an eye at carnage, who had not once looked upon a fallen enemy with regret-- Cor would simply end him without giving a shit, and then Gladio would be dead, and all this would be for naught at all.

Cor Leonis was dead, Gladio told himself through glassy eyes and a swiftly clogging nose, and this? This was just a cruel echo. It would be kinder to silence it, and let it rest a memory.

So, without further hesitation, Gladio closed himself off, and with one sure thrust, impaled Cor's body with his very own Genji blade, twisting it to ensure he'd severed that great man's spine and abdominal aorta, then up to cleave through three ribs and into his lungs and hopefully his heart, so his end would be swift.

So his end would be sure.

But of-fucking-course the Immortal refused to die easy. Cor made a truly awful noise, choking on his own blood, body twitching with the aftershocks of an immense blow, still struggling, still attempting to swing his sword, which Gladio barely stopped with his other hand.

"Damn it," Gladio choked, through messy tears. "It's okay, Cor. Let go."

The man screamed wetly, gagging, jerking futilely against Gladio's hold. He was half-collapsed on Gladio already, legs limp and lifeless. But even still he refused to die, let alone let go of his sword, which came to rest on Gladio's shoulder, sharp side trying in vain to dig toward his neck, even now, when it was past the realm of unlikely into the sad reality of the impossible.

"It's all right," Gladio whispered. "Shh. Shhh. You can rest now."

Cor shuddered, twitched, and let out a rasping exhale, that seemed to last an age. Blood kept bubbling up his mouth, out his nose, and this close Gladio could see the burst blood vessels in his eyes, making the blue of them all the brighter, even as that inimitable gaze clouded, unfocused, and seemed to still half-lidded, far away.

His sword finally slipped out of his grasp, and clattered unceremoniously to the ground.

For a long while Gladio couldn't speak through his tears. The hand holding the Genji blade was soaked with Cor's blood, with his spilled flesh, and Gladio couldn't find the will to remove it, to further damage Cor's body with it. He pulled Cor close instead, tucking his old friend's face into his chest, shuddering through his grief and processing his rage.

"I'll kill you for this," Gladio promised wetly. "I will fucking desecrate you for this."

"You may try," the Blademaster said, finally showing himself at the other end of the bridge, both armless and unarmed. "I may even welcome it."

Gladio ran a gentle hand through Cor's bloodied hair, and impulsively kissed the top of it, like he remembered Cor doing, once, when he'd been six or seven and he'd asked Uncle Cor for a bedtime story, and he'd eagerly listened to the Marshal stumble through what was more a mission report than a proper fairytale, talking about some young punk going down to Hell to fight some big tough guy with a weird accent, to prove himself worthy of his King. And Gladio, who even at that age feared being unworthy above all else, had anxiously asked And he did, didn't he, Uncle Cor? And Cor had quirked that small, sad, private smile that he showed only to Gladio and Gladio's dad and their King, and then kissed the top of his head and said Sure, champ, 'course he did.

'Course he did.

Gladio gently laid Cor's body on the ground, dislodging the Genji blade from his sternum as carefully as he could. It was impossible to pull out the two-meter long blade elegantly, or even respectfully, not without the King's magic to simply dispel it as he would have preferred, but Gladio did his utmost to do it without messing Cor up more than he had to. He ached to throw the damn sword away and simply grab Cor's corpse and run with it, abscond with it, away from this traitor's cesspit of a bridge and finally lay it to rest where it deserved to be-- but another louder, righteous, and infinitely angrier part of him needed to take the Genji blade-- originally Cor's blade, and now forever the blade that had finally ended him-- and skewer that dishonourable, hateful, and pathetic wraith of a creature at the end of that bridge. If not for Cor's sake, then Gladio's own; for the Blademaster was, if legend served, ancestor to his own blood, traitor to his own line, and therefore Gladio was the last of that longwinded legacy, the last Shield, and if it was anyone's duty to end this farce of a trial, then was is his own.

Gladiolus Amiticia stood tall, and readied his bloodied blade with the grim resolve of a man ready to face his death and walk out alive.

Gilgamesh didn't say a word. He'd said all he needed to, over two thousand years of projected self-loathing, through cruel whispers and claimed corpses shambling in the dark, patiently waiting for his own end, waiting for just this moment.

The tension between the two warriors rose like a fetid odor, permeating a grave. Only one of them would leave here alive, and increasingly it seemed it would be Gladio, for Gilgamesh had made no move to summon either arms or weapons.

"Take out your sword already, you lowly piece of shit," Gladio demanded, coldly. "Or die without one."

Gilgamesh tilted his head slowly, gesturing towards Cor's corpse, cooling before him. "You've already taken it," he said, simply.

Rage enveloped Gladio. He'd killed defenseless men before, but only in the heat of battle; to kill a traitorous kin-killer like this would bring him no satisfaction. Hell, it might even bring him shame, and that pissed him right the fuck off. That even now, filled with so much grief and fury and resolve, he could still lose against this wretched ghost, because winning against a thing determined to die without a fight was no victory at all.

"Arm yourself, Blademaster!" Gladio roared, swinging the massive Genji blade, splattering drops of Cor's lifeblood upon the bridge.

"I have none left," the ghost said, mildly, shrugging his great shoulders bereft of limbs. "Claim my head, Gladiolus Amiticia. It is yours."

"You vile, repulsive--" Gladio snarled, incandescent with rage. "You dishonour my name, your name, the name of the man who you just made me kill-- the lives of my father, my father's father, and all the kings the Amiticia have served--"

"Yes," the Blademaster interrupted calmly, "That's right."

"Pathetic," Gladio spat. "You're pathetic. You are less than a man. I renounce you as Shield of the Founder King. I renounce your trial as anything more than worthless, wretched--"

"That is your right," the Blademaster agreed, placidly.

Gladio screamed, and in his mind, he rushed him. Genji blade met Genji armour and parted it like butter, revealed the putrid insides of a man long since dead; another swing beheaded the man and spilled his brain across the bridge; his red-soled boots stomped that skull to shards, mercilessly, pounding it into the ground, into less than dirt, into less than a memory; in his mind, his heart thoroughly disowned that heartless cur to oblivion.

In reality, Gladio only screamed. And then, heaving like a beast, he gathered up his spite and spat on the ground. "If you will not fight," the Last of the Amiticia swore, "then you will rot here, forevermore."

Gilgamesh's glowing eyes tracked him, quietly, then he bent his head forward, bent his whole body forward, into a bow. "Yes, Amiticia," that dry, ancient, patiently undying voice said, "I know."

Gladio could bear this no longer. He turned, blade in hand, seeking Cor's corpse--

Only to find Cor struggling to his knees.

"Cor?!" Gladio choked, and for a moment his grief and rage split him, for he could not kill Cor a second time, a second time would surely end him--

"Clarus...?" Cor's eyes were still bloodshot but the blue shone through, electric, and violently alive; his face was young, bereft of age lines and beard; he looked like he was half Gladio's age instead of double. "What...?"

"Cor!" Gladio fell to his knees. "You're alive!"

"You're not Clarus," Boy-Cor said, voice oddly-pitched. "Who're you?"

"I'm his son," Gladio said, through tears. "Fuck. God damn it. You're alive, Cor." He impulsively gathered Cor up in his arms, and the kid-- God! Cor was at most a fucking teenager!-- squirmed, uncomfortable, looking confused as all hell.

"As if I'd die in a place like this," Cor said, gruffly, and then he jerked up, "Wait, son?! Y'mean, you're his da?" He pushed Gladio away, squinting up at him suspiciously. "No fuckin' way... you ain't Marshal Amiticia. He's bald, and you got more hair than a goddamn Ronin!"

Gladio couldn't help but laugh, wetly-- even through his confused joy and skewered grief, hearing Cor speak like a feral brat was something else.

"...unless that's a wig? Uh, sir? Shit."

But Gods above, what if this was an illusion? Gladio's whole self shuttered at the thought. He wouldn't put it past that old ghost. He was vile enough for it, Gladio now knew.

"If this is a lie," Gladio murmured, tracing Cor's wary face with his eyes, thinking this might be the last time, "then I swear on my life, I will cut off your legs and piss on your mask, Blademaster."

Cor's eyes widened, narrowed, and shuttered in quick succession. "Well, that's gross," he said, tense-like, eyes skittering over to the Genji blade, thrown aside in Gladio's disbelief-- then he stared at something beyond Gladio's shoulder. "Wait, did'you actually kill him?!"

Gladio automatically followed Cor's line of sight, thinking he'd see the Blademaster as he had been seconds before-- but the fucker was no longer standing there, head bowed or otherwise. He'd vanished.

"Shit," Gladio swore, lunged for his sword-- immediately realized Cor had taken the Genji blade with him, and turned to snatch the Kotetsu instead-- and was on his feet an instant later, ready for a fight. "God damn it--"

"Ramuh's balls--" Cor piped up. "You fuckin' did!"

Cor had fearlessly loped on over to where the Blademaster had once stood, all two meters of the Genji blade casually resting on his shoulders like it belonged there, instead of the Kotetsu he'd carried by his side for forty years-- and then he was bending down, was the sword too heavy?-- no, Gladio realized abruptly, Cor was bending down to grab a familiar silver thing.

"This is his mask, ain't it? Goddamn..." Cor looked very small at the end of that immense bridge. "You beat me to it, huh."

"...I don't think he can die," Gladio said, uneasily. "He's probably hiding somewhere." He resisted the urge to spit and say 'like cowardly fucker', and instead adjusted his hold on Kotetsu, its smaller size unfamiliar to his hands.

"Maybe," Cor said, but he didn't sound convinced. "Shit...if only I'd been a little faster, I could've gotten him first." He looked down at the mask like it had impaled him, like it had skewed him straight through and had watched him drown in his own blood.

Gladio knew that look, because that's the same look Cor had had, as he'd died in Gladio's arms.

Gladio felt the unreality of the situation finally descending upon him. "Hey, kid," he said, low and slow. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was running away from this," Cor said quietly, down at the mask in his hands. Then he squinted up at Gladio. "Sure don't remember you, though. Sir. Did you come down for me 'cause Clarus said somethin'?" His lower lip stiffened, and there was an unmistakable wet sheen to his eyes. "I had it handled, sir."

Gladio's heart was hurting something awful. This wasn't the Marshal he remembered. That inimitable man-- the Cor Leonis that had indulged Gladio's love of fairytales, who had kissed his brow goodnight, who had taught him how to fight, whose last words to him had been 'Y'know, Gladio, I think I've finally earned myself a goddamn vacation'-- that immense, amazing, larger than life man was dead.

So, what was this mockery before him? The soul Gilgamesh had defeated and claimed, forty some years ago, now returned to its old body?

"I know it was disrespectful, sir--" Cor said, stiffly, misinterpreting Gladio's expression. "I know this Trial is only for Shields of the Amiticia line, but-- I can do it, sir, I was doing just fine--"

"All of this is a farce," Gladio said, hollowly.

"No, I can prove myself worthy!" Cor said loudly, desperately, and Gladio was reminded of himself, thinking that being a worthwhile Shield to his King was all he'd ever wanted or would ever want, that fighting some big tough guy could grant him that and more. "I can do it--! I'll try again, I'll beat him, I'll prove it--"

Gladio felt something heavy press against his chest. If this was Gilgamesh's last fuck you to his descendants, or, worse, if it was his idea of a fucking consolation prize--

"Let me try again," Cor said, firmly, holding the mask out like Gladio could summon the Blademaster with it. "I'll show you, sir. I'll show you I can do it."

Gladio's frustration was hardly this kid's fault. Well, it was only Cor's fault insomuch as he'd jaunted on down here as a brat, gotten his ass kicked and his soul snatched, then come back down for seconds when he was too old to care if he lived or died. But it wasn't this kid's fault, anymore than it was Noct's fault he'd gotten saddled with a prophecy that wanted him dead and he'd chosen to fight it for as long as he could, before finally succumbing to it, back straight and head held high.

Gladio had hopefully outgrown his knee jerk reaction of yelling at dumb kids for making dumbass decisions, and he liked to think he'd soon ease into the calm melancholy of a man used to outliving those he loved. Like Cor himself had. The Cor of his memories, now forever laid to rest.

And yet Cor-the-kid was still staring up at him, refusing to cry, looking as stiff and proud and fierce as ever, waiting for him--for Gladio, of all people-- to denounce him.

So he chose not to.

"You did do it," Gladio said, gently. "Cor, you completed the trial, and then some. You are more than worthy to be a King's Shield, or Sword, or soldier--whatever you wanna be."

"What I want is a rematch," Cor insisted, looking more and more like he was gonna fight Gladio for it.

"Maybe later," Gladio said. Maybe never, he thought. Gods. He didn't know if Cor could even leave Taelpar Craig, or if his body would collapse like the walking corpse it should be, without Gilgamesh's magic holding it together.

"Sir," Cor said, edging on the line of begging. "I can't go back empty handed like this. I'd rather die than live with the shame of it."

"Take the mask, then," Gladio said, with an exhausted finality in his voice. "It's there because you defeated him, in your own way."

"...you ain't gonna piss on it? Sir?" Cor said, suspiciously, holding it close like he was protecting it.

If you die as we leave this place, I sure fucking will, Gladio thought, but said aloud, "I'd gotta drink some water, first. You thirsty?"

"What the fuck, sir," Cor said as respectfully as he could, which, at this time, was not much.

"I'm joking," Gladio said, though he really wasn't. "I'm not about making some instant ramen, though. After a meal--" Cor's last, perhaps, "--then I'm leaving here, for good. You comin', or you stayin'? Your choice, Leonis."

He'd come down here for Cor's body, but if Cor truly wanted to stay here, forever fighting a disgraced demigod whose hobby was making undying warriors out of decent men-- if that was truly his idea of a good afterlife, then, hell, Gladio wasn't going to force him. He respected Cor that much, even if this wannabe Valhalla was, in his personal opinion, as disrespectful as it could get.

Cor's rumbling stomach interrupted his thoughts. The kid turned a little red, and it broke the spell of Gladio's melancholy some, to see that. "Hungry, huh?"

"I could eat," Cor admitted, with a stiff little shrug. "What kinda flavour y'got, sir?"

Even though it was far more difficult to travel light enough to fight on the go without the magic of the Armiger, Gladio still made sure to carry at least one of his favourite meals with him in a backpack. For this journey, he'd packed exactly two Cup Noodles: one for him, and one for Cor's memory. He'd left it at the fireplace just outside this final room, alongside the waterproof tarp he'd brought to put Cor's body in-- though now, Gods willing and Gilgamesh be damned, Cor might just walk out on his own.

"Beef," Gladio said, and was gratified by Cor perking up, as he hoped he would. "You okay with that?"

"Yes, sir," Cor said, and quietly admitted, "It's, um. That's my favourite."

"Well, ain't that something," Gladio said, instead of saying, I know. "You comin', then?"

"Yes, sir," Cor said, and even if this was Gilgamesh's last laugh, or his last apology, then Gladio would take it, because Cor was worth it, Cor had earned it.

[got-any-references]

What are your fav beetlebabes headcanons? Also, love your stuff <3

Thank you <3. And thank you for the wait cause oh boy if I don’t answer this ask with a ridiculous amount of art how will I live?

*Digging out the dust covered manuscript that is my nonexistent Beetlebabes fic from under the floorboards* It’s showtime.

So...Lydia is the one who falls first. She is about 17 or 18 at the time, so this is very much an “I have a teen crush on someone I am not supposed to” type of deal. Honestly they fell in love with each other way before that but like, platonically 

Beej is...horribly oblivious XD. Honestly its for the best because Lydia spends the better part of her pre-college summer freaking about because any time her best friend walks in the door her heart wants to go bull-riding in her chest and if she actually has to confront her feelings she might just explode.

Then, just before Lydia was supposed to go away to college, Beetlejuice...disappears. He leaves a note, saying he’ll be back, but weeks turn into months, months turn into a year, and no one either in the living world or the netherworld has seen a hair of him. Lydia goes through college without really knowing what to do with herself, missing what was probably the closest person in her life. She graduates with a journalism degree and a minor in photography. She works for a newspaper as an investigative journalist before breaking off over less than great circumstances and going off on her own.

She’s 25 when she establishes herself as a pivate eye, with an enormous amount of anonymous sources being dead people. Also, this takes place in New York City.

(Yes she absolutely does exorcisms on the side).

