#praying that this doesn’t flop terribly

[cattstep]

SHATTERED doodle page (1/?)

[iepurasdepraf]

ᒍEᖇᐯIᔕ TETᑕᕼ: ᒪIGᕼTᔕ OᑌT - ᑭᗩᖇT 1

Music for this part - Part 2

Acrid smoke stung your eyes between the passes of the oscillating fan that gave you respite while the cigarette between your teeth burned down a little by little. You were putting all your attention into counting and just been letting it burn at this point. Sucking that cancer in or not, you needed it. Praying to the god of Marlboro that a hit of nicotine will keep your eyes open just a bit longer even if it made it harder at the same time. 

At the tail end of a nine hour shift, you had counted the same bills three times and come up with different numbers each time. Tired to the bones, it was day four of five of work and you had to come back tomorrow at seven pm. It was four forty seven am. You shouldn't have covered those three hours for Chitchat so she could go on that date. She owed you.

You just wanted to go home. Take a nice hot shower while you could still stand up then sleep. Fuck getting groceries tomorrow before work. Thirteen minutes and you were free. Just thirteen more. Thinking about it makes your arms feel heavier. Even counting the cash felt like a chore at this point, but you wanted to exchange the ones and fives in the club rather than making yourself a mark with trash bags full of cash on the subway.

“Hey, Bans! You got a guy!”

You couldn’t even manage a groan. After squeezing your eyes shut for a moment and letting your head tilt back to try to gather yourself as best you can, you rip the cigarette out of your mouth, asking as nicely as you could manage in spite of how your body was tensed up “Table or VIP?” “I dunno,” The other girl said, waddling past you with one of her heels off already, feet bright red from being on them all night. “Just asked for you on my way back and I said I’d get you for him.”

You snuff your smoke out slightly too aggressively, but luckily she doesn’t notice. You weren’t mad at her and didn’t want her to think that so you make sure to check yourself. Whatever, hopefully this would end with a big fat tip for your efforts. Not a bad way to end the night and so you pop a peppermint in your mouth out of the tray on the table and put on your best smile while shuffling your money, zipping it up in your bag to take home.

“Wish me luck.” You say tossing your bag back in the corner and shrugging on your ripped up black crop top, not bothering with your bra.. It was enough. They were lucky you even put your pants, tiny as they were, back on at this point. You weren’t going to put in that kind of effort this early in the morning. “Good luck!” She called after you, giddily flopping on the leather sofa you’d been taking up until then. 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you straight up run into the guy after busting through the door a little too hard in your hurry to get home making him take a few staggered steps back. He’d been waiting so close to it you were shocked you didn’t hit him right in his very prominent schnoz. At least you knew who’d asked for you right away. “Well hey there, handsome!” He was, in fact, not handsome. He was- God, he was really sweaty. Why was he so sweaty? You’d barely touched him and you felt like someone hit you with a toad straight out of a parking lot puddle.

“Hh-ih-hhh-hi-” Oh God, he was a weird one. A really weird one. He stood there in all his yellow buck-toothed glory wringing his hands out of his element entirely in his dorky tweed suit with a terrible comb over and coke bottle glasses that magnified his eyes to the point of comedy. Shaking. Trembling. In absolute shambles and for no reason you could see. Existing was this creature’s enemy.

Those big doe eyes blinked up at you and he said…absolutely nothing. He only got out that squeaky greeting. He’d been hard to hear over the music, but you weren’t worried about Mr. Mumbles. You’d have him back in the VIP soon enough and be able to hear him just fine. You put that winning smile on and his shivering intensified. You didn’t think his eyes could get bigger, but he responded to a simple smile like you’d taken your top off in front of him for the second time tonight, but maybe he’d missed that.

He was just your type. Those sweet old nerds that never peaked fell head over heels for you and the 80’s goth aesthetic you so carefully cultivated. You triggered that nostalgia for that youth they missed out on, the prime they could have had. The hot girl in their comp-sci class they could never work up the courage to even wave at in the hall and for a couple of thin easily earned, for them at least, dollars you could be theirs for just a few minutes in the club. To look at and, for the right price, you’d touch them and they could pretend they hadn’t been such losers. If they tried outside of that your boss would remind them what being shoved in a locker felt like though.

“What can the Banshee do for you?” “Ha-hmm-” You glanced at the clock then back at him. There was no such thing as overtime here, little man. You couldn’t say that, but you certainly thought it at least twice before he finally said “I- ah, I was hoping wh-” He had some kind of a nervous tic. It looked like he flinched. Maybe he had, you weren’t a doctor. You couldn’t tell, but it made your hairless brow arch all the same. Around four foot ten, mousey brown hair. Greasy. Just everywhere, greasy all over. His eyes were watery, but it was too dark to see what color they were. He smelled like alcohol, but not the kind from the bar. Isopropyl alcohol.

The job came with its hazards and it looked like this geek might be one of them. You memorized his features the best you could just in case just like your boss taught you. There was plenty going on that would identify him if worse came to worse and plenty of cameras. “I was hh-hoping for a, um, private show?” He sounded funny and it wasn’t just the tic that had him stuttering. He had an accent. English? Now that he was actually managing some words you could hear it. That was weird on its own. This wasn’t exactly a tourist destination. He must work in the city? “Yeah?” You say hoping you sound more interested in it than you actually were.

It seemed to work, perking him up maybe a little too enthusiastically. “I brought money! A lot of money!” He reached into his coat and pulled out the biggest wad of cash you’d ever seen at once with both hands, it had to be at least ten thousand dollars. You grabbed his hands and held them down between the two of you so no one else could see. “Woah! Easy there, killer!” Was he insane?! This was downtown Gotham! Crime Alley was up the street. He’d have jumped for a couple of fives down here if anyone thought he had them in his wallet.

All he did in response was gasp that you had touched him then stare down at where your hands had met his actively vibrating ones. “Let’s take this to the back, alright? You gotta be more careful.” He didn’t move until you moved him. Taking that huge brick of cash in one hand and his wrist in the other, you marched him to the first empty lounge like he was a downright naughty boy being taken to his room.

Once the door was locked you turned to him “You could have been killed for this if anyone saw you with it.” You chastised bringing his hand up to press the cash in it. Making sure his fingers wrapped around it before you let go. He didn’t answer, still staring at your hand on his wrist so you let that go too. Your hands were sopping wet from the sheer amount of sweat pouring off him. 

To his credit, he seemed to function better in the back after what looked like the human version of a computer restarting without warning you first so you lost the progress on that word document you’d been working on for over an hour. Lingering electronic ptsd from high school essays aside, maybe it had been the lights and loud music that had put him over the edge on top of whatever else he was dealing with naturally? You didn’t know, but after that quiet reboot he looked a little more human and less like a rat that had touched the third rail.

At least he was speaking up now. “I didn’t…think about it, I apologize.” He said in an awfully shrill voice making you question why he was apologizing to you? His voice was unsettling and gave you that shiver up your spine the same way something grainy like unpolished glass grinding together did. It had a certain cartoonish quality to it in both pitch and tone. If you’d heard it over the phone you would have sworn he was using some kind of modulator to hide what he really sounded like. Did he genuinely sound that way? If he didn't, why was he putting on a voice like that? 

“I, ah- Well,” He held the money up again “I didn’t know how much to bring, you see, so I-well, I brought what seemed most reasonable for your, um, services?” He poised it as a question more than an answer. Like he was asking if it was reasonable rather than explaining that it was. You squinted at him. That was a reasonable amount of money to him? How disconnected from reality was he? 

“VIP packages start at three fifty.” You informed after crossing your arms, partially trying to find a comfortable way to stand with your back so sore and partially trying to put some defense up against the tiny man now that you were discussing business. He gasped like this was breaking news he couldn’t have googled before coming at all. Your boss had just set up a whole website for it specifically so people would stop trying to haggle with the girls. 

“Well,” The man counted out a few of the hundreds then fidgeted and looked back up at you “What’s the biggest package?” He was nearly cute in a kicked puppy way, but you didn’t let your defense down. You couldn’t afford to even with all that money on the table. “Do you have friends waiting outside or something?” “No! Why, no! No, mam, just me!” You felt your hand touch your cheek as you stared at the weirdo in absolute awed confusion. What on earth was this guy’s deal? 

You were too nice. Always have been. You should have just taken the money. He wanted to spend it and here you were talking him down like an idiot. Take the whole wad and don’t look back, come on! “But-but, miss, I want the most time!” He yelped a little too loudly, it made his voice crack. 

God, he was desperate. Your manicured finger tapped against your cheek as you pondered how this man hadn’t been scammed of every scant cent by now, especially in this city. “We can work that out, but what do you want?” Please, don’t say sex. You weren’t even sure if security was even still in the building and you’d had enough bad experiences with that. “I, um, need to give a presentation?”

What?

The look you must have given him prompted him to explain himself “I just need to give a presentation! At work! A presentation for my work at, uh, work and, well, I-” He melted into nervous giggles before he finished, but managed to suppress them enough to finish after a moment of looking like he was about to run away. “I need to practice. An audience so to speak and-” He looked miserable suddenly. “I don’t…” His voice lowered to a whisper “have any friends.” 

Your heart felt a little pang for him. Ok, more than a little. Same, man. Well, sort of. You had work friends. That wasn’t the same thing as a friend friend, but it wasn’t hard to believe this guy had no one at all. “Truly, I do need this!” He added quickly “It’s very important! My research depends on this! I promise I don’t mean to insult you or waste your time! I could lose funding and-and-” “I’m happy to work something out with you, but let's get you a drink first, alright?” “Alright.” He parroted back happy for the break from explaining himself. Taking quick half breaths on the verge of hyperventilating it looked like.

With peace and love, he didn’t look like a man who could hold his liquor. Nor did he seem like the type that would handle it well if he managed to do so. He needed to relax and there wasn’t anyone better for the job. You were the complete package and proud of it. You knew how to wind them up and just as importantly wind them down. You knew how to make more than a quick few cocktails, it was a part of the job.Thumbing through the Rolodex of recipes in your head you stopped on the first one that wouldn’t kill him on impact. 

A Friar Tuck. Chocolate milk for big boys. You glanced back at him on your way to the fully stocked minibar. Big enough boys. Hazelnut liqueur, dark crème de cacao, and Frangelico with, in this case, some nice cold half n’ half shaken with ice then strained in a glass. “Sip.” You say handing the glass to… hang on a second. 

“Now,” You sat him down in a chair with some gentle ushering “Let’s try this again. Hello, handsome.” He giggled nervously at you and smiled a sort of odd suppressed smile over being called handsome. You realized he was trying to hide his teeth now that he was thinking about it. There was no hiding those buck teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Jervis. Jervis Tetch.”

Banner art: DRCL - Midnight Children by Sakamoto Shinichi

[berrypass-de-murdler]

2 - 99 Zeppe-Let's Get Out of Here

Logico bbg what mindspace were you in when you made these titles

Murdle Advent Day 20

A-List Abalone has come to interrupt your peace with a loud song!

DON'T READ THE EPISODES WITHOUT READING THE BOOKS!!

The pile of panicked citizens boards the zeppelin which leaves immediately. Everyone takes a moment to breathe. Logico looks out the window and watches the city burn, devastated at what their expedition came to. But not everything has a happy end.

Irratino checks into a private back room, where Uncle Midnight, Baron Maroon, Celadon, Raspberry, and Cloud are in a deep sleep. Finally, they’re recognizable - still very wounded, but slowly healing. The goat lord sits down and prays for them to get well soon. But one of the beds is empty-

LOGICO: IRRATINO, there’s a MURDER again and it’s the same person from last time. IRRATINO: What? LOGICO: I don’t know, just get over here… I’m so tired…

Irratino comes to Logico and runs into a terrible-looking Saffron.

SAFFRON: HIYEEEE! IRRATINO: [goat scream] SAFFRON: Oh my god, it feels like I haven’t seen you two in FOREVER, I don’t know WHAT happened back there ahahaha… How’ve you BEEN?? LOGICO: Oh good god Saffron, go back and get some rest.

Saff is still covered in deep cuts and disgusting lumps, and her eyes are pink.

SAFFRON: Oh pshh, don’t worry about it! Doctor orders are like those best-by dates, you don’t HAVE to follow ‘em they just WANT you to follow ‘em! HUG! LOGICO: No no no, do NOT touch me. Go to bed now!

Saffron groans and plops down on the seat next to Captain Slate, who was trying to sleep.

SLATE: Excuse me… SAFFRON: HIII Slatey!!  SLATE: Thank god I have my suit… SAFFRON: ReLAAAX, it’s not contagious! I think. Unless it gets in your bloodstream maybe? I dunno. 

She tries to squish Slate’s face but can’t through her helmet. Slate blinks in unamusement.

SAFFRON: Aghh, you’re just so CUTE I’m gonna throw up!! Wait. I think I’m actually gonna throw up.

She runs to the bathroom at top speed and makes an awful noise.

Sergeant Gunmetal is flirting with the real pilot of the zeppelin, the adorable robot.

GUNMETAL: It is amazing to be with someone of my kind… were you real once too? Did they take your organs too?

The robot doesn’t respond, because it is programmed to fly the blimp and nothing else.

Comrade Champagne is also there, sawing logs, gold spilling out of his open suitcase.

IRRATINO: Well, it’s nice that no one’s taking it. LOGICO: J- SAFFRON: GOLD? WHERE!

She runs back over and starts pickpocketing. Champ wakes up.

CHAMPAGNE: Hey hey hey hey! Get out of there!

Saffron looks up at him with her diseased eyes, and he bleats and smacks her out of impulse. Irratino flips through a travel guide, gets bored, and tosses it away, and it hits Gunmetal in the head.

GUNMETAL: HEY!!!  IRRATINO: Sorry! Sorry! GUNMETAL: You little…

He approaches Irratino, but is so, so slow. Too slow to be threatening. Meanwhile, Logico finds the murderer to be Captain Slate.

SLATE: No. LOGICO: Yes, look at the evidence! SLATE: [growl] I need air. Humans clog the air. I got rid of the human. And I wanted to get Gross Saffron to stop flirting with me. SAFFRON: [snort] It’s not flirting! …Is it? :0

Logico sighs and flops on the floor. Things were reverting back to their usual state, maybe with Gunmetal as another usual suspect to add to the pile, but the stable chaotic energy has returned. Logico closes his eye. It’s time to put Drakonia behind them.

The end!

Gotta admit, it was nice to write a silly episode after all the action

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[imeanwhynotbruv]

Bedtime boys…

Just because their hunting jake Sully doesn’t mean kids don’t have to go to bed

(Mansk & Ja brothers au)

Summary: much to Spider & Ja’s horror…..it’s bedtime, and Spider learns just what happens when Ja is deprived of a good nights sleep for too long

(Little mad, maybe)

•••

It was late, ridiculously late, and considering how they hadn’t been getting more than a few hours sleep over the past few days, it was a miracle any of them could stand up.

“It’s bedtime kiddo” Spider hadn’t heard those words in years. People had just left him to his own devices for almost as long as he could remember!

So, to be told ‘it’s bedtime’ ,especially from his not so dead father turned kidnapper, was shocking to say the least.

Spider slowly turned to Quaritch from where he sat on the floor, his face drenched in shock and disgust as he locked eyes with the Recom.

“What?” Spider was sure he hadn’t heard that right, there was no way this Na’vi killing, Pandora hating, terrible, awful, down right dreadful excuse of a father, had just told spider……..that it’s bedtime.

“It’s late kid, time for you to hit the sack” Quaritch quirked and eyebrow, but other than that his face gave no reaction as he crossed his arms.

“You’re joking right?” this was ridiculous, there was no way in hell this man was trying to make Spider go to bed.

“I’m as serious as a bullet to the head. You need to go to bed” Quaritch’s lips broke out into a smirk, his eyes filling with a sudden fondness as Spider groaned and rolled his eyes.

“You can’t be serious!” Spider practically shrieked as he let his body flop onto the ground, his limbs going as limp as a rag doll.

Suddenly a cackle erupted through the night air. All eyes snapped to Ja, who was almost doubled over laughing, his arm was wrapped tightly around his stomach as he used his free hand to wipe away the tears that had begun gathering in his eyes.

“You-you heard the C-Colonel kid! Bedtime!” Ja struggled to force the words passed his lips before he erupted into more maniacal laughter. Ja’s body began to shake with the force of his echoing laughter until he finally collapsed to the floor and practically began rolling in the dirt.

Mansk and the other Recoms all watched on with fond smirks as Ja’s bellowing laughs continued.

“Shut up ass!” Spider snapped, though he would never admit it, he knew the tiredness in his bones left the venom in his words well… lacking.

Ja just continued laughing, only getting louder when he watched Spider fail to stifle a yawn.

“I don’t know what your laughing about, it’s your bedtime too” Lyle grinned as he leaned back against a tree.

Spider smiled evilly as Ja stopped dead in his tracks. He would have laughed himself silly, if he wasn’t suffering from the whiplash of how quickly Ja could go from laughing his guts out to staring Lyle down, like a hungry Ikran that just found wounded pray.

It was like a switch had been flicked. A switch Spider never would have thought existed within someone like Ja.

“Says you egghead” Ja’s normally light a jovial voice was dark and menacing, his appearance bordered on manic as he smiled at Lyle whilst his eyes glazed over.

“Shit, it’s happening, Mansk do something… the little psycho is coming out” Spider heard Fike whisper to Mansk, whilst the words themselves had been lighthearted, Spider could see the way Fike’s eyes would flicker between Ja, who was still staring Lyle down, and Mansk, who simply nodded sagely.

“Ja. Bedtime” Mansk words were clear a crisp, as he stepped towards his little brother.

Suddenly it was like the normal Ja was back.

Ja’s demeanour instantly snapped from ferocious hunter out for blood….to whiny child.

“What! Now away! You can’t make me go to bed! I’m nineteen!” Ja whined as he tuned to face Mansk.

“Not in that body your not! You’re a still a fresh little eighteen year old baby” Z-Dog laughed unhelpfully from her place by the fire.

There went that switch again.

Ja’s face spread into a smile that showed far too many teeth, that were now far sharper and pointier than ever before, to be anything but worrying as he turned to Z-Dog.

“I’m old enough to be given a gun on an alien planet, old enough to have already died” Ja’s voice was ice cold as his words stuck deep, it was a critical hit against all the Recoms and Ja knew it.

Not a single one of them didn’t hold some form of guilt over Ja’s death, guilt that would occasionally rear its ugly head. That was clear enough when all sounds of humour and smiles vanished from everyone’s faces.

Ja’s eyes seemed to take a dark kind of pleasure in that, it made Spider feel sick to his stomach, this was nothing like the Ja he had come to know at all, gone was the happy chatterbox, the goofball sicker lover was nowhere in sight, no this, this was a monster out for blood.

“I was old enough for you to leav-“ Ja began as he turned to Mansk, but his words were quickly cut off when his brother dropped to his knees in front of him.

Mansk pulled Ja’s body tight against his own, digging his hand into the fabric of Ja’s shirt, his other hand pressing Ja’s head against his shoulder.

“It’s okay, it’s bedtime now” Mansk’s words were soft as his fingers began to brush along Ja’s buzz hair.

For a moment it was quiet, a small part of Spider feared that Ja would lash out at his brother, that some kind of fight would breakout and someone would be hurt, but that didn’t happen…..

Instead, Spider watched as Ja’s shaking arms wrapped tightly aground Mansk back. The forest around them grew silent, as if it wanted to give the brothers a moment, when the sound of quiet sniffles suddenly filled the air.

Spider watching in confusion and fear as Mansk began to rock a softly crying Ja in his arms, he had no idea what was happening. Spiders eyes turned to Quaritch, his mouth opens as he was about to ask what the absolute fuck was going on, when he saw the look in the man’s eyes.

Quaritch’s eyes held something within them that Spider couldn’t name, an emotion he had never seen on the man. Quaritch briefly looked to Spider and shook his head. This was not the time.

Spider nodded and said nothing, simply watching on in silence as Mansk rocked his brother to sleep, as Ja’s pitiful sounds faded off into quiet even breaths.

Everyone was quiet as Fike and Lyle helped Mansk balance as he picked a sleeping Ja up into his arms, his deadweight briefly sending Mansk off kilter. Mansk nodded to his friends in thanks before he walked towards where he and Ja had lain their packs down for the night.

Spider watched as everyone began to get themselves ready for sleep, no longer in the mood to stay awake and chat around the fire. Spider watched as Z-Dog angrily kicked out the fire before she was pulled away to be comforted by Lopez. Wainfleet and Fike walked to the further edge of the camp, voices quiet as their eyes would occasionally flicker towards where Mansk and Ja were.

“It’s bedtime kid” This time Spider only nodded at Quaritch’s whispered words, he allowed the man to lead him towards where they would be sleeping without any protest.

