#so somehow you gotta build focus before youre killed

[queercoshon]

And here is part three, about a week late lol

Christmas Eve

It takes you a few tries to heave your body out of the kitchen chair, the stove timer sound drilling into your skull. You miss the button a few times, alcohol swaying your hand and concentration. But you manage to hit it and get some peace and quiet finally. You even remember to turn off the stove.

Bending over to get the lasagne out is a little difficult, your gut is still a bloated orb and completely in the way. Your balance is also already off from the copious amounts of intoxicants coursing through your body. Somehow you manage to get it out without burning yourself or falling over.

It still needs to rest though, so you have more waiting to do. You grab some beers from yhe fridge, and the bottle of baileys for good measure, and make sure they're within arms' reach of the couch. Either from a drunken stupor, couchlock, or food coma, you're making sure you won't be getting up again.

You also grab a box of hostess cakes, for when you need a flavour change, and chips for a texture change. Your munchies are killing you now, so you gotta be prepared.

Finally the lasagne is cool enough to cut and transfer to a big serving dish. You don't know if you'll actually be able to eat the whole thing, but the booze and weed are certainly saying you can. You can't keep it in the original pan; you've burnt more than a few pillows by using them as a barrier between your food and your belly table.

Getting the dish to the living room takes maximum concentration. The world is swaying, and the ground feels uneven. How will you keep it level? There are a few close calls where you almost dump lasagne all over yourself and the floor, but you always catch it. Can't be wasting food.

The couch gives an ominous clunk and creak when you lower your girth onto it, but you pay it no mind. You make sure the beers are on the couch beside you; can't have a repeat of last night.

It takes you a minute to start eating. First, you lean back and stroke your belly, rubbing in soothing circles. You're still physically full, even if the weed is telling you otherwise. You're so high, and very drunk, and rubs just feel so good. You were meant to be a fat, drunk pig, just getting fatter and more incoherent.

Your rubs loosen up some burps, and then you feel ready to eat. The pillow barrier is set up on your bare stomach so you don't burn it with the hot serving tray.

You manage to put on a dumb stoner comedy despite really struggling to use the remote. What button did you mean to press again?

Finally, it's time for dinner. You dig in with reckless abandon, burning your mouth just a little bit with the first few bites, and chugging half a beer to cool it down. A massive belch works its way up before you start scarfing down dinner.

You shovel it into your mouth, nearly forgetting how to breath as you focus on consuming as fast as possible. You grunt and groan as your feeding craze intensifies. Your nose flares and snorts as your body fights you for air, making you sound and look like an engorged pig.

You eat three large pieces in fifteen minutes. Your stomach complains under the added pressure of the dish on it, despite it being emptier. Without thinking, you drain the rest of your beer and take a swig of baileys before stuffing your face again.

Getting fucked up on baileys is hot, it's such a sugary, heavy, empty calories drink that is too easy to suck down.

A pressure builds in your gut, and you worry about hiccups or vomiting, but a forceful burp explodes out, your gut feeling euphoric relief. You rub a few more out and realize you're getting really full. A break is needed. You pull out a joint and manage to get coordinated enough to light up. An inhale hits a bit to hard and you devolve into a coughing fit, holding the lasagne so it doesn't fall and your belly so it doesn't explode.

You barely catch your breath before the hiccups start. The tray wobbles dangerously as your gut bounces against your crotch. It haphazardly gets moved to beside you on the couch, and you hold your gut to stabilize it.

Didn't you read somewhere drinking water would help with hiccups? You don't have water, but you do at least have a drink. You crack a beer and drink deeply, until you need air. A few seconds of respite come, but as soon as you dare to believe they're gone, another hic jolts your whole body, sending ripples through your fat. So you drink again, less this time. Didn't work, try again. And again. And finally, they subside. You have no idea that there's basically three mouthfuls in the can. A few burps rumble out and you get right back to your feast.

It's getting increasingly hard to get the food onto your fork. You can't make your hands cooperate, and every movement is clumsy. It doesn't help that your vision is swaying and blurring. Instead of frustrating though, you find it funny. You've gotten so drunk you're struggling to do the most basic tasks, like eat or change the volume on the tv. If you could reach, you would have started getting yourself off, but your gut got too big for that a while ago, so you'll just have to keep eating.

Your pace slows drastically once you get halfway through the fifth piece. It hits you like a ton of bricks just how full you are. Your gut is a solid mass, with barely any give even with the flab. It's now been 24 hours of binging, and you're starting to really feel it. Fucking glutton. You rub your gut, using it to apply pressure to your crotch, trying to create friction. It's not enough tho; the only way you're getting off is if you eat yourself into an orgasm.

You need a break from the lasagne, the tomatoey burps coming up are starting to feel dangerous. So you drain the rest of that beer and start working on the hostess cakes. You still have room in your 'dessert' stomach.

The change in flavour really helps, and you're able to once again mindlessly plow through your food. Your focus is drawn to the tv, each stupid joke making you laugh around a mouthful of cake.

Your head lolls as you look around for the baileys bottle. Found it. Figuring out the screw top is hard, and getting the opening to your mouth is even harder, but you manage, only spilling a few drops down your front. You meant to only take a gulp or two, but it was so difficult to get to this point, might as well make it worth it. So you drink deeply, feeling the sweet cream bloat your abused stomach further, and know you have about five to ten minutes before you'll be completely useless.

Moans blend with panting as you pull your sticky sweet mouth away from the bottle. The cap gets haphazardly twisted on and you prop the bottle up in the corner of the couch. Your gut is creaking again with every breath. Gurgles of complaints get louder the harder it works to digest. Low burps keep coming up, your belly just desperate for any sort of room it can make.

Everything is swaying and spinning, so you close your eyes and your head involuntary slumps forward. Your mouth is open and you can feel drool starting to form, but there's nothing you can do about it. Any noise or movement is purely from instinct now, the soft kneading and rubbing of your belly, moans that get interrupted by belches and dangerous hiccups. You don't register that any of this is happening. The combination of getting incredibly stoned, drunk as a skunk, and stuffed like a pig has made you catatonic.

By the time you come to earth again, the credits are rolling. Fuck it felt good to be that fucked up. You're going to keep going.

It takes a few tries, but you eventually get the remote pointed at the tv and put on a tv show, something that will autoplay for a while.

Before continuing with your debauchery you have to get up to use the bathroom. After working up the momentum to rock your body up put of the indent on the couch, you stumble for far too many steps before barely catching your balance.

On the way back you grab an edible. It'll be hot in about half an hour when it starts to hit. Will you even remember you've taken it? You stand in the kitchen leaning heavily on the counter, but still swaying dangerously, trying to get the stupid package open. You struggle with these things sober, but as fucked up as you are it now seems impossible. Eventually you give up and cut the bag open with scissors and triumphantly pop 5mg in your mouth. You grab a bottle of water and take a swig to wash out the aftertaste. After that it's back to the living room, your feet shuffling and stumbling, never feeling like they're fully under you.

You fall back onto the couch, too drunk and full to do it with grace. The couch gives another dangerous clunk, and the liquer bottle falls out of its crux. It only spills a little from the side of the cap, but you decide it's a bad idea to have it on the couch. The cap comes off, and you let your head fall back as you drink.

Your gulps are audible, desperate, sloppy. Cream drips down the side of your face. You're so fucked you try and gulp a few times after you've drained the bottle. Your arm falls and the bottle rolls off to the side, leaving a little trail of liquid on the couch. A few drunk hiccups rock your body and you seriously worry about the contents of your stomach, but it stays put. The gurgles somehow get louder tho.

Time for another break. You don't mean to take one, but you can't move anything voluntarily now. You just cradle your aching gut, unable to figure out how to move your arms to soothe it. Every once and a while another glorp will push up another burp, making your head bounce and then loll back to the side. Sometimes you moan, even if you don't know it. Your eyes close, and you let the sensations of being a glutted pig wash over you.

Aches radiate from your poor belly, so overfed for so long that every part of it is completely rounded out, making it look like a completely separate part of your body. You can't help but pant, your lungs far too encroached upon to breathe regularly. You feel like a cartoon character, gut enormously stuffed, woozy and out of it, completely round after gorging for days. And you still have another full day to go.

You rouse a little to your stomach growling. You're starved, but you're as round an full as ever.

The edible. It's starting to hit, and the overstuffed ache in your belly is dulled to a soft throbbing, and somehow that's pleasurable for you.

Any normal person or sober person would be concerned about the amount already packed inside of you, but you know you can handle it. You spent the last year going from just overly chubby to a full on fatty; you know how to keep pushing, so you do.

The lasagne is too heavy now, even in your reinvigorated state, so you alternate between chips and hostess cakes, enjoying the sweet and salty flavours. Strings of little burps spill out, your gut desperately trying to get any relief. Itchy pain shoots over your skin as it stretches, your stomach visibly pressing against it. You can feel new stretch marks coming in, and you still keep going. Your pants turn to moans and gasps, and you literally gorge yourself to climax for the first time.

You barely finish by the time you pass out in a drunken food stupor, dead to the world until tomorrow.

[thelampisaflashlight]

A Lack of Engagement Pt. 3: It Gets Worse

[Previous Chapter: Here. Morning regrets, and a search for dick... That's what we're working with here, expect no less.] Below the cut.

There's something uniquely mortifying about being caught jacking it, even if they are ghouls and they're all pretty open about their sexual escapades, this is a little different.

Rain can feel the building of his orgasm, much to his own horror, continue in spite of Dew standing in the doorway, staring!

He's just frozen there, eyeing Rain's dick with an expression he can't quite read, and then he opens his mouth and-

"Why is it blue...?"

-Rain gives a noise of distress, wanting to curl into himself and perish on the spot, but he can't stop himself from giving his cock one more tug, and somehow that's the one that does it.

He has to grip the counter to stop himself from toppling forward with the force of it, and Dew is definitely going to kill him for cumming in front of him like that!

Except he doesn't.

Dew doesn't make a move towards or away from him.

He lingers, and as Rain comes down from his high, he can see the other man's face growing pinker and pinker.

At some point, Dew holds his hands up, face beet red.

Rain tries to speak, but he's still reeling from his orgasm, and trying to breathe normally.

"Fuck..." he manages, "'m sorry..."

"...Your... Your..." Dew swallows, "I..."

They both stand there for a moment before Dew does something that makes Rain gape at him like a fish.

He shuts the door.

Closing them both inside the room.

Rain isn't sure what's about to happen, but the energy in the room has shifted in a strange way, and either Dew is really going to murder him or-

"...I mean, it's fine, right?" he says finally, "We're... married, so... We've probably..."

The kraken stirs.

"Dew, I don't-" Rain coughs, "-I don't think... Um... What're you doing?"

Dew has his thumbs hooked into his boxers.

"E-Eye for an eye, yeah?"

Rain wants to stop him, wants to grab his hands and stop him, but about partway through that thought, he dares a glance at Dew's crotch, and, well-

"...Oh my fucking god."

He's not sure what he expected to see Dew whip out, but this was not it.

It's about four inches long, flaccid, but wriggling with some interest as Dew takes it in hand.

"That's..."

A knock sounds on their bedroom door and Dew hastily packs himself away while Rain does similar, wiping his hands off on a nearby towel.

"Oi, lovebirds! You're gonna miss breakfast if you don't get your asses up!" Cirrus calls, then, after a pause, "...Don't hurry too fast though, Aether's teacing Aeon how to make pancakes, and I think I smell burning."

Rain and Dew share a look, considering.

Okay.

Okay, okay, okay...

"We're gonna pretend that didn't happen." Rain says finally, and Dew nods, "We've gotta... We've gotta focus up and figure out how to turn things back to normal and find the... giant metal penis."

Dew frowns, but nods his head regardless.

There it is again, that strange hesitance.

Rain wants to say something about it, but he also doesn't want to risk making Dew uncomfortable, although-

"I'm... I'm sorry you had to see my dick." Rain apologizes.

"No, no, I'm sorry I showed you mine!" Dew trills awkwardly, "Don't even... Like you said, let's pretend this all didn't happen."

"Right..."

Breakfast is... tense.

Tense, and burnt.

Aeon tried his best, but even with Aether's help, half the pancakes could be classified as briquettes, and Rain isn't sure if he can drown them in enough syrup to make them palatable.

Dew is struggling in his own way, trying to scoop up a wayward strawberry with his fork and failing miserably, until Rain jabs his fork into it and holds it up to his face.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" he asks the rest of the pack nonchalantly as Dew considers his angle of attack, popping the fruit into his mouth before going back to carving at one of his pancakes, which basically snaps under pressure from his knife.

"Ehn, there's a meeting going on with Copia and the rest of the clergy, something about changes to the hierarchy, but nothing that involves any of us at the moment." Aether explains, "Aside from our regular duties, our schedules are all fairly free for the next week or so until they get everything straightened out."

Rain hums and pokes at his breakfast.

"Maybe we could all watch a movie together??" Aurora suggests, the only ghoul actively crunching on the burnt pancakes, giving Aeon a thumbs up when he deposits more of his charcoal bits onto her plate, looking embarrassed, but proud, "Something scary!"

As others chime in with their assent, Dew nudges Rain under the table with his knee, prompting the water ghoul to give a little push back, the two bump each other back and forth for a bit before Rain notices their packmates looking back at them.

"What about you two?" Aurora asks, propping her head up on the back of her hands, "Unless you have other plans...?"

Dew opens his mouth, but finds himself at a loss for words, looking over at Rain, who thinks for a moment before shaking his head.

"We have a, uh," Rain rolls the word 'date' on his tongue, then eyes Dew.

"I don't want to ruin the surprise." he says finally, "He's been hounding me all morning about it, even broke into the bathroom to interrogate me about what I have planned!"

"I DID NO-" Dew balks, then remembers, flushing bright red, "...actually, yeah, I did..."

The table erupts into laughter, save for Rain, who silently thanks Dew for going along with what he said, because, well, it is the truth, albeit not all of it.

"Ohh~? Loverboy is finally making up for forgetting his hubby's birthday?" Swiss teases, pointing his fork at Rain, "Trying to win back those brownie points, huh?"

Rain blinks, sitting up straight.

"I did not forget Dew's birthday." he says, sounding very offended, "I took him t-"

He stops midsentence, slapping a hand over his mouth as he recalls how the two of them spent Dew's birthday this year.

It had been a special request from his friend that they not tell the others what they were getting up to that day, even if it wasn't anything outright embarrassing, Dew had been adamant that no one else know what their plans were for his birthday.

They'd gone to the aquarium, and had spent the entire day joking about which sea creatures they'd eat or had eaten, and at the end of the day, Rain had gifted Dew a marine biology textbook, since he'd been aching to learn more on a scientific level about the creatures they'd encountered.

Rain himself had purchased an octopus plush for himself, which was absurdly large and difficult to smuggle past the other ghouls to avoid suspicion, but worth it in the end, because it really did bring his room together...

"You took him where?" Swiss probes, watching Rain squirm under the attention.

He coughs into his fist and shrugs.

"Nothing." he says, "Just saying I didn't forget is all."

"Secrets, secrets are no fun, unless you sha-" Swiss starts to chant, but Dew shuts down the nonsense by scooting away from the table and standing up.

"Bathroom."

Rain blinks at him, "Oh, uh, alright-"

"You, too." he adds, grabbing him by the scruff.

"OOOOOOH~!" the other ghouls laugh, "Someone's in trouble~"

"...Shut up." Rain mumbles, letting himself be dragged away by the shorter man.

.

.

.

"So... *come* here often?" Dew jokes, and Rain almost chokes on his spit.

They're standing in Rain's on suite again, having decided, for whatever reason, that talking behind a door that literally does not work is better than standing directly in his -their- bedroom.

"Sorry, that was... Anyway, I wanted to discuss our game plan." he says after helping pat Rain on the back, "We have all week to work unimpeded looking for that statue, after that, it'll be difficult to find a spare moment where both of us can look for it together."

"Right... Even if we could look for it by ourselves, the magic only works if there's more than one person present... at least that's the theory we have going, yeah?" Rain concludes, and Dew nods, "That being said, so far, nothing seems out of place aside from, well, us."

"Us being a couple is a significant change, especially since, based on what I've seen on my phone, we've been together for a while now. Like, years." Dew says, slipping his phone out of his pants pocket, "...It'd be one thing if the statue bound us together with some stupid spell, but this is going too far..."

"I'm sorry." Rain apologizes, "I know being married to me is-"

"I mean, it's one thing to mess with our friends' heads and implant memories of a wedding that never happened, but, like, c'mon, let me remember this stuff, too!" Dew complains, startling Rain, who was not expecting this conclusion, "I kept looking through the pictures on my phone and I don't remember any of this, it's not fair, man!"

Rain tilts his head.

"You... want to remember... or, rather, you'd want the spell to make you think we've been married?" he tries, pursing his lips, "What?"

Dew freezes.

"I... Yeah... Maybe..." he rubs his arm, "It just feels... off... otherwise."

Rain feels an ache in his chest.

"Dew, do you... Are you saying..." he pulls back and sighs deeply, "Dew, you're my best friend. I love you, but I'm not in love with you."

"...Same... Same here." Dew replies, but he can't hide the brokenness in his voice, and Rain remembers then Dew's insistence on trying the statue again.

How he'd said they had to be serious.

...How the spell supposedly only worked if the pair before it were lovers.

But it had worked with them!

It had worked, and the statue had even called them out on it!

So...

Rain watches Dew wipe the corners of his eyes, trying to hide the hurt spilling from them.

...could it have worked because of something one-sided?

"I'm so sorry." Dew whispers, "I didn't... didn't want you finding out like this. Sorry, I... I'm sorry, this is how I feel."

"...I'm sorry, too."

.

.

.

The search for the statue is an awkward one.

Dew is still reeling from having his feelings exposed so easily, and Rain is in the midst of processing this new information, trying to figure out how he could have possibly lead the other on.

It's not that he doesn't find Dew attractive, or that they don't get along -they get along very well- and, sure, Rain did jack off to him this morn-

Rain feels a stirring inside of him again.

Goddammit, he thinks, is this part of the spell?

But...

As they browse the abbey's art collection for signs of one large dick, Rain finds himself thinking back on a lot of things.

This isn't the first time he's thought about Dew like that, but he's always managed to push those feelings down pretty well.

Somehow, it doesn't feel right that he's ONLY interested in Dew's body like that.

He likes Dew, he loves the guy, but... not romantically.

Does he very much want to fuck him though?

Yes.

And that's what has him shoving it all into the back of his mind.

Trying to at least.

It doesn't feel right that Dew LIKES him and that he just... he can't reciprocate it.

If he only wants Dew for his body, that's like a whole new level of leading him on.

Yeah, they're ghouls, they fuck around and move on, but things can get messy when feelings are involved.

Cirrus and Cumulus are a fine example of just that.

He cringes at the memories of their fights when they were together, how hard it had been for them to navigate the balance between the sexual freedom they both craved while being devoted to one another emotionally.

It was all a giant shitfest, until they stepped back and actually talked about what they wanted and realized they didn't click as well as they initially thought, and while they're happier than ever now... Rain can't put Dew through that.

But then again, who says monogamy is what the guy even wants?

They probably talked about all of this at some point, given their relationship status in this version of their reality, but it probably didn't happen over text, so fishing through his phone some more isn't going to help their situation.

He has to find that stupid fucking statue!

But...

Rain looks around the room, searching for Dew amongst the various artworks on display and comes up empty.

He feels a mild panic coming on when he sweeps his gaze over the room and, again, finds nothing.

"Dew??"

He looks left and right.

"Hey, hey, Dew, where are you??"

...He's gone.

Shit, shit, shit-

"I'm right next to you, you jerk." A familiar voice grumbles from beside him, and, upon looking down, Rain meets the disgruntled gaze of a very annoyed ghoul.

"Oh, shit, I-I didn't realize you were there-"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Let's just keep looking." Dew mutters, clearly unhappy, "Let's get this over with already."

"I..."