She’s following a rather stange missing persons case when one of her sources points to a run down establishment that is 100% totally haunted. Except when she goes there she doesn’t find any ghosts, but rather

Beetlejuice. And he looks awful. And very much human.

Lydia: You look like hell.

Beej: Yeah, I just got back.

...

Beej: Also I’ma pass out now so you better catch me.

So he crashes at Lydia’s place, and the whole thing turns into solving the crime as well as Beej’s  mysterious aquirement of a beating heart and working lungs. He doesn’t remember how that’s happened, only now everything is Too Much with Too Many Feelings. Speaking of feelings, you bet your ass there is PINING. SO much pining. Lydia’s best friend comes back and suddenly those feelings she’d dismissed as a stupid teenage crush come FLOODING BACK. 

While Lydia’s internally feaking out over her feelings (it's totally normal and platonic to wanna kiss your best friend while he sleeps, right??), Beetlejuice is, you guessed it, totally oblivious! To his own feelings especially! All he knows is that it's his best friend only now she seems like a completely different person, and hot. She is now hot. His mad respect for Lydia makes him bury that thought deep, deep down. Also the whole marriage deal is a source on bad memories for both of them and he doesn’t wanna ruin the only good thing he’s ever had and-

Anyway, more pining:

Lydia’s feelings bring out resentment, too. She hates that Beej calls her kid, because that means he still sees her as one, and her ego and her desire for him make her want him to see her, the woman who's seen some real shit in the name of finding the truth, who can take care of herself, and who is very different from that angsty 15 year old girl on the roof. 

It all comes ahead to a big confrontation where Lydia is shot, and Beetlejuice has to drag her to the hospital without any knowledge of how human bodies work and he has no magic so he can’t help her-

The hospital needs to know his relationship to her when they take her away, and Beetlejuice knows they wont let him in unless he’s close family so he is blurts out: “Husband. Yeah, I’m her...husband.”

Lydia wakes up with a patched up hole in her side and Beetlejuice clinging to her hand. She’s happy she’s alive, but also angry, because she could have avoided all of this. She was competent enough to not need anyone to rescue her. 

She wants to get back on the case as soon as possible, she found the key lead, but Beej doesn’t wanna hear it, cause he saw way too much of her blood and he’s not big on how human bodies work, but he's pretty sure that shit’s supposed to stay inside. They’re arguing when the nurse comes in and adresses him as “Mr. Deetz.���

Lydia snatches the clipboard away, sees that he’s told them she’s his wife, and is livid. Because crush or not the wedding thing had a whole lot of baggage she does not want to unpack. She has to confront the fact that her feelings are for someone who manipulated her into marriage at 15 and who she’s not supposed to see in that way but she does anyway.

And Beej, a dumbass but also angry cause she almost died out of a stupid reckless mistake is like: "Why are you all mad? It was a green card thing. It's not like it means anything." And that gets Lyds even more upset, with him cause he's an idiot, and with herself because she's still pining for someone who, she thinks, still sees her as a child. 

Lyds, getting her coat: "Fuck off." 

BJ: "Kid-"

 Lydia: "Stop calling me that! I haven't been a child since my mother died. I haven't been a child since you showed up! I haven't been a child since I've started this, since I moved here, since the first asshole tried to kill me. I've been through literal hell and I've had to pull myself out of it all on my own because I was still here and you left."

There's a beat of silence as Lydia realizes what she just said. 

Lydia: "And that's fine. Because I don't need you. I don't need anyone. You taught me that, at least." She yanks her coat onto her shoulders and turns to go.

 BJ, quietly, but its clear he's angry: "Do you think I wanted to leave?" 

Lydia: "I don't know what you wanted. Do you even know what you wanted?" She pauses at the door, turns to him. "Do you know what you want, Betelgeuse?" 

BJ: "I-" 

He stops. He can't look her in the eye anymore. You. I want you. Lydia scoffs, turns to go. 

BJ: "Lydia, wait-" 

Lydia: "Fuck. Off."

She leaves, and he just stands there, floored by his too little too late realization. Lydia thinks the best thing to do after leaving the hospital with a bullet hole in her side and hopped up on painkillers is to go get drunk! Self-preservation? None

Beetlejuice finally finds her drunk off her ass and suddenly in a great mood. He grabs her under the arms like "Whelp. Time to go." 

Lydia: "Nooo come on-" 

BJ: "Aren't you on hospital drugs? Doesn't that shit kill you breathers if you mix it all up?" 

Lydia: ":D I stopped taking them :'D it hurts like a bitch." 

BJ: "I guess I have the shared braincell now. Okay, time to go."

He manages to get her in the car without incident, but when he gets in the driver's seat suddenly Lydia's all over him.

BJ, with a lap full of drunk Lydia: "What. What are you doing." 

Lydia: "Beeetlejuice." 

BJ: "Yeees?" 

Lydia, smiling all dopey as she cups his cheeks: "Beeetlejuuuice."

BJ: "What" 

Lydia's finger hovers over his nose, as if to boop him. He closes his eyes. And suddenly her lips are on his. She tastes like alcohol and hospital food and as she pulls away he can't think. Then she starts laughing. "Ha! Gotchaaa! Classic Bait and Switch!"

And he’s pissed.

BJ: "Ha. Ha. Good one, Lyds." 

He dumps her out of his lap and into the passenger seat. Lydia blinks in confusion. Now she's cold. She wants to ask, but her mental faculties aren't all with her at the moment. He drives them home and helps her up the stairs before dumping her onto her bed. "Well. Bye." Lydia scrambles up the bed. The car ride gave her enough time to be at least a bit sober, and everything before getting here is blurry. "Where are you going?" Beetlejuice turns around, the widest smile on his face. She's confused for a moment before she realizes he's vibrating with rage. "Ya said you want me gone? Great! You don't need me, you can do your weird little suicidal quest thing yourself!" Lydia looks lost. They had a fight but she'd rarely seen him this angry. "If its about the thing at the hospital, I didn't- I didn't mean it-"

Beetlejuice: "Really? You'd think you'd be glad to have me gone. Why would you want a creep like me around? The whole marriage thing didn't just disappear, after all! Great to know you can still pull one on me, huh?"

Lydia: "Pull what, Beetlejuice-"

She remembers, hazily, the car ride.

They stare at each other for a moment Beej is breathing heavily, he's not used to living person emotions, ones you can feel with your whole body instead of just as an abstract thing, but its clear he's holding back

Lydia: "I wasn't-" 

Beej: "You weren't what?"

 Lydia (quietly): "It wasn't a joke."

The angry grin slips off Beej's face. He suddenly looks very, very tired. She might have believed just now that he'd lived for millennia. 

 Beej: “Why are you doin' this, Lyds? Did you know the whole damn time? It's not like I was gonna do anything, I just thought- I just-”

Lydia suddenly realizes that they are having two different conversations. And something else. She looks away, trying to wrap her head around it, and Beetlejuice doesn't read it correctly. He turns to go. 

Lydia: “Wait!”

 She jumps off the bed, feeling the whole world tip over slightly, still drunk, and stumbled over to him. He catches her instinctively as she grips his forearms for support. 

Lydia: “Beej. Beej, look at me.” 

She takes his face in her hands, and turns it toward her. He looks so lost, like one word from her might actually break him. She'd only seen that look on his face once before, and she never wants to again.

Lydia takes a breath. 

Lydia: “Beetlejuice, I-”

Aaand then she throws up all over his shoes.

She doesn't quite remember what happened next, only that she was in the bathroom, leaning against the door, the toilet was flushed, she was sweating, and he wasn't there. 

Lydia: “Beej?” 

Beetlejuice (through the door): “...hi”

Lydia: “What-”

BJ: “-happened? Well, that's a story!” 

His voice sounds cheerful, but it’s shaking slightly 

BJ: “First ya threw up all over us both! then that little experiment of yours with mixing the meds went off, and you started babbling about...rocks? Then we got here, you heaved out the rest of your insides, and then ya kicked me out and said you were gonna shower, and now we're sitting here, so, yeah”

Lydia: “...Are you still covered in puke?” 

BJ:”...yeah”

Lydia: “...sorry?” 

BJ: “Pshh, what's a best friend if ya can't throw up on 'im a couple times.”

They both fall silent

Beetlejuice (quietly): “Lyds, do ya still want me here?”

...

 Lydia takes the time to find the words. Want him here? After everything, he was still asking that question. Did he still think, after all this time, that she'd throw him out at the smallest inconvenience? Would he ever stop thinking that way? Why did he think so now? Was it because he- Because he-

Lydia: “I love you.”

The other side of the door is silent. 

Lydia: “I love your stupid laugh. You sound like a fucking cartoon villain, its so fucking obnoxious. I love your jokes, all of them, even the shitty ones- you always look so god damn proud when you say them.”

Is she crying? She tries to wipe at her face, but the tears keep coming. 

Lydia: “I loved you since that last day on the roof, and when you left-” 

Her throat closes up. She chokes back on her tears, she has to finish it, he has to hear it. 

Lydia: “When you left I thought I might die again.” 

Lydia: “I kept seeing things, dumb branding on cereal boxes, that shitty college play I went to, my first client, and I kept thinking aw, Beej would have a field day with this one. I thought about what you'd say. You were like a voice I couldn't scrape out of my head, I thought I was going crazy, I thought I'd imagined it all, some lonely little girl with no life or friends, needing someone to talk to- But you'd been real, and then you were just gone- “

The words dissolve in her throat as she sobs, pulling her knees up to her chest. She feels like a child now. She feels more childlike than she had at 15. She’s clinging to a scrap of hope she doesn’t have a right to demand from him. And yet he'd said- 

Lydia: “I love you. Please, don't leave.”

They sit is silence for a while. Lydia tries to stop crying. Then, quietly from the other side of the door:

BJ: “You know what I thought when I first saw you?”

Lydia: “Here’s a suicidal teen haha what a riot?”

BJ: “What? No, not then. Like now.”

Lydia: “Oh. What?”

BJ: “I thought wow, who the hell is that and why is she so dang hot?”

Lydia laughs.

BJ: “And then I thought oh God that’s Lydia.”

Something in his voice makes her pause. Maybe it’s the strange fear that she feels coming from him.

BJ: “It’s like, you’re Lydia, and I don’t know shit about you! You’re the same person, but you’re a stranger to me. Lyds, do you know how fucking terrifying that is? You’re someone I never got to know because of a shitty decision I don’t even remember making.”

he falls silent. She can hear the pain in his voice. And something else. Longing. 

Beetlejuice: “I’d like to.”

Lydia opens the door. Beetlejuice scrables up, only for her to throw her arms around him. 

They figure it out. It’s a slowburn 200k fic that I’ll never write so it takes a while for them to actually kiss, or do anything more, but they get there. 

This turned out...ridiculously long XD. I don’t know what you meant by “headcanons”, exactly, but have this instead.

Thanks for the ask! 

[qitwrites]

a numbers game 

Fandom: BNHA 

Pairing: Kiribaku 

(AO3) 

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.”

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

  He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

  Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

  Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

  It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck 

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

  “So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

  bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

  Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

  dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

  “Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks. 

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

  Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

  Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?” 

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie. 

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

  “Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

  For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

  Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.”

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”  

  Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.  

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

  It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

 ---

 Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

 ---

 dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

 ---

 “So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

  Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

 ---

 Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

  Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

  It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

  “How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

  Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji  <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3  

[ignitedbynatsu]

A Little More Faith

A/N: None of you would be able to read my works if it wasn’t for Grammarly 🤐 Anywayyy @exhaustedpotat0 I hope you like it ❤ Thank you again for the request and the support it really means a lot to me. My blog is blowing up recently and I can’t express how much everyone’s support means to me. 

Warnings: mention of injury, fighting with parents

Genre: Angst to fluff

⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍⚡🤍

"I don't like this" Laxus grumbled as he watched his daughter laughing over something Natsu had said.

"It's just a job" Mira-Jane reassured him as a feeling of pride washed over her while looking at the girl in question. She was finally going to go on her first mission.

"I already don't like the idea of her leaving for a mission" he repeated "but for that mission to be with Natsu of all people? I don't stand behind this"

"Is dad being grumpy again?" A chuckled vibrated from (Y/N)'s chest as she gave her mother a kiss on the cheek as a way to say goodbye.

"I don't condone this" Laxus voiced his thoughts as the girl kissed him on the cheek as well.

"Well, that sounds like a you problem" she shrugged before rushing off, knowing he'd scold her for talking back if she didn't get out there quick "Bye mom and dad, I'll be back soon! Love you!"

Team Natsu followed soon behind, Natsu and Gray laughing at the pissed of Laxus while Erza reassured the couple she'll scold her in their place.

The younger girl was beaming with excitement as she finally left for her first-ever job. Even though Laxus was still mostly against it, Mira-Jane somehow managed to persuade him to let her go on her first mission at the age of 14.

That same excitement soon vanished as her hamstrings were slashed, making her unable to walk and crumble in pain to the floor, a blood-curdling scream leaving her lips soon after.

"(Y/N)!" Natsu was quick to jump in front of the younger mage, Gray following not even a second later. They shared an understanding nod to push their differences aside and protect the girl at all costs. "Lucy! Get her out of here!"

Lucy obeyed, summing Loke to grab her whilst fighting the enemies with Taurus. "Loke! Bring her to Wendy and protect her"

The celestial being understood the graveness of the situation and decided to bite his tongue instead of making his usual flirty remark towards his owner. "Let's go little one" he carefully picked her up while his eyes darted around, desperate to catch a glimpse of the dragon slayer. The moment he saw a hint of blue hair, he didn't hesitate for a second and ran over to her, all while carrying (Y/N) in his arms that was still crying out in pain.

"Wendy!" Loke called out to the said mage. With only a mere glance she understood what was going on. She finished off the opponent she was fighting with and ran towards the wounded girl.

She exclaimed the cut, a troubled expression clearly evident upon her features "there's not much I can do right here. I can stop the bleeding and relieve some pain, but her hamstrings are torn. I need my equipment at the guild to see how grave the injury is"

A new determination filled everyone as Wendy's words rang in their ears. They needed to handle this quickly. Every second could be one too many. In record time, they managed to fend off the last enemies.

Natsu took over from Loke, as Lucy had little to no energy left to keep the celestial being in this world. They got the first train home, not even sparing the price-money a single thought. The younger girl was their top priority right now. No money in the world could top that.

Laxus's eyes fell on the lifeless girl in Natsu's arms as soon as they set foot back into the guild. Freed and Bickslow quickly got up to stand in front of him as they saw the change in his demeanour. Their friend was completely engulfed in rage that was directed towards one man in particular and that was the man that was holding his gravely injured daughter. "Natsu" electricity was crackling over his body as he got closer and closer to the said mage.

"Laxus!" Mira-Jane narrowed her eyes at him as she stepped between the two dragon slayers "this is not the time. Wendy, please, heal her"

Wendy motioned Natsu, to follow her to the medical room, leaving the enraged Laxus and a worried Mira-Jane

There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence placed across the guild. Nobody dared to make a sound, afraid to tick the couple off as they waited in anticipation for Wendy to finish the surgery.

Laxus mind was swarmed with worst-case scenarios as his eyes were fixated on the door of the medical room. He was experiencing so much stress and frustration that he felt like punching a wall, no, he wanted to punch Natsu, but Mira-Jane was right. This was not the time, not right now.

Mira-Jane was busying herself downstairs with the dishes. Even though she had complete faith in Wendy, she also knew that if she were to be left alone with her thoughts for even a minute, she wouldn't be able to break free from them.

Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like years. But after nearly two hours, Wendy came out with a content smile plastered upon her face "she'll be fine. She just needs to wake up from her anaesthesia, but after that, she'll be back to normal."

It was like everyone could breathe again once those words filled their ears. She was okay. (Y/N) would be just fine.

After a couple more hours, the anaesthesia had completely worn off and (Y/N) was sitting up straight while Mira-Jane and Laxus stood on either side of her bed.

"I'm so glad you're okay" the eldest Strauss sibling mumbled as she kissed her daughter's head, a couple of tears fell from her eyes in relief.

"That's it. No more jobs for you" (Y/N) eyes shot up as she heard the stern words from her father "What? No! You can't do that"

"I can and I will. Don't you realize that you might have never been able to walk again?" He argued, but his daughter wasn't having it, both sharing the same short temper "It was just a scratch stop making a big deal out of it"

"I'm not having it. You're not allowed on jobs anymore and that's final" Laxus crossed his arms in front of him to show that he was done with the conversation.