After an hour Spider found himself leaning against Quaritch’s side, his tired eyes half lidded as he stared at where Mansk still sat, legs crossed beneath him, one hand holding Ja’s, the other hand gently stroking his hair.

“What..what happened?” Spider asked softly, though a small part of him didn’t really want to know.

Quaritch didn’t answer immediately, his eyes briefly scanning over Mansk still form before he turned to Spider, his eyes looked so tired in that moment before he looked away again.

“Ja’s a tough kid, he’s..He’s been through a lot, but all tough kids gotta crack sometimes….”his voice trailed off slightly.

“with Ja, that only happens when he’s this exhausted. I’ve only seen it a few times… he’ll get like that, mean and angry…he’ll throw everything at you to set you off, to get to you react…fell for it a few times and I’m not proud of that…” Spider watched as Quaritch shook his head, as if the man was trying to shake away the memory.

“he becomes a whole different person when he’s like that. Jumpy and on edge. It’s like he forgets everything and just becomes someone else. Someone who won’t see reason….I’ve only ever seen him calm down when Mansk holds him….”Quaritch hesitated for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Spider his next words, as if he wasn’t sure it was his place.

“That kids seen a lot of death in his life…hell he experienced it…from what I’ve seen of him over the years, he’d rather just push his problems down, that’s never the best thing to do anyway….but with Ja?.. he can just keep pushing and pushing…and he won’t stop until his mind isn’t strong enough to keep it all down anymore….then this kind of thing happens” Quaritch’s eyes glazed over as he turned to look at the brothers.

“tonight was an easier one… I’ve seen him fight and claw to get out of his brothers grip.Mansk never lets him. Mansk always wins in the end and Ja just ends up crying himself to sleep…..he won’t properly remember any of this in the morning” Quaritch’s voice was pained as he spoke, as if someone was pushing against an old wound. If Spider hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve been more caught off guard.

The two were quiet once again as they watched Mansk finally lay down next too his brother.

“But wh-“ a yawn cut Spider off.

“Shushh kid, talk more in the morning” Quaritch pulled Spiders tired body closer to him.

“It’s bedtime now” Spider fell asleep quickly after that, nuzzled into Quaritch’s side as a protective arm wrapped around him.

•••

This turned out nothing like I’d planned…i was just gonna have some teasing or something…but this came out instead

I must be more tired than I though 😅

I might try writing this again with the fluffy version if anyone is interested or if I just feel like it idk

I’ll do some fluffy stuff again soon so don’t worry about that!

Well I hope you enjoyed this anyway.

[oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall]

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the drama with CNCO disbanding and the drama between Zabdiel and Richard. Of course, we don’t know the guys personally so this is all my own opinion:

I definitely don’t think Zabdiel had any bad intentions towards the other guys when resigning with WK (okay we don’t know for 100% sure that he resigned with them, but all arrows point to yes, based on Richard clearly being upset). I think WK told him what he wanted to hear and has promised him success and has already started enticing him with invitations to events and things. It seems that with the Talitha thing and now this, Zab seems to see the best in people and to believe them. I wouldn’t say he’s naive, but just maybe a bit too trusting? I think in both cases (Talitha and WK), they knew what they were doing/saying in order to keep Zab with them, and doing whatever they could to make sure that happens. I’m not making excuses for Zabdiel- I think Richard has every single right to be upset, and I agree with him. I would be upset too. To see your brother re-sign with a team that has done nothing to help you succeed? I wouldn’t be okay with it either. However Zab isn’t the kind of person to do things to spite others. I think he’s the victim here. He fell into their trap and I really really really hope he doesn’t get cast aside after the honeymoon period wears off and end up with a tanked career like Joel.

So I think the outcome of all this will be either 1.) WK will end up tanking his career and he will have to quit and find someone new (aka repeating CNCO’s mistake), 2.) they’ll make him super successful and he will have no reason to get back with the boys if the other 3 do want to, 3.) all four will have successful careers and none of them will want to reform CNCO (I guess this is the next best thing if they aren’t going to reunite), or 4.) they all will flop and we won’t get much from any of them (which is the absolute worst case scenario that I’m praying doesn’t happen), 5.) maybe they all will have a bit of success with solo stuff but ultimately realize (including Zab) that their true heart is being in a group and get back together, which is my personal preference. Or- maybe they could reunite as a group but also do a bit of solo work on the side at the same time, as many artists do (though I can’t see WK allowing Zab to do that).

One thing is certain though. And listen closely please:

We should do all we can to make sure the guys’ solo careers don’t flop! Whether you’re upset at Zab for sticking with WK or not, he still deserves success and so do all the other boys. They deserve to be paid fairly, to be promoted well, etc, and although we don’t have any control over that, we DO have control over the amount of streams they get and ticket sales if they do solo shows, etc. All the stuff we do have control over, I hope we show the boys that we still will support them wherever they end up!

The blame fully rests on their terrible management team for treating them SO badly that the guys felt that the only way to fix things is to break up, thus breaking apart that magic that they all have as a group. I just saw them perform live for the very first time last week and I knew they were talented from watching online performances, but this was a whole different level! Their harmonies were magical together and I will never forgive WK for ruining what they had. Especially now that they seem to be treating Zabdiel well, it’s so messed up because they HAVE to be fully aware that they’re not treating them all like that. The guys deserve SO much better. So no, I definitely do not think Zabdiel should have resigned with WK, but it’s likely that he did and we should still support him because he is incredibly talented and doesn’t deserve his career to flop. And I hope he and Richard heal their friendship and realize their bond is stronger than the drama.

Here are a few screen caps from their stories recently of them genuinely hugging/smiling at each other before one of their recent shows, which gives me hope that things will get better between them:

[ronearoundblindly]

The Stark Legacy (28)

Tony Stark's daughter (OC) x Bucky Barnes epic slowburn

Room, part of Book III: Power (see previous or series)

Summary: Tony returns to HQ for an awkward reunion with Sam. Bucky comforts her with a distracting pastime.

Warnings for rough parenting, verbal fighting (out of love but they don't know how), and flirty bonding/cooking. Rated Teen/15+ ONLY, please. WC 3.3k

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT—April 2039

Natasha’s composure faltered during training; Sam had never seen anything like it before. The gorgeous, deadly redhead jumped straight to slapping Sam across the face instead of a momentary stance for both to prepare. Punches flew, and Sam knew the goal was to inflict maximum humiliation. Each blow accentuated Sam’s ineptitude. This continued for forty minutes until a water break. Nat wouldn’t meet her eye. They began again.

“You’re not even improving,” Nat grunted after a kick. “Do you listen to me? Are you trying at all?” Her fists sliced through the air, landing exactly where she intended every time.

Without the chance to reply, Sam fought to stay upright.

The Russian kept coming, viciously complete in shaming Sam until her hand went up.

Sam’s bright orange arm ended an inch from Natasha’s nose, a vivid white spot in the center of her palm. She was sure her opponent felt the radiating heat.

“Why is it so bad if I don’t want to hurt you?” Sam panted.

Nat stood up straight. “You’ll learn. Defense isn’t about being passive.” When the light drained out of Sam’s arm, she slapped it away with a sigh. “I need a drink.” Natasha didn’t mean water.

Encouraged by Nat’s self-medicating and her own rebellious teenage spirit, Sam stole three bottles of liquor from the wet bar usually reserved for holiday gatherings—one for each Dee, Ty, and herself. Ty made the suggestion to celebrate her new training in part because hand-to-hand combat with Romanoff went so poorly. Nat whupped her, and if she still felt that sort of thing, Sam’s backside would have stung from hitting the mat.

Now, for fun, Tandy and Tyrone sat sprawled on Sam’s beat up comforter, leaning against the wall with their own bottles of Johnnie Walker and Don Julio. Sam had chosen a lovely bourbon, a brand she’d never seen before, and enjoyed the melting of anxiety while unwinding with friends. Over years of holiday visits, she tracked the level of liquid inside, and Tony had not touched this bottle in that whole time. She couldn’t think why; it was pretty good.

Tandy had won their race with Big Sam that morning, so she chose their evening activity: face masks. Dee loves the girly things in life. Ty and Samantha found it difficult to speak with the drying mud smattered over them, thick and unyielding. They took turns looking as stupid as possible while pouring a swig into their mouths. The joke, however, soured when Tandy accidental tipped out more tequila than intended, the excess splashing up her nose. The girl’s sputtering gag was terrible; her spews of profanity in protest of her friends’ laughter were worse.

Tandy fumed, leaving to wash her creamy mask off in her own bathroom. Ty and Sam stayed where they were—him flopped on Sam’s bed, Sam spread across the floor—crumbling like statues forgotten in a tomb.

“Do you think this is how Medusa’s victims felt?” Ty’s voice pitched higher, unable to project his deep tones without moving his lips.

Sam touched her cracked cheeks. “Medusa is a mythical figure, not historical, so—”

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud,” he mocked while raising a thumbs up. No laughing with the masks.

“Mud’s a desert now, for sure.” Sam paused for his little snort of acceptance, continuing, “but if someone did have the power to turn you to stone with a look…yeah, this would be phase one.”

“I’m gonna go chisel this off,” Ty proclaimed as he got up to leave, “and check on Dee. Pray she doesn’t s-stab me.���

Sam saluted his retreat, tilting her nearly empty bottle to inspect the color in her fake window’s moon glow. Irregularities glistened in the light, but they weren’t in the liquid. The base of the glass was etched. Sam lifted the bottle higher to read.

Thank you for not fainting. 

Love, Pep. 

December 6th, 2020

Sam’s mouth went as dry as waking in the infirmary. She drank half of the present Pepper gave Tony to commemorate her own birth. Sam had unwittingly gulped down one of her father’s last remaining gifts from his late wife. She dropped her jaw in horror, the pull of dry clay holding her skin tight. Sam shifted, still staring through the bottle when—

“Sam?”

In a single heartbeat, her gut plummeted to Sub-Basement E. Tony Stark stood in her bedroom doorway, a smile quickly distorting into shock.

“Did you…” Only the helmet was retracted from the suit. He remained a massive and bulky presence, mechanically approaching closer to her bed.

“This—” Tony grabbed the bottle from her hand, sighing through a faint tremble of his lip. He shut his eyes to collect his thoughts. “Do you know what I’ve been through to get here? And you’re—” The words got stuck.

Sam knew in that instant how Medusa’s victims felt. Her insides sucked out through a hole in her soul. Disappointment, anger, resentment, recognition, exhaustion, blame, resignation, all flashed and faded into the fine lines around his dark eyes. Tony looked broken and beaten. Sam couldn’t imagine what her face betrayed.

He turned and walked out with the bottle, saying nothing more.

Worse than Sam had ever imagined, her reunion with her father after successfully turning herself into Avenger-material consisted of destroying something precious to him, underage drinking, and looking like a flippant child playing with makeup in her filthy room, alone. The embarrassment pushed its way through her empty middle, accentuating her cotton mouth, shoving all the water it could displace out of her eyes. She ran to the bathroom to drown out the sound of her wild sobs with the running tap, splashing the uncomfortable mask off her face. She scrubbed harder and harder to chip it off, convincing herself it hurt, that the mask caused the tears, though she felt nothing.

She curled up on the bathroom floor when her legs finally failed her. On the cold, hard surface, Sam’s mind taunted her with the statistical possibilities that it would be okay…or it wouldn’t.

Sam caught him at the not-so-white tables in the atrium early, too early, when the sky outside was still inky blue.

Tony sipped at a massive glass of green juice. Seeing it made her palms clammy. She was four again, unable to hold a glass without breaking it. A different kind of green monster. Overnight, he dyed his hair back to brown, a rich chestnut, wiping out his gray from the last months. No salt and…

Sam clunked two mugs of coffee down at his table harder than she intended. Her heart fluttered. No words came out of her though she tried, shaking her head before rushing back to the kitchen for cream. As she returned, burnt mahogany eyes followed her path, one brow raised.

“Hungover?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “I’m not allowed caffeine yet,” he corrected, tilting the wheatgrass sludge in her direction.

By Tony’s nonchalant, deliberate swig of his own glass, Sam’s disgust was evident. She’d had her fair share of supplemental, liquid food; never again. “Bruce told me. It’s decaf.”

“Ol’ ticker’s not the same without its car battery.” Her father smiled off at the window to a joke she did not understand. What car battery? His electromagnet was a palladium and badassium arc reactor…

The sky beyond the window broke into the yellowing haze of dawn. Since Sam had not slept the night before, this didn’t count as ‘waking’ early. Bucky would call that ‘splitting hairs.’ In fact, she lied to Tony: Bruce didn’t tell her anything. Sam hacked the feed of Tony’s exam by the doctor, read his recovery recommendations, then watched the security feed of her father returning the special bourbon to its exact spot down at the wet bar. Total, Tony had been in his room for four and a half hours, part of which was spent primping his hair, apparently. 

Sleeping: not a Stark family strength.

This time, however, watching felt far more personal. This happened in realtime, just out of reach, right there in the building, and it was Sam who’d screwed up. All the little speeches she practiced in her head vanished from memory, the newly vacated space analyzing every twitch of his eyes or pulse of his neck. Sam didn’t know how to do this, make someone forgive her, make them proud of her. She proved she could handle this life. Right?

Desparate to fill the lingering silence, she settled for the first thing that popped into her brain.

“Watch,” she asked, tipping cream into her cup. Tony turned. “That first color, when milk hits and sinks just below the surface, that’s your eye color.” The contents churned themselves to a shade lighter, hypnotizing him. She tipped another splash into the volume. “And that’s mine.” Sam paused and looked up at him with one corner of her mouth shyly cocked in a smile. “I always wanted to show you that.”

Tony lowered his shoulders slightly, a wave of emotions pushing him away again. Sam sensed his questions.

“There’re a lot of photos and videos of you online, so I’m used to your face,” she trailed off. She trembled when her hands left the cup and struggled to keep her words from offending him.

“I’m—” he cut himself off, covering his mouth with his hand. Finally he pointed towards the tree line. “That blue just above the tops, those trees by the road,” his voice caught, “that’s your mother’s eye color.”

Sam didn’t move; she blinked, the small, joking smile dying completely, leaving disappointment. “Pep—” he stopped, the name a searing brand on his tongue, “she and I…this was our coffee spot when one of us couldn’t sleep. Mostly me, and you…baby you.” Tony extended his arm, bouncing a finger up and down on the table, his thoughts at war. “We’ve done this before. One time I put my drink in a bottle so you would take yours. You fussed sometimes, as babies do.” He sniffed, watching the sun, then whispered, “what did you do, Sam?” 

Though his words came out soft, his frown spoke a sanctimonious outrage of its own. He reached forward to touch her hand.

Her body twitched in shock, a bubble of familiarity burst. For one brief moment, Sam believed she and her father wanted the same thing. 

“I can fix this,” Tony said. “It shouldn’t take long. I mean, I cured your mom of this before. Days, weeks tops.”

With every word, her disgust grew more apparent, and Sam removed her hand from beneath Tony’s. She rose from her chair. “I’m not diseased. I don’t need you to fix me,” she spat, “I formulated this. I designed it to be used.”

“Extremis is dangerous. He was using you to hurt me.” Tony jumped up, too, the chair scraping the concrete. 

The thud of a bird rang against the window near them.

“Who used me? I’m not a pawn. I’m better now than I was.” 

Weak and outraged, Tony puffed his chest out. “Doctor Dorcas, the one who poisoned you.”

“Nobody poisoned me! The only thing Lem did was hand me a vial.” Sam shoved her finger against her chest. “I researched and tested for months—I saved people—and you don’t get to undo this. I’m not yours to fix anymore. You gave me away.”

“I was protecting you—”

Another bird dove at the window, but the bang only startled Tony for a second. Sam remained unfazed.

“Protecting me from whom? You?”

“Yes,” Tony yelled. “This is a dangerous job. People try to kill me all the time.”

“What do you want then,” she spat back, “a thank you?” Sam’s face turned to stone, her indignation matching his. “Bang up job. Thank you for abandoning me, Ton—”

“Okay!” Bucky rounded the corner sharply, dressed in sweats and a tank top, pulling headphones out of his ears. ”Everybody calm down.”

Her father pivoted, too weak to jump at the intruder. “You,” Tony huffed, “is this your version of protecting her?” 

“I don’t need his protection,” Sam griped.

“You obviously do.” But Tony rounded back to Bucky. “Couldn’t wait for someone qualified to build you another arm, huh? Had to ask a child?”

Sam lunged with a glowing arm coiled behind her, but Bucky jumped between them first. “I haven’t been a child for years. You have no idea—”

Tony brandished an accusatory finger over Bucky’s shoulder. “No, you have no idea what I have done to—” 

“Stop,” Bucky cried, pushing against Sam’s momentum, facing Tony. “I did what I had to, Stark. Now back off.”

Tony sprang forward to within an inch of Bucky’s face. “Yeah? You had to? Who ordered a hit on my family this ti—” but he didn’t finish the thought.  Tony’s demeanor cooled as if ice water had been shot through his veins.

Sam stepped away from Bucky. Bucky remained solidly between them.

“I’m tired,” Tony announced, eyes dark and thoughtful. Black coffee, this time. Yet again, he walked away.

Sam’s anger drained out to reveal an emptiness she was not prepared for. After all the possibilities running like plays in her mind, she thought she would be so overwhelmed with emotions. She had gotten two things: the color of her mom’s eyes, and her father thought of her as some dumbass kid. Still, there was nothing, only emptiness. Tony wanted to undo her life’s work, to strip Sam of her uniqueness; she felt nothing. Tony thought she couldn’t handle herself, even though he left her alone in the first place; she felt nothing. Tony knew where she got the virus but wouldn’t ask how she’d manipulated and changed it; the void inside remained cold.

The window seams stretched the first shadows of the day across the concrete floor. Another shadow caught her attention. Sam Wilson, in his running gear, stood watch from outside on the field, birds at his feet. He pressed a hand against the window, brow furrowed in concern, but his focus wasn’t on her. Samantha turned back to Bucky, who waved Wilson on, flashing an exhausted thumbs up. Wilson jogged off.

Bucky wiped his face, rubbing his eyes, and mussing his grubby hair. “Ok,” he sighed, “well, good morning, I guess.”

“Is this what you consider a good morning?” Sam automatically quipped, mumbling, “I’m never waking up before noon again.”

Bucky yawned, looking back up to her returned blank stare. “Hey, come on,” he comforted, “let’s get breakfast.” He came over to wrap an arm around her shoulders, gently tugging her towards the kitchen.

She turned her head to look at the still steaming coffees on the lonely table. How could it have gone so wrong? Sam planned to wow Tony with her accomplishments, her peace offerings, her humor, but when push came to shove, she snapped right back into the bitterness of her childhood. Her cheeks were chilly; the air conditioning rolled over tears falling unnoticed.

Bucky pulled her into a hug, and Sam felt guilty that her wet face was being cleaned by his shirt. She let herself stand limp in his arms. “It’s okay,” he whispered, “he’s just…” He tucked her beneath his chin.

Sam nuzzled into his chest, irritated by everyone constantly making excuses for Tony Stark. “An asshole,” she replied, loud enough to be heard and for the vibration to be felt against his sternum. Although, I just called you an asshole two days ago…whoops, sorry, Buck.

By the shifts in his neck above her forehead, Bucky nodded, agreeing, then planted a firm, quick kiss on top of Sam’s head. “Food,” he ordered, releasing Sam and shoving her towards the next room.

He made pancakes. 

Sam, greatly impressed with this show of skill, watched in fascination as Bucky pulled his hair back before cracking a few eggs to get started. He worked in quiet mostly, whisking, holding his hand just above the skillet to feel the temperature. Sam noticed him use his right hand. Force of habit, presumably. It was the only one he could feel with for most of his life after all.

He drizzled batter from the whisk directly onto the heat. Laura uses a measuring cup, then she complains about more dishes. Sam watched him flip the first batch. Bucky methodically added one cake at a time to each plate, back and forth, all equal. He looked perfectly content.

“They weren’t going to let me handle explosive ordinance or weaponry at thirteen—” he planted a bottle of syrup between them “—so I helped in the mess mostly. Not a lot of variety to the menu, but that was ’38 for you.”

“One hundred years ago…”

“Hundred and one,” Bucky corrected, dressing his breakfast. He tested his stack, pleased. “Still damn fine flapjacks.” Sam gave him a confused look with judgmental eyebrows. “Hot cakes?” he tried.

“Pancakes?”

He shrugged. “You don’t like them?”

“It’s not that. Mama Barton would be awed. I was only good at one-to-two ingredient recipes: eggs, roast veggies, grilled cheese sandwiches. Since those are also my favorites, I saw no reason to learn more. That’s not as impressive.”

“No fancy meal you know to wow someone?”