"...When we get back..." Dew says, "Don't talk to me."

"...For how long?" Rain frets.

"Forever if you want." he replies, hands in his pockets, "Since you're so tweaked out about shit, and this isn't something you get over in a day, or a week, or a year or whatever..."

"I can't just stop talking to you, you're my f-" Rain starts, but Dew cuts him off.

"Yeah, you're my friend, but you're already looking at me like I'm a freak because of how I feel, and I don't think I can come back from that, Rain." he places a hand on his chest, "Shit fucking hurts..."

"Dew..."

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Nightwing #80 Review

woot woot i’ve kept it up for three issues lets gooo. i liked this issue more than the last one. there’s a lot of fanon dick characterization peppered in, but not so much that it puts me off entirely. also, i’m getting increasingly concerned about bitewing. but i did like tim in this one, very nice

look at all the blue and purple and pink. honestly at this point, i’m a broken record but come on come on come onnnnnnn. the blue and pink is very pretty though. this cover’s a bit offputting at first, and a bit spiraly, which i’m sure was the intended effect.

this is a genuine concern of mine. dick’s a vigilante, and he doesn’t have the same sprawling network and resources that bruce does. (even if he is a billionaire now, he hasn’t amassed the same collection of crime-fighting equipment that bruce has.) 

i’m not sure if he’ll be able to take care of bitewing. damian’s got plenty of pets, but alfred used to take care of them, and now bruce plus the rest of the batfam is taking care of them. as far as we know, babs only drops by occasionally, and the same goes for dick’s family and friends. will dick be able to give bitewing the love and time and affection that a traumatized puppy like her needs? i really hope so.

she does look adorable in this panel tho.

dick. richard. richie. baby. why are you shirtless.

you have scars upon scars. probably chemical burns. bullet wounds. weird fucking squiggly lines from knives that only psychos with blade fetishes use. no normal person has the body that you do. and you don’t think that showing up shirtless in front of the police is going to raise suspicion? you don’t think that the people accusing you of murder are going to look at someone who looks like they’re a fucking mob enforcer and go hmm that’s a bit suspicious?

put on a SHIRT jesus CHRIST it’s like you’re not even trying to hide your identity.

look at this pompous little princess demanding only the highest quality head pets i’d burn down latvia for her. (no offense latvians it was the first country that popped into my head.)

pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy pretty boy-

no seriously kudos to the artist here. his expression is so human i wanna cry. dick, right now, is sheepishly asking a question. he knows he’s not going to get into any real trouble, he knows that he’ll be able to talk his way out of or somehow maneuver his way off this mess. but he’ll play nice for the police, so he’s asking a friend for a favour, part self-condescendingly and part oh-well-what-can-you-do.

and his expression reflects that. rather than a stoic expressionless face most male comic characters have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), rather than the weird desperate supposedly “seductive” face that most female comic characters plus dick grayson have when asking someone for something (or all the time really), he’s making a face that i pulled like yesterday. or the day before that. it’s kind of silly, kind of casual, very much human. i like it.

thank god. proper (in character) acknowledgement for officer grayson. yea, fuck cops in general, but i like that they included this line.

obviously, he’s not talking about the actual criminals, he’s talking about the police force itself. the bpd was too corrupt, and dick realized that he wasn’t helping. not only does one clean cop not make a dent in an overall dirty force, but dick was putting his allies in danger too. not only that, but it wasn’t good for dick’s mental health either. he was spreading himself too thin, and surrounding himself with some of the worst of crime 24/7 did a number on him. dick’s got a history of self-sacrificing tendencies, and i’m just glad he’s not a cop anymore.

dick has a gotham rogues mug. they make gotham rogue mugs, and dick has one.

what kinda city looks at it’s frankly horrible crime history and long list of certifiably insane serial killers who are all still alive and actively committing war crimes and goes “oooooh yea imma put that on a coffee mug!” gotham, that’s who.

this isn’t important i just like how all of bitewing’s barks are blue

back straight, hand on his hip, cheerful smile on his face as he says he’s being accused for murder. love that for him.

they couldn’t have said “yea it’s complicated” in a better way even if they put the words “yea it’s complicated” right there on the page in bold red letters. literally all the love to the artists.

dick please. you’re KILLING ME what the actual fuck IS THAT???? WHY DO YOU HAVE A MUG OF THAT???

anyway nightwing collects novelty mugs confirmed.

this paneling is so beautiful. 

tim’s the focus, but he’s not the first thing you see. he’s placed in a way that forces the reader to drag their eyes all the way up the page in order to reach him. it us know just how high up tim is carelessly crouching, especially close to the ledge of the building too. i cannot think of a single better way to introduce a character, and this character in particular: you instantly know this is a version of tim with plenty of experience and training, is comfortable in his body and knows his limits, but still hangs onto that civilian awe of being in a high place and overlooking a brightly lit city.

absolute classic robin. i love it. 

this isn’t even that important but it made me happy. this is how you train surf.

you don’t crouch or bend over when you get to a tunnel, which is oddly enough what most people think (at least from my experience). you bend backward. that not only 100% ensures that you’ll make sure you’re low enough to make it through the tunnel (because you can see the top of the tunnel, unlike when you crouch or bend), but it also makes it easier to get up: all you have to do is push up with your arms into a bent stance, and you’ll be in a ready, moving position. from a bend or a crouch, getting up is more awkward and more slow.

on a meta level, i like that this creative team knows what they’re doing when it comes to the small, almost unimportant stuff like that, because it makes the action more real. (as real as you can get with a guy running around stealing hearts.)

on a in-universe level, it once again drives home both dick and tim’s experience and professional level skill.

regardless of who you side with in the “should tim drake be robin again?” debate, you gotta admit that tim’s rebirth robin suit is r a d as fuck. if i’m not mistaken, this is the same one he was wearing in 2019 young justice for a little bit? it’s cute and hella cool i like it.

remember what i said about human expressions? doesn’t happen as often to tim bc he’s a Child, but it’s still nice to note when someone humanizes him, too. (that’s why i love the duckboy panel so much lol.)

me, at first: that’s not a “good call” dick that’s just common sense

me, now: sprinkled throughout the entire comic we can see dick bending to tim’s instructions if only briefly, joking with him to keep the mood light while still maintaining a serious mood and retaining control over this particular outing. this implies that dick’s doing it intentionally, purposefully leaving places in his sentences blank and offering affirmations, in order to encourage tim and train him in things bruce might not necessarily touch on, such as social chameleoning and misdirection techniques and love/affirmation from a family member. dick is not only a loving and supportive big brother, but he never stops training his younger brother in better vigilante tecnhiques because he wants tim to be better than him. in this essay i will-

d o g g o

also bitewing is getting so many head pats today i’m living for it

look at him, standing on a telephone wire with ease. nice flex, dick.

also look at how he’s silhouetted. the moon’s full bright, bright enough that the sky around dick is light, too. (at least. i’m like 99% sure that’s the moon.) not like most batman comics, where it’s sometimes hard to distinguish bruce from the background, which is entirely on purpose.

gotham is a dark gritty city, and so is bruce. the two of them are one. bludhaven may be a bit of a mess, but it’s being portrayed in all these different shades of blue and purple and pink, that are all light enough that dick stands out from the background. he hasn’t been swallowed up by the city, and chances are that he won’t ever be. also, the colouring helps establish bludhaven as a city too. there’s still hope for it. the light colouring means that it’s not going to sink into a pit as deep as the one bruce wove gotham into. the whole point of this nightwing arc in particular is to turn bludhaven into a better place, and it’s (most likely) letting us know early on that dick is going to accomplish that. he’ll struggle, but he’ll do it.

so dick??? dick designed his escrima sticks with a situation like this in mind? he created his signature and most iconic weapon (other than his chatty mouth), with a built in feature that turns his escrima sticks into tim’s signature and most iconic weapon???? just so that if he and tim ever got into a situation where tim didn’t have his staff, dick could make sure tim had the thing that would give him an edge over anyone he was fighting??? he’s such a big brother oh my goddd.

also tim’s smirk in this is just *chef kiss.* a staff is something he can work with, a staff is something he wields like an extension of his arm, a staff is means that someone’s about to get their ass kicked because tim’s about to beat the shit outta them.

this is my new phone background.

they really made sure we remembered that hey, those first few months when bruce was grieving too much to be any sort of a mentor to tim and was still unwilling to properly train him to be robin out of fear that he would end up like jason, dick was the one who stepped up (once he got over himself and his own fears and hangups with bruce) and trained tim to be robin, trained him how to fight and flip and fuckin fly out there, all while changing his own style a bit to be the more experienced one in the partnership while still trusting said partner to hold their own, so dick and tim have a very unique and cohesive fighting style that makes it hell for anyone who fights them together, didn’t they?

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Safe With Me (Yandere!Plat!C!Ranboo x F!Reader) 2/???

TW: Yandere, blood, canon lives lost, mention of painkillers, kiddnapping, swearing

Part One

Over the next few days, he practically begged you to come to live with him in the Snowchester mansion, claiming that you could be much safer there, and closer to him. A.k.a, away, FAR away from Technoblade.

While you liked the thought, you explained to him that you liked your home and wanted to wait a bit before moving in. Ranboo was a little upset but quickly went back to smiling and saying he understood... He couldn't be mad at you... This was life changing for ender's sake.

Then your last day at his home came quicker than he would have liked.. but that's not the only reason he hated that day...

Maybe the voices took over?

Or maybe he was of his own free will when he did it..?

He never fully got the answer out of you and he never understood what happened... He never understood why that damned man decided to take everything from him that day...

You had walked out the door a few minutes ago with a smile on your face and a travel cup full of whatever hot drink you had made before leaving... Then he heard an ear-piercing scream.

Stumbling over his own long and lanky legs, he ran out the door as fast as he could, crashing and tripping over furniture before reaching his front door. He threw it open with a cry of your name and saw the scene he feared the most...

Every single one of his fears had come true.

You were laying lifelessly on the stark white snow, eyes and mouth wide open with dull terror as your clothes were covered in an almost beautiful ruby red liquid seeping from a hole in your chest. Your once shiny (e/c) eyes were glazed over like the glass eyes of a doll, your skin rapidly losing any sort of beautiful hue he had once studied.

Ranboo couldn't stop the scream of bloody murder that escaped his throat as he stumbled through the snow and collapsed to his knees beside your colourless corpse. His hands quickly became covered in the red liquid as it seeped into the snow, flowing freely from the wound that had been created by the man he has once respected.

He knew you were already gone by the time he came out, but he still kept trying to get you to wake up. His colourless hands gently shaking you, holding your face in between his stained hands, trying anything to keep the life from leaving your body, but obviously failing.

"She has one more life left. You're overreacting." His pink-haired neighbour growled softly as your body began to break apart into particles. Despite the piglin's words, the other hybrid sobbed hysterically with his head thrown back to the sky, ignoring the tears burning into his skin.

"I'll kill you."

"Heh?"

"I'll kill you for this, Technoblade." Ranboo tilted his head back down as the black part of his skin began to seep into the white part. His green eye turned into an amethyst-coloured purple and his mouth began to split open.

The next few days to him were a blur... Or that was his memory getting worse...

He'll never really know...

He just knew that you weren't safe without him... You were on your last canon life! You had to be protected...

Even if that meant you couldn't leave...

He had a few more days before you woke up from your respawn, so he set to work quickly. Ranboo began to build an obsidian building, reminding him very much of his panic room, but he couldn't focus on the fact for very long. He had to build something only he could get into. Something that would protect you. Something that couldn't be destroyed.

It was difficult and took longer than he would've liked... But it was safe and out of the way. No one would find it, but that was what he wanted. It was for your safety! And so he could remember you forever! He couldn't complain even if he was tired and his hands were covered in blisters from mining for so long...

Carrying your momentarily lifeless body through L'Manberg was stressful enough, with the emotional and mental pain of carrying the person he held closest to him, but with everyone quickly running up and asking what happen... He found himself unable to say anything other than, "Technoblade..." before brushing past them as quickly as possible, trying to get you to your new home.

There was an almost disgustingly familiar throbbing in your head that awoke you a few days later. You couldn't place where you had felt the headache before, but didn't think too much about it as you just decided to get up and start your day, "I wonder if Ranboo wants to hang out again, I mean... Then again, we've spent an entire week together. Mans is probably sick of me by now..." You laughed a bit to yourself, trying to hide the little stab of self-deprivation that filled your body.

Pushing yourself out of bed, you looked around and sighed, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, "At least I unpacked before I passed out... Now, where did I put the stupid painkillers...?" You walked out of your room, cringing at the cold wooden oak floors and sight of the darkened windows, "Ooookay. Slept less or longer than I thought... Maybe social interaction is more draining than I would like..."

You shuffled around your house and lit a few of the lanterns in your kitchen, digging through the cupboards to find something to alleviate the throbbing pain behind your eyes, "Oh! I went shopping before I passed out? Huh... Maybe I got a bit tipsy or something? Wait... I didn't buy painkillers? Dammit! I always need something I didn't buy..."

Groaning, you put your hand to your head before grabbing a sweater to put over the clothes you slept in, which were the clothes you left Ranboo's house in, before slipping on your shoes. Once you looked at yourself in the mirror, you deemed yourself ready to go outside and head by the store, so you opened the door...

Only to walk into a solid black wall.

"H-huh?" You whispered, gently reaching up and touching the cold material blocking your exit, "Ob...Obsidian? What on earth?... What kind of prank is Tommy pulling now?!" You huffed angrily and walked over to a window... Only to realize it wasn't dark... Every exit was covered in obsidian. "Okay, okay, what the- oh, wait I have tools! Ha ha Tommy, suck a pickaxe."

Walking over to your storage room and opened the chest that held your tools and materials to make tools, only to find it completely empty. Your armour was gone too! This... Was an elaborate prank... Maybe Tommy got help with it. You pushed yourself up and walked over to your enderchest, only to find it completely gone!

Dammit, Tommy definitely got help with this...

Realizing that they wanted you to panic, you huffed and sat down on your bed, crossing your arms in thought, "This... Ah, just gotta wait it out I guess..." You mumbled angrily, flopping onto your couch, groaning in annoyance as the action irritated your headache. Maybe you could sleep it off? Yeah, that was your best bet.

You weren't exactly sure how much time had past to be completely honest? Maybe a few days? Or a few hours? There wasn't much to really do during this horrible prank, you couldn't even enchant your tools or even make any! You didn't even have knives for cooking dammit! Plus... You were beginning to run low on food...

This time you woke up to something different. It sounded like Redstone activating and pistons sliding against each other before the door creaked open. The prank was finally over! Thank god! You shot up from your bed and walked towards the front door, only to see Ranboo standing there with bags filled with groceries dangling off his arms and tail. With a sigh, he decided to put them on the kitchen counter before looking around, only to completely light up at the sight of you, "(Y/n)! Hello!"

"Ranboo..." You smiled, your voice a bit hoarse from the lack of use, "Please tell me Tommy's terrible prank is over and I can go outside and touch grass again.

The hybrid's expression didn't change, "You can't go."

Your smile faltered a bit and you grit your teeth. This prank was still going on? How annoying. Turning quickly towards your door, you huffed as you saw it blocked off by obsidian again, "Boo... Please let me out... I'm not enjoying this prank anymore. I don't even have a clock-"

"Oh? Did I forget to build you a clock when I built this place? My bad, I'll make you one tonight so I can give it to you tomorrow." He continued to smile, beginning to put away your groceries for you... Somehow having the exact brands you always bought... And... Knowing exactly where they went, "But, you can't leave."

"This... This isn't funny anymore, Ranboo." You spoke firmly, but your voice wavered a small bit in realization as your face drained slightly of colour, "Built... This place? You put me here?"

The tone of voice, while still not lessening his smile, caught his attention, "Oh... You're looking pale... Here, let's get you to bed. You aren't looking too good and I don't want you getting sick." He walked over and put his hands on your shoulders, trying to get you to head into your room, but you wouldn't budge, "(Y/n), come on, I'm just doing what's best for your health and safety. We don't want you to lose your final life, especially to an easily preventable sickness, do we?"

"Final... Life...?" You were going to be sick... Quickly lifting your arm into view, you realized he was right. There was only one black line left. There were two when you visited Ranboo... What...? "I'm-I'm not tired... Ranboo, what happened?!"

"I'm not going to taint your memories with something so horrifying..." His voice, while sounding sickly sweet, sounded disgustingly morbid, "That's why you're in here! So I can keep you completely safe from the dangers of the outside world and remember you forever!" He was still wearing that damned smile...

He took you away from your life...

And he was fucking smiling...

-

GENERAL TAGLIST: Empty

'SAFE WITH ME' TAGLIST: @kylobensgirl

[obanaispy]

tear you apart - biker!toji x barkeep y/n.

part one.

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this will be a 4 part fic! this part is mostly prologue so it’s tame but the next will contain smut. i suggest listening to ‘tear you apart’ by she wants revenge or ‘nothing burns like the cold’ by snoh whilst reading. thanks you for the support and please leave comments!

18+ mdni

Fuck. How did you end up here again?

Face pressed against the bathroom sink, arms held behind your back as Toji brought you to yet another orgasm. The bar had been closed for about 30 and he had made use of each and every minute.

Pulling up your pants, you peer at him through the mirror reflection— eyes rolling at his smug expression.Toji walks behind you, allowing for his arms to wrap around your waist, lips brushing against your ear as he speaks.

“I thought you weren’t fucking with me anymore..”

Scoffing, you push him off, a smirk tugging at your lips. See, you already knew he was right.. but, there’s no need to admit such a thing. “Maybe..” you finally speak up, fixing your clothes as you head for the door— “..I was in a giving mood today”.

The look you spotted on his face as you gave one last glance back just screamed that he knew you were lying. Mans could read you like you’ve spent an eternity in the palm of his hand. That's one of the many things you enjoyed about him,sadly..

Plus, his dick was big.

“You sure you don’t need me to follow you home? Make sure you’re safe?” Toji questioned, following right behind you as you made your way outside. You chuckle, unlocking your car door— “promise i’m fine. Thanks for the offer”. Backing away with his arms up, he finally mounted his bike— buckling on his helmet. “Text me, sweetheart.” he yelled over the noise of his cycle, to which you replied with a singular thumbs up.

Yet somehow, he’s there at 3am, arms holding you against his chest.

You weren’t entirely sure on how it got to this point. Let’s see.. maybe a walk down the timeline will help give a bit of understanding.

You’ve been working at this bar for about 4 years— snagging the job at the ripe age of 20 because your grandparents owned the place. About two years ago, they kicked the bucket and left you an entire business to run. As if he was a gift from the universe— Toji appeared at that time!

.. Now looking back, he honestly was a curse.

Anyways, you guys hit it off, he helped you through the loss and soon you grew to be close friends. About a year ago, a makeout session went too far and..you woke up snuggled in his comforter. Fun right?

Present day. Here you are trying to cut ties because you’re catching feelings and that was NOT your plan. You came for dick..pull it together.

You had agreed to Toji driving you to the bar today. Grabbing your belongings, you hopped out the door spotting him waiting on his bike right in front of your driveway. Making sure the door was locked, you head down to where he was, giving a brief hello as you slung yourself on the seat space behind him.

“No kiss today? you must be committed” he joked, beginning to take off once you gave a grunt in response.

The ride was quiet for the most part. You guys hummed together and you tried your best not to think about how good he smelled. You could tell he had been using that cologne you gifted him.

It seemed like his scent followed you, dancing at your nose during your entire shift. “Shawty had to have put a spell on me..” you mumble, dishing out yet another round of drinks to the loud men crowding your bar. You recognized a few of them from Toji’s little gang— Gojo and Getou being the most familiar.

“Yo Y/n, don’t forget about me when you’re finally done with Toji” Gojo called out as you placed his drink in front of him with a raised brow. “Now what if he heard you saying that? Better calm yourself” you shoot back, dapping Getou up as you both laughed at the way Gojo’s face dropped.