(Y/N)'s eyes were swimming with rage at her father's stubbornness "stop treating me like a child!" "Then stop acting like one!"

"It's because you push me in that role!" She was certain that everyone downstairs in the guild could hear her, but she didn't care. If anything, she wanted them to hear how unreasonable her father was "I am the daughter of two of the strongest mages in Fairy Tail. You've been training me from the moment I could walk. Why can't you trust me?"

"Because you're clearly not ready for it" the blonde scoffed. He knew this discussion was long overdue, but that didn't mean he was going to back down easily. Not when his daughter was nearly disabled for life.

"It was an accident! Mom, please say something" she desperately pleaded for her mother to side with her and talk some sense into her father but when she didn't budge, the younger girl scoffed "you're both being hypocrites. How many times have you been laying on death's doorstep when you were around my age? I want you to leave. Now."

It was like the temperature changed along with the cold words that left her mouth. The toxic words left a bitter taste in everyone's mouth.

Laxus wanted to say something but stopped himself when Mira-Jane placed a hand on his bicep and shook her head softly no. She knew that their daughter was right. They were being a hypocrite, but how could they not when they saw their little girl in so much pain only a couple of hours ago?

"She's right you know" Erza confronted the parents once they softly closed the door behind them "It's definitely not fun, but it's part of the job. She's 14, you can't shield her away from the world forever. Sure, this wouldn't have happened if we all had been a little more on edge, but it happened. Mistakes are bound to be made, but we learn from them, and so will she"

"But she's our little girl" Mira-Jane sighed as her eyes lingered on the door where Wendy had just walked through again to check up on their daughter.

"I know, and I can't start to imagine how you two must've felt when you saw her like that, but she's also part of Fairy Tail. If you didn't trust her skills, you wouldn't have let her join" Erza pointed out. Both parents were quite as they took in every word the mage in front of them said "you both need to put a little more faith in her. If you don't, she'll start doing stuff behind your back, and you will drift apart."

The last words struck a nerve with Laxus. He knew how painful it was to lose his family. He vowed to never let that happen, to never make the mistake his father did. And yet he unconsciously was pushing her further away from him.

The white-haired mage took notice of the realization that dawned upon her husband "I think we need to apologize"

Laxus blindly followed his wife as they re-entered the room their daughter was laying in "I thought I told you to get out"

"Actually, we're here to apologize" Mira-Jane's signature kind smile was placed upon her lips.

Laxus sighed deeply as the eyes of the two women he loved most were staring at him in anticipation "we- no, I am really sorry for smothering you. I wanted to keep you close in an attempt to not go down the same path my father did, but by doing, so I realize I'm also pushing you further away from me, from us. I am really sorry. I never meant for that to happen"

"You're not pushing me away, nor do you need to compare yourself to that man. You're the best father I could've ever wished for and yeah sure you can be suffocating sometimes, but I know it's because you care about me" (Y/N) eyes softened at the revelation of her father's insecurities.

"You're allowed to go on missions from now on. Just promise us you'll be more careful next time" Mira-Jane pleaded to which their daughter placed a hand over her heart "I promise, now come here"

The three shared a hug, mending the cracks that had slowly started to form as if they were never there.

[sevfanfic]

A Touch in the Dark: Chapter 18 - Instincts

Word count: 1,928

It’s so cold. Where am I?  

Darkness clouded your vision. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears boomed as you slowly regained consciousness.  

The solid ground beneath you was jagged with ice, it pocked at you through your layers of winter clothes and reminded you that you were outside. You groaned at the stabbing headache that throbbed behind your eyes. 

“Mmm.” You brought a hand to hold your forehead, your cool skin eased the pain. As you began to push yourself up your vision started coming back to you. The world around you was covered in white and snow was now falling more heavily. It was still daylight and the brightness of the sun glared in your face making it difficult to open your eyes completely. “Ow.” You rubbed at your head then realized warm blood was still dripping from your nose. 

You managed to stand and steady yourself before looking around. There were no signs of the dementor from earlier. The blood warmed the skin of your cheek and neck as it saturated your scarf. That’s a lot of blood, you thought to yourself and pinched your nose. The steps you took were slow as you attempted to maintain your balance. You made it to the castle vaguely aware of the few students that were gathered in the hall now staring at you. Severus was still sitting at his desk when you stumbled into his office. Your mind still spun with images of the horrifying creature. 

“What happened?” He stood and hurried to you placing his hands over your cheeks. When he noticed the blood he began grabbing at your clothes earnestly looking for any injuries. After looking you over he noticed that you stood still pinching your nose and your eyes were closed. “What. Happened?” he asked again with more of a stern tone. His brow furrowed as he held you by the shoulders and shook you slightly.  

“My head, ugh, hurts,” you moved your hand from your nose, the bleeding had stopped. You groaned when Severus pulled you closer and began using the corner of his robes to start whipping the blood off of your face. “There was a dementor.” You blurted out sounding more shocked as you began to process what had occurred.  

The rubbing at your cheek ceased. Your eyes fluttered open to a grave look on Severus’ face. The urge to comfort him overtook you but your muscles felt too weak to even hold yourself up. You peered into his eyes and watched as tried to hide the storm of anger that began to churn. The spell had drained you, made you feel so incredibly sleepy. You began to lean more into his touch, trying to support yourself in any way you could. His hands were warm and gentle, his calloused skin a contradiction to the softness he emitted for you. 

“Are you positive?” He spoke slowly and when you nodded he pursed his lips. The man before you took a deep breath, he looked you over once more with concerned eyes then guided you to sit on his couch. He lit a fire and you relaxed a bit in the heat. Hands began undoing your bloodied winter layers. Severus wondered for a moment about how you had been able to defend yourself. He thought about the healing spell you had performed and how much it took out of you. 

Then he spoke, “you conjured a Patronus.” It wasn’t a question, he knew you were clever. He knew you were too smart for your own good. You looked up at him bleary-eyed and nodded again. Severus huffed in response then rummaged through a closet to find a rag to clean the rest of the blood. He knelt before you taking your hands in his. His lips pecked at your wrist before cleaning them. He let them fall gently in your lap and then began scrubbing at your neck. Anger began building within him as he sifted through anyone who could be responsible. It wasn’t some random occurrence. This was no accident and he was going to impose his wrath on whoever was responsible. 

But right now all that mattered was you. He hid his anger as he soothed your tense muscles. The overwhelming feelings of vengefulness were nothing compared to the relief of knowing that you were safe.  

“Why was it here?” Your voice trembled as all the fear came rushing back to you from that moment. It wasn’t of the wretched creature itself but fear of all that you had to lose. With a hand clutching at your stomach you brought your other hand to grasp Severus’ wrist. You squeezed him hoping he’d comfort you more. 

“I will find out how this happened.” Severus gazed up at you, his dark eyes hiding the rage within him. His calm exterior attempting to quiet your fear but he felt his blood boiling as he seethed internally. After he finished cleaning your skin he sat next to you and pulled you into his lap. His strong arms encircled you in a protective embrace. You melted against him absorbing heat into your chilled bones and burying your face in his neck. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his deep voice vibrating against your skin.  

“I think so,” you whispered, “I passed out but I think we’re okay.” You felt him look down and his hand that had been clutching at your leg moved up your thigh and gently rested on your belly. He inhaled deeply, trying to breathe all of you in to keep you safe. You snuggled deeper into his tight embrace and sighed. 

“How long were you unconscious?” Severus didn’t really want to know the answer to the question. Whatever the answer was he knew it would only fuel his anger. He kept his eyes focused on the small space between you and waited. 

“I- I don’t know, not long.” The sleepiness you felt earlier was now taking over and you fought to keep your eyes open. It wasn’t long before the drowsiness forced you asleep and Severus stayed silent as he watched over you. 

-

The door to the Headmistress’s office was already open when Severus strode in closing it behind him. He approached the desk Minerva sat at with such high velocity that she believed for a moment he’d slam right into it. When his hands landed firmly in front of her she looked at him with wide baffled eyes.  

“Are you aware that Miss Y/L/N was attacked by a dementor today? On. School. Grounds.” He spoke through clenched teeth attempting to hold back his fury. A fire tore through him and he felt his blood boiling in the heat. 

“What?” The bewildered look on the headmistress's face was almost enough to make Severus implode. “Is she alright? Where is-” 

“She-” he pulled back with fists clenched at his sides, “She is fine, but-”  Severus paused. His mind flooded with everything he wanted to say. All of the pent-up emotion threatened to escape but he contained himself in his tightened hands. Minerva had been his most trusted friend for years, he wanted to tell her the truth. That he was deeply in love with the new professor, he had let her heal his wounds and made him feel whole again. We wanted to tell her how pissed he was you were put in that situation and he wanted to rage over the fact that his unborn child had been put in harm’s way. But he didn’t and his whole body felt stretched thin as he contained himself. The shallow rise and fall of his chest were the only movements he could manage because he felt like a teacup teetering on an edge like any movement could shatter him. He knew Minerva was not responsible but he had no one else to go to. 

“Severus,” Minerva spoke his name tenderly as if she could read his mind, “I will investigate this and find out how a dementor ended up on school grounds.” 

“Thank you,” Severus was curt with his response.  

“You love her.” It wasn't a question, Minerva knew he had been developing feelings for you. She saw how his eyes lit up when you were near and noticed the sharpness in his voice softened when he spoke to you. 

“I-” the air left Severus’ lungs as he looked at Minerva wide-eyed. He furrowed his brow and relaxed his tensed hand. “Yes, I love her,” words left his mouth before he could stop them, “and I love the child, my child, that she carries. I will find out how this happened, I will protect her.” 

-

After painfully sitting through Minerva’s ecstatic ramblings and congratulations, Severus found his way back to his office where you slept curled up on his couch. He felt his heartache for you as he watched you sleep for a moment. The desire to protect what was his came from somewhere deep inside him, some primal instinct to bare his teeth like a wild animal backed into a corner. This was unfamiliar to him, normally he’d steel himself from feeling like this but right now he was embracing it. Letting himself feel what it means to love deeply and it scared him. 

When you opened your eyes again your upper body shot up with a gasp, you expected to be outside again as if stumbling into Severus office bloodied and bleary was a dream. You took in your surroundings and realized it was real. A relieved sigh left you. You stood from the couch hoping to find Severus at his desk but he wasn’t there. Then you heard the clinking of glass from his classroom and you followed the noise.   

“I spoke with Minerva,” Severus stated when he saw you enter his classroom, “she will help me find out why that thing was on these grounds.” He kept working on the task in front of him as he spoke.

“Good,” you responded quietly and approached the table he was standing over. His normally precise hands moved roughly with a tension that he normally didn’t have. The center of his brow scrunched together as he worked. “Sev,” you whispered and watched him stop. He paused for a moment before shaking his head slowly. 

“She knows,” he spoke curtly without looking up from the table, “I told her about us.” 

“Oh, that’s fine.” You noticed the tension that remained in his eyes when he finally looked up. “I don’t mind if she knows,” you tried to reassure him as you walked around the table to stand closer to him, “are you -”

“I can’t lose you,” he uttered before you could finish. The word made your chest tighten as your heart fluttered within. He jutted a hand out to grasp at your wrist, he squeezed it gently as if that was all he could bear to say as if that was enough emotional spillage for him to stress over. 

“You won’t.” The space between you and the tall man shortened as you put yourself between him and the table. He let you pull him closer into an embrace, your arms circling his neck. When you drew away slightly he pressed his forehead against yours. His hands greedily sliding down your sides and under the seam of your shirt to feel the soft skin of your hips and lower back. You felt the tension melt away from his skin. When he pressed his lips against yours you felt his whole body loosen as if every muscle let out a sigh of relief.  

TAGS: @ayamenimthiriel @marvelschriss @debiraquel @mitsuhkai @the-not-so-iconic @darkthought15 @rubym13 @4everflowercore @otherxstories @thottywithoutthebody @setsuna-meiou31 @krazykatkay456

[devinescribe]

[Deja Vu]

Arisu Ryohei × Reader

Is it angst? Kind of, but not really. I heard this song, and this was the first thought that came to mind. So... yeah-

Warnings: swearing, needles, blood, does anger need one? Because there's a lot of that here, alcohol, implied sexual content, but it's not explicit? Like... it's implied what happened, but I didn't write it, you know?

It was a harsh breakup, you'd say. Of course you'd say that, you were the one who's heart got broken. Arisu had met Usagi, and you could feel him drifting away. So, when you broke up, you expected it, but it still hurt.

And now, you watched them across the pool while they sat eating strawberry ice cream together. You smiled sadly. You two used to do that. She was wearing his jacket, and it hurt you. You used to wear that exact same one.  You felt someone sit besides you. "Watching them again, huh?" They said. "Yep. Is it weird?" You asked.  You looked besides you seeing him look up with a questioning look. "Yes, but no? What do you want me to say?'' He joked. You shoved his shoulder. "You're so mean Niragi. I'll push you into the pool!" you pouted, ending in a laugh. He chuckled, "Yeah yeah. Let's go, that isn't good for you."

"So when's he gonna tell her?" You asked, laying on his bed. "Tell her what?" Niragi asked. "That we did that too... She thinks it's special, but it's all reused," you responded. You could hear him sigh. "Look, I want to be nice, because I- we're... acquaintances... or whatever you want to call us. So, here's how you're going to get over him."

You laughed, taking another sip of the beer bottle. There were bottles littered around the room, and the blasting music from the party could be heard in his room. The vibrations from the bass could be felt, making you sigh. "Ok, I'm ready!" You shouted eagerly. "I don't even know why the hell you grabbed these in our last supply run," he laughed, holding the small package. You shrugged, "Thought I'd get the courage to do it." You two were very much drunk, and you were about to do mental breakdown things(TM). "Just do it before I regret my decision!" You scolded, with a playful glare. He laughed, "Ok ok, stick out your tongue, I think you've had the ice in there long enough." You did as he told you. He held your tongue still with his fingers, and he grabbed a needle with his other hand, looking at you to make sure. You tried not to laugh, and nodded. He stuck the needle through quickly. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth, but somehow no pain. Maybe it was because you numbed it with ice, or the fact that your broken heart hurt more. You waited for him to stick the piercing through, and take his hands away from your mouth. "And we are done!" He shouted with a laugh, wiping off the blood that had gotten on his hands. You stumbled off the bed, sticking out your tongue in the mirror. "Oh I'm fucking hot," you said. You could heat him laugh. Blood dripped from your mouth onto the drawers beneath. He didn't seem to care about the mess. "Am I supposed to bleed that much?" You asked. He shrugged. You turned with a mildly shocked expression, and hit him. You both started laughing. "I'm going to regret this aren't I?" You asked. "It's better than cutting your hair, trust me. Best impulse mental breakdown things I've ever done are tattoos and piercings," he responded. You laughed, rolling your eyes. "What else should we do?"

"Alright, now, just scream into the open," he instructed. "Won't anyone hear?" You asked. You two had somehow managed to stumbled up the stairs, and were now on the roof. A danger hazard, seeing as you two almost didn't make it up the stairs. But in that moment, neither of you cared. "Eh, they're to drunk to care," he said. You nodded, before adding, "But you're doing it with me." "No, I'm just going to let you have all the fun- duh, I'm going to do it," he said. You took a deep breath, getting your anger and pent up rage towards Arisu and Usagi.

"I HATE TO THINK THAT I WAS JUST HIS TYPE!"

"THE GIRL I LIKE IS STUCK ON A DUMBASS BOY WHO DOESN'T DESERVE HER!"

"HE DOES ALL THE THINGS WE USED TO DO WITH HER!"

"I WISH I DIDN'T HAVE CHISHIYA TO BOTHER ME EVERYDAY!"

This was therapeutic to both of you. He didn't want to reveal how he was really feeling, but alcohol does something to people. So, if he said something a bit personal, hopefully you wouldn't remember. Hopefully you were to drunk to remember. And although he knows he'll remember because he's not as drunk as you, he hopes he doesn't remember either. Just so he doesn't hate himself for saying something.

"SHE'S BASICALLY ME AND IT MAKES ME ANGRY BECAUSE ALL THAT SETS US APART IS HER LOOKS! SHE'S EVERYTHING I WISH I LOOKED LIKE AND ARISU FUCKING KNOWS THAT!"

"I HATE THAT NO ONE HATES ME MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF!"