“Am I not impressive on my own?” Sam smirked. “No, I didn’t expect company…ever.” Her face lowered, fork pushing a bite around. She had added only a tiny dollop of syrup, so the plate beneath was too dry for the fluffy texture to move. It just toppled over, mimicking the sag of Sam’s shoulders while she got lost in thought.

Bucky sighed. “I went on a date,” he confessed. 

Sam snapped up. “What? Last night?”

“Just drinks. Sharon set it up. Melanie. Archive preservation at a museum in the city.”

“Ahh, original historic document preservation or maintaining certificates of authentici—never mind.” She considered Bucky for another beat. When he didn’t offer any more, Sam probed, “so it went well?”

Bucky laughed over his syrup-soaked meal. “For a sitcom, sure. I drank her under the table by accident. The price for a super metabolism, I suppose. Had to help her home. Poor thing was blitzed in three cosmos. All with paparazzi hovering at the front entrance.”

“This big around, was she?” Sam held her pinky out, lifting another bite on her fork. She finished chewing before adding, “I take it there was no spark.”

“I think she was nervous. Guys with cameras at the door, ya know? At least the conversation was not about a massive cybernetic arm, so…I’ll take it as a win.” They ate. After Bucky swallowed his last morsel, he braved the next part. “I had no idea he was coming home. I wouldn’t have…been out if I knew.”

Sam was barely two-thirds done with her food, and she contemplated excusing herself. Fatigue oozed into every part of her, heavier than her waining adrenaline. She wanted to know one more thing. “Did they ever fight? Did they yell at each other like that, or is it just because of me?”

Bucky set his chin on his interlaced hands to think, a strand of hair knocked loose to fall in front of his eyes. “I heard of a few times. And god knows, Stark loves to pick a fight, mostly when he already knows he’ll win. From what I know, Pepper gave back as good as Tony gave.”

It was comforting to hear, but Sam feared her voice would be ignored regardless. Tony had more experience getting his way than she did. Without help, she couldn’t win. “Please don’t let him change me,” she whispered. “I don’t need to be cured.”

Bucky took his arms off of the table, contemplative, an inscrutable expression. “Did you get any sleep?”

Not an answer. Sam shook her head and took another bite. He’s like Ty’s Magic 8 Ball. Ask Again Later.

“Finish up, and I’ll tell Wilson you’re not running this morning, but I’m guessing he won’t be surprised. Go to bed. Deal?” Bucky rinsed his plate and headed out.

On her way back to her room, Sam spotted the two cold coffees at the table by the window. She left them.

[Chapter 29: Logic]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[certified-anakinfucker]

For the family headcanon ask game thingy!

👍💜💕👌

family headcanon ask game, mostly to harass my imperial agent!

👍🏾 - Does your muse think they’re a good child and/or sibling? Ohhhh he thinks he is a terrible son, and a worse brother.

He watched his father die, and basically says he killed him - he let his brother watch. He knew the whole time, from the first time that galaxy-wide transmission came through and the Eagle showed his face, that it was his father. But what was he supposed to do? Defy Imperial Intelligence AND Darth Jadus and say no? Hell, as far as he's concerned, that's the whole reason they sent him against the Eagle at all.

Imagine the type of crushing blow dealt when the terrorist's killer is his own son. The son he did all of this for, the son he turned planets into revolutionary hotbeds and assassinated a Dark Council member for. Knowing that he did all this, and it was that son who killed him.

He almost got his brother hurt, with the encrypted holomessage he took from the Tytun Rings. Not that he had any clue - luckily Johkel wasn't genetically engineered and thus wasn't incapacitated - about that conditioning glitch but despite him coming out fine ... he still almost got him hurt. Almost killed him.

He didn't look hard enough for his sister, who was on Corellia all along. He could have found her, but she was his little easter egg for the very end. And that almost hurt more to see she was a devout loyalist of Imperial Intelligence - essentially everything Intelligence tried to make out of him, they made out of her. Ooops.

He lost his found siblings from Hutta, and it took pain and fire to find them again all praying for one another to be in one piece. One of which turned out as a Sith, another in the Republic military, and a handful of them scattered as privateers or .. dead.

And don't even get him started on how he feels about Tylado, the man who started it all. Who's still like a father to him.

💜 - What children does your muse have, do they want anymore/any at all? Somehow he doesn't have kids! BUT he loves being around them. It takes a lot away from that cold life of lying and assassinating as a career when some kid's face lights up when he comes around, and he's more than happy to go frolic somewhere with them. Forget about all of it for a little while. Lay down, kid flops over, take a nap out in the outside air.

He doesn't think he deserves any kids of his own, but he wouldn't mind adopting!

💕 - What are your muse’s thoughts on parenting and being a parent even if they aren’t one? Like above he doesn’t think he's good enough or deserves to be a father. But he would absolutely love it someday. It's really down to Vector, Tika, Raina.. his loved ones reminding him that he's not all bad, especially considering all that he's gone through. And moreso that he won't be doing this alone.

👌🏾 - Does your muse thing they are/would be a good parent? NOPE! He thinks he would be too much of a danger. Mostly because of the lingering Castellans, despite no one else being able to access them without killing him in the process.

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

Okay last one!!!! Could you do “call me selfish but I don’t want anyone else to touch you like this” with Benny boy? ♥️

Pairing: Benny Miller x F! Reader 

Warnings: 18 + for language, 10 + year age gap, p in v sex, oral, thigh riding, dirty talk, cum denial, soft feelings. 

This is a terrible idea, you scold yourself again for the fourteenth time in the last hour. It was late, much later than you should have been at the gym. Your shift ended thirty minutes ago but you just clocked out and sat on the bench watching him hit the bag. 

He doesn’t even notice you’re watching, to engrossed in his ghostly opponent as he hits the bag over and over again. It swings from the chain and you watch the sweat pouring down his back, and every so often a burst of it hits the air from the force of his punch. Fuck, he was handsome, and so completely unavailable. 

You grab your bag and stand, feeling like a creeper sitting in the shadows, watching him. But your foot catches on the bench and you fall down hard on the metal stairs, with a quiet groan. You pray he didn’t hear but all too soon you hear his footsteps bound up the stairs until the object of your desires is standing above you, blonde hair flopping over his forehead, sweat dripping. You fight the urge to stick out your tongue wanting to lick him all over. 

“Are you okay, kid?” he asks reaching a hand out for you. Your heart sinks, kid. 

You ignore his hand and stand up brushing off your jeans and grabbing your bag, you miss the hurt expression on his face before he’s a mask of stone. “I’m fine,” you mumble quickly walking past him. 

He grabs your arm to stop you, and you turn, “wait, why are you here so late, everyone else has already gone home for the night. Don’t you have a curfew?” His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you rip your arm out of his grasp. 

“I’m not a fucking child, Ben, I’m twenty-two.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes walking past you back over to the bag. 

“Yeah like I said, a kid,” he resumes punching the bag and you feel the anger surge up, dropping your bag to the floor and stomping over to him. “Hey,” you pull his shoulder and he turns, lifting a brow, “I’m a woman, I have a job, I’m going to school, and I have sex. So please stop calling me a fucking kid!” You put your hands on your hips and his hands slip from the bag. 

“Is that right?” he laughs and starts unwrapping his hands, the tape falling to the floor. His skin is like a furnace and as he takes a step closer to you, you fear you will burn. “You really think because some boy put his prick in you, that makes you a woman? Did he even make you cum, sweetheart?” 

You feel the heat of his stare, and you bite your lip, chewing on it between your teeth. His eyes get darker and he takes another step towards you, “how many times have you been fucked? Properly fucked? Because if those little boys were doing it right, you wouldn’t be here this late, thirsting over an old man.” 

“I’m not thirsting over you,” you huff crossing your arms across your chest, your breasts push higher and his eyes lower watching each breath rise and fall. 

He closes the last little bit of distance, and you can feel his breath on your lips as he hovers over you. His red shorts doing nothing to hide the way he feels when he watches your tongue come out to wet your lips. “Tell me then, baby girl,” your eyes widen, slick dripping between your thighs, “why are you here?” 

You straighten your back, and get impossibly closer to his lips. He doesn’t step away and you feel a surge of confidence that he’s just as weak for you, as you are for him. You whisper, voice husky with your want, “I fucked two other boys, and it sucked, they didn’t make me cum and I left feeling flustered and unsatisfied.” He takes a sharp inhale and slowly releases it, “You’re right, I am thirsting for you, I’m fucking parched in a desert and you’re a tall glass of water. Ask me again,” you rise on your toes closer, just an inch between your lips, “ask me why I’m here.” 

He shudders, eyes almost black with desire, his voice low and dangerous, “why are you here, baby girl?” 

“Because I need a man to make me cum, and I think you’re the best choice for the job,” he groans and drops his head the last inch pressing his lips to yours. Its slow, his lips warm and soft against yours, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, his hands respectful on your waist. You don’t want respectful. “Touch me Ben, I won’t break,” you mumble against his lips, and he listens. 

You gasp feeling his tongue snake between your lips, your tongues tangling together, your back hitting the rough wall with an ooph. His thigh comes up between your legs, and pins you to the wall. He takes your hands off his neck, and presses them to the wall, caging you with his body. His mouth drifts from your lips and you chase his lips, his lips trail a burning path down your jaw, over to your ear, sucking the lobe between his teeth, his tongue soothing. 

His lips graze over your collarbone licking and sucking hickies into your skin, marking your skin all over with his mouth. He releases your hands and pulls your shirt over your head, your sports bra quickly leaving your body to form a pile on the floor. He takes a moment to stare at your breasts and you feel empowered by the hunger in his eyes. You grab his head and he snaps his head up to you before you push his face into your chest and he sucks a nipple into his mouth. 

Your head hits the wall when you close your eyes, running your fingers through his sweat drenched locks. “Benny,” you moan withering your hips, desperate for some sort of friction, he pulls away and lifts his leg higher putting his foot on one of the stools around the gym. The pressure against your mound is delicious and you give your hips a tentative rock. 

“You gonna use my thigh to make yourself cum,” he taunts pulling away from your breasts and moving back to kiss you. “Take your pleasure, baby girl,” he orders. “Let me show you all the ways a man can make you cum.” You rock your hips again, mouth dropping open on a throaty moan. You’re so fucking turned on you may die. He puts his hands on your hips and guides your movements pressing you down harder and quicker, your clit catching on the hard muscles of his thigh. “That’s my good baby,” he praises with a smirk, watching you wreck yourself. 

“Ben,” you beg, moving quicker and feeling a familiar sensation deep within your core, “Benny, I’m gonna cum,” you all but cry, it feels so good. His hands never falter as he brings you closer and closer to the edge, before you meet his eyes and cum with a moan. You’re so wet you soak through your panties and leggings, arousal leaving a gleaming shimmer on his thigh. 

“So pretty when you cum for me, baby girl,” he looks pleased as punch and he slowly lowers you and his thigh back to the ground. Your legs are lick jello and he catches you when you fumble towards the ground. “I think you’ve fallen enough for one night,” he grins picking you up bridal style in his arms. 

He carries you over to the back office where there's a desk and a makeshift medical center. He places you on the edge of the desk and pushes the papers to the ground, they scatter to the ground like frightened birds at a park. You lift your hips as he pulls down your panties and leggings tossing them to the ground, quickly pushing his own shorts to the ground. He steps between your thighs and you gasp when you feel his cock move up and down through your folds. “Tell me to stop,” he looks at you and you raise your hands to push the hairs off his forehead, pulling him to kiss you gently. 

“Is that what you want? To stop?” 

“Fuck no.” 

You lean back on the desk and shimmy your cunt closer to him, his eyes drawn to the way you lay out, soft and pliant for him, “then wreck me Miller, make me feel what all those boys couldn’t.” 

He growls almost animalistic and drops to sit in the desk chair, licking and sucking on your pussy, groaning at your taste on his tongue. He quickly inserts two fingers into you and pumps while sucking your clit between his teeth, you sit up on your elbows and watch as he devours you. His eyes watching as you grab your breast and pinch your nipple, cumming with a cry, already still so sensitive from riding his thigh in the gym. 

He laps at you, licking up every last drop before you collapse backward with exhaustion, a sheen on perspiration on your forehead. “Relax, baby girl, let me handle the rest,” he lines his cock up and enters you slowly, he’s not girthy but fuck is he long. When he’s fully inside you, you clench around him and he lifts your legs over his shoulders like those weight machines. He draws his hips back so slowly, and then shoves forward in one quick powerful thrust. 

His pace is punishing, using his strength to push deep inside you, rubbing against the spongy spot you’ve never been able to reach. He grunts with each snap of his hips and his stamina increases as he speeds up, your legs locked like a vice around his neck, he turns his head and bites the flesh of your thigh, smiling down at your wrecked moans. 

He drops his hand and plays with your clit, pulling back almost all the way each time before slamming into you. The desk moves with each jolt and you’re sure it’s far from it’s position on the other side of the room. All to soon, that familiar feeling burns low in your belly and you tighten around his cock, a smug smile gracing his face. “Are you gonna cum, sweet baby, you gonna cum on my cock?” You nod, tears streaming down your cheeks, hands on your breasts tweaking your nipples tightly between your fingernails. “Not yet,” he orders, “you can only cum when I say.” 

You tighten your face, frowning at him, his hips never faltering. “Ben-Benny,” you whine as the pleasure brings you closer and closer to the edge. “I can’t help it-” 

“No,” he commands firm, “you can’t cum yet, you need to earn it.” 

“Please, please, please, give it to me Benny, I want to cum,” you sob feeling desperate for his cock as he pulls out and leans over you. Your pussy clenches around nothing and as he gets closer to your lips your legs on his shoulders bend you in half. 

“Tell me you’re mine,” he says softly and you open your eyes seeing him vulnerable for the first time, “call me selfish but I don’t want anyone else to touch you like this.” He kisses your lips gently, and you feel his cock, pulsing against your weeping cunt. 

“I’m yours,” you whisper back against his lips, “no one else but you, Ben, I don’t want anyone else.” You gasp when he enters you, snapping his hips into you roughly, his tongue tangling with yours as you cum together, his warm cum spilling deep inside you, as you soak around him. The desk is going to be a fucking mess, and you are pretty sure you’ve lost your job but the look on his face is worth it, you’d do it all again.

He pulls out and helps you to sit up, brushing the tears off your cheeks, and cupping them gently. “Are you okay?” you nod, words unable to form, when he grins, his smile rivaling the sunshine. “Would you like waffles?” he asks suddenly and you burst out giggling. 

“Waffles? It’s” you look at the clock, “11:45 at night.” 

He grins, “anytime is a good time for waffles, and I worked up quite the appetite.” He kisses you softly, and helps you move around the room to collect your clothes. When you’re both dressed and he has both your bags slung over his shoulder, he reaches for your hand. “I meant what I said,” he stops outside as you lock up the gym door, “I want this with you.” 

“You have me Benny, waffles and all.” 

He laughs and slings an arm over your shoulder, walking in the direction of the diner, “waffles and all, baby girl.” 

@lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @darklingveracruz @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @saltarepoppy @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @the-dendrophile-bookworm @amneris21 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @princessxkenobi @Kirstg42  @ew-erin  @maievdenoir @withakindheartx

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@daffodin@xjustmenobodyelse @blufanfictionthings  @nicotinebirds @dreamer-101 @queenbbarnes @rayslittlekitten

[foxxgirlvibes]

He gets jealous of your friend

Characters: atsumu, sakusa, kuroo, tendou

Summary: your boyfriend feels a bit left out whenever your best friend comes into the picture

』 ATSUMU

Probably the most obvious about his jealousy

Feels like every time your bestie shows up he’s second place :(

Doesn’t even try to hide it he complains to your face

Your friend definitely amps up the affection to annoy him

Atsumu huffed loudly as your best friend arrived at the park. He turned his back to them ready to flop into your lap when suddenly you were standing and running away from the picnic blanket.

“Y/N!!!!”

“B/F/N!!!!” You fell into a fit of giggles as the two of you collided in a hug. Leading them to the blanket, you sat between them and your boyfriend.

“Why dontcha hug me like that doll?” Atsumu whined as he pulled you closer to him while glaring at your friend.

You turned to him, eyebrow raised, “we live together tsumu, I hug you all the time.” You offered him a bite of the cookie in your hand, “and you could hug me like that, yet you don’t.” He accepted your cookie, pout still etched on his face.

While you were distracted by your phone, b/f/n sent atsumu a smug smile and picked up a strawberry. They poked you on the thigh, “hey, y/n,” you looked up at them curiously, “the strawberries are so sweet, open your mouth and I’ll feed you this one.” Smiling you leaned over and let them feed you the strawberry.

Atsumu was glaring holes into their head, “jeez b/f/n, don’t ya got yer own s/o to feed huh?”

You and your best friend let out a laugh at his blatant jealousy. “See y/n, I told you he was jealous of me, you owe me $20” Rolling your eyes you took out your wallet, slapping the money in their hands.

Turning to your gawking boyfriend, you sighed, “couldn’t you at least be subtle about it.” He sputtered out nonsense, face turning red, you waved him off. “And you,” you glared at you friend who was still laughing, “feeding me is basically cheating, we both know that was gonna set him off”

Your boyfriend draped his chin on your shoulder, “doll yer not playin fair” he whined. “Why would ya play wit my emotions like that”

Running your hand over his cheek you placed a kiss on the top of his head, “it’s funny to watch because you know b/f/n and I are only friends.” You tilt his chin up to place a chaste kiss on his lips, “you’re the one I’m dating dummy, I love you”

The grin that you love so much returned to his face as he kissed you again, “I love ya too, even though yer mean.” You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead, your best friend made gagging noises from their side of the blanket.

』 Sakusa

The hardest to tell he’s jealous

Doesn’t want you to know, he thinks it’s embarrassing

Gets upset when you ignore him for your bff

Literally will deny it to the day he dies

You had been texting your best friend for the past hour and a half. There was drama going on in your friend group and the two of you were going from the group chat to sharing your opinions with each other. Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, but unlike most Friday nights, your boyfriend was home.

Sakusa was sitting on the bed next to you, he had been silent ever since you started tapping constantly at your phone. MSBY practice had been cancelled and he had been looking forward to spending the day with you. Which he technically was, but not in the way he wanted.

His eyes left the show he had put on as you let out a gasp and the tapping increased in speed. He wanted to lay on your lap and have you run your hand through his curls, but he couldn’t be certain you would stop texting to indulge him. He let out a soft sigh, “are you and b/f/n still going?” You nodded without looking up at him. His lips moved into a slight pout as he turned back to the tv, “oh.”

He startled as you let out a sudden string of giggles. Tilting your head up at him in what felt like the first time you showed him your screen, “look what b/f/n just said, they’re so funny I love them.”

He starred blankly at your screen, “yeah, they’re hilarious.” Lips pursed he pointedly looked away from you, to the tv. Sakusa was incredibly annoyed that you had ignored him for so long only to speak to him when complimenting your best friend.

You texted your friend you were gonna dip for a bit. Turn your phone off you looked at the grumpy man next to you. “Omi what’s got your boxers in a bunch?”

“Me and my boxers are just fine y/n.”

“Omg omi, your pants are on fire!!” You snickered as he gave you a deadpan state.

He rolled his eyes at you and crossed his arms, “there’s nothing wrong, go back to your texting.”

That’s when it clicked for you, he was jealous of the attention you were giving to your friend. Cooing lightly, you reached for him, pulling him down on top of you. “I’m sorry for ignoring you baby, there’s no need to be jealous.”

He huffed and pulled your hand towards his hair, snuggling into you as you began playing with it, “‘m not jealous, that’s a stupid suggestion.”

You smiled down at your boyfriend knowing that you were absolutely right.

』 Kuroo

Another obvious one, but not as whiney as Atsumu

Tries to impress you to get your attention

Will embarrass you with his attempts to prove he’s better

Your friend doesn’t know if they should be amused or embarrassed

You and Kuroo had been invited out to watch your best friend play a gig at your local bar. They’re band had landed they’re first performance and you had been excited to support them.

Running up to the stage, you waved eagerly at you friend. They smiled and and reached a hand down to pull you up on the stage. You gave a friendly greeting to the other band mates before giving your friend a bear hug.

“B/f/n I’m so happy for you!!! This is sooo cool.” At this point you were gushing and singing their praises. Your friend matched your enthusiasm walking you around the stage and explaining the set up.

Your boyfriend huffed from the bottom of the stage as you and your friend walked back over. He reached for your hand to help you off and pull you back towards him. “Congrats on the gig b/f/n, can I have my s/o back now?”

Rolling their eyes they turned to you, “hey, cheer extra loud when we play your song.” They smiled as you nodded eagerly. “There now you can take your precious s/o,” b/f/n gave Kuroo a smug smile before heading back to their band mates.

“You know if you wanted a song I can serenade you at karaoke when their set is over.”