As if he was summoned by the mention of his name, Toji walked in, immediately dapping up what felt like the entire building before ending at the boys sitting at the bar. “Y’all better not have my sweetheart working too hard” he warned playfully, a wink being given to you. Already having his regular ready, you slid it in front of him with a chuckle— “i’m always workin’ too hard”.

“You wouldn’t have to if you took up my offer.”

Yeah yeah it is true that Toji has offered countless times to take care of you until death but, you didn’t want to owe him one thing. Plus, no one knew how to run this joint like you did.. at least that's what you told him each time he offered.

Closing time came and a tipsy Getou carried out a plastered Gojo screaming out a “be safe!” for good measure. “Will do!” you call out, eyes landing on Toji who was cleaning off the tables with a hum. “I’m gonna help you , Y/n” he said without looking your way, almost as if he was reading your mind. Beginning to give rebuttal, you decide to not stir the pot and simply clean up your personal work area.

About an hour later, you both were heading to your vehicles as always. Before you could get into your car, Toji grabbed your arm— forcing you to look at him. ��Ready to tell me what’s up?” he questioned, voice hushed.

“What’s up?” you shoot back, choosing to stay in ignorance. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek in slight annoyance— “yeah. You’ve been actin’ strange. Won’t look me in the eye.. stopped sharing your location”. His tone held a certain worry to it.

As much as you hate to admit it— you loved that he cared enough to question it.

Breathing out, a hand comes up to fiddle your hair as you speak— “I feel like we’re getting too serious and.. I know that wasn’t our plan so.. yeah.”. Toji stood there for a moment, taking in your words. “Y/n.. you gotta communicate that with me. I cherish you more than I do us being sexual.” His hand caressed your cheek, the rough, calloused texture feeling comforting. It traveled to grip your chin, directing your head to tilt up at him.

“You’ll have to kill me to get rid of me.”

Those words replayed in your head all the way home, in the shower and even whilst you made yourself dinner. Realizing you could not even begin to focus— you finally pick up your phone to message him.

“I got more of those chips you like.”

It felt like an eternity before you heard your phone vibrate.

“gimme 10.”

[brightgoat]

Ok so I wanted to say this a long time asdgfkj your art and designs really inspire me! Im trying to write a Call of Cthulhu campaign set in the second half of the 19th century and whenever I wanna have a tidbit of inspo I go to your blog and check out the Frankestein AU cause your ideas on characters personalities and way of thinking is really intrincate! ☆ (at least imo 👉🏼👈🏼) (1/2)

aa thank you~! I’m happy my stuff inspires you!

And ,,, alright so - I had to think a bit before answering this.

Characters have to have meaning and impact, at least most of them. What I try to do is give each character their own theme/symbolism.

If you give each character some sort of theme, it can be easier to decide what sort of impact on the story they have, or how they react to the story, or just what they represent for the main character.

The story also has to have some sort of overarching theme. You gotta have the characters move the story forward and contribute to it somehow. 

So - let’s say the story is a coming-of-age story. The secondary characters gotta contribute or challenge the protagonist’s growth. You can have a best friend/love interest that represents idealism to the protag, you can have side-chars the protag encounters that represent harsh parts of adulthood, that the protag has to learn to consider. 

Also it’s good for characters to drive the story forward somehow. The basic way of doing this is give each character like a unique talent and throughout the story the talents have to come into praxis for each one.

MORE UNDER CUT, I TALK ABOUT FRANKENSTEIN NOVEL AS EXAMPLE:

In the OG Frankenstein novel (the novel, not my AU), the overarching theme is how humanity corrupts natural virtue (romanticism believes that man is born good but becomes evil through society, we live in a socie-). Vic represents humanity’s biases, Vic’s family represents society’s virtues, De Lacey family represents how potentially good humanity could be, Walton is the future that could learn from the past’s mistakes, the creature is the ‘man’ that becomes corrupt through society.

Humanity’s biases corrupt the man (Vic abandons creature), man misses out on how great society could be (De Laceys kick creature out), thus man ignores and destroys society’s virtues (creature kills Vic’s family), and perhaps future generations can learn from this (Walton listening to Vic’s tale).

See how all like -- the character’s themes go together?? Like each character contributes to the overall message of the story.

If you look at the singular characters - Walton is similar to Vic, he’s a reflection of the past but there’s hope that he will do it right this time. Henry is similar to Vic as well but his interests focus on humanities and he’s much happier throughout the story, Henry is how Vic could’ve been if it wasn’t for Vic being a fucking Vic. Safie is similar to the creature in that she is new to this particular society, and De Laceys teach her the language and everything and by spying on them, creature learns as well, she is what the creature could’ve been.

All the characters are somehow intertwined, represent something and bounce off of one another. I think this is important when building a story where each character is relevant.

It’s difficult when you first make a bunch of characters and then a story (which is often how OCs and OCs stories are made). This is an issue I ran into with my OCs story as well.

Jesus that was long idk if any of that even made sense or helped anyways yeah imagine the story is a branch and the characters are the leaves growing out of it,,,, the fuck did that mean I don’t even-

BONUS:

If you look at the main 4 natural humans of my AU (Vic, Henry, Liz and Walton) I tried to make each represent an outlook on progress. Vic is science, Henry is art/culture and Walton is travel/expansion. Liz is special cuz she represents how society can refuse to progress or a cynical view of praxis (I’d have to explain a bit how exactly but basically yeah-) Meanwhile creechur is the progress (he’s scientific, he’s artistic and he wants to travel, he’s an expansion of possibility). 

If you look at Casino Cups - I really went heavy with the ‘give each character’ their own thing, haha. Through card suits, I made them represent common human desires (Cups - wealth , Mugs - knowledge , Dice - love , Devil - freedom). The overarching theme of Cuphead is greed and wanting stuff, hence each character having their own take on what they want).

[wdwmarveldisney]

Hey I requested the isaac lahey imagine ‘memories’ I was wondering if u could do it where it’s before she died and it’s the part where Ethan, Aiden and isaac get possessed by those flies but instead of isaac it’s y/n and she attacks the twins and stuff and instead of isaac and Allison sleeping together it’s her and isaac( this is not a smut just the build up to it) and she’s all seductive and dominant and taunting and the aftermath when she isn’t possessed anymore .

Stupid Fly

Isaac Lahey x reader

Summary: Isaac isn’t the one to be possessed by Void but instead its you.

Masterlist

A/N: Okay so I watched the episode so I hope this is accurate. I’m really not good at the build up thing so sorry about that.

GIF isn’t mine

Your fingers dug into the cover that you sat on, eyes fixed on the ground as your feet swung slightly. Patiently waiting for Isaac, you stopped swinging your feet and began tapping them instead. Your usual bright and lively eyes had this dark swirl to them that didn't fit, that was natural. You didn't hear his footsteps or the bag in his hand hit the ground and only turned when you heard his voice, "What are you doing here?" When your eyes met his, you only held his gaze for a second or two before scanning his face, "I thought I'd wait for you to come back. You didn't just walk out of the hospital, did you?" Isaac shrugged, falling next to you as he scanned you in caution. He could tell something was off, "It's okay. I feel a lot better. All healed," you reached a hand up, fingers grazing his cheek as your eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"So you're okay?" Isaac didn't like the tone of your voice, soft concern and care that was usually present gone. He nodded, hand going to hold yours and pull it down to the space between the two of you, "What's wrong?" You stared down at your joined hands before giving his a slight squeeze and finally meeting his eyes once more. In response, you simply shrugged and a small smirk made your lips twitch up, "Just wanted to see you," You had leaned in and although he wished it hadn't, all reason had left Isaac as you had inched closer. He could no longer think about you seemed off, that you seemed too confident and too bold because this was the closest you had been since he had talked to about getting back together. You had been avoiding him as you said you had to work out your feelings. Maybe you had, maybe this was you finalising a decision and deciding to just go with it. But this wasn't how you would do it that nagging voice in the back of his head kept screaming at him. That voice was successfully silenced as your lips were pressed gently to his and it took near to no time for him to kiss. You hand went to his chest and you gently pushed him back wards and onto the bed as you continued.

Your hands moved to his hair, lips kissing across his cheek and to his jaw as Isaac leaned his head back to give you more access. Your hand moved to his jaw, tilting his head to face you. You both started giggling as you pecked his lips repeatedly before he finally pulled you close enough to place a longer kiss to your lips.

-

Light streamed through the crack in the curtains as the soft hum of traffic and nature twisted together and filled the room. Isaac sighed, rolling over to see you and frowning when he realised you were up and out of bed instead of cuddling close like when the two of you fell asleep. He sat up, leaning on his elbows as he watched pick up random objects to admire before placing them back. "There you are. What are you doing over there?" You glanced back over your shoulder with a small smile and you placed the small picture frame back on the dresser and leaning back onto it, "You know, I was at Allison's the other day. We were working on that text, before you came over that is. There's still a lot of weapons there. I thought her new Code was about protecting," Isaac shrugged, not understanding where you were going with this. He sat up a bit more, leaning against the head of the bed as he observed every move of yours. The way you stared around the room, how you didn't bothered by the way that you were topless with your bra on display when you normally would be, how there was this permanent smirk toying your swollen lips.

"Most of them are non-lethal," He defended and your eyes snapped back to him as you nodded, turning back to the things in his room. "Hmm... The daggers looked pretty lethal to me," he could hear the edge to your voice and frowned at the way your fingers tapped a quick beat against the book you held, "But maybe she should keep them. There's still a few of us out there who aren't quite so non-lethal... like the twins," This made him shoot up, reaching for his shirt as his frown got deeper, eyebrows knitting together in worry and confusion, "I thought we were going to give them a second chance?" He gave a small nervous laugh when you didn't seem to react at all, "You're the one to talk me into it," Isaac pointed out and this time, you spun round with an angered expression pulling at your features. Your teeth dug into you bottom lip before you shrugged and snapped, "I changed my mind, they don't deserve it,"

Isaac moved closer to the other end of the bed, reaching for your hands to pull you closer, really panicked by the wild in your eyes. "Things are different now. It doesn't have to be like that anymore," You scoffed at his words, rolling your eyes at the seriousness and concern in his. You took his hands in yours and took those few steps closer before leaning down closer to his lips, "You do remember them trying to kill you numerous times, right?" Isaac gave you pleading as he shook his head at your determination. He wasn't liking where this was going, "They're helping," You dropped his hands with a frown, backing away as you grabbed your top from the floor and pulled it on, "I had a feeling you'd say something like that," He watched you walk out out of the room, slamming the door behind you as you heard him shout after you, "Y/N, wait! Y/N!"

-

"See? That's what I'm talking about. I'd probably be in his pack by now if it wasn't for my psychotic brother - the one who has to kill everything in sight," you smiled to yourself when you heard their voices, gripping the weapon you stole from Allison tighter as you tried to find them. They keep shouting like that and it'll only make it easier, no werewolf abilities needed. "Careful, Ethan... You're currently the only thing in my sight," As you turned the corner, you saw them go for each other and a smirked pulled at your lips. They really did like making it easier for you. You raised the gun you had in your hands, shooting Ethan in the back and watching them both writhe in pain fro the electricity flowing through them. Swinging the gun to rest across your shoulder you took a step closer, "I guess this is the part where I say something witty,"

You gave a small hollow chuckled, hitting Ethan in the face with the back of the gun when you were closer enough, successfully knocking him out. Your smirk fell and you turned to Aiden with that emotionless face and deadly look in your eyes that made a shiver run down his spine. Or maybe that was the electricity. You crouched down to him, head tilting as you scanned his face. With the shake of your head and the small quirk up of your lips, you whispered, "I'm not witty," and knocked him out just like twin.

You dumped the gun and with a huff, began to drag them to the boys locker room. You dropped their hands, letting them hit the ground with a small smack and turned to Coach's office. Digging through his drawers, a frown made its way to your lips as you began to mutter to yourself, "Come on, Coach. You gotta have a lighter," the smirk took its place back on your lips as you lifted the lighter to be level with your eyes. You grabbed the bottle of alcohol with the piece of fabric stuffed into the top, hesitantly slightly. Was this really the best idea? Shaking your head at the thought, you reassured yourself, "I'm gonna burn it down... For Erica... For Boyd... For Isaac... For everyone! I'm gonna burn it. I'm gonna burn it," with final nod, you walked out to stand by the twins, lighting the fabric. Just as you about you were to throw at them, the fabric was pulled out of the bottle and you turned to see Kira with her katana in hand. You stood in silence for a beat or two before you shrugged, "Nice sword,"

The bottle fell from your hands and smashed by your feet but you couldn't care less, immediately focusing on attacking Kira. You were doing this and if she got in your way then you'd just have to deal with it, right? She managed to push you to the ground and you huffed out in frustration. Why couldn't she just leave you to do it? "Y/N!" You turned, seeing Allison and Isaac both standing either side of Kira. Slowly pulling yourself up, you shook out your arms and rolled your shoulders as the three backed away into Coach's office. Allison closed the door as Isaac and Kira pushed the desk in front to block you out. The twins had stood up behind you and you spun to face them, claws beards as you heard the others talk in Coach's office, "Was that a good idea?"

"Probably not," You swung first and managed to hit Aiden but Ethan got you from behind and you could Kira's worried voice as you struggled, "They're not going to kill each other, are they?" You stomped on Ethan's foot and got out of his grip only for Aiden to get you. Ethan joined him and they both shoved you into the door, the window shattering upon impact. "I think they're going to try," Isaac muttered.

Somehow, you'd got a slight upper hand and was managing perfectly fighting the two at once. That was until the other three began to try and break you apart. They eventually managed to take control, Isaac's main focus being you. Deaton had arrived soon enough, pulling the stupid fly that had managed to sneak through a cut on your side from the Oni's sword, just like Derek. Isaac could see the regret cross your face, hands rubbing at your eyes before you shot up and began profusely apologising to the twins. You couldn't look at the blonde as you helped the twins up and heard the update from Deaton and it wasn't until afterwards and Isaac pulling actually pulling you away from the others, did you finally look up at him. "You okay?" He asked quick, scanning you over. Even with Deaton saying you were fine, Isaac couldn't help but worry. "I'm fine," you turned to go but Isaac pulled you right back making a low growl leave your lips. The boy dropped your wrists, backing away as your eyes flickered to their beta yellow and back before a hand slapped over your mouth in shock. "I'm so sorry," you mumbled and Isaac was quick to hold your hand and reassure you. "No, hey, it's okay," he paused, taking a deep breath before leaning forward slightly and avoiding eye contact as he asked, "Do you regret it?"

"What? No, of course not. I still love you. I just, I didn’t want to have it happen that way, you know? And it was...different. Not bad, just it was weird ‘cause I was possessed-” Isaac’s chuckle cut off your ramble, a blush rising on your cheeks as you watched him smile at you. “It wasn’t exactly the way I wanted it to happen either,” he interlaced his fingers with yours as you both stared at your hands, dopey smiles on your lips. “I wanna work this out, I do. I just need a bit more time,” Isaac met your eyes, noticing the crease in your brows and the small frown on your lips and the way you tilted your head to meet his eyes. He nodded slowly, not letting go of your hand just yet. He didn’t want to ever let go.

You finally pulled away, sent a half grin and began to make your way down the hall, disappearing from his sight as you turned the corner.

[nev3rfound]

one of a kind : l.l

with loki having returned to earth, the avengers call upon their newest recruit, an angel to help. only, loki refuses to believe the truth until it’s too late.  (1.9k) 

masterlist / permanent taglist

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Sighing to himself, Tony walks away from the vault as Steve awaits him outside. “Any luck?” Steve asks, receiving a look that says more than words could. “Well, we’re not out of options yet.” Steve adds, trying his best to remain hopeful as Tony rolls his eyes.

“He still not talking?” Natasha pipes up as the pair return to Tony’s lab where the rest of the team stand, eager for any form of update.

“He won’t budge, thanks for that, Thor.” Tony quips, shooting Thor a look who simply shrugs before placing his hammer down on the metal table with a heavy thud.

“It’s not my fault my brother is so unwilling.” Thor comments, keeping his head down.

“He killed three people and threatened the lives of everyone in this building.” Natasha reminds him, and Thor raises his head meekly.

“He’s adopted?” He weakly states.

“This isn’t enough, I think we gotta bring in the big guns.” Tony rises to his feet, pacing around the room as all eyes turn to him.

Shifting on the spot, Steve clears his throat before speaking up. “Tony, I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Oh, and do you have any better ideas, Cap?” Tony shoots back, frustration rising through him as Loki remains locked up in the vault, tormenting them endlessly. “Didn’t think so.” He mutters under his breath. “Friday, can you send our sunshine a message to meet us in my lab?”

“Of course, Tony. Message sent.” Friday responds, and Steve glances over to Natasha, knowing it’s too soon.

Within a matter of minutes, you tiredly walk through the doors of Tony’s lab, seeing the Avengers all stood around. “Am I crashing some kinda party?” You chuckle, but your laughter isn’t well received based on the solemn expressions. “Tough crowd.”

“How’re you doing, sunshine?” Tony walks toward you, resting his arm over your shoulders.

“I’m better today.” You tell him truthfully. “Healing is taking a bit longer than usual, but I’ll be fine in a few days.”

Tony hums to himself, glancing over his shoulder to the rest of the team. “Listen, Y/n, we’ve got a favour to ask of you, and it might not be easy.” Tony begins and guides you back to face the rest of the Avengers.

Steve holds out a chair for you, noticing your breathing becoming shallow and your eyes drooping. You silently thank him as you sit down, glad to take the weight off your feet.

“How can I help?” You ask, a bright smile on your face.

Despite everything you’ve been through these past few months, you’re still more than willing to help everyone else.

“Well, Thor’s brother decided to pay us an unexpected visit,” Tony trails off as you raise a brow to Thor.

“Loki’s here?” You watch as Thor nods. After hearing countless stories from Thor about his brother, you can’t believe he’s here. “So where is he?”

“In the vault.” Natasha states bluntly as you whip your head around. “Sorry, Y/n. It’s the safest place for him to be.” She adds, and you nod to yourself, knowing it’s probably for the best after what happened last time.

“He’s not talking to anyone, is he?” You knew your goal at that moment as the Avengers nodded in response. “Okay.” You mutter under your breath as you rise to your feet, forcing back a groan as a sharp pain shoots up your side.

Steve’s hands hover naturally toward you, but you push through it. “We’ll be in here, Y/n.” Steve tells you. “If you need us at all, or want out, just say.” He adds.

“Thanks, Steve.” You smile sweetly before carrying on alongside Tony, heading toward the vault that you have only ever entered once.

“We just wanna know what he’s planning, why he’s back and all.” Tony briefly explains what they currently know, and the many gaps in Loki’s story as you stand in front of the doors to the vault.

You watch as two men open the doors, revealing a metal bridge leading to the glass container where Loki is sitting.

Loki lifts his head up, and as you catch his gaze it isn’t what you expected. After hearing countless tales of the past you anticipated seeing someone who radiated evil. But sitting before you is a God weakened by his past, not someone who revels in it.

“We’ll be outside like Cap said.” Tony mutters to you as he glares to Loki who merely smiles back.

“Bye, Tony.” You wave to him as the door is closed, leaving you and Loki in a moment of silence whilst you compose yourself.

“You’re not afraid,” Loki speaks up, now standing as he paces around the cylindrical container, a reinforced version of the previous one. “it’s awfully stupid of you.” He adds, and you can’t help but laugh quietly.

“Why should I be afraid?” You dare to ask as you lean against the railings, heavily relying on them as you make eye contact with Loki. “You’re just a God.”

“Oh my dear,” Loki laughs, shaking his head. “you have no idea who you’re talking to, clearly. You’re a mere mortal, why do you all think you can trick me into telling you anything?”

Sighing to yourself, you push your weight from the railings and step forward. “Perhaps because I’m not a ‘mere mortal’?” You suggest, now catching Loki’s attention. “I grew up with God’s, some, like you and others well,” You trail off. “we don’t talk about those ones.”