"I HATE THAT HE TOLD ME I DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT HER! I WAS SO FUCKING RIGHT TO BE INSECURE WHEN SHE'S EVERYTHING I WISH I WERE!"

"I'M MAD AT THE FACT CHISHIYA SAW ME FALL INTO THE POOL AND NOW USES IT AS LEVERAGE!" (trying to make you laugh? Kinda. Trying to make myself laugh? Definitely.)

"THE SONGS WE USED TO LISTEN TO REMIND ME OF HIM AND IT HURTS TO NOT BE ABLE TO LISTEN TO MY FAVORITE FUCKING SONG!"

"I HATE BEING ALONE!"

"I HATE THAT I'M STILL IN LOVE WITH ARISU!! HE'S MOVED ON BUT I STILL FUCKING HAVEN'T!"

"I'M PRETTY PISSED OFF ABOUT THAT TOO, ACTUALLY!"

"I FUCKING HATE HIM! I FUCKING HATE HER! AND I FUCKING HATE THAT I'M JEALOUS OF WHAT THEY HAVE, BECAUSE IT'S ALL EXACTLY THE SAME AS WHEN ARISU AND I WERE TOGETHER!"

"THE FACT (Y/N) DOESN'T KNOW SHE DESERVES BETTER THAN THAT PIECE OF SHIT PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF!"

"THE FACT NIRAGI SAYS HE DOESN'T HAVE ANY GODDAMN FRIENDS ANNOYS ME BECAUSE I'M RIGHT FUCKING HERE!"

"THE FACT (Y/N) IS OBLIVIOUS TO EVERYONE'S FEELINGS FOR HER IS ANNOYING AS HELL!"

"THE FACT NIRAGI THINKS PLAYING THE TOUGH GUY SCARES ME MAKES ME WORRY ABOUT HIS MENTAL HEALTH!"

"I WISH SOMEONE WOULD HIT ME THE WAY THEY DID IN HIGHSCHOOL SO I COULD FORGET ABOUT MY FEELINGS FOR THIS GIRL!"

"I WISH NIRAGI DIDN'T KEEP ANY SECRETS FROM ME SEEING I'M HIS BEST FRIEND!"

"I WISH (Y/N) WOULD ACKNOWLEDGE OR AT LEAST NOTICE THE FACT THAT I'VE LIKED HER FOR- FUCKING- EVER!"

You panted from screaming so much, and looked at him shocked. "Shit, I didn't meant to-" he started. Maybe it was the alcohol, the sadness you felt, but you pulled him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and all over the place, but in your intoxicated state, it felt like heaven on earth. You could care less about it, because a part of you had always wanted to do this. With Niragi. The feelings for him were always there, you just felt stronger ones for Arisu. And over the past few days, your feelings had grown. Maybe it was the fact that he was the one helping you through the breakup. He was there, and he seemed to care. And moreover, Arisu wasn't a thought in your mind in this moment. The hurt had gone away in that minute. Would you regret this in the morning? Maybe, maybe not.

You woke up due to the throbbing headache you had. You grabbed your head, sitting up. The blankets fell of your body, and you looked down. "Oh fuck... what happened last night?" You questioned, seeing as your clothes were nowhere to be found. You looked besides you, seeing Niragi on the other side of the bed. Your jaw dropped. "I- ma'am, did I-? Oh no. Oh nonononono, what the fuck-" you panicked. Not because you didn't like him, but more because you were drunk, he was your friend, and you were trying to get over a breakup. Which, in drunk (Y/N)'s defense, you did seem pretty over it when you were with Niragi.  You heard a groan, and looked besides you. "Good... morning?" He muttered sleepily. 'Hot-' 'Shut up you horny bitch' You ran your hands through your hair. "I- what did we do?" You asked, even though it was obvious, and the fact that you could remember certain events from last night made you blush. "Well, first you were watching those two being couple-y, then we got drunk, you more than me though, you pierced your tongue, we screamed off the roof, and things escalated from a kiss, and now we're here," he explained. How the hell did he remember so much? Wasn't he just as drunk as you? "And before you ask, I may get drunk, but my memory will not falter. I've tried. Doesn't work," he said. Could he read your mind? You sighed, falling back. He looked away, trying to sort out his own feelings. A part of him was happy, seeing the hickeys and marks over your body. He had wanted to do that forever. Another part felt regret because you two were drunk. It didn't matter what had happened, neither of you were in the right state of mind. He knew whatever had happened was merely the alcohol messing with your brains, and the hurt from your broken heart. It wasn't real feeling. And the last part was sad. Although, it was a small part of him, it was there. Sad because you would most likely want to not talk to him. Or, at least that was the worst case scenario in his mind.

"Do you... do you regret it? Be honest," you said. Your voice was so quiet, he could've missed it.  He looked down at you, seeing you stare blankly up at the ceiling. He scoffed. "Hell no. And I don't care if you do, because I don't. I won't either. I've wanted to do that for so long, but you were with him," Niragi answer bitterly. You looked over, surprised. "You don't regret it?" You asked again. He shook his head. You sat up, crawling on the bed over to his side. "I don't... I don't know how to feel. I remember... its and bits of it... I just don't want you to think I did it to get over Arisu," you explained. "I wouldn't think that. See, the thing about alcohol is it can make people act how they want to act and see what they want to see. And the fact you were screaming my name and not his even as drunk as we were tells me something," he said, a teasing tone so very present. . You could hear the smirk in his voice. You blushed, and leaned your head on his shoulder. Had you really? "Then... what are we?" You asked. "Ah, the age old question. This is cliche, no?" He joked. You hit him softly muttering, "Take this seriously please." He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know. Friends with benefits, fuck buddies. Whatever you want," he said. You pulled away with a smirk. "See, you left out 'a committed relationship'. That means you don't want that," you pointed out. He scoffed, fake hurt written on his face. "I just didn't know if that was too much for you. But I'd enjoy it."

You finally felt... complete. For the first time after the breakup, you didn't look to see where they were to avoid them. You didn't feel jealous or sad over the fact that they were talking about what used to be your song. Because now, it wasn't your guy's song. It was theirs. And that was OK now. Because you could see the hurt that his eyes held when Niragi's arm was around your waist. The shock on his face when you talked to them, and his eyes moved over the hickeys and marks littering your skin.

Slowly over the next few weeks, you heard Arisu accidently call Usagi your name, the same way he'd called you her name. It made you laugh. Because now, you were happy, and he was the one in pain. He was the one who would regret everything. Not you.

"(Y/N), can we talk?" Arisu asked. You pouted, but got off of Niragi's lap. He pecked your lips, glaring at Arisu. You could hear Arisu gulp, and you snickered. You two walked away.

"What did you want to talk about?" You asked. "I-... I'm sorry for how I ended things," he apologized. You nodded with a smile. "I accept your apology," you said. You could feel where this conversation was going, and it made you giddy with excitement. "I miss you, you know. I wish I hadn't done that, I was stupid," he said. You smirked. Exactly what you thought he'd say. "Look, I wish you and Usagi the best. I've moved on. I'm finally happy without you, and it's the best feeling in the world. You breaking up with me hurt so much at first, I thought I was going to die. But it ended up being the best gift you ever gave me. You do all the things you used to do with me with her. And I hope it gives you deja vu, so you can remember that I'm better. Sure, she's amazing, but she's basically me. I'm finally feeling confident, and not like I have to compete with another girl who's everything I want to be. Around him, I don't have to act like someone else because I want to make him happy. I act like me, and he actually likes the real me. I always told you to not worry about him because we were just best friends, but now that I'm here... you really were right to worry about him. I was always the better choice, and I'm glad you're realizing it when I don't need you to anymore. I'm with Niragi now, and I'm sure he's waiting, so... goodbye. Good luck with Usagi though, Arisu. Treat her well, and... as I said earlier, I hope you get deja vu when you see her and you're doing the things we used to do."

I still can't write angst for shit, oh my gods-

[walkerwords]

“Hear No Evil” Negan X Deaf!F!Reader

Word Count: 1768

Negan x Deaf!Reader

Summary: You are deaf in the apocalypse and you are working on your tech when Negan and Carl pay you a visit. Negan takes a bit of interest in you, but you could care less and just gives him what he need and ignores everything else. However, it seems he kind of likes it. 

Warning: nothing

Song I Wrote To: “Marie Laveau” by Merci Raines

Note: I am not deaf myself, but i have a good friend who is and helped me out with this one. This is just something I wrote while I was waiting for my dinner to cook. not my favourite, but here we are. There probably won’t be a second part.

------

You were bent over an old sprinkler timer in your makeshift workshop in your garage.

You were trying to figure out a way to re-purpose the device to be a light timer so those on guard wouldn’t need to manually turn on the spotlights while on late-night watches. Michonne had mentioned the Governor having something similar at Woodbury and so when you brought the idea to Rick, he trusted you to be the one to figure it all out. 

Lately, Rick had been giving you more and more tasks that appealed to the skills you had acquired before the Apocalypse. Having a Masters in Engineering was something that you took a lot of pride in and you were definitely a coveted member of Alexandria because of it. Sure, there were people like Daryl and Rosita who knew their way around mechanics and weaponry, but you were well-skilled in all aspects of your field. You could fix an engine, rewire a house, and even tune-up the solar panels all before a lunch break. It was something that had made you quite essential in the new world.

However, while you were an asset, you still had to be careful around new people Alexandria would bring in out work with. Being born deaf was not something you expected to ever be a challenge until the Dead began walking. You had gone through extensive speech therapy as a child and well into your late teens. You were fluent in sign language and could read lips. Your cochlear implant worked very well, that is until your battery was damaged in a walker attack four months prior and your world was completely silent since. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it was frustrating and you just had to be even more vigilant on runs. 

When you had met Rick shortly after his group had been run off the Greene family farm, the former sheriff was surprised that you were even alive. He doubted you for a long time when you joined their group. Rick was always worried that you wouldn’t hear when Walkers were around or that you would be too much of a risk on runs, but every time they had run into trouble, you had proved him wrong. 

You were an excellent shot, not to mention you were a wizard when it came to improvised technology. You had managed to set up a night vision camera when they waited out the cannibals from Terminus. That alone had saved Michonne’s life when one had tried to sneak up on her. After that, Rick didn’t question you again.

Then, when you returned home after a run with Sasha and your hearing was once again gone completely, Rick had slipped back into old habits. You were essentially on desk duty now. The only action you had seen since being at the Alexandria Safe Zone was when you had helped dispatch the Wolves and protected Tara and Denise as they worked to save Carl the night the herd invaded the town. Since then, it had been all wires and buttons for you.

You hadn’t held any of that against Rick, but when Maggie was sick and they were ambushed by the Saviors, you were furious. Your father had been a sniper. You knew how to move silently and how to handle yourself. You knew that they had been outnumbered the night the man known as Negan had smashed in Glenn and Abraham’s heads. There was no way any of them could have fought off all the Saviors, but you couldn’t help but think if you had been nearby with your rifle, you could have at least killed a few. Maybe even Negan himself. 

However, you didn’t really know what to think about the man with the baseball bat. You hadn’t seen him and you didn’t know him. What you did know was that he was a murderer who killed two people you cared about and the others were terrified of him. The only thought that kept you going through this new reality of being under the Sanctuary's thumb was that before they met Negan, Rick Grimes was the one everyone was scared of. 

You still believed that was true. 

You blinked a few times, trying to refocus on your work when a vibration rattled your desk, gaining your attention. You turned towards the open garage door to see Carl Grimes set down a wrench he had used to knock against the pipes. He waved at you with a warning look in his eye. You nodded to him and then noticed the large man looming behind the teenager. He was tall with broad shoulders and a scruffy beard. His height alone was intimidating, but the way he carried himself reminded you of horrid men you had met on the road and it sent a chill down your spine. 

Though, it was what was in his hand that made you freeze. A baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire hung loosely in his grip. Your jaw tightened as you slowly stood from your stool, dropping your work completely and raising your hands in front of you. Looking back to Carl, you placed your fingertips to your temple and then pulled it away, folding down your three center fingers. The sign for “why?” 

“(Y/N),” Carl began, signing as he spoke. “The Saviors are here for a pick up,” he explained. Negan was watching Carl’s hands in confusion before it clicked and you nearly gagged at the smile of pleasure that appeared on the killer’s face. 

“What do you want?” you said, hoping your voice wasn’t too scratchy today. You hadn’t spoken in a few days. Most of your original group knew enough ASL to talk to you. Daryl, Carl, and Rick were near fluent and Michonne and Maggie were the next best. The only other person who had been nearly as perfect as you were was Beth who had a deaf best friend growing up. Days like these were when you missed the younger Greene sister the most. 

“Do you have those extra walkie batteries?” Carl asked. you looked between Carl and Negan, your hands clenching. you wanted to yell at Carl, send your hands flying faster than he would probably understand, but you knew it was unwise to show too much emotion in front of Negan. Last thing you wanted to do was fuel his rage or whatever he was exuding at the moment. So you sighed and walked to the other side of your workshop. Carl waited by the door, but Negan made his way around the garage, picking up odds and ends. You kept him in your view from the corner of your eye, making sure he didn’t break anything too valuable.

Hauling a box from behind a half-finished motorcycle you were working on for Jesus, you dug around for what Carl had asked for. You drew four spare batteries and kicked the box back into it’s crevice. You marched over to the kid and nearly slammed the batteries into his chest. “Anything else?” you asked. 

Negan then appeared once again. His back was turned to you, so you missed what he said, but Carl sighed and slipped the batteries into his bag so he could get his hands free. He then gestured to you. “(Y/N), this is N-E-G-A-N,” he fingered spelled, “Negan this is (Y/N),” he introduced gesturing to Negan once again. “She’s our engineer.” Negan then fully turned to you and appraised her. 

“A deaf engineer? There’s a joke in there somewhere,” he said with a twisted smile. You gritted your teeth.

“Funny,” you quipped, “is that why you interrupted my work, to make stupid jokes that I’ve heard my whole life?” Negan seemed surprised at your answer. He narrowed his eyes at you and then looked back to Carl. 

“She can read lips,” Carl explained and Negan almost looked impressed. 

“So, you can spy on conversations from a long ways away?” Negan asked, nearly vibrating with excitement. you crossed your arms, sitting into one hip. 

“I’m deaf, not superhuman,” you said, “now if that’s all, I need to finish my work.” Carl went to leave when Negan rested a hand on the kid’s shoulder, halting him. 

“Well, it looks like someone has already made their mind up about me, hey, kid?” Negan said, still grinning at you. 

“That tends to happen when you murder my friends,” you said, not backing down. Negan laughed and ran a hand over his face. 

“You know what? I like you,” Negan said. 

“Oh great, lucky me,” you said as you turned your back on both of them. Negan went to say something else until he realized it would be futile. You picked up your jacket and slung it around your shoulders. When you turned back to Carl he was looking at you with worry as he usually did when he could tell you were getting pissed. You then hooked your finger toward him in a question mark and then tapped your thumb to your forehead, your palm splayed wide. Dad? 

“He’s with Judith, Olivia had to go help pack up the pantry,” Carl said.

“Thanks,” you said as you moved past the two men who had invaded your space. However, Negan wasn’t done and grabbed your arm. Carl went to stop him when you nearly jumped back three feet, snatching back your arm, your eyes wide and alarmed. Carl was infront of you in a second, explaining that you were okay, not bothering to speak, only moving his hands. You tracked the signs and calmed down slightly. Carl then turned to look at a surprised Negan, keeping his hands visible to you. 

“Grabbing deaf people when they’re not expecting it while living in a world where the Dead walk around trying to eat people isn’t the most comfortable thing,” Carl explained, but it didn’t matter because you were already heading away from them, your hand on your knife. Carl watched as you sped towards his house, looking for Rick. 

“So she actually can’t hear,” Negan said, surprised. Carl looked at him, his one eyes narrowed. 

“You thought she was faking it?”

“She has the implant,” Negan said, gesturing to his own head. 

“Her battery got damaged a few months back. She could hear pretty well from the day I met her until it got broken. We haven’t been able to find a replacement for it yet. That also means she’s not the friendliest of people right now, especially to strangers.”

“I don’t blame her,” Negan grinned, “but you know what? I like her!”

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Styles. || 16

Yellow

The journey to LA was far from easy, and it was more than Jamie and I both expected to the point I had to convince Jamie not to back out on the plans and ideas. LA was a learning curve for both of us, and it was exhausting in every way possible. I did not expect things to be easy, but I don't think Jamie suspected the events to be as hard as they were. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. From our hotel being overbooked and having to find a new hotel to our clients signing the false documents. Everything with the entire trip went wrong from the beginning.