Eyes widening you ignored his suggestion before pulling Kuroo over to the table that had been reserved for you. Sure you loved him, but he couldn’t sing for shit.

The performance was going great, then the music changed and you squealed recognizing it as your favourite. Kuroo glanced over at you as you grinned and waved up at b/f/n. What was so great about them? So what they were in a band, you played this song enough he knew all the words. If you wanted it sung to you he could do it.

And do it he did.

You looked up at your boyfriend as he stood from his seat, “babe what are you doing?” The only response he gave you was a lazy smile before he started belting out the lyrics to your favourite song, terribly off pitch and loudly.

B/f/n stifled a laugh at the scene as you glared daggers at them and your boyfriend. Kuroo kept singing his heart out as you face planted into the table, praying the lights were dim enough that no one would be able to see you. After what felt like an eternity the song finished and Kuroo sat back down next to you.

“See, wasn’t that better than whatever b/f/n had going on up there. I’ll sing for you whenever you want baby.” He slung his arm over you shoulder looking very pleased with himself.

You peaked out at him from your arms, “Who lied to you and told you that you were the next Micheal Jackson?” He whined in protest as you continued, “Out of all the ways to process your jealousy you do this.” Waving a quick goodbye to your friend, you dragged Kuroo out of the bar and headed home.

』 Tendou

Not vocal about it but you can see it in his body language

Would hate for you to think that he wants to control who you hang out with

Once you realize he’ll reluctantly admit to it but feels bad

Just needs some reassurance

Tendou sighed as he watched your story again. It was of you and your best friend at the club for their birthday, an outing which you had excitedly rambled to him about for the past few days. He knows that he shouldn’t be bothered, the two of you have been friends for longer than he’s known you. But that doesn’t help the pit in his stomach seeing you dancing on them.

The sinking feeling hasn’t left him since your best friend had arrived at the door and whisked you away with little more than a quick acknowledgment. The both of you in coordinating outfits, telling him not to wait up.

You love him, he knows that, yet his heart squeezes terribly at every new addition to your story. He shook the thought from his mind and turned his phone off, dropping his head into his hands. He was being ridiculous, if you wanted to date your best friend you wouldn’t have moved in with him.

As he wallowed in self doubt, he missed the sound of the door opening as you slipped into your apartment quietly, to ensure you wouldn’t wake him if he was asleep. You were shocked to see your boyfriend on the couch gripping his hair. “‘Tori?” you approach him carefully, “what happened sweetheart?”

He tensed suddenly before looking up at you with a shaky smile, “hi love, how was the club?” He reached out and grabbed your hands.

You fixed him with a stern look, “satori, you can’t lie to me.” Hands still intertwined, you reached up to cup his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. “What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Sighing he closed his eyes and leaned into your hand. He was silent for a moment before speaking softly, “it’s stupid,” you shook your head and smiled up at him, giving him the confidence to continue, “I dunno... I just- felt kinda upset seeing you have so much fun with b/f/n. You guys are just friends and you love me, I know that, but you always just look so happy with them and I don’t know if I make you feel like that.”

You looked at him for a minute before peppering kisses on his face, “I love you both but I would rather eat dirt than date that idiot, we’re so close they’re like a sibling to me.” He gave you a watery smile as you continued, “and you can ask b/f/n yourself if you don’t believe me, but you make me so happy. You’re literally my favourite person ever.”

He tackled you onto the couch with a hug, “you’re my favourite person ever too y/n!!”

You laughed, running your hands through his hair, “you wanna cuddle and watch a movie?” He nodded enthusiastically as you handed him the remote, placing a kiss on his hair.

This is my first preference so hoping it’s okay. As someone who had an ex be jealous of my best friend I thought this would be fun to write.

Have a wonderful day!!!

[ukome]

nightmare phantasm ; [childe]

a/n: for the collab! this shall include reversal kabedon :> please note that the reader here has been given red-orange colored eyes + cryo vision, for the sake of the story!

taglist: @sojumii​​, @evelynnendless​​, @xmoonlitmelodyx​, @cala-ran​, @astrxrism​

warning(s): suggestive themes + curse words

format & genre: one-shot & fluff + angst

pair: childe x gn!reader

wc: 1110 

fic below!

-

you really wish you could turn back time right now. 

.

.

.

your sunset eyes were probably one of the most enchanting things about you. Childe knew this. it was one of the things that he loved most about you. 

if that was the case, then why, in this reality, did you have black eyes? 

dull.

empty.

void.

long went the sparkling sunset hues, paired with rosy cheeks and cute dimples. he missed them. it was snowing, and you lay there. not a single sign of life could be seen from where he stood, save for himself.

but was he truly alive? 

the last time he checked, he couldn’t find it within himself to continue living were you to disappear from him.

blankets of white surrounded him and your corpse, trees with colors as dark as how he felt. the air seemingly left him, leaving him to choke on nothing. his chest felt tight, throat felt like it was closing, and the last thing he remembered was falling, falling, and falling into an endless abyss with nothing in sight.

he remembers reaching out towards nothing, the only thing on his mind was to at least keep you with him.

his happiness.

his laughter.

his last piece of evidence that proved he was still Ajax.

his everything.

.

.

.

you woke up due to a strong grip on your left wrist. 

turning around, you saw him. your Childe. you Ajax. your Tartaglia. covered in sweat. 

he had a vice-like grip on you, showing no signs of waking up from whatever it was he was dreaming about. however it must be something terrible, if the layer of sweat coating him, paired with his furrowed brows and tightly squeezed eyes were anything to go by.

your first reaction was to wake him up. but then realized that in doing so, he would completely ignore anything you’ve seen and thus leading him to get up and head to work before kissing you goodbye. 

you wanted him to stay. 

besides, who the hell goes to work after going through a nightmare?

well, apparently Childe.

your face scrunched up at the though, before shaking your head repeatedly and going back to focusing on him.

if he did plan on running away from your interrogation followed up with some unconditional love and support, you’d just.. trap him. make sure he doesn’t leave. 

and so you gently shook Childe, quietly whispering sweet nothings as you tried to get him to wake up. 

after noticing that he has yet to wake up from your gentleness, you had half the mind to just freeze him then and there, a tempting option that wasn’t difficult to put into action, considering you had your vision resting on the nightstand that lay next to you.

but that wasn’t exactly... the best way to wake up your boyfriend, whom was clearly having a nightmare.

so you shook him a wake, albeit slightly harder this time. 

he woke with a gasp, and you had to force yourself to not laugh at his confused expression the moment his eyes laid onto your figure. quickly recovering from his shock, he let out a deep sigh, quickly reaching out to you before pulling you down with him as he flopped back onto the mattress with a resounding plop.

he cradled your head, eyes slowly closing again until you rose up, pulling away from his grasp. 

leaning back down again, you press your lips to his cheeks.

“please.. stay home today. otherwise...” you didn’t complete the sentence, leaving it up to his imagination as to what you could possibly do to him.

Childe blinked, your sudden request surprising him. although it wasn’t unusual, the tone you used was unusual and.. sexy. you were desperate and Childe was clearly still suffering from whatever had happened in his nightmare.

Childe let out a strained chuckle, oblivious to the fact that you wanted him to stay not only for your sake, but for his as well. swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, he stood up, getting ready to change.

“I’d love to, [name]. but, I’m a harbinger. can’t let my subordinates be the only ones suffer.”

“what about me?”

Childe blinked, turning around and locking eyes with you.  

“everyday I suffer when I’m not by your side. this’ll just have to be one of those days.” he says apologetically, earning a huff from you. 

you had to give it to him, for acting like nothing had happened, like he clearly didn’t just wake up from a nightmare. he then proceeds to move along with his daily routine, dressing up, brushing his teeth, maybe eat breakfast every blue moon, before heading out the door. 

however, today, you felt a little more persistent, and so you chased him down like the mad dog you are, pinning him against the wall.

but...

maybe if you actually rethought what you were about to do to Childe, you wouldn't be in this embarrassing position, which was even more embarrassing due to your height compared to his. 

you weren’t short. but Childe was tall, and you probably came up to his chest.

giving an awkward cough, a poor attempt at trying to clear the tension in the air, Childe looked at you. 

“I certainly wasn’t expecting this to be your plan when you told me otherwise. color me surprised, princess.”

you flushed at his tone. slightly husky and suggestive, even.

your hands were pressed against the wall, your arms trapping Childe. you felt your arms slacken, and within a blink of an eye, your positions switched.

Childe’s right arm anchored him whilst his left arm swung, creating a don sound as he now trapped you within his arms. you took a good 5 seconds, trying to process what in the fuck had happened. 

once you registered that yes, Childe kabedonned you, you flushed a crimson red. Childe took this moment to admire your eyes, your beautiful sunset-colored eyes. such a contrast to his own pair of ocean-blue eyes and he loved it. 

halfway through recovering from the shock, you stomped on Childe’s foot and made a run for it. a loud “OW” could be heard from where you came from moments ago, and it had you laughing, a bright smile on your face. unbeknownst to you, Childe shared that same smile, albeit a little pained since damn you could stomp.

Childe chuckled, leaning against the wall, giving you time to escape and hide, as he would not hold back during tonight's game.

you could pray to all the archons, but not a single one shall be answered, for tomorrow, you’ll be left aching all over. 

that much was promised.

[granolabird]

Life Is So Busted

Tonights episode had me all kinds of upset that Beth’s parents would just leave her after telling her they’re divorcing so you KNOW I had to fix it with soft Hournite. That’s the only way.  (Sidenote this was entirely written while listening to my Hournite playlist, hence the title. Link to the playlist is in my pinned post!!)

.

The thunderstorm starts as soon as Beth’s parents leave the house. She’s alone, sobbing on the livingroom floor as thunder wracks the home. Fitting weather for the solemn mood she’s in. She should’ve known it would go this way, should’ve known that her parents wouldn’t provide much solace, but she had held out hope. 

Beth was getting tired of holding out hope. 

She’s not entirely sure what to do with herself, so she resolves to call the one person she knows will know what to do. It’s a slow trek as she sniffles her way to where her phone is plugged in, and she winces as lightning illuminates the window. He’s at the top of her contact list, the only person she’s called in the last few days, so all she has to do is press the small green phone icon beside his name, and wait. 

She prays to whatever higher being is out there that he answers.

Rick is in the woods. It’s terrible weather and he’s soaked to the bone but he has to check if Grundy’s shown up. After the Eclipso-induced visions he had of Grundy back at the school he can’t stop himself from checking for the creature, even if it means being out in such terrible weather. There’s no sign of Grundy though, and all Rick has received for his efforts is water weighing him down and a terrible case of the chills. He lets out an exasperated groan as he flops into the driver's seat of his car, slamming the door and letting his head fall onto his steering wheel. He really doesn’t feel like going home to whatever drunken insults Matt is going to throw at him, especially after everything he saw at the school. And so Rick mulls over the idea of staying the night at the Pit Stop, like he usually does on the days when Matt’s being particularly cruel. As he slides his keys into his ignition, his phone rings from where it’s been discarded in a cup holder. He slowly lifts his head and squints at the screen. His heart skips a beat when he reads the name. 

Beth :)

He scrambles to pick the phone up, wet fingers sliding uselessly against the screen as he attempts to answer. By some miracle he manages to hit the right buttons, answering the call. 

He presses the phone to his ear,

“Beth?”

Silence for a moment and then 

“Rick.”

She’s crying. That’s clear the second she speaks, her voice quivering as she says his name.

“I’ll be right over.”

“Beth, hey. What’s up? Are you okay?

“My parents are getting divorced. Or at least, they’re pretty sure they are. They just told me and left. I’m just… I just need someone to talk to. If that’s okay.”

He hears Beth sniffle before she hangs up. Rick grips the wheel of his car and takes off, not caring about the weather, not caring about much of anything really. At this moment, all he cares about is Beth Chapel.

“Rick, the weather is terrible! You don’t have to come all the way over here if it’s not safe-”

“I was planning on coming into town anyway. It’s alright. See you in a bit, okay?”

“Okay.”

Beth hates the way she’s waiting at her door like some sort of sad puppy, but there’s not much else to do. She’s managed to slow her crying as she stares out the small window beside her door, waiting to see a bright yellow car pull into her driveway. She’s starting to get worried, her anxiety telling her Rick had gotten into some terrible car accident, when she sees his car. She can’t help but smile, standing as he parks, and opening her front door when she sees him get out of his car. The storm is forgotten for a moment as she runs down the front steps of her house, leaving her door wide open behind her as she throws herself at Rick, engulfing him in a hug. She’s crying again, sobs wracking her body as she presses herself into his soaked sweater and he holds her. No questions or objections, he just presses one hand on her back and the other into her hair, and holds her. Rick feels his heart break as she looks up at him with tears in her eyes, but he forces himself to stay calm.

“Beth. We should probably go inside. It’s raining.” 

“Right.”

“If you don’t wanna be at home I could drive you to the Pit Stop? That’s where I was headed.”

Beth has gotten Rick a towel and turned on the electric fireplace which he’s not even sure provides heat, but it’s nice anyway. She’s in the kitchen now, steadying herself while she makes hot chocolate, and he towels off his hair and clothes to the best of his abilities as he waits for her to return. After a few minutes Beth enters the living room with two mugs, one with just marshmallows and the other piled high with whipped cream. She offers a soft smile as she hands Rick the whipped cream-topped hot chocolate, before settling in beside him on the sofa. 

She shakes her head.

“You’re soaked. I don’t want you to get sick because of my stupid emotions, come in. I’ll make us some hot chocolate, if you want?” She manages, gesturing for Rick to follow her inside. He nods, and the pair walk into Beth’s house.

“You remembered I like whipped cream.” He laughs and it warms his heart to see her chuckle along with him.

“How could I forget? You scarfed down that whipped cream off the milkshake at the diner like it was your last meal!” 

Rick is fumbling his words and he hates himself for it, but he really is trying his best.

They laugh for a moment, and it’s a relief to see that Beth is feeling at least a little better. After a brief pause Rick knock’s Beth’s knee lightly with his own, and she looks over at him. He searches her face, struggling for the right words to say.

“How are you holding up? I mean, I guess not very well but... I mean, is there anything I can do? I’m not very good with parent things, but if there’s anything I can do…”

“I’m just glad to have you here. I didn’t know what to do, and my parents left me alone, and I really didn’t want to be alone. So I called the one person who I knew would be there for me.”

“Me?”

“You.”

Beth is tearing up again, and she looks down. There’s one question at the front of her mind that she really doesn’t want to dwell on, but she knows she has to ask.

“Do you think it’s my fault? The divorce, I mean.” She sets her mug on the coffee table and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

“What? No. Beth no, if anything you were what held them together. You talked to them every day, made sure they had at least some time together as a family. There is nothing you could’ve done, this is entirely on them.”

“But I could’ve done something. I know I could’ve. When Eclipso showed up at the school he showed me my parents, and told me it was my fault. Rick, he said it was my fault. I couldn’t fix their relationship.”

Beth slowly lifts her head, still trying to no avail to wipe the tears from her eyes. 

Now Rick is the one to put his mug down on the table as he leans towards Beth.

“Hey. look at me.”

“It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You tried so hard, you did everything you could. This is on them. You are the kindest, sweetest person I know, you could never cause something like that. Okay?”

He’s subconsciously laid a hand on top of hers as he spoke, but he leaves it there as she offers a small nod. He smiles at her as they settle into a comfortable silence. Rick is the one to break it.

“How about we watch a movie? Nothing cheers you up like a good movie marathon.” He tips his head towards the TV. This seemingly breaks Beth from her stupor as she leaps up to turn the tv on, separating their hands swiftly. Rick awkwardly picks his hot chocolate, taking a sip as Beth grabs the converter.

“Rick, you’ve never seen Megamind!? Well we have to watch it now!” 

“Yes! Megamind just got put on Netflix, and it’s one of my favourites.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

About halfway into the movie, Beth comes to a rather abrupt realization. She had told Rick all about what Eclipso had shown her, but she hadn’t actually asked him what he had seen. She remembered how shaken he had been when they returned to the Pit Stop after the mission, but he hadn’t talked about it. A feeling of guilt settled into the pit of her stomach, she had forced all her problems onto him, but hadn’t taken the time to listen to his own struggles. 

Beth’s mind is still lingering on her parents, lingering on the way Rick had held her hand, but she can’t dwell on it for too long. Rick is right, she needs to distract herself. So she does, settling back into her spot beside Rick, the duo quietly drinking hot chocolate as the movie begins to play.

“Hey Rick?”

He turns quickly, and she can see he’s scanning her face, trying to gauge what she’s feeling. He does that a lot, and it takes everything Beth has to not smile, knowing that he cares so much. Always checking up on her.

Rick takes a moment to think. As much as he wants to tell Beth the truth, he knows he can’t. He can’t tell her he was too much of a coward to kill Grundy, but he can tell her at least some of the story.

“Yeah?”

“When we fought Eclipso at the school, what did you see? I saw my parents, but you never said what you saw.”

“I saw Grundy. And I saw myself. I saw myself at my worst moment. I was so angry, and I just let my rage take over. I let it consume me. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself more than that moment. Looking back on it, I was so stupid, just letting myself go like that. And you tried to tell me that, back then. You tried to stop me, and I didn’t listen.” That’s the truth. He does hate himself for that, but he also hates himself for letting Grundy go. It’s a whole whirlpool of conflicted emotions that he hasn’t taken the time to process. He’s not sure he ever will.

Beth is silent for a moment. There’s a lot to unpack there, and she’s not entirely sure what to say. Megamind drones on in the background, entirely forgotten. 

“I’m serious! You’re my closest friend. You’re the only person who listens to me, who’s there for me. Courtney and Yolanda are great, but they don’t stick up for me the way you do. They don’t care about me like you do. There’s no reason you should hate yourself. You let your anger take over, so what? Everyone makes mistakes, there’s no reason that you should hate yourself for having real emotions. I literally sobbed into your sweater in the rain like an hour ago, and do I hate myself for that? No!”

“Rick… You shouldn’t hate yourself.”

“Wow, very insightful.” he lets out a spiteful chuckle, and Beth halfheartedly slaps his arm.

“That was different.”

“It wasn’t! I was feeling really, really sad. You were feeling really, really angry. And you had every right to feel angry. Grundy killed your parents. If I was in that situation, I’d probably have done the same thing.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“You don’t know that.”

Rick locks eyes with Beth when she says that. He feels something inside him break, and he almost slips up,almost tells her how much he cares about her. How much he loves her. He wants nothing more than to kiss her at that moment. But now is not the time, the thoughts of failed love leading to divorce still fresh in her mind.

“I do. Beth, you're always looking for the good in people, always looking on the bright side. And I’m me. I’m always angry, always ready to fight. I hate everyone and everything.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“Beth. Thank you.”

“Rick, I should be saying thank you to you! You’re the one who came rushing through a thunderstorm to rescue me.”

“And yet somehow you’ve managed to find a way to flip the tables. You’ve rescued me.” 

They smile at each other, and lean just a little closer to one another as they turn back to the movie. Things are far from perfect for both of them, but together they’re working to make things at least a little better. And in that moment that’s all that matters.

[iphoenixrising]

DickTimWeek2021 Day 2

** Day 2: Time Loop | Jealousy | Stray AU

Welp. Time to break some hearts.

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

“Did you see that thug punch himself in the face?”

“That’s the right way to get out of an ass beating by the Batman.”

Tim, still in Red Robin, doesn’t even bother, just lets his knees buckle so he can slide down to the floor and laugh until tears are rolling down the dominio still plastered on his face.

He’s riding the concussion train with 

(J)

Josephine and she’s not as bad as some of them are. 

Dick at least tosses the gloves and gauntlets before hauling Timmy’s bruised ass up off the floor, throwing the arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, you butt. Really Timmy, just laying here in your suit? Alfred would be appalled.”

“S’why I don’t go to the Manor much anymore.”

“Ooh, I’m telling. You’re going to be in so much trouble,” as he gets Tim down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Y-You can’t! You’re the oldest! Dami’s supposed to be the tattle-tale!”

“Nu-uh. As the oldest, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

And does he tell on Timmy? You bet your ass he does.

It’s nice when Alfred can look at someone else in the family with extreme disappointment.

Tim comes by the Manor the day Alfred video chats him, shuffles down to the Cave behind the butler and absolutely sticks his tongue out at Dick’s smarmy grin.

**

His apartment is a literal mess and Dick can’t be bothered to do much more than flop on the overstuffed couch with a groan. 

Still in his uni from the day shift, he’s too bruised and battered and tired to even think of suiting up for the night. He’s been running himself ragged for two months, the day and night shifts blending together along with the usual bullshit of daily human life, and he desperately needs a night of terrible television, junk food, and snuggles.

Like he’d been reading the room, Timmy walks out of his bathroom, towel around his shoulder and hair just this side of damp.