“What are you saying? You’re a God?” He coldly asks, but you shake your head in response.

“Oh, Gods no.” You admit. “I’m an Angel.” You state.

“No, you’re not.” Loki bluntly comments, looking you up and down before turning away from you. “Angels don’t exist, they’re a fairytale to keep children calm and believe in an afterlife.” He scoffs.

It’s your turn to scoff as you pause, waiting for him to look back at you. “Some say your kind are fairytales, Loki. Doesn’t mean that you aren’t real.” You explain, nearing the glass. “Why are you adamant that I can’t be an angel?”

Turning on his heels, Loki smirks as he approaches the glass, hovering before it and towers over you. “I would know if angels existed. Now, if you don’t mind I was in the middle of thinking about the thirty different ways I can escape here without the need for a mortal to interrupt me.” Loki states.

“Fair enough.” You shrug your shoulders as you cross your arms over your chest. “However, Loki?” You call out. “There are thirty-seven ways out of here, just so you know.” You chuckle, stepping back and return to the railing, trying to hide the pain in your laugh as it ripples through your spine.

Loki’s lips part to respond, but his eyes focus on your hand clutching your side. “You’re injured, aren’t you?” He asks, watching as you nod. “In the tales of Angels aren’t you supposed to heal within minutes of being injured? The whole ‘immortal’ aspect of being an Angel.” Loki paces around the cell once more, but his eyes never leave you.

“It’s a bit more complex than that.” You tell him through gritted teeth. “When an Angel falls from above or rises from below, our powers are still within us, but they aren’t as effective since we’re in the mortal world.” Your breathing slows down now, and you can’t help but slip down to the ground.

“How did you fall?” Loki kneels behind the glass, focusing on you closely. Yet, your breathing becomes slower, and the curiosity Loki has for you increases. “Tell me!” He yells, slamming his fist to the ground.

“I was sent to guard over a human, something we all do at some point.” You begin to explain, picturing the young boys face as he sat with a bloody nose in the middle of the park as children walked away, leaving him to suffer. “He, well, despite my efforts of guarding him, he didn’t make it.” Tears fill your eyes as you remember the day you fell, the consequences of your actions or lack thereof. “How about you, Loki?” You quickly change the topic of conversation. “Why did you come back to Earth?”

“You think I’m going to simply tell you because you told me a story?” Loki remarks.

“Stranger things have happened in all my years.” You tell him, shifting as you try to rise back to your feet. “And trust me, I’ve had plenty of them.” You joke as you stand back up, firmly gripping onto the railing behind you.

“Nonsense,” Loki mutters. “you’re a mortal, no older than Thor’s beloved Jane.”

You shake your head. “I’ve lived for nearly three hundred years.” You tell him. “It’s all in the eyes, Loki. But you only ever see the fear in them, whereas I see hope.”

“You’re here to envoke hope? That I might somehow change with the help of an ‘angel?’“

“Like I said, Loki.” Your voice quietens as you try to ignore the growing pain searing through your body. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Well, I am truly sorry.” Loki chuckles. “But this has been fun, a great story you’ve construed together I’ll admit.” He laughs softly. “As if a mortal of such a young age could try and tempt me.”

“I wasn’t here to tempt you, Loki.” You state clearly, despite your vision beginning to blur. “As I said, I was here to try and help you. As that’s what I do, it’s what I know.” Your voice softens as words struggle to leave your lips coherently.

“Nice try, mortal. But you’ll never get me to crack.” Loki spits to you, and that’s when you fall to the ground.

Immediately, the doors open and Steve rushes in.

“What did you do to her?!” Steve yells to Loki as you lie unconscious.

“How could I do anything when I’m stuck in here?” Loki holds his hands up in defence.

Steve glares to the God as he tries to pull you into his embrace. “Tony?” Steve calls out, and Tony walks in with Thor behind him, causing Loki to sigh heavily.

With the help of Thor, Steve is able to get you to your feet, but as you stand up your wings appear.

“Careful!” Steve warns the others. “Y/n told me her cloaking doesn’t work if she’s unconscious.”

“Come on then,” Tony mutters as he helps Steve carry you out, minding your large bright wings.

Yet, standing in disbelief, Loki can’t help but rethink his entire conversation with you. He watches as your wings drap across the floor, feathers catching on the metal and he winces as some are left behind.

“Angels are real?” Loki thinks aloud.

“What did you do to her, dear brother?” Thor asks, defeated as he hovers by the glass. “Y/n is nothing but a kind spirit, a real angel, Loki. Couldn’t you see that?”

Lowering his head, Loki remains silent.

Without another word being said, Thor exits the vault, leaving Loki alone as the door is sealed shut once more.

Staring down at the stray feathers you left behind, Loki buries his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.” He mutters under his breath, wishing he could’ve believed you whilst you were here and seen the hope in your eyes, and the fear looking back at them.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@biss-stuff @psychicforest  @lourightm @mywinterwolf   @justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken @marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @smilexcaptainx  @fandom-princess-forevermore @sarge-barnes-sir @pleasantlysecretdream  @decaffeinated–fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs  @eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley  @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8 @notbrooklynsblog @scallisonbaby @adoreyou976 @nikkixostan 

[jimlingss]

can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled. 

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?” 

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident. 

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck. 

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal. 

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water. 

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt. 

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate. 

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie. 

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting. 

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff. 

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp. 

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.” 

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean. 

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it. 

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant. 

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

[that-gt-and-vore-stuffs]

Experiment 05SB

Alternatively titled “I’m sorry 2B don’t hate me please”

I hath given in to the M4dc0m brain rot at the cost of me now having written a 7k+ word fic because I’m not confident enough in my art skills to draw it at the moment. Here we go!

Oh, there’s also implied fatal in this (it’s of unnamed characters, plus this is M4dc0m, but I’ve gotta say it. I guess you could take it as reformation if you really wanted to.). Mentions of blood I guess?

As always, Vore under the cut :)

“Ey 2b? You there?” Deimos’s voice crackled to life through the plastic earpiece currently jammed into his left ear, yanking the hacker and unofficial ‘team medic’ as he was called once (much to his own confusion. Sure, he knew basic medical but by no means was he any sort of doctor) back into reality. A brief moment passed in the silence of his room, more often called ‘the lab’, of their base before everything came crashing back at once. Deimos, Sanford, and Hank were out raiding a A.A.H.W warehouse at his instruction. Meaning he was alone in their base, also known as a breaking down appartement they had taken shelter in. It had electricity and provided shelter from the harsh hell scape that had once been the state of Nevada. A dark red sunless sky overhead, vegetation and any ecosystems completely wiped out from what they’d seen, bandits and zeds equally ready to eat the nearest person if it meant living another day, the Agency hunting you down if they thought you’d possibly be working against them or with the infamous Hank J. Wimbleton, and having little to no essential resources for days at a time to top it all off like some twisted cherry on this sick cake. Home sweet fucking home.

“Doc? Helllloooo?” Shit, right. Deimos.

“Sorry, I’m here. What is it Deimos?”

“And the medic lives!” The small cheer was accompanied by laughter from the smallest member of the team. Jebus, how was he able to joke in even the most dire situations?

“Just get to the point, chucklehead.” 2b could hear Sanford add in over the static, the man’s laughter just barely making it to tired ears.

“Right right, sorry man. Anyway, if we wanted to get food on the way back would you say no?” Pardon? There was no way he was hearing that right. There were several reasons why he couldn’t be hearing that right. A. food wasn’t by any means the easiest thing to come by in this hellhole, B. restaurants weren’t really a common thing anymore so those were out of the picture, and C. there’s no way they could p- actually, scratch that last one. Robbing a corpse wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that those three had done. Not by a long shot. Still though, how was he supposed to respond to that request?

“…what?” Apparently by asking the first word on his mind.

“We saw that one hotdog vendor on the way here and we’re all starving. Can we or can we not get hotdogs on the way back?” Oh. That’s what Deimos ment. How on earth had that hotdog vendor not been killed yet?

“Is this a genuine ‘we’ or is it a ‘me’, Deimos?” That seemed like a more fair and answerable question.

“Hey I-!”

“It’s a genuine ‘we’ Doc,” Sanford’s voice chimed in. By the cursing in the background 2b could imagine that he had flipped up Deimos’s mic to temporarily mute him in the realm of their earpieces. “Pretty sure one of our stomachs gave us away to the last group of agents we had to take out. Not gonna point fingers but I’m pretty sure it was Hank- Ack! I’m just saying!”

“Thought we weren’t pointing fingers.” There was the third voice. Rough from years of fighting yet still all too recognizable as Hank. The same Hank J. Wimbleton on the wanted posters that scattered the walls of almost every nearby building, wanted dead by the Auditor and his whole agency. He must’ve smacked Sanford for his comment. Well at least he didn’t do worse, whether on purpose or accident.

“We aren’t. Now Cmon Doc, you never answered my question.” Hearing the other hacker’s voice ask for an answer again 2b sighed. Always eager, wasn’t he? How the man had seemingly endless energy on missions would forever remain a mystery to him, Jebus be damned.

“I don’t really care what you do on the way back so long as you all come back in one piece and with the stuff I sent you there for. Understood?”

“Aye aye, Captain Doc! Over and out!” And there they went. The earpiece went dead, leaving 2b on his own once again once he flicked up his own mic. Back to silence. Sweet sweet silence. It wasn’t often they got that in their shared apartment of a base. Someone was always awake, someone was always saying something. It was never really quiet unless you were lucky enough to be the only one awake. 2BDamned had seen plenty of those rare times, if only because he overworked himself and didn’t sleep. So maybe it was one of his less than desirable qualities, when living in a hellscape being ten steps ahead of the agency trying to kill you is always good. He had to keep that up, on top of keeping the others alive and well.

And then there was his little experiment. That also was taking a toll on how little he slept. Not all that long ago the trio had returned from a mission with the data he had requested and more. Specifically a duffel bag full of seemingly shrunken grunts and two only slightly bigger shrunken MAGs. Pft, how funny it was to say that. A shrunken MAG. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it if you told him with no proof. The idea seemed insane. Oh but it wasn't. Not by a long shot if the cages sitting on one of his tables said anything. Normally he’d call such a thing like keeping people in cages inhumane, not that there were many humane things in this hellhole to begin with. He’d expect keeping them in cages that probably used to be for pets to be a move pulled by the Agency, not himself, however he had to make do with what they could find and had access to. Also known as: not much at all. He wanted to study them after all. Letting them free was just not an option.

Now that probably sounds bad, studying living beings like himself, but one couldn’t blame 2b when you considered his situation (at least he hopes one couldn’t). Somehow the Agency found a way to shrink living beings. That’s power that could be used against him and the others to make everything turn for the worst, something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. However, if one of his teammates or himself were to be shrunken on a mission it would be possibly lifesaving to know how to reverse the effects. Plus, having the power to shrink enemies on their side could certainly prove useful. All that being said, he needed these few alive in order to try and figure out what caused them to be how they were. Hence the repurposed, beat up pet cages. Two of them to be exact. One held the grunts and the other for the two MAG agents. None of them had killed each other yet, so that was nice. A few simple experiments and a dissection of a grunt that had been dead upon arrival to him proved that they still functioned as they would if they were their normal size. Just on a smaller scale. He had sent Hank, Deimos, and Sanford out for supplies today, yes, though if they found any information regarding the shrinking of their little ‘guests’ then they were to bring it to him. With no information on that though, he had to continue his other work. Tired eyes met the screen through red goggles. Moments later his head found itself cushioned in the crook of one of his arms.

“What the hell.” 2b grumbled, a fresh headache slowly starting to pound against the inside of his skull. What the hell was up with him? He should be fine. This was only his second day without proper ‘longer-then-15-minutes’ sleep. He’d gone longer before, he should be able to function. Why was the screen giving him such a headache now of all times? He needed to get stuff done. He needed to finish up this…this……what was he working on again? Hold on, no, he should remember. This shouldn’t be slipping his mind like it is. Maybe if he just thought back a few minutes. It would come back to him, right?

“Ok right before Deimos called, what was I doing?” 2b thought out loud to himself, trying his hardest to recall what had happened prior to the call from his allies. ”I was sitting here…then Deimos called in. Wait, no. Go back. From the top. Since…however long ago I’ve been sitting here, working on…what was I working on before Deimos asked about getting food? I sent them on the raid, didn’t eat, got to work and- no. That’s not it. Why can’t I just-“

Gggnnnnnnrrrr…

Oh well fuck him. That’s why he couldn’t focus. 2b groaned, not bothering to hide the noise as of now. He was alone, no one would hear him or tease him. Unless you would count the shrunken men in the cages, however it wasn’t likely they’d say anything. When you’re the size of a rat, spare the MAGs who were more rabbit sized, to your captor pissing them off seemed like the worst thing one could do. Clearly the hacker wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with teasing, so their mouths remained shut. That left 2b alone to deal with his complaining stomach, a feat which proved easier said than done when one was going off a day and a half without properly sleeping. He couldn’t even remember the last time he ate something. It was all just fuzzing together at this point.

Pushing himself off his desk 2b flopped back into the worn chair he’d been sitting in for God knows how long. Relaxing into the backrest was certainly more comfortable than being hunched over a laptop screen typing away like he had been for the past day or two. A hand fell to rest over his stomach while the other removed his goggles. Those were not helping the blooming headache. A low growl from his stomach drew a small hiss through his teeth, the sound being accompanied by a familiar empty cramping.

“Oh you can shut up.” He grumbled at the organ half heartedly, “It’s not like I can eat anything right now. There’s a reason I sent Hank and the others out.” His stomach growled back, the empty sound ringing in the hacker’s ears. He needed to eat, that was undeniable. The problem was getting something to eat. He had few options, none of which he particularly liked. Option 1. going out to look for something even slightly edible on his own, option 2. wait and hope the others found and brought back food, or option 3. contact the others through his headset and ask them to get him something on the way back. The first option was clearly undesirable on its own and the other two weren’t much better. Sure, asking them to grab something for him would probably be easiest and most logical, however he was almost certain that they didn’t want to hear that out of the blue in the middle of a fight. That and he didn’t want to deal with any teasing that might come along with asking. He wasn’t about to take that chance when he had things to do. He couldn’t remember those things at the moment, sure, but they were still things he had to do! So asking was not an available option at the moment. That left waiting and hoping for the best.

Rrrrrrrnnngggggg….

“I know. I don’t like the idea either.” 2b sighed as he spun around in his chair, gently patting his stomach. He needed to get out of his chair, even if it was just a walk around his room. He needed something after a day and a half straight of sitting there hunched over staring at a screen. Maybe it’d help with the headache if he was lucky. Probably wouldn’t but hey a man could dream. With a small grunt of effort the hacker found himself on his feet, his balance wobbling and legs feeling like brittle pasta beneath him. Ah, that's what I wanted to do earlier. Go figure taking breaks gets ignored by my brain. “However, I do believe it’ll end with the best result. I’m sure they’ll be home soon anyway.”

They wouldn’t. That was a lie, to himself and to his stomach alike. He likely had a few more hours alone, maybe two at least. The A.A.H.W warehouse he’d sent them to was big and if you account for fighting delays and them stopping on the way back then the chance of them being back in the next two hours would be some sort of miracle. By the way his stomach reacted every time he brushed over the thought that the trio was getting food on the way back then he wasn’t going to be looking so hot by the time they arrived back. Oh he was going to get the short end of the stick no matter what he did, wasn’t he? Talk about luck. 2b sighed, running a hand up and through his hair as he walked along one of the walls of his small room. His stomach clearly wasn’t shutting up any time soon so the next best course of action would be to ignore it. Maybe that would help him wait it out. What could he focus on? There was work, he could clean up a little bit maybe, or he could focus on the rattling coming from the cages and-

Hold on.

That most certainly wasn’t right. 2b cocked an eyebrow, crossing the room to where the three cages were placed. Quite the interesting scene was playing out before him. From what he could see a few of the shrunken grunts were teaming up to try and break out of the cages. This wasn’t their first little escape attempt, no, but it interested him enough as he stood there watching and attempting to grab his tablet at the same time. Eventually he had succeeded, opening up a new document to scribble down a few notes.

Title: Log 073SB

Time: 6:34 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: Grunts working together to attempt escape. MAG agent seems to be attempting to cause a distraction by rattling the wall of the cage. Or perhaps they just want out. Very annoying either way. None seem bothered by my presence.

Satisfied with his little note, 2b closed the tablet and set it down on the counter next to one of the cages. Whether it was him being too rough with setting the tablet down or the low grumble from his stomach that startled the cage of grunts was up for debate, but currently he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Right now he needed to have a chat with the little troublemakers. Without hesitation the unofficial medic reached forward, opening the little hinged door located on top of the cage with ease compared to what the grunts inside were attempting before. He didn’t think twice before he reached in and grabbed the two topmost grunts from the pile of attempted escapees before retracting his hand, repeating the process with his other hand, and finally closing the cage. Hands now full, each holding two fighting bodies, the hacker sighed.

“Escape huh? How many times have you already tried that and it didn’t work?” 2b asked, a less than impressed tone lacing his voice. Sure, he needed a distraction from his stomach but he didn’t want to have to deal with escape attempts left and right for the next however long. “What made you think it’d go any different this time?”

There was a moment of silence before a soft voice spoke up, one that clearly hadn’t been used recently. One of the grunts in his left hand. “W-we figured i-if we actually tried and w-worked together then maybe we’d b-be able to manage a successful…e-escape…”

“Really now? Interesting.” 2b mumbled, looking over the grunt in his hand. They were all so small. You’d think he’d have gotten used to their size by now but every time he held one it seemed to slap him in the face. Offing them if they got too rowdy wouldn’t be hard at all. Wouldn’t need to use anything to begin with. How crazy it was. “Though I’m not sure I can let this slide as I have with previous instances.”

“W-what?” His response seemed to temporarily stun the four in his hands, most likely because of how it was different from his previous comments on their attempted escapes. A shiver passed over them like a wave while the hacker only nodded.

“Your previous attempts at escape. While I can understand why one would try I’ve made it quite clear that successful escapes won’t be happening nor tolerated, correct? I need to prove my point here because you all clearly don’t understand words.” He shifted on his feet slightly, a new question wracking his brain. What could he do to show he wasn’t going to deal with constant escape attempts? It had to be something that stuck, seeing as they clearly didn’t understand his earlier comments about escape not being tolerated. Only a few moments of silence passed before his lips were moving again. “You four are going somewhere else. A stronger holding space. If any of the others try anything they’ll join you. Simple, yet effective.” Or it would be if he knew exactly where he planned to stick these four. What did he have that could serve as a stronger cell for them? The cages were already pretty secure in terms of what he could work with. He just needed something stronger, close to him, hard to escape, and threatening that held a sense of danger with it. But what could that be? His eyes darted around the makeshift lab, trying to find something.

Grrrrroowwwllll…

2b’s eyes slowly scanned down from his shaking captives to his stomach. For a moment he just stared, eyes lacking any readable emotion. Well now that was certainly an option. It fit his criteria. Almost too well. Strong, hard to escape, close to him, and it held a sense of danger. Under his mask his torn and scared lips quirked up into a little smirk. “Mmhm. That’ll do quite nicely, in fact~”

The final moments of peace were shattered as the meaning of his words collided with his captives like a well aimed punch to the gut. Hearts sunk to their feet like rocks in water, despair rearing it’s head in their struggles. Those fortunate enough to remain in the cages simply watched with a muted horror as the four bodies were tossed onto the table and held down with little to no effort. The hacker wasted no time removing the mask and bandages that usually covered his mouth, tossing the fabrics haphazardly beside his discarded tablet. Despite the word fresh being the last thing he’d use to describe the Nevada air, 2b knew he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t nice to just breathe the air in alone and not through the layers of fabric like he often did. With the temporary roadblock now gone his eyes drifted downward to the bodies pinned beneath his hand.