My phone vibrates against my desk. At first, I ignore it, but I glance over to glimpse at the caller ID-- A photo of Elise and me lights up the screen. I'm surprised to observe Elise calling at this hour. I slide across and answer my phone, "Hey, love," I greet, uncertain of why Elise is calling me at ten at night. I spoke to her earlier while she was walking to class. We had agreed to see each other tomorrow since I just got off my flight this morning. I place my papers in a file to keep private as I lean back in my chair.

"Harry," Elise attempts to keep her voice steady, but I can tell something is wrong.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

"Small problem," Elise sniffles, "My car broke down, my phone is almost dead, and my essay is due in an hour. I am soaked because I am locked out of my car, too," Elise informs me, on the verge of tears as she explains the events that have caused her to call me. "And it is pouring, and I'm in a white blouse," Elise whimpers, unmistakably sobbing. I hear thunder crack on the other end of the phone, and my office lights up while lightning intensifies the darkened sky.

"Send me your location. I am on the way."

"I'm right near my uncle's office."

"I'm coming down, don't move," I instruct, "Stay on the phone with me until it dies," I add, clutching my wallet and keys before walking to the door of my office and grabbing an umbrella. Elise grows withdrawn for a moment before she starts apologising to me for bothering me at this hour to come to get her. I shake my head and tell her to stop. It is my honour to find her in the middle of storms and help her out. It is what I am for. I hurry down the stairs and to the building's lobby, watching as the storm causes the lights to flicker on and off for a brief moment. The doorman glances at me and frowns but doesn't question me when I walk out of the door and hurry to my car.

The rain hits my windshield heavily, tapping furiously as if to make the point mother nature is pissed. I can hardly see as I begin to drive, following the location on my phone to get to Elise. Lightning illuminates the sky every few moments, and I swear the thunder shakes my car brutally. I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, anxiously attempting to locate Elise. Tonight wasn't the best time for Elise's car to break down. The raging storm is horrible. The trees are swaying side to side, the streets lights continue flickering, and the repercussions of thunder rock the earth.

I discover Elise's silhouette standing to the side under a slight covering. I park behind her car and put my hazards on, hopping out of my car instantly and hurrying towards her. "Hey," I greet, kissing her damp cheek and handing her the umbrella as I notice the small covering not doing much to keep her dry. Elise attempts to deliver me a humble smile, but she fails. I waste no time shrugging my suit jacket off my shoulders and sliding it up her arms, giving her something dry to help keep her warm, "Christ, you're freezing," I sigh, eschewing the fact she is wet head to toe. "Where are your keys?"

Elise holds her hand up and hands me her keys, "How are you locked out?" I ask, unsure how she has managed to lock herself out of her car on this awful evening.

"The car shut down, Harry. The locks won't work either. And I am in a white shirt."

It looks like someone has had a shit day.

Elise begins to sob while I place her car keys in my pocket.

I open my arms and bring her in for a hug. I press her against me for a moment and kiss the top of her head, "I think the white blouse is lovely," I chuckle, endeavouring to make light out of the situation.

"The doorman will get a good look at my bra." Elise cries into me.

"Could be worse, darling," I chuckle, "I have my laptop. You can send your work in once we get back to the office. It will all be okay, come on," I gesture my hand towards my car. "Get in the car where it's warm," I instruct, walking her to my car.

I hurry to the driver's side and sit in the car for a moment, adjusting the heat for Elise. "Thank you for coming." Elise breathes out.

"That's what boyfriends are for," I respond, beginning to drive while the heat is on full force.

I am not sure how Elise got so lucky to have her car break down and lock her out in the middle of a storm, but everything happens for a reason. There would be no way I could leave her out here in the middle of a storm.

❈ ❈ ❈

I close the blinds to the office and unbutton my shirt, "Here," I slide my navy shirt down my arms and hand it to her, "I have a white one over there," I gesture towards where Jamie left me a spare shirt the other evening in case I had a spare of the moment meeting. "I think it might be best if you wear the darker shirt," I smile, being considerate of the fact that I am sure she does not want everyone else seeing a wet, white shirt. Elise takes the shirt and looks around.

"Can anyone see?"

"No," I shake my head, "Door is locked, and blinds are closed," I assure her, stepping towards my spare shirt and grabbing it with my hand before wasting no time with sliding it up my arms and buttoning the shirt up.

Elise hurriedly peels off her blouse before pulling my shirt over her and buttoning it up, "What are you working on?" Elise softly asks.

"I am working on an ad-hoc analysis to make investment decisions for my client."

Elise nods her head and unlocks the door before she opens up my laptop just as my office door opens. Jamie marches in and steps towards me, handing me a file and setting a cup of coffee on my desk before glancing towards Elise, "What is my niece doing here? You both know I do not condone shacking up at work, right?" Jamie chuckles, and Elise shakes her head, bowing her head.

"Uh…" I trail off, "Not shacking up, her car broke down, and it has been downhill from there," I softly explain, unsure of whether Jamie disapproves of Elise remaining in my office.

"Elle," Jamie turns to face Elise, "What's wrong? What can I do?"

It is unusual to observe Jamie seem caring. In all honesty, most of the time, he seems cold. I still have no clue whether he is married or has kids. He is CEO to the max.

Elise shakes her head, "I am fine, Harry gave me a dry shirt, and I am trying to get my essay done," Elise gestures towards the laptop, "Will you tell Dad my car has stopped working? My phone is dead, and Harry is busy."

Jamie laughs, "And I am not busy? You know I run the business Harry works for, right?" Jamie continues to chuckle, "I will call my brother. If you need anything, just come to my office."

"Told you I am the favourite niece," Elise giggles as she wipes another tear away from her cheek.

I know she has to be overwhelmed and fatigued, hence the reason for her emotions and tears. "You're the more tolerable niece," Jamie corrects Elise, "Your sister is… She is a pain."

"Try growing up with her," Elise mutters.

"Mhm, anyway, I will leave you two alone. Harry, once you're done, you can leave. Take her home." Jamie gestures towards Elise, and I nod my head.

Jamie strolls out, and I stare back towards Elise, "Elle, are you okay?"

Elise glances up at shrugs her shoulders, not giving me anything to work with. I remain in silence for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. I cock my head to the side and watch Elise particularly. Her head is down, her hands are gradually typing at the laptop, and every few moments, she sniffles and wipes away a few tears.

I leave my side of the desk and shuffle over to her, "Elle," I demand her attention, politely taking my laptop and sliding it across my desk. I place my hand on her cheek and force her to look at me, "What's going on?" I softly request, wiping away a few of her tears and shifting her hair behind her ear.

Elise lifts her shoulders into another shrug, "I don't know. It is school, and Dad wants me to go into business and forces me to make investments I do not understand."

"What's going on with school?"

"It is kicking my ass already, and I hate my business classes."

It is a surprise to me that Elise is having difficulties. It appeared to me she was holding it all together and doing well. I guess I haven't paid as much attention as I should have. "I don't even know the basis of this essay, I am talking bullshit, and I have a test tomorrow. How the fuck do you do it?"

"Breathe," I instruct, "I'll help."

"You have enough to worry about."

"Is that why you haven't said anything until now?"

Elise nods her head, "Yeah, that is why Dad is on my ass. I have been asking him for help, and it is not working well. He is not of the teaching kind. Then, of course, I have my sister blowing me up, my roommate sucks, and life just isn't working in my favour right now. My car broke down, and I am sitting here crying in my boyfriend's office."… "It has been a bad day, Harry."

"It sounds like it. I'll help. Wipe the tears away and take a few drinks of my coffee to warm you up a bit, and we can work on your essay."

"But you're busy," Elise laments.

"Don't worry about me. Whenever you need help, just ask. I can work and help at the same time," I assure her, sliding my laptop back towards Elise and glancing at her screen. "Oh, you have Hargis. He's tough but not impossible. Have confidence in yourself. You have a great topic," I assure Elise, quickly reading the first few sentences to see what she's doing.

"I just don't understand any of it for my test."

"What is Computing the intrinsic or fundamental value of an asset?"

Elise heavily sighs, "Harry. I do not know."

She looks like she is about to start crying again. Fuck. "Basically, it's a fundamental price," I respond, kissing her cheek, "Takes time, baby. You'll get the hang of it."

"Mhm," Elise hums, not thrilled at all, "Can't I drop business?"

"Sure, I'll support you no matter what you choose."

I will support Elise in all decisions she makes. I may not always agree with them, but I will support her and be her number one fan. I want Elise to succeed and be happy. I want her to grow into the woman she has the power to be. I will never hold her back; instead, I will hold her up and hold her head above water to stop her from drowning.

"I'm sure my father will not."

"Business isn't for everybody. If it isn't what you want to do, don't do it." I respond.

Elise has the potential to do whatever she wants with her life. I know she will succeed at anything she puts her mind to. Business is something you are either born for or you're not. It doesn't come easy, and it isn't for everybody. I have been reading stocks and reading about the business world since I could read. It was my thing. It was what intrigued me.

"I don't know," Elise shrugs, starting to type away before I travel back to my side of my desk to do my work.

"You need a break."

"Oh, how the tables have turned," Elise sniffles, again wiping away a few tears. "What is the former? This makes no sense," Elise shakes her head, brushing a few more tears from her eyes.

"The former is known as a systematic or rule-based approach and the latter as a discretionary approach,"

"And they are usually associated with passive and active investing, right?" Elise softly asks.

I smile and nod my head, "See, you do know what you're doing, baby," I assure her. "Nevertheless, discretionary and systematic approaches are subtly different concepts. You need a break."

"Oh, how the tables have officially turned."

"They have," I nod, "I have to go up to Cheshire. How about we leave in the morning?" I suggest, "I know we both need to study, but I think it will be good to have the weekend off. We can still study."

"What about work?" Elise asks.

"Jamie gave me the weekend for working in LA all fucking week." I respond, more than happy to have a few days off, even if it means I have to devote it to studying.

❈ ❈ ❈

Elise accompanied the dreaded drive to my mother's, but even so, still, I was not too fond of every minute of the drive. This town always leaves me feeling cold and bitter. The memories I have of the place are not peaceful. My mother's house is still warm and comforting to a certain extent, but I can't help but feel an ache in the pit of my stomach every time I have to walk past the damn chair my father used to recline in. I clear my throat as my sister rocks back and forth in the damn chair, a white blanket draped over her as she taps her fingers against a wine glass. I tap my foot anxiously, my jaw clenching with every passing moment. She resembles my father in ways I can't stand. She is not the girl I once knew, the girl who would sit in the closet with me when our parents were fighting, the sister who held me and made sure that I knew we would be okay. At one point, she was my rock, now the tables have turned, and it seems like I am the one who needs to coddle her and protect her. Sadly, I do not know how to protect her and fix her. My father has destroyed both of us in many ways, but that cannot define us. I am not defined by the trauma my father has instilled in me. I can't use my father as an excuse for everything, and neither can my sister.

I shake my head and stand up, unable to control myself, "Gemma, get up," I instruct, taking her wine glass and placing it on the coffee table before my sister huffs and stands to her feet.

"What?" She mutters, not too pleased with me. We have not been speaking much since her antics when she went on an alcoholic rampage. It isn't that I hold it against her. It's that I know she can do better, and she hates authority. She hates that I am right about her.

"Jus' move, please," I instruct, gesturing for her to take a seat anywhere else in the house. My sister cocks her head to the side and stares at me, not moving out of the way. "Okay, since you won't move, help me pick this up. Grab the other end." I gesture towards the old chair that I want to douse in gasoline.

"You have lost your marbles. Mum will kill you."

"This chair is going to kill my sanity; let's go," I mutter, reaching down and picking up half the recliner, eyeing my sister to pick up her end.

My sister complies and lifts her end, most of the weight on my end.

I catch Elise in the corner of my eye, observing as she drinks her tea, but she doesn't say anything; instead, she moves to open the front door.

I carry the chair out and place it down by my car before walking back inside, not saying a word as Elise continues to sip her tea while she studies.

Carrying the damn couch was like taking a burden out of the house— it felt magnificent. My mother will more than possibly kill me for getting rid of the chair, it is one of the only pieces she has left, but it is a burden. Whenever I see it, I remember my father, who isn't worth the memory. Observing my sister rocking back and forth in the chair with a glass of wine was my tipping point. I do not want to see my sister turn into my father. Right now, she is on the same path as he is. She is slowly becoming a person I don't recognise, a person who doesn't do anything but drink and make life worse. I don't want this life for my sister. My sister has potential. She is a fantastic writer and could go far with her writing if she would apply herself and stop drinking.

"Why is my furniture outside?" My mum's voice distracts my thoughts, her voice4 travelling from the front door.

Uh oh.

I don't respond; instead, I wait for my mother to make her way to the living room, her hands full of paper bags filled with groceries. My mother raises a brow, and I make an effort to take the bags from her, wasting no time placing the groceries on the kitchen countertops. "Anyone care to answer my question?" My mother repeats her question.

I don't have the heart to tell her the reason why my impulse forced me to throw parts of her furniture outside. "Ah, Mum, I uh—" I trail off, reaching into one of the bags and taking out some of the groceries.

"I think what Harry means to say is that he is replacing the furniture."

"He is?"

"I am?" I look towards Elise with wide eyes before I clear my throat, "I am," I change my voice, sounding more convincing.

I don't think I can afford to buy a whole new living room set for my mother, who deserves it, but I guess I may as well add it to the list of things that I need to work on.

Maybe when I get my full pay from Jamie, I will buy my mother new furniture and fix up parts of her house. I know she needs some renovations, but she can't afford it, and I hate to see my mother without the best of the best.

"Harry, you don't need to do that."

"You deserve it," I shake my head, opening my arm and hugging my mother as she leans into me. My mother is an angel. She deserves the world— and I wish I could give her everything she deserves.

My mother gave up so much for my sister and me. She worked night and day to provide for us. She put us through school, raised us and made sure we had everything we ever needed. We may not have been rich with materialistic things, but we were rich in love. My mother loved and still loves my sister and me more than anything. She would walk to the ends of the earth for us. My mother is a saint after everything she has been through. My father was a horrible man and is still a horrendous man. To this day, my mother doesn't let that define her or allow it to be an excuse. My mother has raised above all challenges, and if buying her new furniture puts her at ease, I will do it.

I step towards the doors that lead to the back porch, and Elise instantly follows me. I close the door behind us, and Elise wraps her cardigan around the front of her body, the wind chill brushing past us. "Before you get mad and stress, hear me out," Elise instantly presses.

I shake my head, "I am not mad," I assure her. I have no reason to be mad with her. "I just can't afford it right now. Jamie doesn't pay me the big lump sum for another few weeks."

"Harry, I have it covered."

"What?" I question, unsure of how or why Elise has the living room furniture covered.

Elise steps closer to me and offers me a smile, "I noticed some of the couches were ripped and needed replacing, so I have been looking at furniture."

"That's nice, but I can't afford it."

"Great," Elise smiles, "I will pay for it."

"Elle," I shake my head, but she doesn't let me continue speaking.

Elise swiftly cuts me off, "Harry, it's one less thing for you to worry about. You won't let me help pay for the mortgage or anything. Let me do this. It can be an early Christmas present."

"I'm too tired even to fight it. I will pay you back," I assure Elise.

It isn't Elise's responsibility to pay for anything of my family. "Mhm, I don't want the money back."

"We shall see about that," I smile, leaning down and kissing her sweetly. "I do appreciate what you do and for being so understanding."… "Hopefully, this is temporary. I hope with my work starting that things will settle financially."

"I am sure it will," Elise nods, "Don't stress it," Elise offers me that sweet, addicting smile of hers that I adore so much.

I go to speak, but I stop when I see my mother at the door, gesturing for us to come inside.

❈ ❈ ❈

I feel myself in and out of sleep, a warm hand to my back, the tender touch causing a small smile to form on my lips. I have been having some restless nights lately in London. I had hoped that being out here in the countryside, I would sleep a little better, but that is far from the case. I have been in and out of sleep for the last few hours, my thoughts crowded with work and school. I will be glad when school is over and when things work in my favour. I just need to get through my masters, and it will all work out. If everything goes to plan, I will start my own business and have my masters in the next year or two. I will have to start from the bottom with my business, but I will get to the top. I will one day control my hours and be the CEO. Right now, it all seems so far fetched, but one day it will happen.