“Hey, you made it home in one piece.” Tim’s long fingers in his hair literally pulls a noise out of Dick he can’t ever remember making.

“Yeah, I drove down because you looked like death warmed over when we talked last weekend. Luckily for you I went grocery shopping, did a few loads of your laundry, and cleaned up a little so you don’t have to worry about housework.”

“I love you. Have I told you that recently? Like, so, so much–” is muffled by the couch cushions, but he thinks Tim can probably still make it all out.

“Mmhm, I know,” and the gentle scratching against his scalp doesn’t stop, and Dick goes a little boneless with it. “I even brought my Roku so we can binge watch terrible television while you eat something more substantial than cereal. Alfred is going to be so proud of you.”

A pat to his head and Timmy is off, slinging his towel on the rack, turning on the shower again to make sure it’s nice and hot for all those bruises and contusions.

He’s no-nonsense about picking up his previous mentor and best friend, literally stripping him down and manhandling him in the shower after a low whistle at the span of blue/black across Dick’s chest and ribs, the scrapes across his back and shoulders. 

The first aid kit tackle box makes an appearance because Tim plans for literally everything ever, and Dick finds himself sitting on his sink wearily while his injuries are meticulously treated.

He knows he eats something super tasty with meat and vegetables, his belly full, before Tim pulls him down on the couch and lets Dick lay against his chest, between his legs to sleepily float while watching God-awful B-movies.

It’s the most relaxing weekend he’s had in a while.

**

Dami sneers at Tim, arms crossed over his chest, the expression on his face begging Tim to try to deny it.

The third Robin however, is looking over at Dick with horror that the big secret is finally out in the open.

“Th-that isn’t– it’s not–” Tim fumbles desperately, “he’s been my big brother forever, that’s it!”

“Tt. Grayson may be painfully oblivious, Drake, but the rest of us are detectives. Even Todd knows of your feelings and he rarely even comes to the Manor!”

Tim’s soul literally leaves his body.

Dick blinks, completely taken back, mouth open without anything coming out.

Damian raises his eyes skyward and prays for patients dealing with these two. “What I am saying,” he tries, he really is trying here, “is that you two must cease and desist this pointless–” vague hand wave– “pining for one another. It is getting to the point of absurdity. I demand you two either discuss your need for one another or take this ridiculous mooning elsewhere. The rooftops of Gotham is no place for this,” another hand wave, “utter nonsense.”

Tim’s mouth goes dry, subtly backing away to be closer to the Ducati’s waiting for tonight’s ride. He’s pretty sure he has enough energy left in his shaky knees to hop on one and be the fuck out of the Cave before his face literally bursts into flames.

But, well. Dick was Batman.

His strategic retreat is stomped into the ground by acrobatic leaps and a very well done joint lock to keep him from immediately taking off.

Dami scoffs at them on his way up the winding staircase. He stops Pennyworth on the way and turns the butler to return back into the Manor proper, citing those two needed time to figure themselves out.

**

After several weeks under deep cover, Nightwing wearily hacks into Titan’s Tower and makes his way through the maze of hallways until he hits a hidden panel. 

Tim is sleeping on his desk, only one empty coffee mug at his workstation. Even dead in his boots, Nightwing can take a second just to look, just to sigh, just to enjoy how much every inch of this boy is his.

He journeys down the hall, flips the bed covers up, carries his sleeping partner in and tucks the blankets around him, a quickly there kiss to the top of messy, too-long hair. A shower in Tim’s perch literally makes everything in life a little less awful and exhausting, not enough for him to do much more than crawl in bed against Tim’s warm body and snuggle up close.

He gets breakfast in bed and blue-violet eyes looking at him with fondness rather than awe, gets coffee flavored kisses and a slow-paced back rub that continues down to his thighs and calves and feet. Later, he gets a date night in a nice restaurant and a sweet San Fran club scene for dessert. He gets to let loose and hold Tim’s body against him, to play them both until the gazes are intense and the low key UST between them makes other people on the dance floor give them space.

**

Witty banter is a primary weapon against megalomaniacal bad guys of any flavor. For some former Robins, it’s an art form.

Over the years, they’ve cultivated their dip and distraction to bounce off one another like a well-oiled vigilante machine. 

It should have been a standard take-down because it’s not one of their more dangerous, deadly villains. It’s not one of the Rogue Gallery baddies. It’s not one of the mobster families, not one of the super powered groups come to call. It’s not someone with hordes of thugs and deadly science waiting to take them down.

It’s a simple B&E, just Nightwing talking it up to draw gunfire while Red Robin is creeping up from behind to get the last laugh.

It’s one of a thousand times they’ve done this. 

It’s a guaranteed win.

It’s the last hour of patrol before they get to go back to Red’s penthouse and snuggle together, eat and show, probably have some fantastic sex before passing out.

The .45 shell, however, cuts through the suit, between armored plates. 

Going after the running baddies is automatic, taking them down, zip ties, and viola. They’re ready for GCPD to pick-up, all kinds of gift-wrapped.

When N finally realizes Red isn’t with him, isn’t answering comms, isn’t waiting for him on the roof, he goes back inside. He hits up B for a ride in the big car in case he missed –

– anything.

The pool of blood around Red Robin is more than he can afford to lose, and Nightwing has been in the vigilante life for over twenty years, has been official with Red Robin for a little over two, has personal experience on how his Baby Bird can take a mostly-fatal beating and still keep moving. He’s seen Tim come close with the Clench, with horrifying injuries, with any of the many bad guys they fight holding him hostage.

Nightwing has seen him perform literal miracles.

And tells him so the entire time he’s got Red Robin up in his arms, carrying him through Gotham’s skyline to the waiting car, falling in with Red on his lap when the familiar hatch slides back, the tourniquet already applied before he even shot a grapple. The struggling pulse is enough of a concern to get it together.

And even if they all gather to strip off the suit, and now it’s on to get vitals back to an acceptable range. Even if the Bats cry overhead, even if the equipment is top notch in the Cave, even if Dick is still talking the whole time, and Alfred is keeping a cool head and Bruce is gripping a hand and Damian is standing at the ready to hand implements and Cass is biting her thumbnail while she hovers and Steph is moving from empty space to empty space around the gurney –

The consistent beep of the flatline cuts through it all.

**

The Titans make it for the service. 

Each of them make a point to hug Dick for as long as possible, holding on tightly.

Bruce is silent and stoic, a little boy again when he has to watch someone else he loves being lowered into the cold, unforgiving ground. Another Robin taking a piece of his heart to the afterlife. 

Steph is red-eyed, a ghost moving around to individual circles, listening to stories she might not have known. 

Cass grips the coffin with bruised knuckles, her whole body wound tight as a string ready to snap. She doesn’t move the entire service, is already convinced leaving him to his own devices caused this whole thing. She doesn’t blame the thugs or Dick or Bruce. She blames the boy that never understood how much it all means.

Duke Thomas is back in Gotham, taking leave from the Outsiders to be here for the family that took him in after the Joker drove his parents insane. He hovers in the doorway to welcome mourners, direct them toward the book to sign-in, talks about Tim Drake with regular humans and other metas in disguise, accepts condolences with his throat tight and his eyes watery. He makes sure Dick has a bottle of water after the first hour, pats Damian’s shoulder, grips Bruce’s arm, weaves an arm around Cassandra’s back to give her a squeeze, obediently looks at the old pictures of Tim on Steph’s photo roll when she’s overcome and has to see that smile again.

In the back, Jason Todd wears dark shades and a clean black suit. Roy Harper is beside him, a hand on the broad back to keep him grounded, to keep the Pit rage at bay. If anyone knows how far Tim and Jason had come over the years, it’s the former Red Arrow. If anyone knows how much agony Jason is in at this moment, at another fallen brother, another Robin gone, if anyone had held the Red Hood while he screamed and cried and broke the utter fuck down, it’s Roy Harper.

Damian Wayne hovers right by Grayson’s side, silently supporting his first Batman, his first brother. Whenever Dick’s eyes start going hazy, glazing over, Damian gently grips a wrist to bring him back, allows fingers to lace through his own and tolerates the tight squeeze that obviously assists in grounding the oldest Robin. 

(Later when the night is crowding grief-stricken Wayne Manor, Damian will be the one to open Grayson’s bedroom door, lift the covers to crawl in behind him, to wind both arms tightly. He will be the one to take the onslaught of grief, to be soaked in tears and snot, to listen to the broken, hoarse voice, to make soothing hums that ultimately mean nothing.)

Alfred Pennyworth quietly talks with the funeral director about the arrangements. Of course Master Timothy would want to be laid to rest with his parents, and the family appreciates all the support and ease of process as the deceased was an important part of the Wayne family. 

When he gets a phone call, he firmly verifies the name on the tombstone is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne Grayson.

**

Exactly four days after the service, the Flash is staring at him helplessly, gripping Nightwing’s arm tight, “please, please, Dick, don’t do this. You can’t think this is the answer!”

He can barely hear Wally with the absolute destruction going on around them, the machine they’d inadvertently stumbled upon (which is a lie, Nightwing had been looking for it and the Flash basically caught him red handed). 

“You know you aren’t going to be able to stop me.” Standing between the glowing portal and Wally, debris from overhead crashing down on them at intervals, Nightwing is at his peak stubborn, “no matter how fast you are.”

“You don’t understand what’s going to happen,” Wally yells desperately as the vacuum starts pulling at Nightwing’s other arm, pulling him into–

–the Speed Force.

“You don’t have the lightning, Dick, you won’t be able to get yourself out, and I won’t have any way of tracking you!”

The small smirk as the machine’s panel starts going haywire, lights blinking and readings off the charts, makes Wally’s heart clench hard in his chest, makes him try to dig in his heels, makes his stomach tremble.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve already done this, Wally. And I’ll do it as many times as it takes until I change everything.”

The pellet Nightwing palmed before the Flash grabbed his hand goes off the same time the machine hits the highest ratings and a low boom is followed up with an intense swirling suction, pulling the heroes closer to the portal’s surface.

The light grenade goes off without a hitch and the Flash has no choice but to let Nightwing go.

**

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

[captain-mcdavid]

alternate ending - pt.1

it’s been two years... josh and y/n have moved on and started new lives. but what happens when they find themselves in the same city working side by side? can they move past their previous games and reconnect? or will old habits die hard?

word count: 4.9k

smut: yes | no

warnings: swearing, alcohol

“Oh my god, please Thomas.” You groan, “Please, can you just be serious for one second. One second!” 

He raises his hands in defeat, “Okay, fine.” 

“Thank you,” You sigh, “Now go.” 

“Wait, what am I supposed to say again?” He asks, and you and the videographer share a look before you roll your eyes. 

“Bienvenue à nouveau, fans des habs.” You remind him. “On three, okay?” He nods, and you count down, smiling when it finally goes off without a hitch. “Alright now one more time, in English and then we can all go home.” 

He nods, and then shoots you a wink. You shake your head at him, counting up to three for the last time.

“Welcome back, habs fans!” Thomas says, and Ted, your videographer smiles.

“Done.” He turns off the camera, and you give him a pat on the back.

“We really appreciate you coming in Thomas,” You say, “Thanks again.”

“Anything for you, Y/N.” He smirks, and then he heads out.

“Alright, Ted. I’ll see you soon,” You say, gathering your things. “Have a good night.”

With that you wave and head out of the arena. Setting your things in the front seat of your Range Rover, you grin, taking a minute to admire your new car. This was something that would have taken you five years to save up for with the pay at your old job.

It’s kind of ironic, where you were two years ago to where you are now... You didn’t like your job back in Ohio but you couldn’t say you ever saw yourself coming back to Canada, let alone working for an NHL team. 

You thought you had it all figured out back in Columbus. But after your life took a nose dive you realized you really didn’t. A fresh start was what you needed, and luckily with your vast experience in media, you were qualified for a position that Seth recommended to you. A position as head of media operations for the Montreal Canadiens. 

You were weary at first, because why would you want to work in the NHL after you had a huge falling out with one of the players, but the more thought you gave it, the better the offer seemed. It was in Montreal, one of the most beautiful cities in the world, the pay was double what you were getting in Ohio, and it would be a lot more fun.

Not to mention, there were 31 teams in the NHL, and if the one guy you were worried about did ever leave Columbus, there was a ninety three percent chance he wouldn’t come to Montreal. (Literally, you calculated.)

And now it’s been two years, arguably the best two years of your life. You have everything you didn’t have in Ohio; Stable friendships, a job you actually enjoy, a great support system. You’ve gained in every aspect of your life.

You’ve just walked in your front door, when your phone rings. You pull it out of your purse, laughing when you see your bosses name lighting up the screen. “It’s been ten minutes, Reid.” You say, and he laughs. “I’m off the clock.”

“I know, I know.” He responds. “I’m sorry, just this and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Okay, shoot.” You tell him. 

“Tomorrow, media day, I split the players in half for you. We’ll do the first half tomorrow, and then the rest Friday.” 

“Sounds fine to me.” You shrug, “What changed?” 

“We have two new players flying in tomorrow, but they won’t be in until Friday. I figured instead of saving just the two newbies for Friday and rushing you tomorrow with the rest of the guys, we’d just split it evenly.” He explains. 

“Oh,” You say, usually you found out rather quickly when there were trades and new acquisitions, but you hadn’t heard anything today. “I didn’t know we got any new players, trades?”

“Yeah, two trades. I don’t know much, it just happened. New guys are, uh- let me see...” There’s a fast beating in your heart that you haven’t felt for at least a year. When you first started, every time you heard about a trade you’d get a little nervous, cause what if it was him? Eventually those nerves went away, but they seem to have made a comeback all of the sudden. 

You shake out your jitters while you wait for Reid to give you the names, “Here they are, first guy: Joel Edmundson, from Carolina.” You nod, it’s a name you’ve never heard before. 

“Second, Josh Anderson, from Columbus.” 

But that one? It’s a name you’ve heard all too many times. 

Thank god you’re not driving anymore, because you’re sure you would have swerved into oncoming traffic after hearing that. You can feel a chill spread all the way out to your finger tips, a unsettling nervous feeling sitting on your shoulders like a goblin. This can’t be happening. 

He can’t be coming here. 

“Y/N?” 

The phone is still held to your ear, but you can barely breathe let alone get a word out. 

“Are you there?” Reid asks, and finally you manage to just murmur out a noise of acknowledgement, and then you’re hanging up, nearly collapsing onto the couch. You’re in full blown panic mode. 

Within thirty minutes you’ve already fully played out scenario in your head where you quit your job and leave the city, move back in with your parents like a loser and remain single for the rest of your life. And it sucks, but honestly, it sounds better than actually dealing with this. 

If you stay, and let everything play out, you’ll have to see Josh. You’ll have to talk to him, interview him, all while acting as professional as possible so no one figures out that you have history. Now that, that seems just about impossible. 

In a haze you grab for your phone, searching for a specific contact you haven’t used in a while.

“Y/N, nice to hear from you! It’s been a while!” He says, but there’s a note of nervousness to his voice. 

“Seth.” You scold him. 

“I’m assuming you found out about Montreal’s recent acquisition?” 

“Yup, sure did.” You say sarcastically. “Twenty nine other teams that he could have gone to, Seth. Why here?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He says, “Ninety three to seven, the odds were in your favor, but apparently you’re just really unlucky.” 

“Super fucking unlucky.” You whisper, and you can hear Seth sigh on the other end of the phone. “Well, know of any other teams that are looking for media op managers? Columbus would be great,” You ramble, “There’s a really small chance he’ll come back, right?”

“Y/N, come on.” Seth says, “Last time I heard from you, you were loving it over there.”

“Yeah,” You admit, “I do, I love it here, but that’s all gonna change now.”

“It doesn’t have to,” Seth says. “You said you guys ended things on okay terms, if there’s no bad blood it shouldn’t be weird?” 

“Okay terms is not good terms. He told me he’d wait for me to figure my shit out, and then I basically pushed him out the door.” You explain, “We haven’t spoken since then, there’s no way that this isn’t gonna end terribly.”

“You can both learn to be civil and professional,” Seth tries, “You shouldn’t have to give up your job because of this.”

“Yeah, well...” You sigh, shutting your eyes tight. When you open them again you’re kind of hoping you’ll be anywhere but where you actually are, with any other reality, but you’re just stuck. “I don’t really see another way this can go.” 

“Don’t say that,” Seth whispers, “Promise me you’ll at least try. Try to make things work, don’t just give up before you’ve even tested the waters. This might end up being not even half as bad as you think it will be.” 

When you don’t respond, Seth continues, “You love your job, you love the city, you have friends... You’ve built a life for yourself there and you can’t give that up over this.”

If it weren’t for those things you would have quit the second you heard Josh’s name, but Seth is right... You’ve worked for everything you have here. You owe it to yourself to at least try to make things work here before you give it all up. 

You rub your temples with a deep groan, a dreadful feeling that you’re gonna regret this sinking in. But you sigh and agree anyway, “Okay. I’ll try.” 

“Yes!” Seth says, “You got this.” 

“Does he know?” You ask quietly. “Where I am? What I do?”

“No,” Seth answers, “I can tell him... If you want me to.” 

“No that’s okay-,” You decide, “He should probably hear it from me. Thanks, Seth.” 

“You’re welcome,” He answers, and you can’t help but smile a little. He was probably the one thing you actually missed from Columbus. “Will you call me in a few days? Let me know how things are going?”

“Yeah, of course.” You answer, “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

He confirms, and then says a short goodbye. 

You hang up the phone, and then head straight for your wine fridge. There’s a fancy bottle of white wine that you were saving for a special occasion, and while it’s not the type of celebration you were thinking, it definitely is an occasion. You pour yourself a tall glass, grab a chocolate bar, and head to the couch to start overthinking. 

Then you decide within the first ten minutes that thinking is going to do you no good, so you turn on the TV and grab another glass of wine, praying the alcohol will knock you out, because without it, there’s no way your brain will shut off. 

After the third glass and your sixth episode of Schitt’s creek, you finally start to feel tired. Instead of going upstairs and going to bed, you just flop over on the couch, pulling a blanket over your body before closing your eyes, avoiding all the thoughts bumping around in your head. 

They’ll still be there tomorrow you tell yourself, and then you’re out. 

••••••••••

friday

You’re basically tiptoeing around the arena, sneaking players here and there to get their headshots, all while trying your best to avoid him. 

Your plan is working quite well, you’ve manage to go over half the day without a run in. You’ve just finished with Shea, and you only have a few guys left, so you go for another stroll around the main concourse, looking for Brendan so you can get his goal animations done. You’re turning your head side to side, looking out for a short guy when you hear a familiar voice. 

It’s been two years but you’d recognize it anywhere. 

You freeze for a short moment before you’re all but throwing yourself into the room closest to you, which true to your luck, happens to be the men's bathroom. You twist the deadbolt behind you, staring at the door in pure horror. 

It wiggles against the hinges, and then you hear him, “This one’s locked, man.” 

You wait a good five minutes before you finally tiptoe out of the restroom, sneaking back to your office on extreme lookout. You sigh with relief when you’re in the constraints of your office. You’re finally safe now. 

“Y/N,” Reid announces, opening your office door as usual, without knocking.

You give him a small smile, “Hey, Reid, what can I do for you?”

“I found the new guys for you,” He grins, and the smile drops from your face almost immediately. “They’re ready for their close up!”

You kind of feel like there’s a camera that you can look into like you’re on the office or something, because wow, what stupidly perfect timing. 

Normally you’d have the mind to fake a laugh at his dumb joke, but you just shake your head in panic, standing from your chair as you flail your arms. “No-,” You start to say, but it’s too late. 

“C’mon in guys,” Reid moves further into your office to clear the door way and you swear you could literally throw up on the spot right now. 

“Reid- I asked Ted to do their media stuff-,” You try, but it’s too late. 

They walk in, and you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from swearing loudly in front of your boss. That doesn’t stop Josh though, you can’t even look up at him, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Holy shit.”

You nod your head, your hand slides up from your mouth to the side of your face to act as a shield, while you give Reid your fakest smile. 

He furrows his brows at you, “Everything okay, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, yeah...” You murmur, and you finally drop the awkward hand, crossing your arms with a huff. Your eyes stay trained on Reid, “I just um, I had asked Ted if he would do their media shots and he said he’d take care of it.” You explain, and your boss makes a face at you. 

“Oh how come? Are you not feeling well?” He gives you an out before you can even think of one, and you jump on it immediately, nodding your head quickly. 

“Yeah, just like splitting head ache,” You say, “Nausea, it’s gross. I don’t know what’s going on.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, and you feel terrible because you know he genuinely feels bad, Reid is one of the nicest guys out there. “You can go home, you don’t need to stick around.” He tells you, and you give him an appreciative smile, refusing to even let your eyes wander to the right. 

“That’s great, Reid. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” You’re about to drop, grab your bag and run out the room like the coward you are, but Reid motions to the boys and the overwhelming urge to throw up is stronger than ever. 