“Well, I believe that eliminates any preventable issues we could encounter here.” He hummed softly, plucking the grunt who was covered by his hand the least up into the air. It certainly was odd to watch the little body squirm and fight against him, all attacks on the two fingers holding it proving futile. Their only hope seemed to be 2b letting them go, something which proved less and less likely the longer they studied the look in the hackers eyes. It wasn’t a look one ever wanted to find themself on the receiving end of. The sight of sharp teeth, glimmering with saliva through grinning lips, certainly did not help to lower the grunt’s heart rate at all. 2b simply clicked his tongue. “Meaning stalling time is up. Stay still, won’t you?”

The grunt did not, in fact, stay still. It was impossible to do so as far as they knew when you had a spit soaked tongue dragging up every inch of your front, sharp daggers of teeth only millimeters from their face. A deafening silence washed over the others, only being broken by a small pleased hum from their normal sized captor.

“Not bad…” the man mumbled, dragging his tongue up the squirming grunt yet again. A small voice in the back of his mind, his voice of reason, yelled out the obvious loud and clear to him plenty of times: this was wrong. It wasn’t right to be doing what he was about to do. This was stooping down to the bandits level, something he never intended to do unless absolutely necessary. He shouldn’t be enjoying the taste of another living being like this. And yet…here he was. Ignoring any logic and reason in his mind to proceed with this. Thank goodness he was alone. 2b didn’t even want to think about what the others might say if they were to see him how he was now. Shaking his head softly he shoved away the thought, opening his jaw as far as the joint and scarred tissue that made up his cheeks would allow. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned with how easily the small body slipped into his mouth.

Despite their best efforts to squirm free of their new confinement, the slippery surroundings of the unofficial doctor’s maw proved to have horrible traction. Saliva dropped onto the unfortunate grunt’s head from above while they desperately tried to crawl out of the dark cavern. Feet scrambled on the soaked surface of their predator’s tongue as the muscle moved and flipped them around as if they were some piece of candy, all while their hands desperately tried to keep as little of them between the axe like teeth. One bite and they were done for, a terrifying thought. Through it all only three sounds were ever heard from those lucky enough to not be in the current grunt’s position. The sickening sounds of soaked struggle, terrified yelps from the grunt stuck within 2b’s jaws, and the occasional hum from the man himself. The torture, as those watching from the cage would describe it, seemed to continue for hours and hours on end.

Glk

Glp~

Until it all stopped with two simple swallows and a collective gasp of horror from those watching. The relaxed posture of the man they all watched failed to help their situation.

“H….huhh…that was..” the uncertified medic breathed, breaking the silence. His free hand lazily felt down his throat, tracing where he could feel the squirming body slip further down by the second. It didn’t take a genius to decipher that the less angry sounding gurgle from the man’s stomach signaled the end of the unfortunate grunt’s descent. With eyes widened just beyond his natural look 2b gently pressed his stomach. How interesting it was, as morbid as it might sound, to feel something squirming around inside the organ. Before he could even stop to consider a better way to word his thoughts, he finished his sentence. Just not in the way the grunts wanted to hear. “…incredibly easy.”

The last thing any of the remaining grunts wanted to see was those eyes scan up slowly before locking on them as if they were some sort of dessert. The clearly out of place smile on the man’s face didn’t help the feeling of impending doom either. If anything it only made it worse as a rough hand plucked another grunt from the selected three that had remained under his hand. Down, beneath his newfound curiosity and odd urge to continue what he was doing, 2b knew he should have been more concerned about how easy this was coming to him. No sane person would take so calmly to swallowing living beings, especially not of his own kind. Yet here he was, smirking as he licked over his scarred lips with cold eyes locked onto the small shaking body like a cat would after spotting a mouse. Looking at their sizes in comparison to one another? The simile was scarily accurate. Through his whole little mental debate the hacker found it all too easy to slip the small body into his mouth, licking it over to draw out as much of that strangely addicting taste before slowly beginning to nudge it back. Just bit by bit until it was far enough.

Glrk

Grk~

“Two down…haahhh…two to go…” the hacker sighed as he traced the lump down his throat. There was a waiting period once more but it didn’t last long before the shiver inducing gurgle signified where the poor soul had ended up. How the man hadn’t gotten sick yet was beyond the understanding of those who witnessed the event and even the man himself. Surely he should feel at least a little nauseous with two rat sized bodies squirming within his stomach. Nausea and fullness were the two sensations he had expected by now and yet neither had shown their face yet. Deep within his mind, from an area he didn’t even know existed until it spoke, a voice urged him to test his limits. 2b had shaken that idea off nearly immediately. As….enticing as that idea was, he still needed a few of the shrunken grunts alive and well to continue his attempts to recreate and reverse however the Agency had shrunken them before. Four however….well that wasn’t the biggest loss in the world if something happened to go wrong. Leaning a little more heavily over the table he grabbed one of the last two grunts, shoving the struggling body into his mouth head first. Quite the sight it was to watch flailing legs be slurped into someone’s mouth like nothing more than wet noodles. Interesting and horrifying.

Glp

Glrk~

Though compared to seeing someone who had been beside you ten minutes ago disappear down your captor’s throat as nothing more than a barely visible lump would top it in the scarring scale. Nothing could compare to that sight. Good god was it terrifying. The reality that escape was impossible was all but cemented into the remaining grunts' brains now, as that had been what had gotten their companions into this situation in the first place. This was happening because their capturer wanted to prove his point that attempted escape would not be tolerated. At this point they were convinced they’d have to have a death wish to attempt escape now. Especially when their conditions weren’t horrible compared to what they could be in, something which hadn’t crossed their minds till now. Now don’t take their words wrong, by no means did they want to stay here. Especially not now. However, if it meant living another day and not ending up as lunch? Staying definitely was the preferable option.

“One to go. Damn.” The hacker's voice snapped all attention back to him. His position had changed, now leaning back on the table as he looked over the struggling form in his hands. The words seemed to flow from his mouth without too much thought needed behind them. They just felt…right. It was a feeling he never expected to experience in such a context that he was now, much less to have it almost piloting him as it felt now, but he was nearly willing to say he welcomed it. He wasn't well acquainted with the idea of eating living beings after all, so the subconscious help to ease the process along wasn’t something he’d push away. Not unless it were to cause an issue that is. However, nothing of the sort had happened yet, meaning he was going to keep letting his actions flow naturally.

Just as he had with the three before this one, 2b wasted little time starting towards his goal. Raising the grunt just above his head the man dangled the flailing body over his open mouth, a sight that he could assume would terrify anyone in the grunt’s position. All went smoothly as he lowered the small body in. That is until the grunt, having seen an opportunity and taken it, grabbed and yanked down his mic. While he tried to react as quickly as possible, he could only pray the microphone had not managed to pick up the gag he’d made after panic and shock had caused him to jolt forward and send the grunt to the back of his throat. He flipped up the mic as fast as he could, trying to determine the best course of action one could take with a squirming body halfway down their throat and a possibility of having just been ratted out to the others by their lunch. He was screwed were they to find out, what with how at least two of the three always seemed to be looking for teasing ammunition. That and this….well this wasn’t exactly normal, you know.

“Doc? Is everything ok over there?” Fuck. That wasn’t good. Ignoring the sinking feeling of dread in his chest the best he could, 2b took a deep breath and forced the fourth grunt down with a swallow that took a little more effort then he felt it should’ve. Flipping down the mic, he answered.

“Damnit- yes. I'm fine, Sanford. Don’t worry.” The sentence had to be his least convincing lie yet. Between his heavy breathing and dryness in his throat he could tell his voice wasn’t helping him in any way. Now he didn’t take his teammates for idiots, despite how it sure seemed like they were sometimes, but in the moment he found himself wishing they were.

“You sure? You don’t sound all that fine. Did something happen back at base?” The worry beginning to lace the man’s voice through the static filled earpiece only served to worsen the feeling of dread in 2b’s chest. He needed to get Sanford, and the others who were no doubt listening, off the idea something had happened. He needed to deal with the whole I-just-swallowed-four-people-alive thing before they came back, so them returning early was not in the plan.

“No, nothing happened.” He shot back, only realizing the speed in his voice wasn’t too reassuring after he said it. Ok, what was a believable excuse for why he sounded like he did? “I just…spilt coffee on my legs after burning my mouth. Must’ve knocked the mic down in the process.” With a hand to his chest the hacker forced a soft swallow, trying to at least get rid of the uncomfortable dryness that had settled in the back of his throat. Please say they believed that.

“Pft, really? Damn, wish I could’ve seen that. Think you looked like one of those old cartoons, Doc?” Phew, crisis averted.

“Real funny, Deimos. Get back to your mission.” 2b shook his head at the comment. At least they seemed to believe him. It was worth it, even if the mental image of those over exaggerated cartoon characters was now going to show up whenever he even slightly burnt his mouth on coffee. Oh well, some sacrifices must be made.

“Alright alright. We’re going.” The man on the other end laughed. Those idiots. Damn his heart caring for them, now he was attached. “See you when we get back. Over and out, Doc!” And there they went.

Fighting off his own soft laughter, 2b flipped up his mic. A soft sigh escaped him before he could even think to stop it. That could’ve been horrible. While one hand softly rubbed at his neck, sore from what he had to guess was the miniature disaster that just took place, the other gently laid itself over his stomach. The four inside never seemed to stop moving, constantly squirming and slipping about. There were a handful of reasons he could assume was the cause, though the most likely was that being shoved into a soaking wet moving sack with three of your colleagues provided little traction or ability to get comfortable. That and panic. Panic was probably a rather big factor in how they were feeling. 2b, on the other hand, had to be feeling the exact opposite of how they were. The warm weight of his four ‘victims’ was a welcome sensation within the previously empty pit of his stomach. As twisted as he knew it sounded, he would’ve been confident saying that what he was feeling was honestly satisfactory. Why having living beings stretch and actually round out his stomach in a barely noticeable way was causing this feeling was a mystery to him, but at the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Not when it felt this nice.

“I hope I’ve made my point clear.” The unofficial medic hummed, looking over to the grunt filled cage. They had backed away from him by now, huddled in the back most corner of their confines. The sight drew a genuine laugh from the man they all seemed to fear ten times more than before. Well that was proof if he’d ever seen it. Looks like their escape wasn’t something he had to worry about any more. So maybe he sacrificed a little of his ‘I’m not going to hurt you’ act for this. It was worth it in his eyes. And besides, he was probably the most gentle with them out of his whole little gang. If they wanted to be left with one of the others then go ahead. Although being left with the mercenary who you were created to kill didn’t sound like the most fun time to him. Smirking, he collected his goggles, mask, and tablet from the table. “It seems I have. Glad we could have this little -hic!- chat. Heh.”

He gave the cage a pat, the rattling of the metal only serving to scare the grunts further back in the ball of bodies they’d curled into, before turning to walk back to his desk. He needed to sit down. Standing apparently became a lot harder when you had four people fighting against your insides. Thinking back, he didn’t know what he would have expected. Did he stumble a little bit trying to get back to his desk? Yes, he did. It was like he forgot how to walk in all honesty. Another reason he was glad he was alone in their base. Like most things though it proved worth it when he finally collapsed into the worn chair he used for work. Without thinking twice he opened his tablet and started a new log.

—————————

“Doc! We’re back!” The call rang out through the appartement, followed by three sets of footsteps marching their way in and the door slamming shut perhaps a little stronger than needed. As the hinges of the door stopped rattling the three expected to hear a displeased groan, followed by the ruffled form of 2b appearing in the hallway to scold them for being so aggressive or something like tracking blood into the base. Honestly, why he still bothered was a mystery to them, at least Sanford and Deimos for they had zero clue what went on in Hank’s head, for the most part. They were mercenaries, fighters, people looking to not end up with their brains splattered on the wall or something worse. They were going to be bloody upon returning, even if that blood wasn’t their own. It wasn’t like their floors were carpet or anything either. In the end though they never bothered to fight the scoldings. No use making the unofficial medic mad, especially if they needed help. The lack of disgruntled medic in the hallway or at least yelling when silence returned to the room was worrying. After a minute or two with nothing spoken and no ruffled hacker to be seen, Deimos tried again to call him.

“2b?” He called out, peering down the hallway which led to their rooms. There wasn’t any blood on the walls, a good sign to start, and no bullet holes that weren’t there before. Unless the Agency suddenly learned how to do stealth missions, something he and he knew the other two were hoping wasn’t the case, he had hopes. Again, no response from the man. Gun still in his hand he took one glance back to the others, a silent ‘follow me’, before continuing down the hallway. Although Deimos had made it to the closed door first he’d been pushed past by the red goggle wearing giant as he reached for the doorknob. Hank had been the one to open the door to 2b’s room. He’d also been the first of the trio to feel the tension in his shoulders drop. It wasn’t long after he had relaxed that he was shoved into the room by two bodies trying to get in and see any damage that could’ve been done while they were gone. The sight of 2BDamned softly snoring away in his chair, nothing in the room seeming out of place, was most certainly a welcome one.

“Ah. So that’s why he isn’t barking us up a tree for your entrance, Dei.” Sanford hummed with a laugh, careful to watch his volume. If there was one thing he didn’t want to deal with after their mission it was a cranky Doc who got woken up by them. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t necessarily sleep after all and there was no way he could survive off coffee like he seemed to silently claim he could sometimes. They all had times when their sleep schedules were fucked.

“Oh shut up, ‘Ford.” Deimos shot back with a playful punch to the man’s bicep. “It’s not like I’m the one who slammed the door. That’s what he would’ve been on our asses about.”

“You slammed it open then yelled loud enough for all of Nevada to hear you. Don’t act like you’re innocent!”

As the two’s words morphed into friendly bickering Hank took it upon himself to deliver the bit of what they got that couldn’t stay in the duffle bag slung over his shoulder at the moment. Buried in the pocket of his jacket was a small object. Something he hadn’t expected to find, but had snagged nonetheless when it had been pointed out by Deimos. For a second as he walked over to the man a rough hand dug around fabric, fingers gripping plastic as he arrived at his destination. Without thinking he tossed the USB onto the hacker’s desk, eyes wandering over small things like the empty coffee mug or discarded goggles. Behind red-tinted goggles they landed on the man’s tablet, the screen now illuminated thanks to what he could assume had been the small drive hitting the desk. Prying wasn’t something he often did when it came to his teammates, respecting their privacy as they often did his, but after a certain word caught his eye he couldn’t help but read the log that had popped up.

Title: Experiment 05SB

Time: 7:42 pm, xx/xx/xx

Author: 2BDamned

Note: I…cannot believe I’m about to write this. This is update one of Experiment 05SB, an experiment started without much if any bit of a proper plan behind it. Phase I, I suppose you could call it, was a success. The shrunken grunts are, in fact, small enough to swallow whole and…alive. MAGs have not yet been confirmed to be the same way, though I’m sure that answer will show itself one day. I am unsure why I am able to keep four of them down without feeling nauseated, but I can. I will update at a later time when more information has presented itself.

The log ended there, eyes falling away from the screen as Hank’s mind worked to process the information it had just been given. According to what had been written before the man had fallen victim to sleep, it was not only possible to swallow the shrunken beings sitting in one of the cages behind him, but the unofficial doctor had done it himself. Four times to be exact. Curiosity grabbed control of his eyes, slowly panning them up to the cage of grunts who looked noticeably more terrified than they usually did. Had they seen the whole thing go down? His mind continued to wander, finding new questions like how on earth the hacker had managed to keep living and no doubt moving beings down like the log said he did. That is unless he’d spit them up before falling asleep. However that seemed highly unlikely-

“Snooping around Doc’s stuff, are we Hank~?” When Deimos had appeared behind him was beyond the mercenary, though the shock of hearing his voice out of the blue was enough to startle him into quickly powering off 2b’s tablet and whipping around to face the two that now stood across with him with far too smug looks on their faces for his liking.

“Woah there, big guy! We didn’t mean any trouble.” Sanford cooed, the fucking Chad cooed, holding his hands up as if he was under some sort of arrest. “Just wanted to know what you were reading over here is all~.”

“Yeah, exactly. I never expected to find you clicking through Doc’s diary.” Deimos added on nearly flawlessly. Sometimes he really hated how well they worked together. Namely when it was against him. “So, was it a love confession~?”

Hank sighed, glaring at the two through his goggles. He sure fucking hoped they could see the look on his face, despite most of it being covered by bandages and his mask. Because he was not amused and he wanted them to know it.

“No, not a love confession, you morons.” He groaned, shaking his head. Telling them straight off what it said would probably be horrible. At the moment he was still having a few difficulties understanding parts of what he read. Lying just seemed like the best choice overall. It wasn’t like he’d be the only one doing so, after all. It sure seemed like 2b did to them over the mic. Speaking of the man, Hank turned around to take a good look at him. At first glance he seemed like he normally did when he passed out in his chair from overworking himself like this. It was only when Hank took an extra second to look and let the information in his brain guide him did he see the slightly out of place softness around the sleeping hacker’s stomach. Unable to help himself Hank felt his ruined remaining lip quirk up into a small smirk under his mask as he turned around to shove the Dumbass Duo out of the room so 2b could sleep.

“Bunch’a nonsense, is all. Now move. I don’t wanna deal with him if you idiots wake him up and we still have shit to put away.”

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Club ‘Illusion’

Fandom: DC x Marvel Pairing: Avenger x Batfam | Reader x Loki Word count: 3k (yes I can still write things over 1.5k words) Summay: With your hero work taking up most of your time you decide to find an outlet - that outlet turns out to be your own soon to be opened club. On the V.I.P. list for that evening? Two of the most important groups of people in your life. The only problem: they have yet to meet each other, not to mention the little fact that you’ve been keeping not just the club a secret... Requested by a universal fantastic Anon: If requests are still open, can I request a BatBoys x reader x Avengers where both teams meet through reader and fight because they were talking about which team reader likes more? Pairing would be your choice.

“Where does this go, boss?” a man in a dungaree holding a box full of musical equipment, chords and the like asked you and interrupted the conversation you were having with the DJ. “Bring it up these stairs there and then set it onto the black clothed table, Marianne will be there in a minute, could you help her set it up? “Sure thing boss,” the man nodded and trudged over to the direction you had waved him to. You turned back to Marianne - the mentioned DJ - who had been your friend for years and she was the first person you had hired when you had decided to take the advice of your Avengers issued therapist and find an outlet for your creativity and passion outside of your time-consuming hero work all over the planet and the universe. So you decided to use your funds from years of getting paid by Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne (even though you continued telling them you didn’t want their money) to do something fun and - in the spirit of a certain green-themed archer - open a nightclub. You had kept everything under wraps, the only people knowing about it were the contractors, decorators and Marianne and they all pledged secrecy, but tonight you would lift the metaphorical curtain. With the Avengers and Waynes (including non-Wayne-named) invited and the news about this new club opening all over social media doing the rest you were positively sure that tonight would be a great night. “Y/N?” Marianne’s voice ripped you out of your daydreams and you had to shake your head free of other thoughts and focus back onto the matter at hand, with last touches still having to be made. “Uhm- yeah, sorry, I was lost in thoughts.” “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will go just fine. Look around you, this place is amazing, everyone did such an amazing job,” she complimented and you couldn’t help but follow her advice and actually take a look around.The room was very spacious and even though it was almost empty except the worker getting ready for tonight and a few others who helped set some stuff up. In the middle was a lower dance area with small sets of steps leading up, the floor in a chess pattern, but neon techni-coloured instead of black and white, all around that area were booths to sit in and on the far end of the room, a bit off of the dance-ground were two circular bars that were fully stocked with every drink you could ever need or want. On the other end was a stage for life-performances and ten feet above that was a sort of balcony that served as the DJ-booth with a view over the entire club. And yet again on the other side, above the bars, was a V.I.P. room which was a bit more soundproof and where a conversation could be actually held, with a one-way-mirror facing the club. The way the lights reflected off the surfaces and the sound carried through the space really confirmed what Marianne had said, the place was pretty amazing. “You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” you took a deep calming breath and smiled. “Yes I am, but now we gotta get going, I’ll be up in the booth if you need me. You better give the final briefing to the staff,” she instructed before turning around and walking away. Deciding that taking her advice was the best course of action you went to go to the staff room, when Marianne called out to you yet again, shouting after you: “Don’t forget that you gotta be getting ready in an hour, your special guest should be arriving around then.”