I lay awake noiselessly. Elise's delicate touch woke me a few moments ago, but I haven't moved; instead, I allow her to continue drawing on my back. This is the first time I have woken up to her awake and drawing soothing nothings on my back at an ungodly hour. I could get used to this. It's soothing.

She draws aimless circles on my back before she starts to trace a specific pattern. I follow the pattern, drowsily coming to terms with what is being written on my back. It takes me by surprise to understand what she is tracing over and over again. I didn't expect the words to come from her. Elise continues to trace "I love you" on my back.

I told Elise I loved her a few weeks ago, she never said it back, but I knew it would take time. I didn't expect nor want Elise to say it because she felt like she had to. I wanted her to say it on her terms and to mean it. I am not sure why Elise is tracing it on my back and not expressing it in person. I contemplate whether to say anything or not. I don't want to make her uncomfortable. I am not sure how she feels about things. If she wanted me to know, she would tell me verbally. Or perhaps this is the only way she knows how to express her feelings. I am not sure what goes through her mind when it comes to emotions and relationships.

Once Elise stops drawing sweet nothings on my back, I wait a few moments before I carefully roll over and wrap my arms around her. Elise nestles into me and gets comfortable. "I love you, too," I whisper, breaking the silence.

I love this woman more than I had intended. I know it sounds awful, but I hadn't meant to fall in love so quickly and easily. I thought it would take a lot more time than it has. On rare occasions, I get time to myself and don't have to study or work; I have realised that I'm already at the point of wanting her to move in with me full time, but I don't think my apartment is sufficient. If all goes as planned with my clients and Jamie's offers to keep me working with him, my salary will be enough to get a decent house for the two of us if I get a mortgage; however, I'm scared to jinx things.

What if we move in, and it all goes downhill?

What if she realises he hates the way I fold my towels?

As stupid as they may be, I have many what-ifs, but I love her and want a life with her. I don't want a half-life, and I don't want to live this separate life of barely seeing each other because our schedules don't add up and because I work all hours. I know we are young, but she's the one. I may not be anywhere near close to marrying her, but she's my other half. She's the woman my mother used to tell me about when she'd say to me, "you'll know when you find the right one; you'll just know."

Elise is like a breath of fresh air. She's what gives me that extra bit of hope when it comes to life. She's my constant. With everything I've been through growing up, with everything my father has put me through and my half brother roaming the town, she is the only constant thing that makes me feel at home. She's my safe haven. She isn't the reason why I wake up every morning, that's cliche, but she is the reason why I go to bed knowing the woman of my dreams has finally found me— she's finally mine. I couldn't have asked for anyone better.

When I glance at Elise, I don't just observe a beautiful woman. I see someone ready to take on the world. I see a strong, opinionated and intelligent woman who will challenge me in every way possible. I see a woman who will call me out when I'm an asshole and put me in line, a woman who will love me and stand by my side through thick and thin. When I look at Elise, I see a woman who will probably cause me to want to pull my hair out at some points, a woman who will raise children to be just as bold, independent and as loving as she is— and most of all— I see a woman who will go to the ends of the earth to greet me with a smile.

Everything she does turns into something beautiful. She's the sunshine on the gloomiest of days, she makes everything warm, she is the hope in my eyes when I wake up each morning— she’s yellow.

"You're awake?" Elise whispers, settling space between us so she can move from her position and gaze at me.

"Yeah," I softly respond, "Want me to pretend to be asleep so you can take back your 'I love you?" I extend a slight chuckle, referencing the night I told her I loved her, and she asked me if I wanted to take it back. I do regret blurting it out in the middle of an argument. But oh well.

"No," Elise responds.

I hope I haven't ruined things. I know she may not have been ready for me to know I was awake. Perhaps she was tracing it in confidence that I was asleep.

Elise grows quiet for a moment before she smiles and pushes a few strands of her behind her ear, "Guess the cat's out of the bag, huh?"

I chuckle and lift my shoulders into a shrug, "Guess so. But if you aren't ready to admit it, I can pretend I have been asleep?" I offer with a cheeky grin. I can't help but feel giddy inside. I feel like a kid in a candy shop told they could pick any candy they want—the butterflies and happiness hum through my veins at the realisation that she loves me too.

"I love you," Elise whispers.

"I love you, too, darling," I respond as she rests back down on me and gets comfortable.

As Elise lays on my chest, my arms are wrapped around her while the rain starts to set outside. "Ever wonder what happiness is?" Elise murmurs drowsily, sounding as though she is ready to fall asleep.

For most of my life, I have wondered what happiness is.

Is it truly a feeling?

Is it an emotion?

They say that happiness is an emotional state characterised by sensations of delight, satisfaction, contentment, and fulfilment. While happiness has numerous definitions, it is frequently described as involving positive emotions and life satisfaction.

I am not quite sure what happiness truly is.

Have I felt it? Have I felt true happiness, or is it an illusion?

It's a question I may never know the true answer to. Happiness comes and goes in waves. One minute it feels as though it washes over me and cleanses my soul, but other times it appears as though it has deserted me. Happiness is like a heartbeat monitor; it goes up, it goes down, and when it looks like it is a steady, straight-line— it's probably dead— happiness is not constant. If it were constant, we would never welcome other emotions that are essential for life.

When happiness is not present, I discover myself learning some of the best life lessons. If it weren't for the bitter feelings, I wouldn't have the energetic drive to succeed in the business world. My sentiments towards my father, the hatred and resentment, give me the fire in my soul to become everything he wasn't. I don't want to ever be like him, and I want more for myself. I want more out of life than alcohol and anger.

I may never know what happiness truly is— I may never have my answer for what happiness is— but one day, I hope to have an understanding of it.

"It's you," Elise softly whispers, her body getting heavier on my chest as she falls closer and closer to falling asleep.

I smile to myself and run my fingers through her hair. It is an honour to be her happiness, but deep down, I have the feeling that she is my definition of happiness, and if she isn't the definition, she is the source.

When we are born, they say we are born with all the universe's wisdom and the answers to everything, but we forget it by the time we can talk. If I could talk back then, I wonder what wisdom I would have known— I wonder what knowledge I would have to offer someone— for now, I will settle with knowing that my happiness begins with myself and ends with Elise. To be happy with her, I have to be satisfied with myself. I may not be the best man; I am not a saint, but I do my best to grow each day. That is all I can do— it is all anyone can do.

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7  Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11  Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (Platonic) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1918

Warnings: Language, A tiny bit of Angst

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

So, Hi again, I know I said that the next chapter would be shorter but I kinda got carried away with the story, hopefully you guys don’t mind XD As mentioned before All requests and imagines are open, any constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy Everyone! (I just noticed I linked the wrong page for Chapter 1, not a very good tech student am I? XD)

A few days later-

The right side of my face felt like it was on fire, a constant ache reminding me of what happens when I fail my task, boss handed my ass to me in more ways then one. The damn beatings from the boys made me too weak to stop the bastard named Greg from running off and calling the police, the dick decided to hand himself in instead of spending time with yours truly, which in all honesty is understandable, any sane person would turn and leg it away from a small lass looking like she went 5 rounds with a bear.

Perhaps walking around in the middle of the day isn’t the best idea when your face looks like the rear end of a smashed-up truck, people were stopping and staring at me, it was really doing miracles for my self-esteem (Notice my sarcasm there). I’d already managed to screw up this “mission” anyway, staying undetected with a face like this is nearly impossible, my decision of winging it this morning coming back to bite me in the ass within the first 5 minutes out the house. Safe to I was royally buggered, both literally and figuratively.

My mind was buzzing with different techniques and plans I needed to get the next target, maybe I could break into his house and dig up some dirt on this guy, from what I’ve been told that should be easy considering the dirt bag’s cheating on his wife with the maid from the apartment be- whatever train of thought I had was completed obliterated, somehow my ass hand ended up on the floor. Again. Irritation flooded my veins, whoever did better be ready to dig themselves an early grave, looking up my eyes made contact with the one person who I wished to never see again. Bucky f**king Barnes. “Why is it every time I see you, you’ve somehow managed to piss me off? Is that how you greet everyone or am I just that Special?”, I was met with silence. Not unnerving at all, glancing at him I noticed he was staring at my face with wide eyes, immediately I pulled myself from the floor and ran like hell in the opposite direction.

 This is not an ideal situation, to anyone else it’d look like I was running for the bus, when I was actually running for my life, “y/n! stop!” like that’s gonna bloody happen ya moron there’s a flipping reason I’m running, cause I ain’t doing it for fun!I already know I’m gonna regret doing this, my feet changed direction and guided my body down a small but familiar ginnel, two lefts and a right later I was approaching a wall, adrenaline was rushing through my body as I launched myself at the wall. Surprisingly I didn’t faceplant and managed to get a hold of the top of the wall, the lower half of my body erupted in sharp pains, but I needed to ignore them, quickly pulling myself up and leaping off to the other side. As soon as my feet touched the floor I was off, I didn’t really wanna know if Bucky saw what I did or where I went, I might not like the guy, but he doesn’t need to get tangled up in with a hopeless case like me.

Once I was certain that I’d lost him, I crouched down behind some bins and attempted, key word attempted, to catch my breath. I’ll admit that was way too close, anyway why does he care? I was and still am being a complete dick to him, does he not get the hit that I’m not his number one fan? Eh, when’ve I cared?  it’s just me against this bullshit world and I’m pretty sure that ain’t gonna change anytime soon. Now fully recovered, I emerged from my hidey hole and… walked right into Bucky. “What the Hell?! Are you some form of f**cking ninja or something, did you not get that don’t wanna talk or do I need to give you a formal letter?!”, he just stared at me with raised eyebrows and let me finish my rant, cocky bugger.

 “You done running now? Wanna try telling me who the hell did this?”, okay who the hell crapped him is cereal? “Nobody, I simply fell of a bike earlier on this week avoiding the village idiot”, giving me, an incredulous look Bucky sighed and covered his face in exasperation. Seeing an opportunity to get away, I slowly started edging away and to be fair, I nearly got past him before he grabbed my arm, “do you really expect me to believe that y/n?”.

The glare I sent him could have made Satan himself piss his pants, but Bucky didn’t even flinch much to my frustration, “Believe it, don’t believe it all in all I couldn’t give a shit, now let go of my arm before I rip it off “I’m pretty sure I just growled at him. And of course, the dick does the opposite and tightens his grip on my arm, wait is he dragging me?! The hell! do I look like dog on a leash? “Fine then don’t tell me, but you’re coming to my house to get cleaned up” his tone was final and left no room for arguments, but it’s me, when have I ever backed down from a challenge? “Nope, nah, not happening I can take care of myself thank you very much, now I’ll ask you one last time. Let. Go. Of. My. Arm.”

My voice held so much spite, I hardly recognised it as my own, “No” and with that he picked me up, ignoring my protests, and started carry me to his home

.-40 minutes later

How the hell Bucky managed to carry me for this long, I have no idea, for a lad of 14 he’s impressively strong and that’s the annoying thing, I’ve been trying to get off him for the past 40 minutes and even my hardest punches and kicks just seemed to tickle him. At one point he even started laughing at my threats, which added to my burning rage, the urge to smack this cocky son of a gun was hard to contain at this point. I’ve no idea what neighbourhood were in, it resembled a perfect suburban hub, the ideal place to settle down and raise a family, I wonder what it’s be like to be apart of a fully functioning family coming home to people who loved you…it must be nice. 

 Unknown to Bucky, a single tear slid down my face, my heart longing for a family to call my own, but that’d never happen, hell according to my parents I wasn’t even supposed to exist, by the time my mother realised she was pregnant it was too late to get an abortion. I was a curse that ruined their lives and their relationship, I’ve got the scars to prove how much of a waste of space I am, “You okay back there? You’ve been quite for more than two minutes” Bucky’s voice cut through my thoughts, for a minute I’d forgotten where I was. Okay that’s enough of feeling sorry for yourself y/n, pull yourself together you’ve managed this long without anyone, “Hello? Are you asleep of somethin?” I swear down this guy is more annoying then my conscious sometimes, “Nope I was thinking of all the different ways I can kick ya ass later buddy boy”, his body vibrated with laughter as Bucky let out a load laugh at my reply. 

Do you see what I’m dealing with here ?!, “Good to know you’re back to the you’re ever cheerful self doll”, what in the name of ever loving fudge?! “Since when did I become your doll Barnes? last time I checked slingin’ a girl over your shoulder and carrying her off isn’t the way to get a girl!” all the bugger does is laugh, laugh I tell you! this boy is gonna be the death of me. “You sure about that doll face? cause it worked for me”.

I could practically see the stupid smirk on his face, also can someone explain to me why I’m blushing? For once I had nothing say, my sarcasm failed me…damn it. A low chuckle brought my attention back to the annoyance with legs, more commonly known as Barnes, “We’re almost home Doll, Mama should be able to clean you up in no time” oh no, no, no I don’t do well with parents, or any adult now that I think about it, they always have this look of pity in their eyes when they see me. It’s like they’ve just found a homeless kitten on the street and feel the need to adopt it and take care of it until they get bored, it’s infuriating and embarrassing, “Oi! Barnes, I ain’t telling you again I can look after myself, your mama doesn’t need to trouble herself with me I’m perfectly capable of cleaning myself up!” he let out another frustrated sigh, he must be going for a record it’s the 20th one, before ignoring me completely and walking up the drive.

“Yeah you keep saying you okay by yourself but look at the state of you y/n! you’ve got a busted-up nose and lip, a black eye and a cut on you’re eyebrow! How the hell is that taking care of yourself?!” for once he did have a point, but hell’s gonna have to freeze over before I admitted that, “Not that you’d know this Barnes, but this is what happens every day, I have to make my own livin’ I ain’t got anyone to rely on and it’s been that way for years, it’s how I like it! now put me the hell down before I kick ya ass to China!”.

The sound of an opening door stopped Bucky’s reply, “JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING LUGGIN’ THIS POOR GIRL AROUND LIKE A SACK OF POTATOS?! PUT HER DOWN NOW!” holy mother of all things holy I do NOT want to be on the receiving end of this lady’s anger! I think my ass is attracted to the floor, one minute I’m being held captive by an annoying pillock and the next I’m on the floor nursing a bruised behind, “Jesus Christ talking about letting a girl down quickly!” hands grabbed my upper arms and pulled me to my feet, Bucky’s apologies faded into the background when a shocked gasp silenced the conversation. Slowly I raised my head, Bucky’s mother had tears falling down her cheeks, her brown eyes were filled with the two emotions I hated the most, pity and sadness.

 Not being able to keep eye contact any longer, my gaze shifted to the porch floor, her shadow slowly started to move towards me, she was being cautious as if she were approaching a wild animal and I hated it. I hate seeing people treat me like a basketcase, I can’t stand it “I’m very sorry for disturbing you ma’am, I’ll leave” I quickly turn around and start to walk away, about 3 steps in a gentle hand grabs my shoulder and stops me. “Sweetie, you don’t have to apologise for anything, come inside I’ll get you cleaned up, Bucky, honey Steve’s inside with your father and sister” and with that Bucky’s mother guides me inside with a comforting hand and a gentle smile. 

Soooo..yeah this happens, I’m not gonna lie I felt really bad writing the sad bit about the reader, I may have teared up a tiny bit, anyway YAY chapter 2 is outta the way!. Hope you all liked it  :)Rose xx

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T. REWRITE - S2:E9; Chapter Nine, The Gate- [Pt. 5]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

The survivors turn up the heat on the monstrous force that's holding Will hostage, and Y/n's powers are put to the ultimate test in the process. Eleven makes plans to finish what she started.

A/n:.... yall ready for this???? + For some reason, the link isn't working but I looked all over and found this really bitchin [😉] synth score for your guys' scene. You of course don't have to listen to it or anything but it's REALLY cool and fits the scene well I think. It's called

Sorcerer by S U R V I V E

I recommend it! I understand though, if you don't 🥰Either way, happy reading! And yay, snowball next!!

Warnings: suffocation, noticeable amount of violence, more blood. Baddassery. Edit: a slightly tweaked sad endgame quote my subconscious slipped in there

||3rd Person POV||

Steve and the four party members now sit at the entrance of the tunnel that had brought them to the hub, all canisters now completely empty. The hub reeked of gasoline that manages to sting their throats despite their masks.

"You ready?" Steve asks, glancing back at the kids.