“I’ll just introduce you, and then I’ll send them over to Ted, you can get going.” He suggests, and you nod, sucking in a deep breath. “You’re looking quite pale actually.” Reid notes, “Poor thing,”

“Anyway,” He starts, and you force yourself to turn your body to the side, but you still can’t find the courage to look up at him. “This is Y/N, our head of media operations. She deals with all the social media, the interviews and that kind of thing. She’s great, she’s a huge part of our organization.” You give him a short smile in response, thanking him with a light tap on the arm. “Y/N, this is Joel and Josh, they’re gonna be great additions to the team.” 

“Joel, and Josh...” You respond quietly, extending a hand to Joel first, forcing yourself to make eye contact. “Nice to meet you,” You say, and then you move to Josh, holding out your hand to him too, repeating your earlier words firmly. “Nice to meet you,” 

It’s like your body goes cold when you look at him, he hasn’t changed one bit. He looks kind of confused, but accepts your handshake anyway, nodding with an unsure stare. He doesn’t make any move to let go, so you do it for him, pulling your hand from his grasp in a hurry while you grab your bag from behind you. 

“Sorry, Reid. Thanks again, I’ll be in tomorrow.” You tell him, and then you give Josh one last look, before heading straight out of your office. 

Reid looks a little bemused, but watches you leave anyways. You’re basically speed walking out of the arena, trying your hardest to make it to the parking garage in record time, because you actually feel like the air in the massive building is getting thinner. 

“You forgot this.” 

And just like that your heart rate spikes back up. When you don’t turn, or acknowledge him, he whispers your name and there’s a second where memories come flooding back. 

Your body is nearly frozen, you don’t think you could move right now if you wanted to. Josh comes to stand in front of you, and for the first time you’re forced to look at him. Really look at him. 

It’s been two years but you’d still know that expression anywhere. He’s hurt. 

“You work here.” He says, almost like he’s trying to convince himself. 

You bite your lips sheepishly, and you can feel your resolve starting to crumble. You can’t pretend you’re not completely overwhelmed anymore. 

“Were you ever gonna tell me?”

You find the strength to nod your head, but then a second later you’re shaking it to indicate that no, you weren’t. You hadn’t decided what you were gonna do yet, you knew he was gonna find out at some point, but you also knew deep down you were never gonna be strong enough to outright introduce yourself to him this way. You were just hoping when he did find out it wouldn’t be that bad... But here you are. “I was kinda hoping I could just avoid you.” You say honestly. 

He looks tense, like he’s holding back words. When he speaks he’s quiet, and you almost miss the way he scoffs quietly at your response. “Avoid me... Are we really that-,” He stops, leaving the sentence open, because he doesn’t know what word comes next. Neither do you, but you understand. 

You just look at each other for a moment, and it’s now that your emotions finally get the better of you. Tears well up in your eyes, and you just shrug at him, because you have no idea what to do. 

“I love this job,” You say weakly, “And I love living here, but-,”

Josh shakes his head and you stop, waiting for his interjection. “But nothing.” He starts, and then he’s moving one step closer to you, and him simply subtracting another inch shouldn’t affect you as much as it does. You feel your knees start to shake, the tears getting a little bit harder to ignore. 

“This doesn’t need to be weird.” He says quietly, “I don’t want it to be-,” Once again the words are left unsaid but you nod anyway, understanding. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod quickly, meeting his eyes. You can’t tell if the feeling is warm or cold, but it spreads through your body like wildfire within seconds. You wonder if he feels it too, if there’s anything still here after so long. He drops your gaze and holds your jacket out for you, you take it and then offer him a small smile, “Bye, Y/N.”

And then he walks away.

••••••••••

3 weeks later

“Habs reverse retro, um absolutely, I love these jerseys I think they’re really really cool, so I’m gonna swipe right on these.” Josh says, toying with the tiny phone in his big hands. 

You step in with a chuckle, waving a hand at Ted so he cuts the video. “Alright, you’re done! Perfect,” You say with a laugh, and Josh finally looks up from the phone. You share a glance with your videographer, both of you exchanging a knowing grin. 

“What?” Josh says, and you shake your head with a smirk. 

“Nothing,” You murmur. And Ted starts to laugh. 

“The camera loves you,” He says to Josh, “Almost as much as you love it,” 

He raises his eyebrows at you, “Was I not good?” The corners of his mouth turn up slightly and you just shake your head, trying to hide your wide grin. 

“No, no,” You stop him, and he looks at you skeptically. Finally you shrug and say, “Just maybe next time we do one of these you could like, I don’t know look up at the camera a time or two?” 

Josh starts to laugh, and he shakes his head, looking down bashfully at his feet. “This is not my thing, you know that.” 

And just like that, that stupid feeling is back. Out from the center of your chest all the way to your finger tips. It’s dull this time, but it’s there. You freeze, you’re really hoping Ted didn’t catch on, because you shouldn't know that. 

You change the subject before anything can come of it, and thank god Ted carries on as normal. He didn’t seem to notice, he just flips through his camera bag as usual, murmuring about Shea’s video being even worse. 

You’re not gonna give this anymore time to boil though, so you turn to the culprit, “You’re uh, you’re good to go, thanks Josh.” You say, scratching at the back of your neck. 

He just nods, looking worried at first, but and then half smiles before heading out the door. Once he’s out of ear shot you sigh, grabbing your bag off the chair. 

“Time for a lunch break, Ted?” Cause, wow do you ever feel like you need one. “We’ll film Brendan after?”

“Sounds good,” Ted smiles. 

You nod and then head for the hallway, making sure to go the opposite way Josh did. If you have to walk the whole concourse so be it. 

You shouldn’t be so skittish, you know that... But things have been good the last three weeks. You’ve managed to talk without it being horribly awkward, and no one has found out about your history yet. However, you’re not going to take any chances. The longer you’re in the same room with him, the more likely someone is to slip up, like Josh almost just did. You don’t need to spend a bunch of time with him, just enough time to get your job done. So that’s what you’ve been doing, the bare minimum. Talking only if you absolutely need to. 

The habs were having a great start to the season, not to mention Josh was a huge part of that. He was having the best start of his career, and you weren’t going to ruin it. 

You take a seat at one of the tables in the common area, pulling your book and salad out of your bag with a huff. You would really rather a burger and fries, or something not made up of 90% water, but it was in the fridge and it was easy so you grabbed it. 

You stab the fork into the lettuce, pulling it up one time before you just shake your head and leave it in the container, prodding around at it while your stomach grumbles. 

You look up from your book when your name is called, Joel and of course, Josh are sitting down at a table across from you, an obscene amount of boxed food in their hands. 

Your heart is thumping rapidly in your chest, and you try your best to talk through it, raising your hand in a wave, “Hi, guys.” 

“What’s going on?” Joel asks, “Hungry?”

“No but you sure look it,” You lie, nodding to the boxes they’re holding. 

Joel smiles giddily as they start to open them up, you just grin and then go back to poking at your salad, trying not to pay attention to how good their food smells. You try to distract yourself with your book, but yet again, that doesn’t last long. 

“Hey,” You look up, eyes meeting a complete stranger this time. “I was just wondering if you could tell me where the opposing team locker room is?” 

“Oh, yeah!” You say, standing from your chair to direct him down the hallway. “You’re a player?” You clarify, just to be sure, and he nods. “It’s just down the hall and to the left. Past the equipment room.” 

“Okay...” He says, and you stare oddly as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Thanks,”

He has longer blonde hair, what these stupid boys would probably call a flow, and a long one at that, but he pulls it off. He’s got a nice face with a trimmed beard, and you can tell just from one look at him, swedish. 

He stares at you for a moment and then chuckles uncomfortably, “I’m sorry, worst conversation starter ever.”

Your stomach knots when he says that, and you want to believe that the reason for it has nothing to do with that fact that Josh is sitting right there, watching all of this. You just smile awkwardly, “It wasn’t terrible? More the follow up that could use some work...” You joke. 

“I just saw you sitting here and I thought you were really beautiful, I’m William. I play for the Oilers.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and although this guy is really sweet all you can think about is Josh sitting right there and hearing all this, but you try your best to smile anyway, not wanting to be rude. “That’s really sweet of you, thank you.” Maybe at a different time you’d give this guy a chance, because he seems quite nice. You briefly remember seeing a name on the Oilers roster for tonight, William Lagesson.

He’s about to open his mouth again, when a whistle from behind the both of you catches your attention, you turn to see a red head with a toothy grin. “Leave that poor girl alone, Laggy.” The red head snips, and William runs a hand through his hair nervously. 

You laugh, trying to make him feel better, and he chuckles with a shake of his head, mumbling an apology for his teammate. “Can I maybe just get your number?” He asks, and you try not to look as surprised as you really are. 

It’s been ages since someone asked you for your number, and apparently it’s been a long time since you said no too, because you completely forget how.  

Your overwhelming urge to be nice all the time fails you here, and you find yourself saying yes even though you really don’t want to. He’s sweet and all but, you’d rather not do the hockey player thing again. 

At the last minute you finally have the mind to put a fake number in, and you feel bad momentarily as he smiles and says bye, but as soon as you see the empty spot at Joel’s table, you just feel panicked instead.

Josh is gone... Does that mean he didn’t hear?

You pack up your things and then stop beside Joel, he side eyes you and then makes a face and you just frown. 

“Coach texted Josh, so he wasn’t lucky enough to hear that whole thing... Me on the other hand?” He takes an obnoxious bite of his food as he shoots you a wink, and all you can do is roll your eyes, and walk away. “That was hilarious!” Joel calls behind you, and you just wave him off, but really, there’s some relief setting in when you find out that Josh missed that last part. 

When you arrive back at your office, there’s a note from your boss, and a box on your desk. 

“Head home early today. Boys will be preparing for the game. We can finish up on Monday. -Reid” Is written in his chicken scratch on a bright pink sticky note. 

You do a happy little wiggle, and then reach for the box. It smells amazing, and your stomach grumbles at the thought, but then when you open it and realize what it is, you’ve suddenly lost your appetite. 

It’s pad thai and spicy yam chicken... Your favorite. 

You know instantly this isn’t from Reid... There’s probably only one person in the world who knows what your order is. You used to go to that thai place by his house all the time, and you’d always order the same thing. 

You don’t even put your bag down, you just leave the food on your desk and turn the light off before walking out. 

You try your best not to think about everything that happened today on your way home, because it felt like a huge step back after three weeks of progress. 

You stop for some groceries, and take a look in a little boutique, anything to keep your mind busy. When you arrive home you play music almost as loud as it can go, hoping it will drown out your thoughts. Over the last three weeks you’ve done enough thinking about this, you’re tired. 

So you workout, shower, make some dinner, and then you sit down to watch the game, pinching yourself every time you find your eyes lingering on number seventeen a little too long. 

The game is pretty slow, the boys aren’t playing their best, Edmonton is on their game and you just know they’re not gonna come out of this one with the two points, but you watch anyway. You kind of want to turn it off and switch to something else after the second period, but you give in and stick around for the third. 

All is fine and normal until the five minute mark ticks down on the clock. 

The camera spans to the right to follow the players going up the ice, when you hear the commentator say, “Big battle, in front of the net...”

And your heart just about stops, because you have a feeling you know exactly who it is. Guess Joel was wrong... He did hear the whole thing. 

“Anderson, and Lagesson, they’re still tied up together. Anderson is hot.”

[vintage-writes]

Six Shots Later Tomura Shigaraki x Reader

Word Count: 1 728

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki

Summary: The League of Villains decide to go bar hopping one night and Shigaraki boasts about his impressive tolerance. Impressive indeed, six shots later and he is literally barely able to function. It is now Y/N’s job to see him home safely.

Warnings: None, It’s all fluff. He’s literally an angel. 

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

The dingy hallway stretched forward in a rather bleak manner. The air feels musty. The lighting is terrible. Most bulbs have burnt out already while others flicker insistently. The paint is peeling off the walls and the distinct smell of urine wafted in the air. The apartment building is absolutely disgusting but funds were low and it is rather inconspicuous. The heroes most probably won’t have the stomachs to search the building or will assume the League of Villains would have more class. Whatever the case, this disgusting sack of bricks is the current residence of the most feared villains in Japan, and it’s ironically fitting. The upside to a building this disgusting is that there are barely any other tenants, and the few who remain in the building tend to mind their own business. Which is exactly what you need right now.

“Move Faster!” shouts Tomura Shigaraki, the head of the League of Villains.

“ ‘I don’t get drunk easily’, he says", You mutter under your breath. Yes, clearly Shiggy has the amazing tolerance he so desperately claims he has. Six shots later and he’s stumbling around the street yelling Christmas carols at random passers-by and claiming that they have no Christmas spirit. He then proceeded to wave using his father’s hand, which effectively created a lot of chaos. You are praying to God that no one who saw thought calling a hero was necessary.

Shiggy moves around trying to get more comfortable on your back. Of course, being the girlfriend, you now have to lug him back to his room while everyone else moves on to the next bar. You can now cross, giving a Villain a piggy-back ride, off your bucket list. Shiggy shifts again and yells out more words. You have no idea what he’s saying.

You finally see the door leading into your shared apartment, you adjust him on your back as he flops forward causing you to stumble into the door.

“Babe?” You ask.

No response. Maybe he knocked himself out. 

After fishing around for the key you’re able to get into the apartment, lock the door and enter your room. You shift Shigaraki onto the bed and he flops onto his back. You can’t help but give a quiet chuckle at his starfish shape. Cotton Candy hair framing his peaceful face. The bags under his eyes are still prominent and yet he appears to be comfortable. The air in the room is peaceful, a rare moment for the villain haunted by his nightmares. His chest rises and falls steadily and his eyelids flutter slightly. 

You leave quickly to fetch a wet towel and upon return you see that he is sitting up. He sways slightly on the bed. His clothes are ruffled and his hair sticks up slightly. His eyes are barely staying open as he rubs at them like a child. The soft expression on his face doesn’t quite surprise you, over the past few months he has slowly but surely opened up to you. His soft nature is often overlooked due to his criminal persona, but it’s always there. Tomura never yells at his comrades, always treats them nicely, and remembers small things about them. A memory pushes its way to the surface of your mind. Three weeks ago, Tomura ordered food for all of you while you were out on a job. It was only him at the warehouse and when you got back you were starving. You fully expected him to just order a few pizzas but what awaited you was a variety of your favourite dishes. Not a single person said it out loud, but you felt it. You all came to a silent agreement. This man is an Angel and you would remain loyal until the end.

If the world could see the Tomura that you see, they would understand. You see it, even now, how delicate he looks lying on the bed. You could blame it on the alcohol for stripping away most of his walls, but this person in front of you doesn’t want to harm anyone, he is vulnerable. You take a tentative step forward and lean down in front of him. Crimson eyes study you gently with vague recognition. You take your cloth and gently wipe across his eyes. 

His nose.

His cheeks. 

His Jaw. 

You pause and breathe in slowly. Strong alcohol permeates the air around him. His clothes also look uncomfortable. Although the material looks soft, it is rather thick. Possibly too warm for the night air. In the past few weeks, you have crossed a lot of boundaries ,respectfully, in this room and on this bed. Surely, he wouldn’t mind losing a few layers of clothing for a short while. 

You move to grab another shirt from the cupboard before settling in front of him again. You blush as it occurs to you that your are Kneeling directly in front of him.

No No No. He’s drunk, pull yourself together!!

You clear your throat. 

“Just Breathe”, you remind yourself. You reach for the corner of his shirt and tug gently.

“Tomura? Hey Baby, I need you to let me take off your shirt.”, You say as you tug again.

He throws his back and lets out a weird whine. You freeze and immediately let go. Crimson eyes stare at you again, however this time, it is not gentle. His expression has completely darkened. You lean away from him and watch as he holds up both hands.

“I..”, he says, but doesn’t finish his sentence. His mouth gaping open and closed like a fish.

You hum gently and watch carefully as his words fail him. He looks like a small child about to throw a tantrum. His face twists as his mouth struggles to form words. Weird huffing noises escape him. For a second, you wonder if he might actually lose his cool and yell at you. Perhaps, you overstepped?

“I Have a GIRLFRIEND!!”, He shouts suddenly. The word Girlfriend is drawn out slowly as if he were talking to a child. You freeze before your lips move on their own. A smile has officially wormed its way onto your lips. You swallow hard.

Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Even though he is so cute right now. His lips have morphed into a pout. His childlike expression throws you off guard. Your breath catches and his eyes scrunch. How can someone with so many crimes be so adorable? How is he so beautiful? Red eyes glow in front of you, completely incandescent. This villain may kill you by looks alone. You look away feeling flushed.

“Baby, I am your girlfriend.”, You offer gently, “It’s me, Y/N”

“Princess?”

“I’m here”

His eyes light up slightly, his expression calm once again. Until his eyes narrow at you. He’s studying you, you can feel his gaze searing into your skin as he analyses every nook and cranny of your body. His eyes seem half satisfied before he blurts out.

“You’re also very pretty. My princess is so beautiful. She’s stunning. She’s my light. I like the light.”, he babbles. His voice is surprisingly smooth. Your heart leaps forward. He’s going to be the end of you. You suddenly feel the need to hold him. To hear his heartbeat and to feel his breath against your ear while he whispers gently, the sweet sayings that can comfort you in any tragedy. His warmth, that glows strongly in someone that the world has cast away. You reach forward to grab him again but he jerks away again.

He whines again. His hands ball into fists as he raises them. His eyes are wide open. His mouth tilted into a frown. 

“I don’t want you to die.”, he admits softly. 

“You’re not going to hurt me.”

You reach forward again, this time your aim is directed to his jacket but he evades again. He appears more desperate now. His hands are even higher, as they wave around.

“Baby, please trust me.”, you say gently as if talking to a wild animal ready to bolt. He tilts his head and looks at you again. His face blanks. Void of any emotions, his face tilts in the other direction. He huffs out a breath before allowing the faintest smile to grace his chapped lips.

“Ok Y/N, I trust you.” he relents and lowers his arms slightly. The initial wariness has not left him though. You reach again for his jacket and extract his gloves. You gently raise your hand and curl your fingers around his left wrist. You whisper some words of encouragement and slip his glove on. You then reach again for his right wrist and slip that glove onto his other hand. He wiggles his fingers within the gloves.

You burst out laughing at his innocent action. His fingers wobbling about as his face shapes into the brightest smile. It overtakes the room and any uneasiness fades away. He too lets out a low chuckle and throws his head back. It’s surprisingly soft. He leans forward unsteadily and looks you dead in the eye. His right hand lifts ever so gently before running a gloved finger over your head and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiles again, this time, it feels softer, more intimate. His eyes have drilled their way into your soul. The glow of fireflies entrap you into his world.

“Now I can’t hurt you.”, his voice flutters against your ear. His breath is hot. Heat spreads across your face and your tiny voice of reasoning begins to soften ever so slightly. He pulls back slightly and your eyes immediately lock onto his lips. Chapped ever so slightly but full and soft nonetheless. 

Shiggy’s head sways forward, forehead resting against your own. Powder blue hair curtains around us. His breath fans against your face, fluttering against your lips. Mouth only inches from my own. Your lips part. You’re ready. Heart Beating. Head pounding. Blood rushing.

“Goodnight Love”, he whispers, before turning away.

What?

He flops onto the bed. Head first and still shirtless. 

Are you kidding right now? He proceeds to bury his nose into the cushions and before you know it, he’s fast asleep. 

Did he just?

Sure whatever.

You climb onto your feet and hop onto the bed next to him. It’s fine, You’ll get him in the morning.

[binniesthighs]

two tails | reader x minho |

One 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho 

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff 

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, meet cute scenarios, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language 

Word count: 3.9k 

Chapters 

P | ONE | TWO

homebody noun 

: one whose life centers around the home. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Grocery stores are a cursed place. Horrible. You might have guessed that if there were to be a special layer of hell to be reserved for you (which you sure as hell wished there wasn’t) it would likely be a grocery store. 

Firstly, they are one of the messiest places that you could ever experience. Have you seen the ways that those beige-y grey floors get caked with dirt and smudges from who knows what? Have you seen the dirt and grime that hides under those produce shelves? Secondly, why is it that everyone always feels the need to get so close to eachother crammed in those isles? Why is it that you have to do that awkward shuffle when your cart and someone else’s cart gets in each other’s way and you have to do the “no you go first” and “no, you go first.” 

You prayed that you had been good enough in this life to escape some kind of grocery-store induced hellscape. 

Partly it was Bomi’s fault. Temperamental nuisance. Three days into her newest bag of cat food and she suddenly decided to go on a hunger strike. The internet  had told you that perhaps she just didn’t like the flavor. Little did the internet know that you had nearly already tried every other flavor there was, even the expensive ones. 