The evening was starting to greet the people and the sun had started to disappear a few minutes ago when a group of five and a group of six gathered before a clearly newly constructed building - a club - with the name ‘Illusion’ in enlightened letters on the front. A long line of interested people, mostly young adults around 25, stretched before what seemed to be the entrance, but it seemed to still be closed. Both of the groups looked around a little bit confused, but they didn’t notice each other, or at least found nothing suspicious about the other. Now, if you were to take a very close look at both of these groups beside each other you’d find a lot of similarities, like - for example - the redeemed ‘bad-guy’ who now acted as professional sarcastic commentator, the goofball with a history in circus, the genius, philanthropist, playboy billionaire and the bad-ass tech-savvy red-head. Not to mention all of their past-time ‘hobbies’. And yet, with all these great intellect and talent collected in front of the club, they did not seem to be able to figure out what they were doing there or that there was another group in just about the same situation. The doors to the club opened and a bouncer and two servers walked out, the bouncer stationating himself before the entrance and starting to check people in, and the two servers looking around for a second before catching sight of the groups. They exchanged a few words before each of them walked over to the collection of people. The group from New York was brought over to the front entrance, allowed to skip the line and enter the club, while the Gotham-group was brought in through the back-entrance, but even though the place where they entered the club was different, they were yet both stil led to the same room, up above the bars behind a one-way-mirror.

You had changed into your sparkle-y, y/f/c outfit with make-up that would glow in the ultraviolet light that would shine all over the club later and your hair in a fashionable hairdo, perfectly prepared for your great night, with Marianne’s outfit mirroring yours just in different colours. With a clipboard you made your last round through the different areas, checking in with your staff and manager to make sure that everything would go flawless and that they could come to you with questions or if they needed help - if necessary you yourself would change into the gender-neutral uniform and start serving people. In the end the last area you had to check before meeting your special guests in the V.I.P. area was the DJ booth. “Everything good?” you asked, enjoying the last moments of relative silence before the booming music would start as you leant over the balcony railing and eyed your own little business. “Yes, I tried it out during soundcheck earlier while you were getting dressed, it’s some sweet equittement you got here, a Dream,” Marianne sighed in bliss and you could see how happy she was to be able to work with this equipment that had certainly cost enough to deserve that demeanor from her. “You know, if you like it this much, I could use a full-time DJ,” you tried to mention as nonchalant as possible, but you could feel her piercing, unbelieving gaze in your neck. “Are you serious? I thought you had employed one over a month ago. I thought tonight was a one-time-thing.” “Oh well, I did talk to one but then I listened to some of his stuff and compared to you it’s like a ten years old project on garage band. But don’t worry, I get it, you’re right. I’m sure you have way better gigs lined up left and right, I’ll find someone,” you shrugged, a little bit disappointed that Marianne didn’t seem even remotely interested in working full-time, only to be stopped when she grabbed your shoulders and began to almost shake you. “Are you kidding, I would love to work here full-time!!! This job would be a dream: the equipment, the atmosphere, my employer! DJ’s would kill for an opportunity like this. That’s why I was so confused, I thought you’d have plenty of better DJs lining up for this job,” she gushed before hugging you close and almost sobbing with happiness and thanking you for this opportunity. You agreed that you’d talk the details over later before telling her to start the music since people started to walk in and you could see a certain group of Heroes being led by one of your bar-women walking towards the left stairs to the V.I.P. room and another group of vigilantes led by one of the security-members being brought to the elevator on the right side to exactly the same room. “Okay, I gotta go, Got me some guests waiting,” you winked at Marianne who just waved you off, too immersed in her element. With quick steps and a happy smile you walked along the side of the room and followed where you saw the Avengers walk up, a little skip in your step. Honoring your word, both groups had been brought into the V.I.P. area which was big enough for them to both sit inside it without having to sit together, with the security guard taking position at the wall and the bar-women at the small, private bar. Another calming sigh later you opened the door and walked into the room immediately catching the eyes of all occupants of the room and as you nodded at your two employees in thanks, both groups of superheroes had stood up to greet you, seemingly only now realizing the presence (or rather the reason of the presence) of each other. “Hello guys, it’s so nice to have you here,” you greeted all 11 with a big gesture before mentioning to the window, “So, what do you think?” Confused eyes found you and they looked between each other and you, only one pair standing out, but seemingly not ready to reveal themselves properly yet. “It looks amazing,” Stephanie, who somehow managed to look perfectly club-fitting even in her casual clothes with her blond hair laying over her shoulder in a braid, and jumped towards you and engulfed you in a sisterly hug like she always did, “How did you get us in? I saw the adverts for this place all over social media and the line was enormous. Do you know the owner?” You held back a chuckle and laid your head to the side. “You could say so,” you gave her a cheeky smile that she couldn’t quite decipher, before turning to face the complete group, “But first things first, introduction.” Since both of the groups were still standing separately enough to be distinguished between you motioned to the Waynes. “May I introduce my somewhat-adopted-not-legally-but-emotionally-family. This is Bruce Wayne - I bet you all have heard of him - these are his sons, Richard Grayson - you can call him Dick - and Jason Todd, and his daughter Stephanie - or Steph - Brown and close family friend Barbara Gordon,” you motioned to each of them in turn with their names and they nodded in greeting at the others, still unknown to them. Then you turned to the others and said: “And may I introduce to you my first ever superhero team slash found family group also known as the Avengers - or rather a view of them anyways. Here we have Tony Stark - I’m sure you heard of him too, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, our two super soldiers Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and the trickster god himself - Loki.” “Wait, Loki-Loki? The ‘battle-of-New-York’ Loki?” Jason asked in a surprised, but also amused manner and you could almost hear Loki roll his eyes. “Oh please, get over it Mortal,” he answered sarcastically, but before you could intervene Stephanie took her turn. “Oh you’re one to talk Jay, let’s not forget that.” You couldn’t help but giggle a bit at that and even though the Avengers seemed confused at how easily that shut Jason up, they accepted it as the end of that part of the conversation. For a few minutes the gathered people - a few of your favorite people in the world - started making their own introductions and you were happy that you saw them get along well. Waiting for a good opportunity to get into the conversation and get back to what you wanted to tell them, you were stopped from taking it when Dick motioned at Loki’s outfit. A deep-green suit, black dress-shirt under it, a golden tie, black hair slicked back and black asgardian armor boots - putting that certain touch to it - adorned him and you couldn’t blame Dick when he stated: “How comes none of us got a warning that we’d need to wear something fancy, but he did?” It was only now that the people who had come there with Loki had noticed his outfit and it was Tony who raised an eyebrow. “What happened to the grey jumper you said was ‘nice enough’ to be seen out with when you have to be out with us annoying mortals?” “Well, I can’t let Lady Y/N be the only one who shows that she has a sense of elegance and fashion in this despicable planet, can I now?” Loki answered sarcastically and now you wanted to roll your eyes at him calling you ‘Lady Y/N’, something you had told him to stop ages ago. “Loki isn’t actually wearing this,” you tried to clear things up, ignoring Loki’s remark, only to receive even more confusing looks, causing you to sigh. “Loki is a trickster god, he uses Illusions, he’s probably still in his Pajamas, he just makes it seem like he is wearing this.” Before anyone would start bombarding the god and you with questions, you took hold of  the conversation and used your stern hero voice to gain the attention. “Now I’m sure you’re all wondering why I invited my favorite people to a newly opened nightclub and like Stephanie has already mentioned, one that is hard to get into nonetheless. The reason is-” you made a pause to emphasize, “-that it is my club.” A wave of confused ‘what?’s hit you and you quickly explained: “Well, I needed to find another outlet than hanging around with other heroes and busting bad guys and after a talk with Oliver - he’s a friend from Starling city,” you explained for the Avengers, “I decided that opening a club was just what I needed. That’s the reason I was so absent the past few weeks, I was busy planning and employing and stuff, but from now on everything should run itself. I will be able to perfectly split my time into three for the club, hero work and friends and family.” “That’s so cool!” Stephanie squealed and gave you a high five and the others joined in congratulating you, telling you how amazing everything looked and that they were proud of you. “Boss?” a voice interrupted from behind you and you turned to see one of your staff members, “Could I talk to you for a second?”   “Excuse me for a bit, I gotta go and run my business,” you cheekily smiled and left your two favorite teams to make conversation as you and the women left through the door that lead to the stairs. “So what’s the matter? What can I he-” you were rudely interrupted when the women’s form morphed into a taller, sleeker one of a certain trickster and promptly continued to press you against the door you had just left through. “Well, well, look who’s getting impatient,” you giggled as he pressed a kiss to your jawline. That was another secret that you had kept from your teams and even from Marianne. Loki and you. If you were being quite honest you were not sure how the two of you became a thing, but somehow you did and now the two of you were waiting for the right moment to tell the rest of the team that you were a lot more than just colleagues. “Can you blame me? You should’ve told me about this, beloved, then I’d known that you were not growing sick of me. I was all worried when you kept on disappearing,” he muttered as he relished in the closeness with you. Slightly shocked at this you grabbed his broad shoulders and pushed him back slightly. “How could you ever think that, Loki? I love you, I could never grow sick of you,” you assured him and pressed a loving kiss to his lips. “That is very good to know, beloved, and I’ll make sure to remind you of that whenever you need,” he winked and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, okay, but I think I have to go back now, we can pick this up again later.” You turned around and opened the door again only to catch what was being said. “We’re obviously her favorites, I mean this club is in New York, not Gotham, why do you think that is?” “Oh shut your mouth, that means nothing. You heard what she said, we’re her family, we’re her brothers and sisters. The Demon is the best proof of that.” “Which Demon?” “Oh please, she called us her family too. After all we got all the appeal of you, but we also have gods.” “She has dinner every second weekend with Superman, an amazonian goddess, the king of atlantis and a world-class magician.” “Well with us she has the world's strongest AI, a world class witch AND the sorcerer supreme, two timeless soldiers, the world's fastest man and the god of thunder.” “Oh please, our fastest man could beat your fastest man in his sleep, not to mention that we have multiple of them.” “Well then bring it on” After having heard enough you looked at Loki, back at the group - and the illusion Loki that was standing bored beside them - and back at Loki, before closing the door again. “You know what, I think I’ll just let them talk that over for a bit.” “Yeah, I think that would be best,” Loki agreed, but he was clearly amused. “What do you think they’ll do when they find out that I am actually your favorite?” he asked teasingly and snug his arms around your waist. “Honestly I’m not sure you’d survive that…”

[spooderboyandtincan]

We’re with you...

Through thick and thin

TW: Graphic depictions of violence; blood

~~~~~

Tony felt his heart leap in fear when he heard a certain spider-baby’s voice behind him. He whirled around in mid air, dropping a few feet in shock before he stabilized himself.

“Hi, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirped excitedly, skillfully swinging in a large arc and flipping onto his armor, the eyes of his mask almost comically wide. “What’s up?”

Tony struggled to see the boy who was perched on his back, twisting his neck back and forth. “What the hell are you doing here, Pete?”

“I just wanted to help,” he whined, his head hovering upside down in front of Tony’s face. 

“No, you don’t,” he grumbled, trying to grab hold of his kid, who was crawling all over his back to avoid him. “You want to go back to school and learn about why the adults in your life are trying to keep you safe.”

Peter giggled. “I know, Tony, and I am safe. I have you!”

He said it so cheerfully, so matter-of-factly, as if Tony’s heart hadn’t melted and his brain hadn’t turned to mush at his precious kid’s words. He was grateful for the helmet shielding his face, otherwise Peter might have been soaked in his tears.

“Mr. Stark? You okay?”

He jerked out of his stupor. “Yeah.” He sniffed. “Yeah, buddy, I’m great.”

“Okay.” Peter sounded suspicious, but he let it drop. “Sure.”

“So, um... what’s going on?” He looked around, trying to find the other Avengers and their opponent(s).

Peter barely saw the blast in time. 

He jumped up and aimed a web at the nearest skyscraper, pulling Tony with him, the man letting out a shout of surprise. 

The spot where they had just been was now raining down ash and bright purple sparks.

Peter blinked the black spots out of his eyes, his ears ringing slightly. Gradually he realized that Tony was shouting; they were moving fast, Tony’s metal arms wrapped tight around him.

“Peter! Are you okay, Bug?” the man yelled frantically, masked face hovering in front of Peter’s.

“Arachnid,” he corrected. He heard Tony breathe a heavy sigh of relief. They landed on the roof of a towering skyscraper. Peter was sure that Mr. Stark was running over his vitals in the suit and checking for any injuries, no matter how minor they might be. Peter rolled his eyes.

“What was that?” he asked, looking around wildly. “Is Mister Doctor Strange here?”

“I am,” said a dry voice behind them. “But that wasn’t me.”

Tony jumped protectively in front of Peter as they spun around, then relaxed, just slightly, when he recognized the tall figure standing in front of the remnants of a glowing orange portal.

“Strange,” Tony greeted.

“Stark.” Stephen nodded.

Peter waved, grinning.

“What’s with the light show?” Tony asked, setting a hand on his kid’s shoulder.

“A wizard,” the doctor said shortly. “And a powerful one, too. Neoma Ambrosia. She’s fairly new to magic, but she’s dangerous.”

“I think Neoma means ‘new moon’ in Greek,” Peter mused quietly. Tony ruffled his hair proudly, nodding. My genius kid, he thought fondly. 

“Tony! What’s going on?”

Natasha, Sam, Steve, and Bucky ran up. Peter couldn’t help but wonder how they had climbed up to the roof. He imagined Sam trying to lug two super soldiers and a heavily armed assassin up a one hundred seventy-five meter tall skyscraper; Peter was sure he could do it.

“There’s a crazy wizard trying to kill us!” the young spider said enthusiastically. “Her name’s Neoma Ambrosia, which I’m pretty sure means ‘new moon’ in Greek, which is like, a super cool name. And she shoots purple fire! We haven’t seen her in, like, fifteen minutes, though.”

Tony chuckled as the other four Avengers blinked. His kid was a whirlwind, and he loved to listen to him chatter.

“Everyone keep watch!” Steve yelled, making Peter flinch. Tony squeezed his neck gently and glared at the super soldier, who remained oblivious. “Eyes peeled like grapes!”

“Ew,” Peter muttered. 

They spent the next ten minutes straining their eyes for any sight of Neoma.

Tony was about to turn to Steve and suggest they search the ground, when the edge of the roof exploded with a familiar purple fire, right where Peter was standing.

Tony screamed his child’s name, white, icy-hot terror running through his veins. Rubble tumbled off that building, falling with the small red and blue body. 

“No,” he whispered, thrusters at full speed. “No. No. No no no no!”

He crashed to the concrete and sprinted to the rubble that covered his kid.  

“Peter, Peter, Peter,” he muttered fervently, throwing the huge boulders with his iron hands as if they were pebbles. He was sure he could lift them just as easily without his suit with the fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins. All the while he yelled, over and over again, the name of the one reason he got out of bed in the morning, the one reason he was alive: his only child, his son, his baby. 

At last, at last, he spotted delicate curls peeking out from a hole in a red mask. Tony sobbed and crumpled to his knees, clearing the last of the rocks off of the boy’s small body.

“Peter,” he gasped. He peeled off his mask as gently as he could, hands trembling. “Peter.”

Miraculously, he was somehow awake. Tony sobbed frantically and kissed his forehead. His face was bruised and bloody, with tears rolling slowly off his cheeks. Peter held out shaking arms and made grabby hands, whimpering like a wounded kitten.

Tony ever so gently maneuvered the boy into his lap, Peter slumping heavily against his chest. He cupped his cheeks and kissed both of them, stroking his forehead and smiling tremulously. “Petey. Oh Petey.”

He bit back another cry, trying to hold in for his kid, who was cradled in his arms, bleeding and broken. Peter coughed, and with tremendous effort, lifted his hand to Tony’s face.

The man grasped it instantly, squeezing his small hand tight and trying to rub some sense of warmth into his cold skin. He pressed light kisses to the back of his hand. 

“Oh, baby, oh my god,” Tony whispered breathlessly, rocking his child back and forth in his arms. “You’re okay, you’re okay, sweetheart, shh.” 

Tears flowed down both their faces. Tony rushed to comfort Peter, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile and wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb. “We’re gonna fix you up, Petey, just hold on. Hold on for me, ‘kay? Doctor Strange and the rest are just making sure it’s safe, and Doctor Cho is coming right now- she’ll be here any second, okay? You just gotta hold on, Petey.”

He sniffed and snuggled Peter more tightly against his chest. “All you gotta do is focus on me. Just look at me, honey. I love you, baby, I love you so much. Stay with me, il mio bambino.”

Peter's eyes drifted lazily up to meet his. He struggled to focus on Tony’s face, his vision blurry and his eyes glassy. “Mi-mis’ er St’rk,” he croaked. “‘Ony.” He coughed, struggling to form words with his bloody, scratched lips and his dry mouth.

“Shh, shh,” Tony soothed. “Shh, baby, I’m right here. You’re doing you great, Petey.” He tangled his fingers in Peter’s curls, smoothing his hair down comfortingly. “You’re doing so great, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” Tony hastily wiped away his tears, which had begun to fall down to Peter’s face. “Just hold on, please.”

He squeezed his hand tightly, looking away and blinking rapidly when he realized his façade of calmness was shattering. 

Peter whimpered.

Tony’s eyes snapped back to his kid in fear. “Petey-?” he asked worriedly, then followed his gaze.

“Oh god.”

The sounds of blasts and explosions and fighting that faded completely came back full force when he realized the wizard was just ten yards in front of them, standing tall on a hill rubble, her dark gray robes swirling around her.

Tony gasped. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he rushed to protect his kid. He wrapped his arms tightly around Peter’s head and curled around the small body, effectively shielding him from an inevitable spell or explosion. 

And then-

He kicked off their pile of rubble and began to roll down, trying desperately to cushion Peter’s head as they gained momentum. Sharp stones slice at his skin but he favored protecting his kid far, far above his own safety. 

There was an explosion, so bright that purple swam in front of Tony’s closed eyes. Shards of glass and rock rained down on them and Tony could do nothing but squeeze Peter tighter and press his lips to his forehead and hope this wouldn’t be the end. 

Darkness.

~~~~~

He was really to have an Aunt May and an Uncle Rhodey, Peter thought drowsily. He blinked slowly up at the two, trying to smile. Rhodey clapped him on the shoulder gently.

“You okay, kid?”

“Mmmm.” Peter tried to form words but his lips were dry and cracked and his throat was sore and barren. 

Aunt May grabbed a glass off the bedside table while Rhodey used the remote to raise the bed into a sitting position and helped Peter shift around. May pressed the glass to his lips and he gulped the cool water down gratefully.

“Small sips, sweetie,” May advised, pulling the glass away. The boy didn’t seem to mind. He gazed up at the ceiling for a long moment, and both Rhodey and May thought he was about to fall asleep, but then Peter frowned. He looked to his left, and then to his right. 

“‘Ony? Wh-where’s…?” he rasped. Tears began to well up in his eyes. “‘Ony?”

“Tony’s right over there, bud,” said Rhodey. He gestured to where the billionaire lay, just a few feet away in a white hospital bed almost identical to Peter’s.

“Wan’ him.” Peter tried to sit up but May pushed him back down easily. 

“Tony’s right there, honey, right there, why don’t you go back to sleep?” 

“Wan’ Dad,” he whined. He tried to sit up again but fell back. “Dad.”

“Oh- oh, that’s so sweet,” May mumbled adoringly, while Rhodey tried to hold in a fond laugh.

“Dad!” Peter became increasingly more upset. Tears brimmed in his eyes and his bottom lip trembled.