A chorus of muffled agreements ring out, and only then does he pull the lighter from his breast pocket.

Dustin looks up at Steve, sending him a curt and reassigned nod.

"Light her up,"

Steve sighs, taking one last look at their work. The tension in the air now palpable.

"I am in such deep shit,"

He flicks the lighter open, and in one swift click, it comes to life with a sharp and threatening hiss.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The flames in the fireplace grow brighter and far more intense as it reaches and swallows the bigger pieces of firewood. Will's screams have turned to violent grunts has his grip grows tighter around his mother's neck. Jonathan is already at her aid, trying with all his might to release her but Will's grip is unnaturally strong and unwavering.

Seeing this, Nancy jumps into action and quickly maneuvers around the bed to the fireplace. She can't bring herself to leave the poor injured girl passed out against the wall without sending several silent apologies to her. I'm sorry, Y/n! She makes it to the fireplace and pulls the tong loose from the fire where it had been cooking and shook a few logs loose.

The end was a bright and glowing shade of yellow, and Nancy fought a deep breath and the hesitation creeping up, but she had to do something! Her grip around the firepoker tightens until her knuckles turn white.

Behind her, the fire begins to pop as the loosened logs begin to shift, and several embers are sent flying. Several of them land on Will, angering him further. It's almost enough to make him let go, but he does not relent. The firepoker is already in his side, burning right through his shirt with a horrible sizzle, and the boy howls in pain, Joyce now set free.

His back arches in horrible pain, the stick plunging further into his side and another screech is let loose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

This was it. It was now or never. The dogs weren't going anywhere, and he had to get El to the gate. Hopper's eyes flutter closed, and he counts to three under his breath, the cry of each beast echoing in his skull and beating against his chest.

One...

Two...

Three...

He throws himself through the door, gun first, and his finger on the trigger.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Joyce now towers over her son, spit flying and her voice strained from injury. Nancy had helped her to her feet and was now aiding the rest in restraining Will.

Joyce takes a deep breath as strained screams bellow from her.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SON!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The lighter in Steve's gloved hand cast out into the fume soaked air, it's small but greedy flame swallows the entire room in seconds. The vines once woven into the dirt come alive in seconds, and they reach the ceilings, writhing and squealing as the flames engulf them.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A strong and booming roar erupts from deep within Will's chest, the deep voice of the Mind Flayer they had caught a glimpse of in the shed, returns at full force. His back arches once more, the back his head digging deep into the pillow. He is shaking violently now, as he had the night the lab had set the tunnels on fire.

Joyce stumbles back as his shaking grows more violent. His head arches back even further against all odds, and that's when they spot it.

"His neck!" Nancy cries, pointing feverishly as she returns to Jonathan's side. "Look at his neck!"

Several thick and dark veins began protruding through his skin as it crawled up his neck, and it looked as if they were full of dark sludge.

"The Mind Flayer's losing," Jonathan mumbles.

Will's head shoots up at the words, the veins have already spread to his face and even stretch across his arms now. They all jump back as his head whips off the bed, his eyes completely black. The Mind Flayer's grip on the boy tightens, his rage stronger than his pain at their audacity to tempt his strength with Henderson's presence.

"AND HE'LL DIE WITH ME!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The end of Hopper's gun finds its first target, but before he can pull the trigger he sees them writhe and hiss. Their slender bodies begin to shake violently in pain and for a moment he hopes...

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Go, go, go!"

The party does not hesitate, they are already on their feet and begin their sprint for the exit.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The bed begins to shake with him, every muscle in his body tensed with his fists clenched at his sides and shaking. They all watch in horror, his deep screams turn to grunts, not realizing what he is truly doing until it is too late. His left leg bursts free, the rope still dangling around his bleeding ankle and the others scramble to restrain him. His leg reels back before barreling into his mother's ribcage.

With his unnaturally given strength, she is sent flying a couple of feet, landing just in front of the bookshelf. His rage burns as hot as the fire that fuels it.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The fire in the hub spreads, already flames rain down from the ceiling as every inch is consumed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The Demodogs shrill howls climb even higher, as they twitch. But their attention never leaves Hopper. They crawl and stalk towards him, heads bowed and hissing. They weren't weakened.

They were pissed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Jonathan rushes to his brother, pinning his one free arm back down.

"You're... gonna lose... him!" The words are spit from Will's mouth, a struggle through the growing pain.

Just as the monster had hoped, Jonathan hesitates, his tearful eyes widening and his whole jaw quivers fighting back a sob. Will's fist breaks loose from his grip and before Jonathan can catch it, it meets his nose sending the older boy flying back into the couch, knocking his breath loose.

Another painful scream erupted as the fire beneath Hawkins spread, but he fights it as much as he can. He was almost free. But most importantly, he couldn't let them win. Not with her on their side.

His black eyes meet with the one they called Nancy, who had been kneeling over Joyce on the floor. Her wide eyes locked onto Will's, and she froze. Her eyes darted to the spike she had left near the pit and she made a run for it.

But he was too quick and had been expecting it. Just as he had with the mother, his heel collided with her jaw and sent her to the floor as he let out a painful scream. Every movement was pure agony, but he knew he could take them now.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Hopper's bullets are sent into several Demodogs, but he only manages to bring down two. The swarm was advancing on him, they had nearly crossed the glass when suddenly they stopped altogether.

In a matter of seconds, each of their screams blended into one and they began to writhe and shake, one of them even collapsed. Its body was still crying out in pain, but it was as if it could hold it's self no longer. One by one they began to mimic their sibling, their twitching growing ever violent. They were rooted in place, they couldn't walk.

That's when Hopper felt it. The ground beneath his feet had begun to rumble, the steady stream of cold air that had drifted in from the gate began to dwindle. He lowered his gun, his attention pulling him all around the room as it began to shake.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Let's go, let's go!"

Steve calls back to the group of kids, unable to run without checking behind him every few moments assuring everyone was with him.

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Oh, my god," Dustin pants as he runs.

A screech leaves his throat as he finds himself on the ground once more, but it was no vine or root that tripped him. Everyone felt it, a great rumble that shook their very bones. They all stop and Max helps Dustin up to his feet.

"What is that?" Lucas calls over the booming rumbles.

By now, the vibrations were so intense, the dirt was being shaken loose from the vines and rained down from above.

"I think it's an earthquake!" Mike cries.

A light breeze picks up in the tunnel from where they're headed, carrying with it a warm toasty wave of heat that answered their question.

"No, not an earthquake!" Dustin's eyes went wide from behind his goggles as he looked to others excitedly. "It's Y/n!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The Henderson child had managed to pull herself from unconsciousness, and she now stood across the bed. Her arms were stretched out before her and a blazing fire resided in her eyes, a grunt pulled from deep within her throat. Three bloody lines where his nails had caught her ran diagonally down her vein covered face. Each vein protruded from her skin as blood poured from her nose and ears.

Like a broken dam, all that raw power trapped inside her burst free. Y/n was a supernova, a sight to behold as everything inside her exploded all around her. She allowed the weight of all that she had endured to shoot to the surface and engulf her completely. It awakened every cell in her body and touched every nerve in her system.

She didn't have to close her eyes to relive the painful memories as she did on the side of the road. The vast and seemingly neverending pool of dark thoughts and feelings swallows her whole and it all washes over her in angry red flashes.

《•••》

Like her friends, she had mounted her bike ready to flee the Wheeler house and away from the bad men who had found them. She paused in fear, looking over her shoulder at the man who stood before his fleet of vans.

He had stark white hair and his slightly wrinkled face and surrounding him was an aura of menace.

It was him. Martin Brenner, the power-hungry man responsible for the threat that had reached Hawkins. And the man obsessed with Eleven. And herself as she would soon discover.

It was the same man who struck fear into her very soul only minutes ago through the window.

His cold eyes bore into El, but then he turned his attention to her. Something about him and the way his eyes were fixed on herself... it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her blood ran cold.

It was the day he had caught her scent.

•••

"Dustin? Dustin!" She shrieks.

Her brother's desperate calls for her break her heart, but it turns to fire when she hears the man's voice.

"Y/n, don't fight it. You belong with us. We are your true home. Come home to us, Nine"

•••

The intense and raw ache of her heart as she choked on every moment of silence El was in the bath. Everyone surrounds her as she floats silently amongst the saltwater, everyone including Y/n watching with bated breath. When her voice breaks the silence it is a soft whimper, a plea for life as she says the boy's name.

"Will?"

Y/n's hands grip the edge of the pool so tight she fears the skin of her knuckles will tear. Every moment of silence is devastating but the small snivel of Will over the walkie and what he says, deliver the final dagger to her heart.

"Y/n?"

《•••》

Y/n can feel the dagger even now, the devastating weight of all the strain and heartbreak flooding her lungs and escaping in an ear-piercing scream that moved the earth.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

El joined Hopper's side in cautious steps as she traveled through the tremors, her hand coming to wrap around his elbow to steady herself. Her widened brown eyes were surveying the shaking world around them, and she could see rubble breaking loose and raining down from the ceilings around them. The warm burst of heat hit her face and neck, and that is when her eyes meet with Hopper when it finally clicked.

Simultaneously their attention is pulled to the gate where the entire army of Demodogs begins collapsing into the dark abyss one by one. The darkness swallows their bodies and their many lingering wails of agony as they fall.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The underground team looked at one another in astonishment as the reality settled in, their hands still clinging to the grimy walls around them for balance. Steve broke from his temporary stupor and began waving the kids out.

"Come on, team, keep it moving! Keep it movin'!"

They fell into action, clambering back into line as they tried to make a break for the exit. They were close, but still had several turns to make. Steve helped the children through, catching them as they fell and sending them on their way with his eyes above their heads watching carefully. All the while in his sprint, Dustin cries out proudly into the air, a beaming smile hidden behind his bandana.

"Yeah, that's my fucking sister!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The world bent at Y/n's will, everything not screwed to the walls or floors broke loose as the cabin moved around all inside it. It was a movement so forceful and demanding, it moved all of Hawkins. A guttural battle cry pierced the air as her powers exploded into an unstoppable force that had awakened her full potential.

《•••》

"She disappeared... Bang," El said slowly, a saddened frown forming on her face. "Gone."

"So, my mom? She's...?" Y/n took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in her throat and El nodded.

•••

"Jane, let me put it this way. Does it not bother you that not only did your friend get a better life than us, but our lives were made worse because of it?"

•••

"This could be your home, you said it yourself, we're sisters[...] We'll look after each other. We understand each other. Y/n will never understand you. But I do. Would you like that, Jane?"

•••

"That pesky tag-along friend of hers, what about her?"

"I have no use for her. She's not to be trusted, I want her gone by morning."

《•••》

The heartbreak that fills her up inside no longer slows her down but instead fuels the fire in her chest. Not the Mind Flayer's hatred for her, but the fact it was using her best friend as a puppet. The awful things he was doing to Will, not only to hurt him but the ones he cared about.

《•••》

"Get out!" She winces, but this time she doesn't listen to him. "GO AWAY!"

"No. Not until I talk to Will."

"GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!"

"-Will," Joyce tries.

Will's small frame starts to move again, fighting as hard as he can against the restraints under the harsh light in the shed. His teeth are bared and his usual warm and kind eyes are dark and cold as they burn holes into her skull. Hopper has to pin him back again, but the hatred bottled up inside him for her is undeniable.

•••

"NO! NO! GO AWAY! NO! GET THE HELL OUT!" He screams. "GET OUT! GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

•••

Y/n watched tearfully as Joyce began to choke on her words at the pride of her son as she listened intently from the corner with a simultaneous swelling, and breaking of her heart. "You said she should have it because she was sad. She's sad, Mom, and I want to make that go away."

"I love you so much," Joyce tearfully coos. "So, so much."

The heartbreak evident in Joyce's voice brings a whole new level of pain to her heart, unable to imagine the position Joyce was in as his mother. The thought of watching your son endure such a horrific thing, not knowing if he'll even survive. It pissed her off even more.

•••

"...I asked you why you were being so nice to me, why you wanted me to be apart of your group,"

A small sob came out in the form of a chuckle, and she wiped a tear off her cheek.

"And you told me it was because..." her lip quivers as the words tumble out. "because that was your birthday wish."

A tear slips down Will's cheek, but his expression remains as still as stone. She can practically hear the breaking of her heart as she sees Will losing his battle before her very eyes. His body shakes violently in an attempt to regain control but the Mind Flayer quickly pulls him back down, swallowing him in darkness as he tries to silence him.

《•••》

Each of these moments are enough to send her over the edge, but the words she had yet to shake from her mind were the ones to do the trick. The words still bouncing violently around her skull, taunting her and reminding her that they were all moments away from losing Will forever.

As the storm inside her reaches its peak, swirling around her head and heart in a violent mass closing in on her, all she can hear are the last words she had heard from her best friend before he had attacked her.

"KILL HER, DAMMIT! KILL HER! KILL HER!"

The room grew from dim to blinding in a matter of astonish-filled moments.

Her s/c skin began to glow like a star, the cosmic force at work pumping hard through her veins. Nancy, Jonathan, and Joyce watched in awe as she comes alive, all the while Will's small and trembling frame twisting and kicking as he is engulfed in searing pain.

His screams vibrate with his body before his small frame shrinks in on itself like a dead spider. He straightens in seconds, his head, hands, and feet now glued to the bed as he bends in one final arc, his chest rising to the heavens. Will's mouth opens in another scream and a billowing cloud of inky black smoke escapes. It twists and unravels out from between his lips like a pitch-black tornado.

It grows larger and larger, circling over the boy and looms over the entire room as it had the last few days. Will's body goes limp, falling back onto the mattress as the dark mass zips across the room and through the front door breaking it open.

Nancy quickly recovers her footing and chases it out of the door to assure it's leaving for good. Sure enough, when she reaches the porch she spots the black dust circle the trees before disappearing into the sky.

The first thing that stops is the light, all that illuminates the room now is the dim lamps they had flipped on and light of the flames. Everything in the room begins to settle, the rattling of dishes and furniture, and dust rained down from the ceiling from where it had broken loose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

By now, their trek back to the exit is halfway through, their gloves now completely damp from grasping the walls as they navigate through the tremors. But they find themselves slowing, meeting each other's eye excitedly when the earth gradually steadies again.

They picked up speed immediately, eager not only to escape the tunnels but to see their friend - and sister - again.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A thud breaks the shocked silence as Y/n collapses to her hands and knees, coughing and panting for breath. The room is blurry and she only catches every other word. Her arms feel just as weak and strained and she allows herself to collapse against the wall nearby.

The scuffling of shoes enters her subconscious as she fights to understand what's going on. Y/n can barely register what is happening when she feels a hand lightly touch her shoulder. She nods either way and the figure scurries away.

It had been Joyce, who had pulled herself up from the ground and came to check on Y/n when she gave the all-clear. Her eyelids weighed a thousand pounds and she could feel herself falling asleep against the wall. She tried to stay awake, to know if Will was okay but again she found herself catching every few moments.

All heaters now unplugged, the door left open to let in the cold autumn air.

Jonathan had helped untie the rest of his restraints, and Joyce now sat at his bedside as he lay unconscious. His eyes were sunken, his eyelids dark. He was still awfully pale but already he looked more himself. Will's limp body shifts around as his mother lightly tries to shake him awake, her chest sore and her throat strained but she doesn't care. She just wants her baby.

"Will," she sobs. "Will. Please, Will. Will."

Through sobs of his own, Jonathan places one trembling hand onto his brother's head, brushing away the stray hairs as pleas leave his lips. "Come on, buddy. Come on."

"Please," Joyce wails. "Can you hear me?"

"Come on,"

"Will?"

With great struggle, his eyelids finally flutter open. When Will sees who is in front of him, he feels relief overwhelm him. His lips tug into a weak smile, eliciting an excited gasp from his mother.

"Mom?"

Will feels his limp and drained body being pulled into his mother's embrace, he happily welcomes it. His sobs of relief are buried in her hair and he can feel his shoulder dampening further with her own tears. His eyes are squeezed shut, and despite his lack of strength, he squeezes with all his might, never wanting to let go. He was all too afraid none of it was real, and he doesn't realize it to be possible but his happiness grows when he feels his brother join the hug. Jonathan locks his long arms around his family, like them, not ever wanting to let go.

Nancy has already returned, and when she found the Byers in a tearful embrace, she was happy to know the youngest was now okay. But worry remained and quickly she maneuvered through the now cluttered cabin floor to Y/n's side and knelt to her knees to check on the poor girl.