You stared down to your crinkled up list filled with the ramblings of an attempted grocery list and other absentminded doodles. 

DONT FORGET STUPID NEW CAT FOOD 

Under the reminder, you had drawn an angry little cat face with Bomi’s characteristic calico facial splotches. 

“Damn cat. You’re lucky that I still love you.” You uttered under your breath. 

The wheels of your cart screeched as you turned the corner into the pet isle. Of course, you were the lucky one that had to pick the cart that had only three functioning wheels and whined like your mother over the phone. You cringed to yourself, bearing through the sound and the two glances from a mother and her child throwing an obscenely large bag of dog food into their totally normal cart. 

You didn’t need to, but you mouthed a tiny “sorry” to them as you passed them. 

The tall metal racks appeared to touch those flickering fluorescent lights above them as you perused them, glancing over all of the brands which you had undoubtedly purchased one time or the other. 

Tuna, salmon, tuna and salmon, tuna and veggies, salmon and veggies... 

What would it be that Bomi would tolerate this time? Was it grains that she didn’t like? Wet food? 

Merely looking at the prices for the canned cat food sprung such a headache that you wished you hadn’t looked at them at all. But, if it was what your princess would eat... 

On the highest shelf, your gaze caught a brand that you hadn’t seen before, so you summoned your strength to stand on your tip-toes, stretching up your arm as far as you possibly could, teetering just a little... 

“Al...most--” 

“Here, I can get that, let me just--” 

“--Oh no, it’s fine, I can reach it, thank you--” 

“--It’s alright, I’ve almost got it...” 

His elegant fingers got tangled up with yours. Had your determination been any weaker, he would have snatched it up all himself, but...

He chuckled a little. “Are you sure?” 

You turned your head to affirm, “Positiv--Minho?” 

“Y/n?” 

You had finally had the little can in your grasp, only to feel it slip out of your fingers in your shock. 

The terrible sound of the aluminum can hitting Minho’s head and glasses bonked between your fumbling arms, working just too slow. 

“Ssss-OW!” 

Minho’s hand went immediately to rub at the top of his head with eyes tightly shut. 

“Oh my god!!! Are you okay?” 

Instinctually you swooped in to see if any harm had been done. 

“Ah-I’m fine, don’t--I’m fine.” 

Your neighbor patted down his head, trying to craft a smile for you under his painfully crossed brows. 

“Are you sure? I-I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid and clumsy, don’t you think that you have a concussion or something?” 

He laughed out a sharp chuckle, then winced at what the action did to his head. “I don’t think so.” 

“Are you sure about that?” If he could have heard, he would have noticed your heart anxiously beating at a hundred times per second. 

“It’s okay, really, I’ve had worse things thrown at my head.” 

“What the hell could be worse???” 

“You don’t want to know.” He maintained his hopeful grin. 

Even after being assaulted by cat food, he was still just as beautiful as you remembered. 

“Oh! Your glasses!! Where did those go??” 

Frantically, you spun around, shoving your cart aside with another startling screee. Quickly you found them nearest the bird seed. 

“Here. Here you go, I hope that they’re not broken.” 

“Mm-doesn’t look like it.” Minho inspected them. 

“Oh thank God.” 

He huffed out one more little scoff-sounding laugh. “At least you’ve got the cat food that you wanted now. 

“Yeah, but at what cost?” 

“I said don’t worry about me.” 

Minho fluffed his hair back into place, likely hiding another rub to his throbbing head. 

What even does one say to someone who you nearly wrecked with cat food? 

“You uhh--what are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, getting cat food.” Minho snatched a bag of food from a lower shelf. “With three mouths to feed you tend to run out pretty fast.” 

“Oh! I-uh...can imagine.” 

“Weird shopping here like I live here now...never thought that would happen. I’m still getting used to everything around here; never knew that I would end up back living with my mom...and at my age.” 

“Don’t-don’t feel bad! It’s a nice area around here! At least I think, and it’s a... nice grocery store...” 

You did not think that it was a nice grocery store, but it seemed like the right thing to say. 

Minho smiled back at you warmly, just as he had done back on your doorstep, tabby cat in his arms. You had wanted to see it again. 

“-Guess that means I’ll be seeing you around here more often too then.” He took the cat food can--his ex-assailant-- to drop into your cart. 

“I guess so...and sorry, again.”

“Really don’t worry about it!” Minho rolled up his hands into little sweater paws on the handle of his cart. “I’ll see you later then.” 

“See...you...” 

Your words trailed behind him, seeing as he had already started wheeling away. As soon as he was out of an earshot, you cursed yourself out terribly--another habit you had developed since living alone; you really were your only company. 

“God, Oh god. Now he thinks that I’m a recluse and a wreck, oh god--” 

“--Hey! Watch where you’re going!!” 

An old man with a newsboy cap griped before you nearly collided with him and his cart full of diet sodas. 

“Sorry!! I’m so sorry!” You bowed profusely in apology while removing yourself from the isle as fast as you could.

Grocery stores really were your own kind of personal hell. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The cold metal of the bus stop sign dissolved into your sweating forehead while you watched the springtime sunset fade out before you. It really was pretty, and it was just enough to distract you from how weighed down your backpack and numerous reusable bags felt. Had your hands been free, you would have taken a picture. 

What time is it even? 

Your watch was restricted by the number of straps around your wrists. Sometimes stepping outside of your home and onto the sidewalk was draining enough to make you feel like scurrying back inside. Big trips like this however, had you falling asleep in those uncomfy plastic chairs in (also) disgustingly messy buses. 

To your right, you heard the usual hum of the number 10 bus wheel up. 

“Wait! Wait!! Hold the bus!!” 

Hurried footsteps came patting behind you, followed with shallow running breaths. 

Hair bopping and cardigan flopping a little like wings behind him, Minho sprinted to the doors. 

“Take a seat ma’am.” The bust driver snapped you out of your embarrassment over seeing him one more time than you would have liked. 

“Ah-sorry, I will.” 

You shuffled your way near back of the bus and attempted to hide your face behind your bags decorated with none other than flowers and cartoon cats. 

“Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.” You chanted under your breath while your neighbor looked for a seat. 

“Y/n? Heh, I just keeping running into you don’t I?” 

“Minho!!!!” You piped, just a little too animatedly. “Huh! Didn’t figure I would see you here...too...” 

Minho slid into the booth across from you. “I mean, it makes sense, we’re going to the same place basically.” 

“Don’t you...have a car or something?” 

“I do, but I figured that the grocery store was close enough, although, I didn’t really factor in how all of this would weigh a ton.” 

“Hm, I never really do as well.” 

A pair of older lades glared over at the two of you, clearly displeased that you were disrupting their peaceful bus ride. Minho cowered under their piercing and aged brown eyes, then stealthily slid into the seat next to you. 

His washed out jeans brushed up against your leggings, and you felt your hairs stand on end. If there was someone out there who decided if you went to a hellscape grocery store, they must have also been able to mask the smell of your sweat. You hoped that they were listening to your pleading requests. 

“It’s a really a nice evening isn’t it?” 

Minho peered out your window at the little shops and bustling streets beside you. The sidewalks were decorated with little skinny trees here and there which had just started to bloom with the buds of leaves and flowers. There was a peaceful air about the scene that reminded everyone that the cold would soon be gone for good, and the sky swirled into pinks and purples. 

“Oh! Yes, yes it is.” 

You tried your best to ignore the fact he was leaning into you slightly. 

“So. What else do you do besides be a cat parent and a part-time chucker of canned goods?”

You wanted to crawl in a hole once you saw his adorable grin once more. “I-I have a job, a couple actually.” 

“A couple? And what are they?” 

“I teach online college courses in creative writing and English.” your glasses fell a little down your nose bridge, so you adjusted them accordingly, “I also edit for a small publishing company--but that’s more of a side thing.” 

“That’s...a lot of writing and things like that.” 

“Well, it’s what I went to school for, and, I don’t mind...although my mother--” 

“--Have you written anything yourself? Anything that I could read?” 

You felt your cheeks set ablaze with heat. “You?! Oh no no no no.” 

“What?” A mischievous grin overtook Minho’s adorable one. “Do you write provocative content?” 

“No! I do not!” Your tone turned more defensive than you had intended. 

“Well, what do you write? Even if you did write that kind of stuff, I wouldn’t mind. Provocative contents are trendy these days.” 

“I didn’t even say that I write in the first place!” 

“I just assumed seeing as you seem to do other things in this field...so, what do you write?” 

“It’s embarrassing, and I don’t owe you the knowledge!!” 

Minho reached over your fuming body to pull at the bus cord, letting out the little stop requested tune. 

“What is it that you do then?” 

“Something boring and business-y that you wouldn’t care to know about. It’s definitely not as interesting as what you do I’m sure.” 

Your neighbor gathered up his bags while the bus slowed to the stop. 

“You coming?” 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[19:07] 

me: seung, i’m such a fool. you will not believe 

seungmo: should I even guess? what? Bomi yack during your online lecture again? 

me: no, worse. 

seungmo: i’m listening. 

i guess i don’t really have a choice though don’t I? 

you’re just gonna tell me anyway aren’t you? 

The cat in question purred in your lap, permitting you your usual one hour of cat-attention a day like she would during the evenings. After your day of embarrassment, you had hunkered down on your favorite place on the couch, swaddled in blankets with the TV playing some nature show that you had been trying to pay attention to. Somehow, the thought that Minho living just doors away made it all seem even worse; you were bound to see him again. 

You bit your lip and started tapping away at your phone screen, regaling the entire tale to your best friend--who frankly had enough of your awkward “you-isms.” However, no matter how socially insecure you were, Seungmin appeared to stick by you. In fact, it was one of your “you-isms” that had brought the two of you together. 

Four years ago at that pet shelter where you had got Bomi, Seungmin was there too looking for a dog. It was Bomi’s skittish self that leapt out of her cage and into Seungmin’s arms when his dog started barking. Bomi had nearly destroyed Seungmin’s sweater by the way that she had clawed into him. Of course, you took her crime upon yourself and insisted on buying him a new sweater. After an exchange of phone numbers, he hadn’t gotten bored of you yet. Bomi had always liked him more than you--the traitor. 

[19:18] 

me: ...and then he showed up on the bus, just as I had thought that I had escaped, and then started berating me about what I do for a living. 

seungmo: are you sure he wasn’t just asking questions, NOT berating? 

me: it felt like it. 

seungmo: and why are you telling me all of this? 

me: bc I wanted you to give me some comfort?? or reassurance?? isn’t that what friends do? 

seungmo: what do you want me to say? I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing? get over it? stuff like that happens to you all the time y/n, I don’t know why you are making such a big teal of it. 

*deal of it. 

me: wow, you’re being of such help. 

seungmo: you’re overthinking it. as always. 

me: but i’ll have to SEE HIM again. 

Seungmin’s little three writing dots disappeared, and you waited in silent anxiety for what he would say next. 

[19:24] 

seungmo: you’ve got a crush on him don’t you 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The evening sky had darkened, and you felt the air temperature begin to drop. It wasn’t unbearable however, and you had prepared yourself well with your giant sheep-like blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The cold wire chair that you sat in was undoubtedly pressing shapes into your bare legs crossed up on it, but you never seemed to mind it. 

Bomi yowled behind the sliding glass door to your backyard, so you allowed her to exit, making her a much happier cat. The two of you enjoyed these nights together deeply--they almost felt like a brief escape from life. Bomi would sneak around the edges of the fence, sniffing and looking rather suspicious when her green eyes would glow in the light of the house. Your glasses likely looked the same reflecting the light from your computer screen. 

You took one more sip of tea, then opened up your internet. A couple clicks, and you found the notification screen on your page. 

hearts: 267 

shares: 19 

comments: 21

Your eyes scanned over the little paragraphs that some of your readers had written for you. It made your heart swell with immense joy seeing the way that they had analyzed and picked apart every little part of your prose and how they would write IN ALL CAPITIAL LETTERS about how excited they were for your next chapter. 

~

I can’t wait for the next chapter! I’m DYING to know what was in that chest!! I really hope that Bomi can trust Davers. He just seems a little shady to me >////< 

YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS. The fact that Bomi could fight off the dragon while Blaze was confessing his feelings for her??? I could never lollll 

 P L E A S E protect little Herbie. He’s such a cutie. I wish that hedgehog companions were real, I would take one with me everywhereeeee 

N/n, your writing is so so pretty!! I felt like I was right there in the scene with them! The way that you described the enchanted fountain had me drooling ahhh you’re such an inspiration to me as a writer!!! 

Blaze fanclub?? i’m trying to see somethin’ 

~

“If Blaze were real, I’d be the president of that fanclub.” You laughed out to yourself. 

Suddenly, you found you thoughts shifting from your dreamy Blaze to someone much less fictional. 

Crushes on boys who were real was much better than one’s who weren’t. It was nice admitting it to yourself at last. 

“Ahhhh” You sighed out, doing a little happy dance in your seat, then opened up the chat box to return to the replies. 

After responding to as many as you could, you opened up a new chapter. 

Chapter 22 

Blaze wiped off his sword, stained with the steel blue blood of the dragon, still steaming with heat underfoot. His disheveled deep black trellises were coated in his own sweat but it didn’t make him look any less dashing--per usual. 

“Princess Bomi, you still haven’t answered my question.” 

Bomi sheathed her own sword, then inspected her wooden shield for any more damage. For a moment, she thought that the claw marks made it look even more beautiful and intimidating. 

“Blaze. You know that I can’t talk about romance at a time like this, have you forgotten that the kingdom as stake?”  

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi perched at her usual spot in the window, eyes fluttering closed before she would take her nap that would last for nearly the whole afternoon. You would have been lazing with her, but that would have to wait another hour or so: with your newest paycheck, you had decided to deliver some new flowers to yourself for your garden. 

The little array was spread out before you: yellow and purple pansies, pink tulips, fuchsia and baby pink peonies, and dainty while lilies of the valley were arranged where you had planned to adorn your front lawn. The aroma of the flowers lingering in the air was enough to make you feel as if you had transported yourself to the very magical gardens that you would be writing about that evening. 

A pair of songbirds chittered past, carrying their whistles behind them. For a brief moment, the sun shone directly onto your arms spotted with dirt and filled your whole body with warmth. Nothing was more peaceful than this. You took to work, crackling them out of their plastic pots, and digging at the earth in holes to hold them down. After a while, you felt the dew from the grass start to soak into your work-jeans, but it was a welcome little cool feeling. Next, you popped up to hose them down with your little attachment that made the water cascade like a rain-shower. You admired for a moment how the water would create little rainbows from the spray. 

“Ahem, uh-hi there!” 

You choked out a gasp before swinging around, aiming the hose like your sword to the startling voice. 

“STAY BACK!!’ 

You pointed the stream directly at them, only in your horror to see your neighbor, trademark cardigan and all, soaking wet from your weapon. 

“GOD! That’s cold.” 

The fabric hung onto him, adhering to every part of his body which was much more toned than you had expected.

Minho looked absolutely bewildered as the water dripped off his frame with sad little pat pat pats on the concrete sidewalk. 

“Oh God. Oh God. Minho, I’m so so sorry. I-I can’t believe that I keep doing this to you--” 

You nearly felt like crying, but for fear of embarrassing yourself further, you decided to turn around quickly in search of your rags. They were garden rags, but dry nonetheless. 

“Here, here, I-I think that these should help.” 

You dabbed at his body, although it was clear that this wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

“Stop, stop,” He pushed your hands away. “I just live next door, I’ll live being a little drenched.” 

“You realize that's an oxymoron right?” Your nervous hands continued dabbing. 

“A what??” Minho kindly laughed at your frantic hands. 

“It’s a...writing thing. Sorry...” 

“I really need to be careful around you don’t I?” 

Your mouth crinkled into a flustered line. “M’sorry.” 

“Can you quit apologizing?? Here, I came over to give you these, my mom made some extra side dishes so she wanted me to bring them over to you.” 

“Oh.” He handed you the little bundle of Tupperware containers. “Thanks.” 

“She also, or--I mean--I wanted to invite you over so that you could meet my cats...and! my mom. My mom too.” 

“You want me to come over?” 

“I did mention that I wanted to a little while ago didn’t I?” 

“Oh! You did...” 

“Does next Saturday work? Around 5?” 

“I-I can do five.” You brushed your muddied hand across your sweating brow. 

Minho scoffed, “You’ve...got something...on your...” 

“Oh! Oops.” You tried your best to wipe off the dirt, but you didn’t know you had only made it worse. 

Minho squeezed out his soaked sleeve to carefully raise it to your forehead. “Here, like this.” 

This close to you, his brown eyes deeply shone with the color of coffee, chocolate, the bark of forest trees after a spring rain, and a million other things that your writer brain could compare them to. 

“There. It’s all gone.” 

For a moment, you wondered if you really had fantasized him, or if he really was real. For you, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he was some kind of figment of your imagination: they usually were. 

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

[1 missed call, Mom, 09:12] 

“Y/n are you there? Why is it that you never pick up your phone? I’ve told you so many times that you should pick up when I call. What if it’s an emergency? What if someone’s died?? Nevermind, I wanted to call and tell you my friend’s daughter is getting engaged and I’ve been invited to the bridal party. I think that you should come with. It’ll be good to get you out of that house. 

Why is it that you haven’t gotten yourself married yet? You know that you aren’t getting any younger?? Either way, call me back. You’ll need to bring a gift too. Its impolite to show up without a gift. 

Ah, I almost forgot. Your brother got a promotion at work; I’m not sure if he’s told you. We’ll be having dinner to celebrate this weekend. Can I count on you to be there? 

Also, how is the job search going? Your father has some more connections for you to speak to. You need to take advantage of every one of them. You’re so close to getting something that really matters. I can feel it. Ah, I just feel like you’re wasting away there sitting at that computer with those silly classes. It’s like, barely any contribution at all. You could be making so much more money. 

Anyway, call me back once you hear this. 

love you sweetie, talk soon. 

i know that its tuesday and i said I would publish on mondays shhh just pretend I published this yesterday ooP 

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Big Secret

Pairing: Kirishima x reader, but also . . . pining!Bakugou

Warnings: Mentions of/implied sex, but nothing actually graphically happening. Gay/Bi/Poly fun stuffs. Bakugou doesn’t like the color pink. Also language from YoU kNoW wHo

Author’s Note:

*sips tea*

So.

Technically, no one asked for this, but I wanted to write it anyway. Then someone requested a sequel, so I made this prequel first (because I had a clearer idea, nothing against them). It doesn’t matter if you read Little Secret or Big Secret first, so do whatever if you’re new. 

Little Secret did surprisingly well, so I was more than happy to jump back into the mini AU. This takes place about a month before the events of Little Secret. I could not pick whether this is angst or crack, so I made it both. Both is good.

This is my first crack at angst (haha, see what I did there? I’m so smart and funny). If it’s bad, then it’s kind of just practice for me. If it’s good and you decide you like it . . . hooray! I did something right for once.

Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

-Sugar

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

Bakugou stood in front of your door, scowling as usual.

Ever since you and Kirishima had started dating, it felt like the red-haired hard boy was impossible to be reached, constantly spending all his time with you. Bakugou had expected as much when the two of you had announced to him that you were a couple, but this was starting to get ridiculous. He was starting to feel a little too left out, getting angry at how much he found himself missing your presences as you had once hung out interchangeably in all three of your rooms. But that was before, when you were all just friends.

Just friends.

Bakugou shook his head before rapping impatiently at your door. "Oi, (N/N), have you seen Kirishima?"

"I'm in here."

Katsuki immediately recognized the sound of the redhead's voice on the other side of your door, causing him to frown. Of course. Just as he'd anticipated.

"It's open," you called.

And you were in there too. Gods, he hoped he didn't just catch you two doing something disgusting, like kissing or worse. He was almost to the point of praying that the two of you were at least decently clothed when he opened the door.

What he most certainly didn't expect was the sight before him, immediately smacking him in the face the moment he walked in.

Kirishima had just gotten up from laying belly down on the floor, clad only in a pair of loose black sweatpants, defined muscles clearly out for anyone to see. You were right next to him, sitting in your cute pajamas. Bakugou had tried telling you off for copying him by wearing that black tank top like he did, but you had insisted that it had been as much your idea as it had been his. His gaze wandered to your bare legs, accentuated by a pair of short (F/C) shorts.

The most shocking thing however, was the fact that both your faces were slathered in some sort of mint-green paste, hair tied up and pushed back with fuzzy animal-themed headbands.

"Need something, Bakubro?" Kirishima asked, yanking him out of his thoughts before he could get too far down a rabbit hole that would be painfully embarrassing to climb himself back out of.

"You have my notes. I need them."

It was true, Kirishima had asked to borrow Katsuki's lesson notes, like he always did at the end of the week. Upon finding the boy absent from his room, Bakugou could have easily let himself in and taken them off his desk, right where they always were. But for some reason, he'd been driven to go out and find the redhead. He didn't know why. Maybe it was to torture himself. He never knew why he even still bothered being around you two.