“Okay, okay, Petey, calm down, it’s okay,” May cooed, rushing to comfort him and combing his hair. “Rhodey, can you help me move the bed?”

They unlocked the wheels of the bed and began to slowly roll it over to Tony.

~~~~~

When Tony faded back to the land of the living, he realized something was wrong right off the bat.

At first his realization was subconscious, in the pit of his stomach. Then, slowly, it grew, and grew, into full blown panic.

Something was missing- no someone, someone he knew that he couldn’t live without, someone precious who was not just his world but his universe-

Peter.

Peter.

Tony’s eyes snapped open and he jolted up in what he now realized was a hospital bed. His head swam and he swayed, the floor looming dangerously closer before he was caught in a pair of strong arms.

“Tony!”

The owner of a familiar voice heaved him back onto the bed. He blinked, trying to clear his head, and realized it was Rhodey, his Rhodey, bent over to look him in the eye and looking very concerned. “Tones? You okay?”

Tony looked around wildly, clutching Rhodey’s arm. His eyes settled on Peter, who was smiling loopily at him a few feet away. May hovered at his side, frowning worriedly at Tony.

“Petey.”

He tried to escape Rhodey’s strong grasp, desperate to get to his kid. Rhodey tried to comfort the distraught father while May pushed Peter over to him.

“Peter- Peter.” Tony began to sob. “Petey, c’mere. C’mere, baby.” 

May pressed the mattresses together and locked the wheels of the bed carefully, then double checking them just in case. She checked the various wires, making sure Peter’s IV, heart monitor, and oxygen tube were still in place. 

Meanwhile, with Rhodey’s help, Tony clambered over to his kid and almost collapsed next to him. He sobbed, cupping Peter’s face with gentle, calloused and resting his forehead against Peter’s. 

Tony was silent, spare the sharp sobs catching in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “‘M so sorry, Petey.” He began to crawl ungracefully under the covers and wrapped Peter ever so gently in his arms. The boy snuggled against him and hummed happily as Tony began fussing over him. 

He reminded Rhodey of a younger Tony at MIT, falling asleep in Rhodey’s bunk and holding a (Rhodey’s) teddy bear to his chest and snoring. 

“Geez, bud, you really can’t keep scaring your dad like this,” he muttered, grabbing Peter’s free hand and squeezing it. “He has a heart condition, y’know.”

Tony nodded and pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek, gasping softly in adoration at the giggle he received. His eyes were huge and sparkling with love. It was a sharp contrast to his previous tears, and much more sweet for Rhodey and May to watch. 

“Poor kiddie,” Tony murmured, stroking Peter’s cheek with a calloused thumb. “My poor kiddie.” 

“Aww,” Rhodey and May whispered almost simultaneously. They exchanged an amused glance and laughed.

Tony glared at them. “Shhh. He's resting!” he hissed, rather loudly. Peter blinked sleepily up at him, but Tony kissed his forehead to comfort him and he relaxed against his chest.

“Right,” May chuckled. “Right, sorry.”

Tony paused and then nodded in satisfaction. He combed his fingers through Peter’s hair soothingly and looked up to Rhodey and May. “This-this’s my baby. He’s my baby. M-my baby, my spider-baby,” Tony mumbled, kissing the boy’s forehead.

Rhodey snorted and struggled to hold in his laughter. May grinned. “Our spider-baby,” she corrected, caressing Peter’s cheek with her fingers.

To their great amusement, Tony pulled the now asleep Peter to his chest protectively, his arms tightening around him as he buried his nose in his curls and shook his head. “Mine.” 

“Yours?” she laughed, raising her eyebrows.

“H-he’s my baby, and I’m his dad. And it’s my job to-to protect him. ‘Cause I’m his dad,” he explained. “And I love him. So much. I love him.”

May giggled. “Aww, Tony, don’t worry, Peter knows it.” 

“FRIDAY, please tell me you’re recording this,” Rhodey whispered.

“Rest assured, I am,” the AI replied, sounding as fond as a disembodied voice could be.

“This is adorable,” he said, looking back to the very loopy Tony. May nodded. She patted Rhodey on the shoulder in a gesture of comfort, knowing how worried they both had been when they’d seen the medical helicopter land at the compound.

Trying to keep the two superheroes safe, as they had realized, was a challenge, especially when they couldn’t always be there. May couldn’t fly. And even though Rhodey could, they both had jobs that kept them busy.

It was hard to be there for a superhero, but it was easy to love them. They might not be there always, but goddammit, they’d do anything and everything in their power to make sure they were okay. 

A soft snore, more like a purr than anything, interrupted the pair’s thoughts.

Peter’s cheek was squashed on Tony’s chest. Tony took the sleeve of his hospital gown and wiped the drool from his chin, looking unhappy about how rough the cloth was on his baby’s skin. 

“I need a hoodie,” he muttered. Rhodey graciously offered to grab one, happy to take a coffee break, and May left to grab one of Peter’s. (Though most of Peter’s hoodies were actually ones he had stolen from various friends and family.)

When Rhodey and May returned from the expeditions of rummaging through many messy drawers and selecting as many hoodies as they could find, they grabbed a quick coffee and hurried back to the medbay.

They found both Tony and Peter fast asleep. Tony’s arms were wrapped around his kid tightly, one hand in the boy’s curls and the other wrapped around his back and holding him close. Peter’s head rested on his chest as a makeshift pillow, looking absolutely tiny in the big bed with Tony protecting him, even in sleep. 

May laughed fondly, kissing Peter’s forehead and then settling in her squishy purple chair. Rhodey flopped down in a leather armchair and they both took a big swig of their coffees. 

Rhodey pulled out a Starkpad and began scrolling, while May fished a book and her glasses out of her purse. 

They would be there for as long as it took for Tony and Peter to recover. And after that, they would still be there. They loved their superheroes, even though May and sometimes even Rhodey, forgot that they were superheroes too.