Y/n's head was propped up against the wall, her chest moved up and down in shallow breaths but the blood seemed to have stopped flowing. Nancy lays a gentle hand on the girl's shoulder, pulling her from sleep. Y/n looks up around the room, trying to see through her foggy vision who was with her now.

Nancy whispered to her softly, her thumb subconsciously running soothing circles into her shoulder as her mother always did for her when she was unwell. "Y/n, are you okay?"

"I..."

She tries to speak, but her mouth is too dry. Her dry tongue meets her dried and cracked lips as she tries to find her voice and that is when she notes the taste of salty copper on her tongue. Her blood had mixed with tears, she hadn't even realized she had been crying. When her vision clears, it lands on Will's trembling form as he clings to his mother and brother in relief.

Her eyes begin to sting, and she looks at Nancy, trying to form words but none seem to come. It feels as if a rock sits in her throat, and she can feel more tears streak down her cheeks stinging the scratches on her face. She should be happy that Will was alright! She was, but what she had just done...

It was all too much for her at that moment, and sobs choked her airways. Y/n's limbs were growing heavier by the second and she felt herself collapse into Nancy's shoulder. Nancy pulled Y/n in, her eyebrows knitting together in a sorrowful frown. Y/n's tears and blood soaked her neck and shirt further, and like Joyce, she couldn't care less. Her arms wrapped around the girl's shaking form and began rubbing her back soothingly.

"You did it, Y/n," she whispers, eyes closed, holding back tears of her own. "You were so great..."

The words coax another sob out of the Henderson girl as all her emotions come flooding out, no longer held back. The words Nancy speaks to her are the words she hadn't known she had needed to hear.

"It's okay," she mutters. "It's over, now. You can rest."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The rest of the pack had disappeared down into the abyss, Hopper's right arm still secured tightly around El's shoulders in a protective manner. The warm wind gusting through the broken glass separating them from the abyss gingerly fades away, allowing the cold atmosphere leaking in from the gate to return.

The earth had stilled completely, leaving behind an eery silence that rose the hair on the back of their necks. They didn't have to say anything, but when their eyes met, they knew then and there that Will was safe.

Y/n had done it.

As if reading their thoughts, the walkie Hopper holsters crackle loudly disrupting the deafening silence, and Jonathan's voice booms over the other side.

"Chief, are you there? Chief, do you copy?"

Hopper hastily draws the walkie from his pocket and up to his lips, his breath shaky. "Yeah, I copy."

"..."

Both pairs of eyes land on the gate before them as Jonathan speaks, dread soaks them to the very bone and the icy chill returns to the stale air.

"Close it."

||Reader's POV||

"Close it,"

It takes about all the energy I have but I manage to peel my eyes open at the sound of Jonathan's voice. He's speaking into a ham radio attached to the wall, and his face is hardened in a frown.

The room shakes once very suddenly, or at least it feels like it does as my head throbs. I groan, my eyes screwing shut. I hear more footsteps, and the low steady creak of the bedsprings dipping as Jonathan takes a seat next to his brother.

It all washes over me again, the intensity of it all. My chest tightens and I feel more tears brimming. It hurts to breathe, to move my chest since my entire body is aching, every muscle.

But I also feel... Really good. Finally confronting all of my pain, and letting it all out... In a way, it felt like fresh air and natural light streaming in after years of living in a dark and stale room. The change felt good.

It's an intense and bizarre cocktail of emotions that barred my thinking and made it hard to function. But over it all, I know one thing for sure. I need to rest.

I'm not sure I could do anything else if I tried, but I'm just thankful it's over. And above all, that Will is safe. Still, I can't quite wrap my head around what I had just accomplished, everything that still sits on the surface.

I feel more tears squeeze past my eyelids as the grief washes over me in its usual steady waves. They streak down the sides of my face and disappear through my scalp, tickling my cheeks as they glide across my skin. It finally clicks that I'm no longer on the floor, but the others must have moved me to the couch where I now lay on my back, head propped against a woolen pillow. The searing hot tears diverge in many paths in a new batch and now soak into the creases of my ears.

My joints scream at me in protest as I reach limply to swipe away as many tears as I can, my eyes still closed and my lip screwed in a quiver. On instinct, my palms travel across my face as I try to rub away the tears, and the blood from my nose and ears but I surprise myself with a whimper.

I barely register a small and gentle gasp and the scuffle of footsteps heading towards me as I try to understand why my face is stinging. I feel the couch dip slightly, and a pair of soft hands touch my wrists urging me to pull away. Soft shushing captures my attention and I recognize it to be Joyce. I fight against the pain of the soft light illuminating the cabin that sears my throbbing head to look at her, and it takes a moment to adjust but for the first time since I opened my eyes I can see clearly now.

Joyce sits next to me, her eyes are swimming in tears as looks at me and her lips are stretched across her face in a beaming smile, though her bottom lip still quivers. I feel more tears escape as I try to find words, but none come and that seems to break her more.

She shakes her head with the same expression still fixed on her face and sniffles. When she speaks her voice is still hoarse and raspy but I can still make out the pride in it.

"I know, honey. I'm so, so sorry." I feel her hand intertwine with mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm so sorry,"

Through my blurry vision I make out Nancy's figure approach us from behind me, and she hands something to Joyce who mutters a thank you. Her hand releases mine as she unfolds what Nancy had brought her, and I realize now that it's a wet cloth. She bunches it up and meets my eyes with a soft motherly gaze.

"This might sting a little, but it'll help, okay?"

I nod, my eyes fluttering closed again as a shakey sigh escapes. I feel the cool cloth meet my skin, stinging the three prominent streaks across my face. I bite back a hiss, feeling soothed just ever so as I hear her muttering softly to me.

"Sorry, sweetheart. Almost done,"

The worst of the pain begins to fade and my eyes flutter back open. She pulls the cloth away to turn it over, and I spot the dark smears of blood already soaked inside. She brings it back to my face, dabbing away the dried up streaks that had tightened my skin under my nose and the streaks under my ears.

Joyce pulls away, bunching up the cloth dropping it in her lap forgotten, her eyes back on me. It hurts to swallow, so I can feel the uncomfortable build up in my mouth as more tears seem to brim. I catch Joyce's hands gently reaching for mine and I let her take it, both her calloused but soft hands sandwich my own and it forces me to meet her eyes.

"You are so, so brave," she chokes, tears spilling from her eyes. "and so strong..."

Her head shakes back and forth slightly as if trying to will the tears away but she can't. She can only try to compose herself long enough to get the words out. Her right-hand breaks free and her thumb gently wipes away one of many stray tears on my cheek and comes to stroke my chin in one gentle swipe.

"I'll never be able to thank you properly for what you just did..." her lip quivers violently now, but the large smile returns, breaking out on her face as she speaks with absolute certainty. "I am so proud of you,"

An audible sob shakes my body, and with some struggle - and help from her - I pull myself up and into Joyce's arms. She gladly pulls me in, sobs leaving her lips as well and I feel a different kind of warmth spread through my chest, all the way to my fingertips and toes. It wasn't a hostile warmth, but a comforting one, and I realize for the first time why both her and Nancy's embrace and words meant so much to me.

It was the warm motherly reassurance I hadn't realized I'd been missing. My own mother had no knowledge of my powers, my past, anything that had truly happened in the past year. And therefore knew nothing of the enormous weight the Upside Down, my powers, Will, all of it, had on me. And to have the acceptance and reassurance of Joyce - even Nancy - after going so long without it, felt almost intoxicating in the moment.

I burrowed my head in the crook of her shoulder, and as Nancy did, her palms rubbed soothing circles into my back as she let me cry into her hair. I kept hearing her mutter the words softly in my ears, assuring the words stuck inside my brain so I wouldn't ever forget it.

"I'm so proud, baby, so proud," her voice was low and soothing and she cradled me. "You did so good."

My heartbeat had already slowed significantly in her embrace, and it felt as if I had melted into her shoulder. She never broke the hug, showing me she was here for me as long as I needed her which I greatly appreciated. Finally, my eyes fluttered open and I slowly pull away.

For the first time since waking, I am getting a good look around the cabin, and my mouth parts slightly in shock. It looked as if it had been ransacked, so many things had fallen to the floor and I looked at her worriedly. She smiled, shaking her head.

"It's okay hon, it's fixable," she assured, she then picks up the bloodied cloth from her lap and sends me a reassuring smile. "I'll be right back,"

I nod silently, still fighting back a wince as I look behind me at the fallen stools at the breakfast bar and the many things littering the floor that had once been on shelves. The lamp on the table had fallen over and several shards of glass from the bulb were sprinkled across the table and floor.

My eyes wander back to the living room and my breath catches in my throat when I see Will. Jonathan and Nancy sat on either side of him talking to one another as well as him. But he was looking at me, and I felt my heartbeat spike significantly. His face was full of guilt as he had been examining my face, most likely where he must have scratched me. He didn't break away when I met his gaze, and for a moment we shared silent apologies.

I offered him a weak smile, telling him it was okay and he seemed to melt. And yet, the sight was enough to make my insides melt as well. It was such a wonderful sight to see after the past few days, knowing and seeing him okay. My stomach begins to flutter when I see a blush creep up on his cheeks. It wasn't hard to spot given his still paled skin, but I felt the heat rising in my cheeks as well.

But just as soon our attention was pulled to the lights around the cabin. It drew everyone's attention, including Joyce who paused at the kitchen sink as the lights grew brighter and brighter. The cabin grew blindingly bright for the second time that night, and halfheartedly my palms raised off my lap to silently say 'it isn't me this time.'

My brain races to connect the dots as my eyes squint through the blinding light of the bulbs when it finally clicks. Jonathan and Nancy seem to have made the same connection when I meet their wide-eyed stare, the word tumbling out of my mouth in a whisper.

"Eleven."

||3rd Person POV||

༄ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 ༄

The final lock is secured with a defined click, signifying the end of Hawkins Laboratory. One of the final many guards to lock up steps away from one of many chained up entrances revealing the large signs plastered over the wall behind him.

WARNING RESTRICTED AREA

The man climbs aboard the jeep and no sooner does it take off down the main exit of the now-abandoned lot, bleeding into line with the rest of the troops.

Thanks to Nancy and Jonathan and the help of an eccentric conspiracist, Murray Bauman during the unfolding events of the prior month, the three had concocted a plan to take down Hawkins Lab. With enough proof - a secret audio tape of Sam Owens discussing the cover-up of Barb's death - were able to fabricate a smaller conspiracy big enough to take down the lab.

A conspiracy that was now being broadcasted nationwide.

"Since the release of the incendiary tape, the once quiet town of Hawkins, Indiana, has spent time in a place it never expected."

One by one the line of military troops file out of the main entrance to the lab for good. Sat comfortably in a lawn chair outside his parked van was none other than Murray Bauman, who watched the parade of troops merrily with a smug grin on his bespeckled face.

"The national spotlight."

The man giggled happily, one hand leaving his pocket and waving an exaggerated salute at the man in the jeep. Glaring as the car carried him by, he sent the smug man the finger without breaking contact from the road. Murray's giggles only grow more mischievous, and he sends a very kiddish wave to the rest, his cheeks sore from smiling.

"Under mounting pressure, several high-ranking members from the U.S Department of Energy have admitted involvement in the death and cover-up,"

Several sullen figures dressed all in black surround the polished coffin being lowered into the ground. Three of these figures, Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, and Steve Harrington.

"of Hawkins resident Barbara Holland who died due to exposure to an experimental chemical asphyxiant, which had leaked from the grounds of the lab."

Mr. And Mrs. Holland stand in each other's embrace at their daughters grave in tears, grasping tightly to one another. The long search for their daughter over in the most devastating conclusion.

"We send our own April Kline to Hawkins to speak to residents,"

The news anchor's voice echoes throughout the Hideaway bar from the small television set sat high on the shelf. The walls and shelves are decorated with many chunky Christmas lights for the upcoming holiday. The bar is filled with small chatter that fades out over the TV and the occasional clinking of glasses.

"residents who told us they thought they lived in a safe town. A kind of town where, they say, nothing ever happens."

The entrance to the Hideaway is pulled open with little strain, the warm air trapped inside is swept out with the demanding winter breeze that quickly takes its place. Wrapped up in a thick winter coat, Hopper steps inside and takes a quick look around. It hadn't changed much since his last visit over a year ago during his investigation of the lab and Will's "death". Funny enough, he used to frequent the place often, but since El had entered his life, he had quickly lost interest.

His eyes find the man he had come here to meet across the bar, sat at one of several booths enjoying a ham and turkey sandwich. Making his way across the bar, Hopper discards his heavy jacket, folding it up against his chest and tossing it in the corner of the booth before taking a seat across from Dr. Sam Owens.

"Cheif-o," the man pipes with a smile.

"How's the leg?" Hopper questions with a small smile.

Owens nods, swallowing the last of his bite and gestures to his right leg.

"Better," he chips. "Pretty sure my football career is over."

The two men share a small chuckle. Owens picks up the half of his sandwich he had touched and pushed the plate full of chips and the rest of the sandwich across the table in offering.

"Want some of this? No way I'm gonna finish it."

A tight, polite smile plasters over Hopper's face as he waves it off and gives him a shake of the head.

"No. I'm, uh... on a diet." He admits, thinking of El.

He had done a lot of thinking, and he knew now that he wanted this kid in his life for good. And that meant taking good care of himself so she had someone looking out for her.

It was also the very reason for this visit, and why he had been so anxious to talk to Owens. He stared at the man across from him as he spoke. Not bothered to try and hide the intimidation in his eyes as he prepared to reap the threat that was sown back in Hawkins Lab all those nights ago.

"Well, you're a better man than me," Owens says, immediately perking as he turns to his discarded jacket pocket. "Hey, got a little something for you."

Hopper sighs, leaning further back in his seat a bit taken aback. He watches curiously as Owens pulls a sealed white envelope out, places it on the table, and slides it across into his hand.

With a furrowed brow, Hopper picks it up and the envelope opens with a small crinkle. A somewhat thick piece of parchment lays inside that makes his heart skip a beat, all previous intimidations he was prepared to throw at the doctor vanish completely. He tucks the ends out of the envelope to get a better look, also being cautious of any possible prying eyes but no matter how many times he reads the words it doesn't seem real.

STATE OF INDIANA Certificate of Birth

This Certifies that according to records if the State of Indiana

Name 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝙴 𝙷𝙾𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚁​​​​​​ Was born in 𝙷𝙰𝚆𝙺𝙸𝙽𝚂 Child of 𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚂𝙰 𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂

"Congratulations, Pops," Owens smirks.

Hopper's wide eyes dart to across the table to the man watching his reaction. "I thought--"

Owens shrugged. "Sometimes I impress even myself."

Hopper slips the parchment back into the sleeve, and folds up the envelope before slipping it into his jacket pocket where he wouldn't lose it. His defenses creep back up at what the man says next, though not as bad given the progress.

"Still, I'd let things cool off for a while, if I were you."

Hopper subconsciously squares his shoulders, his long and bulky arms coming to stretch across the table in an intimidating manner. His brows bunch together in a creased frown, tilting his head.

"How long is a while?"

He tries to remain patient with the man, but it proves more difficult than anticipated considering the heavy weight of his guilt. Hopper couldn't deny he played just a big of a part in El's captivity in the cabin, even if it was out of good intentions. All the more reason he was now determined to make it right.

"Want to be safe? Give it a year," Owens answers.

Hopper's brows shoot up. "A year?"

Shit.

His chest deflates in a sigh and snatches the untouched sandwich off the plate, taking a rather large bite out of the side. He thinks for a moment, an idea forming in his head.

"What about one night out?"

"One night?"

"Yeah," he hardens, quickly attaching himself to the idea, knowing how important it was to El. "How risky would that be?"

"What's so important about one night?"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Link down below in the comments as usual, and of course, BLACK LIVES MATTER!!

Portland Freedom Fund

"PFF is a fund that pays bail for vulnerable populations charged with crimes in the Portland area so they may navigate their case from a position of freedom"

[Link]

'Demand Racial Data on Coronavirus' and 'Coronavirus: Demand More From Your Government'

"Join us and sign both of the petitions below today. Demand Racial Data on Coronavirus We are losing our friends, family, and neighbors at unprecedented and disproportionate rates as COVID-19 tears through our communities. We will be hit…"

[Link]

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