There was a new feeling ever since you'd become official; a sickness churning in the pit of Katsuki's stomach. Oddly, he vaguely recognized it from when that damned Deku would constantly show him up, but this one was always much stronger, somehow even more painful.

Why did he wince every time you went to grab Eijirou's hand? Why did he find himself with the urge to go be sick when he'd first seen Eijirou lean over to give you a peck on the cheek? It had been because it was gross couple stuff, right? Bakugou wasn't here for all that nasty touchy-feely stuff. He'd seen his parents do it, and it disgusted him. And now his best friends were doing it with each other; sometimes right in front of him, sometimes when you thought he couldn't see.

But he saw, and he knew. He'd heard you, late that night after training. Heard the two of you noisily entering Kirishima's room, clicking the lock on the door as you'd stumbled to the opposite wall. He'd listened to everything: the telltale sounds of skin meeting skin and coming together. He'd heard both your sweet, pretty voices, desperately trying to keep quiet as foreign waves of feelings coursed through your bodies on the other side of the wall. The thin wall, where every sound was as plain as if the barrier hadn't been there at all.

He should have stopped himself then. He should have given up all hope, closed down all his feelings. He'd laid awake the whole night, thinking about how his two best friends were now seeing each other in this way. You were third years, and having relationships within the class was to be expected. But his best friends? Together? And now it was just him. The sideliner. The outcast. The third wheel. Alone.

He'd been forced to listen. It hadn't been his choice. It was even less his choice when the two of you had approached him the next day, listening one last torturous time to you as Kirishima sheepishly explained that the two of you had become an item. Bakugou pretended like he didn't already know.

He should have stopped hanging out with you, distancing himself as the two of you grew closer. But this had all happened almost four months ago, and he hadn't been able to force himself away from either of you. He couldn't tell if he resented you both or genuinely enjoyed your company.

What did it matter? It was only his stupid emotions, stupid feelings bleeding through his enforced walls. He had other things to focus on, better things. Like being a hero. Training to be at the top of the class, climbing ever higher to surpass All Might and be the number one hero. That was his goal. That was his purpose. It had nothing to do with his idiot, overly supportive best friends—if he could even call you that anymore.

"Your notes?" Eijirou's voice questioned.

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "Where are they?"

"My desk," Eijirou said. "Like always. My door should be open, you could have just taken them."

Bakugou scowled. "Oh," was all he said.

"Hey, we're having a spa night," you piped up.

"I noticed," Bakugou deadpanned.

"Ooh, you should totally join us, Bakubro!" Kirishima's green-caked face slipped into a grin with ease, flashing his ridiculously cute sharp teeth.

"Yeah!" It was your turn to beam, face lighting up in your smile. "Spa night for three!"

Just the three of you. That sounded wonderful. And also absolutely terrible.

Bakugou scoffed. "You're not going to get me to do your childish nonsense. I need to go study. And then sleep."

"The gren-nerd returns," you said, rolling your eyes. "Come on, Blasty, there is such a thing as too much sleep."

"Yeah," Kirishima agreed. "Besides, it's a Friday night. You have all weekend to do whatever. Have some fun with us and lighten up for a change!"

Katsuki glared at you, hovering inside the door frame. You smirked and began pumping your fists in front of you, maintaining eye contact with him.

"Spa night, spa night, spa night—" Your voice took on a low, stage whispered chant, and soon Kirishima joined in next to you.

"Spa night! Spa night! Spa night—!"

"Fucking dammit," Bakugou finally said, slamming the door shut behind him and stomping over to where you were sitting in the middle of your floor. He hurled himself down into a sitting position, trying to make every possible inch of his body language convey that he didn't want to be here. "You're just a pair of idiots and losers."

"I refuse to be cast down by your simplistic labels and insults," you said dramatically, placing a hand on your chest. "Gimme your face. Now."

Bakugou jerked his head back from you, even though you technically hadn't even reached for him yet. "What are you going to do?" he asked suspiciously.

"We must start with the face mask. Eiji, go get him a headband."

"A what?! I am not—"

"Yes, you are," you said firmly. "Unless you want to go take another shower to get it all out of your hairline, because, trust me, it gets everywhere."

Kirishima came back and flopped back down beside you, handing over a fuzzy, pink and white fabric headband with small bear ears stitched onto the side. Bakugou looked from it to the ones you were wearing. You donned a sparkly pink unicorn themed one, decorated with a horn, ears and a fluffy puff of a mane. Kirishima wore one that was very similar to the headband you were now holding, except his was black and white, clearly panda themed.

Katsuki pointed at Eijirou's head. "I want his."

The redhead blinked. "What?"

"Yours is cooler and not pink. I want that one."

You sighed. "Katsuki, it doesn't matter."

"I'm not wearing pink!"

"What's wrong with pink?" Eijirou asked.

"It's too girly!"

"Hey, pink can be a manly color," Kirishima argued. You nodded your head in agreement.

"Then why aren't you wearing it?" Bakugou shot back.

Eijirou blinked. "I, uh—um—"

"See, you don't want to wear it either!"

"That's not—!"

Bakugou lunged towards Kirishima, grabbing at the item keeping his red bangs pushed off his forehead.

"AAH—hey! It's gonna smear—!"

The boys took a moment to scuffle, Eijirou desperately trying to hold back Katsuki's arms as they grabbed at him. You took a moment to look into an invisible camera like you were on The Office, heaving a sigh.

"Alright, that's enough." You pulled Katsuki off your boyfriend by the back of his shirt collar, shoving the pink headband into his hand. "You can either wear the headband, or you can let it get in your hair. Eijirou was here first, so that one's his. Got it?"

Bakugou donned his 'I just bit into a lemon' face, spitting out a "tch" before reluctantly putting it on his head, pulling it up so his forehead was on display.

You noticed the ears were a bit off kilter, leaning a little too far to the left. It set off a tic in your face, making you reach over and straighten it out. You couldn't help but notice how Bakugou froze when your hands and face came nearer to his own, breaths stuttering and slowing to a stop. You sheepishly finished adjusting it, sitting back when you were satisfied.

In all honesty, you'd tried to ignore Bakugou's shift in behavior around you. He was as abrasive and irritable as ever, but there was something in the way you'd noticed him looking at Kirishima. You'd gotten briefly jealous until you realized he often acted the same around you. You told yourself to pay no heed to it, and now certainly wasn't the time to be sorting out and guessing at the feelings of your emotionally closed-off best friend.

"If either one of you takes my picture like this," Bakugou said. "I'm gonna fucking kill the both of you."

"Sure."

You glanced over and made eye contact with Eijirou. One of you had to do just that without him noticing by the end of the night. He was simply too cute not to; the pink matching his ash blond hair just right.

You tore your gaze away from Katsuki. I have a boyfriend right here, who I love very very much, you reminded yourself.

That much was true. Maybe you weren't allowed to order off the menu anymore, but it couldn't hurt to take another glance.

"Alright," you announced. "I'm getting the face mask back out." You got up and walked to your felt storage container of toiletries, grabbing the same green tube and package of face wipes you'd used only minutes prior.

"So why the fuck do you have three of these?" Bakugou asked, referring to his newly acquired pink ears.

"Sleepovers, duh. Also there was a sale and they're really cute and cheap, so there."

Bakugou let out another tch as you sat back down in front of him. You pulled out a wipe and began to work at his face, removing any oils that might have gotten on there throughout the day.

"Relax your face," you ordered, and Bakugou surprisingly complied. "You'll get wrinkles if you keep doing that. You know, the whole frowny thing."

"You sound like my mother, dumbass," he commented, keeping his lips turned down in a frown.

"Well, your mother is right."

"Feh."

You ignored his dismissive noise. "You have really nice skin, you know," you commented, moving back to your seated position and tossing the wipe in the general direction of your trash bin. "Do you have a routine? I found out today that Eijirou doesn't so that's what got us started."

The redhead shrugged behind you, having taken out his phone while you tended to Bakugou.

"Um, I wash it sometimes," Bakugou admitted. "My mom said something about how our sweat helps keep it clear, but she still sends me stuff every now and then."

"Neat." You sighed. "Wish my sweat actually helped my skin. Other than, you know, keeping it cool and whatever."

You took the tube from the floor next to you, popping the cap open and squeezing some onto your fingers.

"What is that stuff?"

"Avocado oatmeal clay mask," you said, glancing at the label. "Purifying."

"Huh."

You leaned forward again on your knees in front of him, beginning to spread the green paste over his cheeks and forehead like you'd done to Kirishima.

"I'm not a baby, you know," he protested. "I can do it myself."

"Oh, come on," you countered. "It's fun having your friends take care of you. Just let me do this."

Bakugou sighed through his nose. He had to admit, there was a teeny tiny part of him that liked how close you were, the way your fingers glided over his cheeks and forehead.

But you had a boyfriend. A very sweet, loving, cheerful boyfriend. He was yours and you were his, and Bakugou was . . . unavailable. He'd stay yours and Kirishima's friend, and he'd just have to accept it.

You finished fixing up his face, going back to your criss-crossed sitting position and wiping your fingers off with a tissue.

"Now what?" Bakugou asked.

"We can wash it off in about ten minutes, we just have to wait for it to dry."

Bakugou sat back, assessing the sensation of the mask on his face. It was cold and sticky, but he had to admit it smelled good. He'd never done anything like this before, and the tiniest part of him actually didn't hate it.

You started talking about a meme you'd seen on Instagram, and you laughed with Kirishima. You both were cute in your face masks and headbands. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but maybe Katsuki would be willing to sit through something like this again if it meant seeing you both like this.

You sat back and seemed to go into thought for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do next. "Eijirou, let me see your nails." He presented them to you, his face questioning. You studied his cuticles, clicking your tongue. "Imma get you some nail oil. We could probably all use some."

You got up again and grabbed the little bottle, twisting off the cap and beginning to brush the liquid onto your boyfriend's nails.

"What does that do, exactly?" he asked, watching you concentrate.

"Strengthens your nails," you explained. "Keeps them hydrated so they won't crack and break off so easily."

"Look at that Bakugou!" Kirishima proudly proclaimed. "I’m gonna have strong, manly nails!"

You giggled, beginning to blow on them so the solution would soak in and dry faster.

"Babe, I just realized something," Kirishima said.

"Yeah?"

"We look like Shrek."

You looked up at him, his face caked in the solid green mask, then turned your gaze to Bakugou. "You know, I wasn't going to say anything, but, yeah, we totally do."

You both started cracking up again, and Eijirou laid down on the floor as he laughed. He had the sweetest laugh, the absolute best. You provided hefty competition, however; your slightly higher voice adding to your own pretty sound.

"No hate on my mans Shrek, though," Kirishima said, sitting back up as his audible joy died down a bit.

"Shrek is love, Shrek is life," you said, nodding your head solemnly.

"I thought I was love. For you." Kirishima's expression changed to puppy eyes, pretending to be more hurt than he was.

"Uh, yes. But I've known Shrek longer than you, so he represents life."

"What the fuck, guys."

You both ignored Bakugou's comment, proceeding to bicker.

"But he doesn't love you like I do," Kirishima argued.

"He's shrekxy."

"I—" Kirishima blinked, shaking his head a little in bewilderment.

"Fite me, it's a scientific fact."

Instead, Kirishima turned his gaze to the blond, who was watching the full affair with barely concealed intrigue. "Bakubro, I'm getting jealous of a fictional 2-D green swamp ogre. I think my girlfriend is going to leave me for him."

"Actually he's 3-D," you corrected.

"See?" Kirishima exaggeratedly gestured at you in mock offense. "She doesn't appreciate me anymore for who I am. I'm going to rebound to you, Katsu."

Bakugou stiffened at the proposal. He knew it was just a joke, but now he couldn't get the thought out of his head of actually being with Kirishima. Allowing his hand to grasp his. Placing a kiss on the boy's cheek. Waking up next to him in the morning. Was that his problem? He wanted what you had with Shitty Hair? Or did he want what Kirishima had with you?

"Like I'd ever date you!" Bakugou finally spat, after maybe a bit too long of a pause. "You're a dumbass idiot, just like your girlfriend. You two are perfect for each other!"

Both you and Kirishima blinked at Katsuki's outburst, turning to make eye contact.

"Thank . . . you?" you said, unsure if you should take it as a compliment.

You were both used to Bakugou being brash and loud, often yelling insults he probably didn't mean. But this was a bit unusual, even for him.

What is going on with you, Katsuki?

You sat back and made a little "pthbb" sound with your lips, taking the cuticle oil and starting to apply it to your own nails.

"So when are you going to go back to rubbing my back?" Eijirou asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Or is that only for Shrek?"

You snorted. "I love you, Eiji. I'd give you a kiss on the cheek to prove it, but you've got some artificial avocado there."

Bakugou's frown shifted a bit. At least the masks were good for one more thing.

"Where?" Eijirou teased, feeling at his face as though it wasn't slathered in a thick layer of green paste.

"Ha ha," you said dryly. "I'll go back to personal masseuse-ing after we wash these off."

"When's that?"

You leaned over and tapped at Bakugou's face, finding his still a little moist. "Five minutes," you wagered.

Eijirou started a conversation about training, lightheartedly arguing with Bakugou over one of his techniques.

You watched the nuances of how the two interacted. They'd been friends for so long, they just sort of flowed together and bounced off each other perfectly. Kirishima was clearly more physical, wrapping an arm around Bakugou's shoulders or touching him on his arm or his back. Bakugou never yelled about this like he would with probably anyone else, instead choosing to silently glower while Eijirou finished his thought.

Finally it was time for the masks to be washed off, the three of you crowding around the sink in your cramped bathroom. Eijirou helped you wipe yours away first with some damp paper towels, delighting in being so close to you and your beautiful face. Bakugou opted to simply wash his own off in the sink, splashing cold water over his cheeks. He watched the little green flakes and chunks swirl down into the drain, some of them catching stubbornly on the porcelain surface.

He straightened and looked at his newly washed face in the mirror. He didn't look or feel any different, sans the fuzzy pink bear ears that still wrapped around his forehead. Bakugou tugged them off, stepping away from the sink so Kirishima could take his own turn in washing.

The blond watched the both of you finish up, Eijirou rubbing gently at his face while you patted toner into yours. There was something so mundane about it, even in your tight closet of a toilet space. He liked the little smile you took on as you gently slapped liquid onto your cheeks, and how Eijirou squeezed his eyes shut and gave little shakes of his head to escape from the rivulets of water streaming over his features.

Kirishima stood back up, taking a look at himself in the mirror much like Bakugou had done moments before. "Wait a minute—I still have acne!" He leaned in and closer examined a small cluster of raised bumps.

"Of course you do, ya goof," you said, snickering and setting down your bottle of toner. "It's just a clay mask. If you want magic, use calamine lotion overnight. That should do the trick."

"Why didn't we do that instead?"

"Because these are more fun. And a lot shorter."

Eijirou shrugged and pulled his own headband off, soft red bangs falling over his eyes. Katsuki took a second to admire it. What would it feel like under his fingertips? He wondered for a brief moment how soft it truly was before he ripped his eyes away again. No. No. NO.

"So are you going to rub my back again?" Eijirou asked, puppy-dog eyes shining at you hopefully.

"Maybe later," you said, sliding your headband over your head and undoing your hair. "Right now it's Katsuki's turn. And mine, if it's not too much trouble."

Kirishima sighed tragically, slumping forward. You grinned and went up behind him, rolling the pads of your thumbs into his shoulder blades. He tilted his head back, sighing and closing his eyes at the feeling.

"Babyyy," he said, drawing out the last syllable. "Don't tease me like that."

You giggled and kissed his shoulder. "I'll get back to you soon enough, just be patient."

Bakugou watched the two of you yet again. He had a strange feeling like this was more complicated for him than it should be. Why couldn't he just pick one of you to hate more than the other and move on? Why couldn't he decide which one of you he would rather be in your situation?

"Yo, Katsu," you said to him, bringing him out of his own head. "Get over here." You had sat yourself back down on the floor in the middle of your room, and Kirishima was stationed behind you.

Bakugou walked over and flopped down in front of you, unsure of what to expect.

"Lay down perpendicular to me," you said, tapping his shoulder.

"What? Why?"

"You'll relax more. Do it."

The blond grumbled a bit more before turning himself and laying down on his stomach. "Happy, dumbass?"

"Indeed." You began to work at his shoulders through the barrier of his shirt. Behind you, your boyfriend did the same, running his large hands over the muscles on your back. "How often do you get this done?" you asked the boy under you.

"What? A massage?" Bakugou was really trying to ignore how good your fingers felt on him, pushing and applying pressure in places he didn't even know he needed.

"Yeah."

"Never," he admitted.

"Wait, what?" Eijirou said from behind you.

"Yeah, how?" you asked, stilling your hands. Bakugou resisted the temptation to squirm under you to get you to resume what you had been doing. "That can't be good what with all the training you do."

"I have those foam rollers," he said. "They work just fine."

"Aw, come on," Kirishima said. Bakugou was glad his face was more or less planted on the floor so he wouldn't have to look up at him. "It feels so much better when you have someone else do it for you."

"Tch."

"Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki," you tsked, going back to your motions on him.

The blond quietly sighed through his nose, allowing himself for a moment to sink into the feeling of your fingers dancing over his muscles. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, it felt really nice. He was surprised at how skilled you were, alternating between your thumbs and your knuckles to provide the most pressure, working out tension as you went along. Your hands, which were so small compared to his and his friend's.

Maybe he was starting to like this a little too much.

You and Eijirou had picked up another conversation about nothing. Bakugou was more than content to zone in and out of it, picking up on your even voices. He listened to the little breathy sighs you'd let escape as the redhead pushed into your back much like you were doing to Katsuki. They were almost too cute, and the more he was left in his own mind, the less comfortable he became.

He began to shuffle under you, a part of him wanting to get up and leave, another willing himself to stay.

"You comfortable, Bakugou?" you asked him. "Want a pillow or something?"

The way you'd said his family name; Bakugou. He was an outsider. He shouldn't be here. He pushed himself up from the floor and out from under your hands.

"Woah," Kirishima said. "Where you going, man?"

"I need to leave." Bakugou rammed his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and turned to your door.

"Wait, are you okay?" you asked, moving to get up too. "Did I do something wrong?"

Bakugou ignored you, adjusting his black t-shirt as he flung your door open and shut behind him.

You slumped back into Eijirou in defeat. "What is going on with him?" you lamented, eyes glued to the closed door.

Your boyfriend rested his chin on the top of your head, pondering as you pressed into him. "I have no idea. He's been acting weird for a while . . . . Could it be something going on at home?"

Your eyebrows scrunched a bit in thought. "I don't know about that. Do you think it could be us?"

Kiri shifted himself so he could lean in and look at your face inquisitively. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "It's just that . . . you and I are together and he's . . . alone. I mean, we're still friends, but he might feel . . . left out."

"Ohhh." Kirishima sat back again, pulling you further into his chest. "What should we do?"

You sighed, curling up against his bare skin. "I don't know."

...

Bakugou sat, finally alone in his room. What was happening? What was going on? What was wrong with him?

He hated this, these new feelings. The jealousy he felt whenever you and Kirishima were close and he was left to the side. He wanted to join you, feeling your arms wrapped around him and Eijirou's kiss on his cheek.

But he would never be able to.

Surely, you both would hate him if he said anything. You'd think he was just being sad and greedy, maybe even a creep. It would completely destroy your relationship with him, and he'd lose the two best friends he'd ever had.

Katsuki's bed dipped beneath him as he sat down onto it, placing his head in his hands. Infinite loops of yes and no spiraled forever around in his brain, willing him to just do something.

But he couldn't. There was nothing he could do. He'd have to choose either parting ways with you both or just feeling this way . . . forever, keeping it to himself. He was tired of it already. He wanted the feelings to go away. He wanted to stop hurting like this and being so confused. His rational mind told him to just turn and leave. It made sense. He'd be able to focus fully on his ambitions and become the best hero ever. And yet a tiny, stubborn little part of him knew, just knew that he wouldn't be able to go. There was something between the three of you, and even the tsundere-lord Bakugou Katsuki couldn't ignore it.

He laid back on his bed, closing his eyes. In the dark, he listened. But this time there was no sound. His mind wouldn't rest however, racing and screaming and hurting. It would be hard, but Bakugou would have to do it.

This would all just have to be his big secret.

⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙●⊙

[Little Secret]

[Disclosed]

Author’s Note:

No happy ending?? Well guess what, this is a three-parter. The epilogue/sequel/part three will be purely Kiribaku(+you) fluff, so get ready for that. I know I am!! Also remember Little Secret exists. CUDDLES!! and TICKLES!! YES!

Thanks for reading,

-Sugar

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