~~~~~

Taglist: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute

If you want to be added/removed let me know!

~~~~~

/ST*RKERS DNI/

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

What We Want and What We Can Have

Part Two- My Love, Don’t Fade Away

WHOOPS IT’S A PART TWO THAT NO ONE ASKED FOR (part one lives hither)!

Warnings: cannon-typical violence, angst, unresolved tension encroaching resolution, more of Ron and his big beautiful brain, Ron has like three feelings and you take up two of them, non-edited nonsense bc feelings don’t wait for approval

I listened to Reminder by Mumford and Sons as well as I Don’t Feel It Anymore by William Fitzsimmons. Let me know if any of you crazy kids are interested in my BoB heavy-feels writing playlist bc ya know i’ve got one.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The grey smoke from the burning church stung your eyes, and as you feel your tears trickle down your cheeks you wonder if they are soot-stained as well. 

 Around you, you can hear the screams of bombs whistling through the air- the harmonizing shrieks of the wounded and dying ringing in your ears as you watch Gene running towards the smoldering building, but you can’t seem to do anything other than watch. You know you need to do something, anything to help the medic save the handful of people bursting through the smoke like ashen fireworks.  

Yet all you seem capable of doing is dumbly stare at the ruins of the makeshift hospital you’d just watched explode. 

 The makeshift hospital you had been tasked to watch over.

For weeks, you’d been monitoring intel reports for any sign that the Luftwaffe had been intending to bomb the town of Bastogne. Weeks of pouring over intercepted and forwarded information and maps and citizen chatter that you’d been so sure indicated that the town was safe from harm, that the air attacks would be solely focused on the woods. 

Yet here you were, standing in the heart of a bomb-pocked town with ice in your veins and a terrible hollow in your heart.

 You’d failed. You couldn’t have been more spectacularly wrong.

 The irony of your mistake ending in fire was not lost on you, and as your eyes danced up with the flames and plumes of smoke you were filled with the same helpless feeling that had found you after learning of the fate of your mother, sister, and brother-in-law all those months ago. Only this time, you had no one to blame but yourself.

 You had done this. You’d missed something and now all of those wounded soldiers and brave nurses and innocent people were dead and trapped.

 When Gene grabs your shoulders you nearly jump out of your skin, blinking for the first time in what felt like hours and forcing yourself to focus on the drawn face of your friend. Something in his eyes gives you the impression that he’s been trying to get your attention for a long time.

 “Y/N!” he shouts, using his grip on you to pull you back towards the jeep. “We have to go, we’ve gotta go back—”

 “I-I should stay,” you stammer, limbs feeling like lead as you stumble along stiffly. “I don’t think…”

 Gene, ignoring your quiet mumbling, all but shoves you into the car and takes your previous seat as driver.

 Eyes having drifted back to the smoldering church, you try again to get your fumbling mouth to work enough to speak.

 “Gene, I think—”

 “You’re not staying here, Y/N.”

The way he says it leaves no room for argument.

“Bet you don’t even realize that your face is bleeding like a stuck pig….”

 When you raise your hand to touch your cheek you feel that he’s right, you are bleeding- most likely from the initial blast of debris that had hit you when the bomb hit.

As Gene whips the jeep around to take off down the road, you feel the cool wind sting at your eyes, the air so drastically different from the smoke you’d just been breathing that it makes you lightheaded.

 “I killed them,” you murmur, despite the fact that you know Gene can’t hear you. “I killed them.”

 Gene is crying when you look over at him but you can’t find it in you to offer him any comfort. What would the point be? What could you possibly say when everything you’d just witnessed was a direct consequence of something you’d missed?

 Ron was wrong, you think to yourself as you look back to the rapidly approaching forest. It is better to feel nothing. I want to feel nothing.

 Almost as if all you had to do was think about it- a strange calm settles bitterly in your chest, joining the hollow that had been deepening each day since you’d seen Blithe get shot through the throat.

 Just as you’d wished, you slipped into the numbness of nothing.

 ~

 Ron was worried about you.

 No, he was more than worried. He was concerned...deeply concerned.

He had been for a while now- ever since you’d come back from a scouting mission with Blithe’s blood on your hands and a grim look of defeat marring your pretty face. He’d tried to talk to you about it, going as far as to pull you aside and wash the blood from your hands in hopes of getting you to open up privately- ignoring the confused looks of your superiors and his colleagues as he did so.

You had been, were worth any rumors that could come from his intentionally infrequent sign of humanity.

 But you’d given him nothing more than a weak smile and whisper of thanks before slipping away to find Nixon. It was like that moment in the attic had never happened.

 Seeing you come back from the town of Bastogne had shocked him, too. Not as much in terms of the blood pouring from the cut on your cheek, but in the absolutely dead look in your eyes he’d found when he had begun questioning you as to what had happened.

 “I was wrong,” you’d said emotionlessly, barely flinching when Spina had brought an alcohol-drenched rag to your wound. “I missed something, and now the town is gone.”

 Before he could even begin to think of a reply, Spina had asked him to help get you to CP so the other officers could figure out the next course of action. And once he had, you’d had no more to say.

 That night, Ron had poured over the information you’d been given concerning Bastogne, glaring at Nixon until the other man had relented and reluctantly given him the small wooden box you kept your reports in. You hadn’t ‘missed’ anything- there had been nothing to indicate any sort of attack to the town for you to miss. You had done nothing wrong.

 Not that he’d be able to convince you of that. Ron knew you well enough by now to know that your stubbornness could rival his own if you indulge yourself in it enough. He’d learned that long ago in Georgia upon meeting you, that you had not gotten here by accident or through any sort of familial connection- but rather by sheer determination and steadfastness and unapologetic bullheadedness, not to mention a natural gift for finding patterns in behaviors and translating them into strategy.

Watching you work, then and now, had been nothing short of marvelous. 

 But this wasn’t you. This heartbroken husk of you that he had been seeing now made his already frozen body feel even colder.

 Ron needed you back.

 Unbeknownst to you (and initially to him as well), you’d become the reason he fought. At first, it had been a more practical explanation: you worked tirelessly to secure the information needed to build strategies and he felt the need to reward that hard work with his own successful execution of the plans you’d made. Then, upon completing the task, you would come in and use any of the information you found to build the next strategy. It had been transactional, an exchange of services that helped the both of you work towards the mutual goal of winning the war.

It was simple.

 There was no real event to precede his shift in perspective. One day you’d been Y/N and the next you were Y/N. He’d nearly said as much in the attic, when your eyes had burned him alive with their curious sincerity and your heart had called to him so sweetly he’d nearly kissed you. 

 Seeing you now, blinking slowly in the warm candlelight while the voices of the choir wrapped around everyone like a thick blanket, Ron wondered if he should’ve kissed you.

He wonders if, by doing so, he could’ve somehow stopped you from getting to this point.

 You hadn’t been at the frontlines earlier that day for the siege of Foy, yet you looked just as drained as every other man in the company who had. Even with his heavy jacket wrapped around your shoulders, your fingers still trembled as you picked at the dirt beneath your nails, making him wonder if you were shaking from something else other than the cold.

 You startle slightly as he reaches over and places his hand over yours, head quickly turning to look at him and the tiniest dust of pink coloring your cheeks when you realized how close your face was to his. Almost as if you’d forgotten that he was sitting beside you in the pew, that only an hour ago he’d forced you to accept his coat while he scribbled out the names of the men now under his command onto some paper he’d asked one of the sisters for earlier. He hadn’t bothered writing your name- you were not like all of the others, you weren’t something to oversee and keep in order.

And as far as Ron was concerned, you’d been connected to him since D-Day. 

 He didn’t need a note to remember that.

 A shy, small smile turns your lips up at the corners- the action not seeming to quite reach your eyes but Ron felt the sincerity in it all the same. Flickering your gaze back down to his hand resting over yours, he watches as you hook your thumb over his small finger, pleased at the warmth he feels as you momentarily play with the silver ring he always wore there.  Watching your profile, he only takes his hand away when you return your attention to the young girls in front of the altar, allowing his gaze to linger on you for a few moments before turning back to his list.

 Feeling another set of eyes on him, he looks up and catches Lipton looking over his shoulder at the exchange. The other man quickly turns back upon being caught, and Ron studies the back of the other man’s head for a few moments before making up his mind.

 “Y/N,” Ron says quietly, tilting his head towards the door of the church once your eyes find his again, standing and rolling his sore shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll drop you off at your billet on my way to Battalion.”

 The offer seemed to surprise Lipton, but you take a deep breath and nod shortly.

 “Alright,” you say softly, “let me go return Luz’s lighter and I’ll meet you at the door?”

As he nods, you stand up carefully and side-step in front of Ron out of the pew, meeting Lipton’s smile with a weak one of your own as you give the man’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

 “Night, Car.”

 Lipton pats her hand affectionately and then you’re striding over to the pews where Luz, Liebgott, Randleman, and Heffron have set up camp.

Ron watches you go as he loads his gear back on, once again feeling Lipton staring at him. There’s a familiarity in the way Lipton is looking at him- it’s a look everyone seems to send his way, ever since Donald Malarkey started the rumor on D-Day.

 “You wanna ask me, don’t you?” Ron asks, watching the other man fidget.

 “Ask you what, sir?”

 “You wanna know if they’re true or not,” he clarifies, sizing the other man up. “The stories about me?”

 Lip said nothing, and when Ron looked over his shoulder at the man he saw that Lip was looking away. The man amused him, to say the least. The man’s bravery was starting to show in ways that filled Ron with every confidence in him- glad to have a Lieutenant with a backbone in his newly appointed Company.

 “Ever notice with stories like that, everyone says they hear it from someone who was there, and then when you ask that person they say they heard it from someone who was there?” Ron steps from the pew to stand before Lipton. 

“There’s nothing to ‘em, really. I bet if you went back 2000 years you’d hear a couple Centurions standing around yacking about how Tertius lopped off the heads of some Carthaginian prisoners.”

 Lipton seemed to consider that for a moment before replying. 

“Well, maybe they kept talking about it because they never heard Tertius deny it.”

 Slinging his gun over his shoulder, Ron lets a smirk show on his face and squares his shoulders. “Well, maybe that’s because Tertius knew there was some value in the men thinking he was the meanest, toughest son of a bitch in the whole Roman Legion.” 

 When Ron looks over to where you are, he is glad to see that some of the tension in your posture has lessened. He can hear you mumble something that amuses Luz and Bull to no end, unable to help but feel a tinge of sadness at the fact that you’ve still got that hollow look in your eyes.

 “If I may speak freely, Sir?” Lipton says, breaking Ron from his trance and allowing him to look back to the other man. When he nods, the new Lieutenant dips his head indicatively in your direction.

“I’m worried about her….a lot of us are, Sir.”

 Ron keeps his expression neutral, nodding at the comment.

“Is there a question in there, Lipton?”

 A grimace crosses Lip’s face as he seems to ponder his words carefully. 

“No, Sir. It’s more of an observation, if anything.”

 “Go ahead.”

 “I know that, technically, Captain Nixon is meant to be her immediate supervisor,” Lipton says with a bit more confidence. “But I worry that he’s been, er….neglecting some of his responsibilities in favor of more cathartic activities….”

He cuts himself off, looking from side to side quickly before lowering his voice.

“Captain Nixon has been passing the brunt of the analysis work to Captain Y/L/N, if not ignoring it entirely. And, as great an officer as Y/N is, Sir—”

 “I understand, Lieutenant,” Ron interrupts Lipton just shy of insubordination, giving the confused man a nod before realizing that he’s unintentionally called the other man by his new title. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. You were right to do so.”

 After informing Lipton of his promotion, Ron quickly turns on his heel and makes eye contact with you once more. As you fall in to step with him through the doorway of the church, Ron processes the new information he’s been given.

 While he’d never really liked Lewis Nixon, this revelation has only solidified his stance on the man. It was one thing to drink on the job and still be productive- whatever arrangement this was was unacceptable. 

 Your hand is soft in his as he takes it, the fumble in your stride telling him that you hadn’t been expecting him to do so. But you still don’t let go, you still follow him past Battalion and you offer no resistance when he guides you inside of the small cottage you’d been assigned to.

 When Ron gently takes your face in his hands, your eyes flicker down to his mouth before he even begins to speak.

 “Do you remember what you asked me in the attic, a few months ago? About what I cared about?”

 You nod slowly, and as your gaze meets his he could swear that you’re about to burn him to ask once more. You seem to lean into his touch, and while there is still caution in your eyes he thinks he may also see a flicker of intrigue in your irises as well.

 “Things you can’t have. Things you shouldn’t care about.”

 You say it as if you didn’t need to think about it very hard to remember- something that makes his heart stutter in his chest.

 “You, you know that I was talking about you.”

 Then, you do something that Ron will never forget.

 You smile.

And this time, it reaches your eyes.

~ ~ ~ (*looks over at all the homework/chores I’ve neglected in favor of writing this* WHOOPS

BUT FOR REAL HERE WE BE AGAIN. HOPE I DIDN’T DEPRESS Y’ALL TOO MUCH BC I KEEP DOING THAT WITHOUT INTENDING TO OK LOVE YOU BYE )

taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @ricksmorty​ @liebgotttme​

[themarvel-spnmultifanwriter]

Could you possibly do an end!verse au where Castiel had a thing with the reader since the beginning of the apocalypse? Where Castiel survives the suicide mission but finds the reader dead?

Hey, yes sure! Thank you so much for the request!

Suicide mission

Pairing: Castiel x Reader x Sam x Dean, Zachariah, Adam

Warnings: sad, mention of blood, fight, violence, mention of suicide/death

Word Count: 2,2k

Y/n's pov:

Castiel zaped us all to a derelict industrial property. I looked around the area to figure out where we were. I was confused.

"Where's the beautiful room?" Dean asked. Castiel pointed to the neglected building.

"In there" he said.

"The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California??" I asked surprised. Castiel chuckled.

"Yes. What were you expecting?" he asked me with a smile. The smile I loved about him. Cas and I have been dating since the beginning of the apocalypse. Fighting monsters and trying to stop his two brothers had brang us together. The angel got so close to me that I was constantly afraid of losing him.

"I don't know," I shrugged my shoulders. "Jupiter? A blade of grass? But... Van Nuys?" Dean and Sam laughed. I've been travelling with the Winchesters for a while. They're like family to me. They both see me as their little sister.

When first starting to date Castiel, Sam and Dean sent me to a hunt with Bobby. Later, I found out they only did it so they could talk to Castiel. More scare him. I could imagine Dean holding a blade to Cas and telling him he'd hunt him down, if Cas dared hurting me. When Cas told me about it he looked terrified and me laughing about it wasn't helping in any way.

"Anyways, why can't you just zap inside the building? Wouldn't that be a lot easier?" I asked. Cas pointed at the building.

"Because," Cas began while he removed his tie. "There are at least five angles in there. Our only shot is me going in there first"

"You think you can fight of five angels?" Sam asked. Iooked at Cas with a questioning look as to ask why he was taking his clothes of. Cas took a knife from Dean

"I will make them vanish with an angel-banishing sigil on my body"

"You do realise that's basically suicide?" Dean pointed out.

""Maybe it is, but then I won't have to watch you fail. Sorry Dean, but I don't have the same faith in you that Sam and y/n do. " Cas said and began to carve the signal in his body.

"Cas please," I said as I took the angels hand. "I don't want you to go in there. I can't lose you. Dean is right, this is suicide! What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Going inside to Zachariah might be too" Cas said but soon realised that this wasn't the best answer. "I will be fine I promise. And I will come back to you. I won't leave you alone" he pulled me clothes and kissed my lips. I tried to hold back the tears that formed in my eyes. Why did it feel like this was the last kiss? I didn't want it to end. It felt like the good bye I didn't want to give him. But we couldn't lose time.

I gave Cas a nod and he finished the signil on his body. Then, he put on his clothes again. Before he went inside he took my hands and looked me deep inside the eyes.

"I will see you again. I promise," he said and vanished.

Castiel's pov:

I zapped inside the warehouse. There was a dilapidated shed in the center of it. I went to the door, but before I could reach it one of my brothers appeared behind me.

I heard the sound of an angel blade and turned around, ducking in the same moment. The blade failed just for a few inches. I took my own blade and stabbed my brother with it. There was a glow before his vessel fell to the ground.

Four more angles came in. They heard me. They all carried angel blades and pointed them at my while encircling me. I dropped my blade.

"What are you waiting for? C'mon" I said. They stepped towards me, but before any of their weapons could reach me I opened my shirt and touched the symbol that was carved into my vessel Jimmy. There was a light glow. The four angels dissappeared. But in the same moment I felt a pain, like a burn and also I started glowing before I vanished from the warehouse.

Y/n's pov:

I was standing outside the warehouse with Sam and Dean. We were listening so we would know when to enter. I heard the familiar sound of angels being banished. A tear left my eye as I knew Cas was gone.

"He will come back," Sam said and gave me a hug. He wiped my tear away and I gave him a nod as to say I was fine.

"Okay, let's go inside," Dean opened the door. Me and Sam followed him. We passed the room with angel wings shadows on the wall. One of them was Cas' wings. There was a pain inside my chest, but I had to stay strong. We were about to face Zachariah and try to get Adam out of the beautiful room. I needed to focus.

Dean opened the door to the beautiful room and we found Adam inside of it on the ground. We reached for him and he looked at us surprised.

"You came for me," Adam said and looked at us shocked.

"You're family," Dean said and helped Adam up.

"Dean this is a trap set up for you. We gotta get out of-" Adam said but before he could finish, Zachariah appeared in front of us.

"Dean, please. Did you really think it was going to be that easy?" Zachariah said.

"Did you?" Dean replied.

Sam ran up behind Zachariah with an angel blade but he got thrown at the wall immediately. I looked at Sam who was in pain. The angel blade was lying in front of him. Zachariah turned back to Dean, he seemed to ignore me and I wondered if he even noticed me yet. But I saw my chance in it.

"Dean, the one thing I've learned from dealing with you is that patience is important" Zachariah made a movement with his hand and Adam fell to the ground and started coughing. He began to throw up blood. I went over to Sam and took the angel blade, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"I knew things would play out perfectly. I have to admit, throughout I had my doubts. But it was right to trust the bossman. He knew it would come to this moment all along"

I was behind Zachariah and went closer to him, having a tight grip on the angel blade and pointing it at Zachariah.

"There is one thing though I never understood-"

I ran up to the asshole of an angel and was about to stap him, but he turned around and grabbed my arm with the angel blade. The pain of his grib made me drop the weapon and I tried to jerk away but he had me in his grib. I couldn't go anywhere.

"-I never quite got what you unimportant little human where doing along with the Winchesters" Zachariah took an angel blade himself and stabbed me. I felt it slide inside my stomach and an instant pain was in my body. He pulled the blade out and blood began to pour out. I could hear Dean yelling "no" and felt my body wanting to collapse, but Zachariah's grib wouldn't allow it. "Did you really thing a worthless little human creature like you could beat me? Did you really think you could stop any of this? NO! You may have turned one of our soldiers against us, but you are nothing after all and your pathetic attempt of killing me is ridiculous so you will die in shame"

He let go of me and I collapsed to the ground. I heard Dean and Zachariah talking, but the words weren't clear. My body was dying, stopping to work and my sensen were weaker and weaker. The whole room got blurry and I took some last breaths before I stood next to my body and went to hell.

Dean's pov:

"No!" I yelled as y/n got strapped and I wanted to reach her, but I couldn't move as Zachariah had pinned me against a wall.

"Did you really thing a worthless little human creature like you could beat me? Did you really think you could stop any of this? NO!" Zachariah yelled at y/n. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to kick this angel ass and make him pay for hurting y/n. "You may have turned one of our soldiers against us, but you are nothing after all and your pathetic attempt of killing me is ridiculous so you will die in shame"

He left y/n's body to die and looked at Sam next. With a hand movement he did something to Sam who was now crawled up in pain. I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't take seeing Sam dying too.

"Please no! Don't hurt him too" I begged.

"In exchange for what?" Zachariah asked and made the pain worse with a movement of his hand.

"Damn it, Zachariah, stop it, please! I'll do it!" I said. "the answer is yes"

I could see Sam's disappointed look. But what should I do? Letting him die?

"Dean no!! " Sam yelled but was shut down by Zachariah.

"Call Michael," I said. A huge grin formed on Zachariah's face and he called for Michael.

Sam looked at me in shock. The room started to shake. I smiled at Sam with a wink to give him to understand that I wasn't letting them win.

"Michael is now on his way" Zachariah said.

"Of course I have a few conditions" I turned to him. I explained that I wanted a guarantee of the safety of a few people and them to bring y/n back.

"Oh she's gone. We can't bring her back. She's already in hell"

"But you brought me back?" I argued.

"Do you know what it took us to bring you back? We can't do that again" Zachariah said. I was mad at the angel as he turned away from me.

"There is one more thing.. Michael can't have me until he disintegrates you." I said. Zachariah wouldn't believe that his brother would kill him. "I'm more important to Michael than you are"

"You are nothing but a maggot, inside a worm's ass! Do you know who I am? After I deliver you to Michael?" Zachariah said as he grabbed me by the collar. "Michael would never kill me for you"

"Maybe not. But I will" I took an angel blade out of my jacket and stabbed Zachariah with it.

I reached for Adam and Sam and tried to get them out of the shaking room. I pulled Sam out and was about to reach for Adam's hand when the door closed and trapped him inside...

Castiel's pov:

Somehow I survived the suicide mission. I knew I had to go back to Sam, Dean and y/n. I needed to check on my girl to make sure she was alright. I went back to the warehouse and I found Sam and Dean walking outside. But y/n was missing?

"Sam! Dean!" I said as I went to the Winchesters.

"Cas hey! You are still alive" Dean pointed out.

"I made a promise that I would come back" I said. "Where is y/n anyways?"

Neither Sam or Dean was answering. They were both looking to the ground, sadness written on their faces.

"Cas y/n... She..." Sam said but he couldn't finish the sentence. I still knew what he meant but I couldn't believe it.

"No!" I said and took a few steps back.

"Cas she didn't make it" Dean said. I shook my head.

"No! No she isn't! Y/n is strong! She's a fighter! She. She"

"I'm so sorry Cas. She meant a lot to all of us" Sam said and I looked at him half mad half sad.

"Where is she?" I asked.

"Her body is still in the room" Sam replied and looked back on the ground.

"You didn't brought her out of the room?!"

"We barely made it out ourselves!" Dean said. "Now y/n isn't even getting the hunters funeral that she deserves"

"Zachariah is going to pay for that" I said to myself, though it was loud enough for the others to understand.

"He already did. I killed him" Dean told me.

"Then Michael will pay next!" I said. I couldn't let y/n's death happen without any revenge. The angels took away what mattered the most to me.

Y/n showed me what humanity and life really meant. She showed me all the good things about it. I learned to love what I was willing to kill without questioning a few months ago. And now it was gone. The beauty and the reason for my still existence. I didn't want to exist anymore. All I wanted was to kill Michael and disappear after that. Because now they took the only beauty out of my life. And everything felt empty again.

[ahwait-no-yes]

so basically my friend told me today about her dream she had that involved a demon and of course my mind went “...SAIOU AU”

here’s our convo so it makes sense:

if I had the motivation i would DEFINITELY write a fic about this- the fluff/crack/angst potential is t h e r e

and as a bonus doodle,

story is under the cut (it’s long)

“I was gonna keep this in tags but hsdf;j” is what I originally wrote here until I started thinking about this more and sorta wrote the whole plot-

-> as ouma’s killing the other monster things he flirts with shuuichi while the poor demon has never been flirted with so he’s stood there all confused and ??? (his version of blushing would be like, the fire coming from his small horns gets bigger and brighter)

-> the one he summons ends up being like. kaede and they both just end up having to lecture shuuichi on why it is that he should not want to die so easily

-> eventually kokichi and kaede wanna give him a hug so they try to but shuuichi’s Extra Hot™ (from being a demon and also probably blushing) so they both immediately regret that choice but kokichi laughs and gives an obligatory pun about shuuichi being hot which only confuses him because ‘of course im hot?? im a demon??’ while kaede explains what ouma meant

-> imagine shuuichi crying (fire tears..) at the generosity of these two strangers who a) aren’t absolutely terrified of him, b) refuse to hurt him and c) actually *want* to help him and ouma actually inwardly understanding a little bc he’d never imagine someone actually wanting to be with himself either

-> saihara now wanting to know what it’s like to live as a human with ouma and akamatsu but being unable to find a way (except for maybe being undercover?) but promising he’ll bring ouma back to him (he’s aware of the whole aging phenomenon in the lil demon world so he wants to keep their time short) and ouma finding that now he has something to look forward to

-> the 👏 mutual 👏 pining 👏 that commences after they both have to leave each other (if kaede knows kokichi in the real world she’d definitely tease him a little knowing he has a crush- this is probably good potential for building oumaede friendship)

-> it takes a while before ouma and saihara can see eachother again because getting the two to escape without killing saihara exerted a lot of energy on him, but they do get to! about once a month to be safe, and they get to know stuff about eachother like which shops ouma likes to steal from and shuuichi’s really loud demon friend he once had (aka momota)

-> one day though saihara tells ouma that if he keeps doing this he’ll die of exhaustion (it takes a lot of energy from saihara to get ouma in and out of there) and ouma calling him an idiot but really being worried. saihara tells him not to worry about him even if something happens to him, and makes ouma go back to the real world

-> ouma doesn’t hear from him after that

-> he worries he might have been killed or saihara forgot about him and feels stupid for being so hopeful in something so childishly impossible and starts trying to forget about him

-> the real world is aware of demons cause people talk about them (and obvs you can tell when someone’s gone to their.. dimension thing because you can visibly see them age) so still denying that he’s curious and likes saihara still, ouma tries to go to libraries and do his own research on demons and ends up finding out that saihara specifically comes from a bloodline that makes him quite powerful if not for that he wouldnt want to take the risks that come with it and then lowkey gets excited again for saihara while still in ✨denial ✨

-> it’s been almost a year when saihara has enough energy (and more) to ensure that his new plan is successfully carried out and that ouma (and potentially 1 more..) gets back to the real world safely. he created this plan when he figured out how to exist in the real world- by sacrificing the thing he cares most about

-> so when ouma suddenly gets that off-feeling people get when they’re leaving the real world he feels very many emotions at once (giddily going ”ohh my god its not this it cant be this no way oh heck tthisis not happening not a chance”) until he sees the face he’s been waiting 4 months for again except this time it looks.. frighteningly cold

-> ouma’s instincts are screaming at him that something is very, very wrong here especially when he can’t hear any warmth when saihara says “Welcome back, Ouma. It’s your final time” and explains the whole ‘kill these monsters then kill me’ thing again

-> ouma’s confusion inevitably turns to annoyance as he kills the dudes (there appears to be a lot more than there was last time) and fires questions at saihara (‘is this saihara?’ ‘what happened to you??’ ‘do you even remember me?’) while saihara stays silent for the whole time thinking about how he really doesn’t want to be doing this. 

-> eventually ouma decides he was wrong (again) to have put his faith in a guy- a demon- he only met once a month.. even if said demon gave him something to look forward to

-> when he finally gets to saihara alone he internally notes that saihara cant look him in the eye, but he finally speaks to tell ouma that now either himself or ouma will now die (saihara knows this is for sake of the sacrifice, but he can’t let ouma know else it won’t work)

-> ouma refuses to fight him again, expecting saihara to snap back into the meek demon from a year and some months ago, but rather than that happening saihara actually says something like “if you won’t kill me, I’ll have to kill you” and swings at him

-> even if ouma was on his full guard, he still would’ve been surprised by how strong saihara actually could be when he tried to fight- and of course saihara can’t stop now that he’s started but ouma hears the hesitation when saihara asks “are you going to kill me yet?” and gets annoyed that the whole time he spent with him and even akamatsu meant nothing. saihara smiles sadly knowing he’s achieving his goal but ouma thinks he’s smiling at the thought of dying and gets somehow even more annoyed

-> during their whole fight, insert “I’m alone, Ouma, and I will always be” line from saihara, “No amount of talking can convince me otherwise, Ouma. I’m sorry it took so long, but it was foolish of you to trust a demon you met only once” or something and yes it hurts saihara too but ouma’s staying silent and before saihara can continue, ouma fires back with “You’re right- you are meant to be alone. You were always meant to be that kind of guy” and stops dodging to start finally attacking- this is when saihara knows he’s pretty much achieved his target: sacrificing ouma’s trust in him

-> just as ouma swipes at him, saihara’s lil spell thing is activated that takes saihara back to the real world, disguised so people don’t see him as a demon. but now ouma thinks he’s just killed saihara (I just attacked him. and he is gone. i dont know what that light was but i must have just killed him. oh my god im a murderer.”)

-> saihara hiding in the forest to do the lil spell thing again but on ouma (all the time he spent saving on energy was worth it) so ouma gets transported to the real world too and immediately runs to tell akamatsu everything that happened

-> saihara trying to find to blend in with humans from what he remembers of how they act but he doesnt need to particularly eat he just needs a heck ton of sleep so he basically just lives in the forest now. he’s very sensitive to water so he actively stays away from it too (it wont kill him but it does make him sick). he’s still feverishly warm but not scalding and he also decides to work at a store to fit in more

-> ouma regretting what he did to saihara even though saihara hurt him first and realising he misses him

-> saihara ends up accidentally bumping into him at the store he works at that ouma conveniently steals from a lot (”Ouma, you’d make a good demon” “Nishishi! What do you mean? I’m a perfect little angel!”) and saihara gasping when he notices ouma’s unforgettable purple hair and cute smile.

-> ouma finding something familiar about this awkward new staff with the cute face and deciding he’ll visit the shop more often to see this stranger and not because said stranger might help him get over his demon crush

-> then they get to know eachother again for the 2nd time, and as much as this guy is really cute, he clearly knows more than he’s letting on... so of course ouma’s gotta now pay even more attention to him. just so he knows what the guy’s hiding. not cause he wants to know him.

-> one day saihara is sick from trying to protect himself from the rain (cause yk, water bad) so he stays in the forest instead of coming in to focus his energy on getting better and also not blowing his cover. ouma notices he isnt there on that day and asks other staff members where he lives and they’re all like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

-> it rains quite a bit after that, inevitably making saihara even more sick and in turn needing time away to himself, so ouma starts getting worried when saihara stops coming to work

-> saihara really wants to see him though, so one day he tries to drag himself to work in a terrible state where he’s actually almost cold for once and collapses after trying to run to ouma. ouma sees him and tells his manager he cant work nd takes him home himself where saihara wakes up confused

-> ouma lecturing saihara because he worried him and the way he fell reminded him of.. someone (demon shuu).. then he asks vague questions to saihara about if he’s ever met a demon and half-confesses to having met one himself multiple times and ending up falling in love and then probably killing them

-> saihara, in his tired state, tells him his story of how he was raised to believe he had no purpose other than to meet someone who would kill him, eventually finding that person but instead of looking at him with fear or anger he looked at him with admiration and playfulness, how the guy meant to kill him refused to and flirted w him instead. ouma has probably clicked on by this point but saihara continues to tell him he wanted to protect that guy with the power he had so he took time away from his first ‘job’ to find out how to be with him. saihara is probably shaking at this point while he continues telling him about how he found out he had to sacrifice the most important thing to him, so he “went and had a terrible argument with him one day and i ran away. but i’ve never stopped looking for him since, he showed me that even a demon like me can fall in love” (there’s the ✨grand confession ✨)

-> ouma saw it coming from the moment saihara started speaking, but that didnt stop him from being utterly paralysed. of COURSE saihara has to say “When I said you’d make a good demon I really wasn’t lying. Your hand is so warm it could fool even me” which possibly makes ouma completely combust before absolutely bolting out the door and calling akamatsu to tell her to get to his house (”AKAMATSU-CHAN I’M GONNA DIE RIGHT NOW IF YOU DON’T GET HERE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT THIS SECOND”)

-> while waiting for kaede, shuuichi explains that he needs to be Warm™ and immediately holds kokichi’s hold again, while the other’s having a gay panic.. and he doesnt know how to feel because on one hand, his beloved demon is.. right here, in the ‘flesh’, holding his hand, telling him he fell in love with him.. but on the other hand, that doesnt excuse the confusion and hurt he put him through back then, not being able to see him for a whole damn year.. 

-> ouma ignores all the feelings when akamatsu arrives where she’s brought water and blankets (just in case- i feel like shes the kind of friend who would do that) so saihara takes the blankets and ouma takes the water and she calms them both down and gets them to explain everything slowly and in their own time. its awkward esp for ouma who isnt particularly close with her, but they manage it in the end

-> they decide shuuichi literally cant live in the forest so of course now he has to live with ouma but akamatsu offers to help if it ever gets too much for ouma which obviously ouma denies. she leaves soon and its just them but ouma needs some time to himself to clear his head and he only returns late to see saihara asleep clinging onto akamatsu’s blanket with his life lmao so ouma sighs and brings him more. and if he kisses the sleeping demon’s forehead, nobody has to know

-> ofc its still very much awkward and it takes ouma getting used to having even just another presence in his home, let alone his sort-of-unofficial-demon-bf and saihara’s still sleeping a lot of the time but recovering

-> they probably establish their feelings for eachother properly when they’re more mentally prepared for it, and then 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (they kiss) and are now actually legally boyfriends. i absolutely cannot let this end in angst so they’re happy and love eachother now yay the end

nngl. i talked about this with that same friend and I lowkey want to start writing an actual fic for it now that ive written... literally the entire plot, but if i do that it probably wont be out for a while bc i take 10 years to write lmao-- plus i hardly ever finish what i start so uh yeah.. but hopefully! im not even good at writing fic this is just the plot but yello

[chichirichick]

SoMa Day 5: Domestic

This one's coming in a little later than I normally post but I still made it! Please enjoy my @soulxmakaweek entry for Day 5! Laundry has never ended so sweetly. Read it on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut!

"Can you please stop tapping?"

Soul stopped the steady rhythm of both his feet and his fingers. "I'm bored," he groaned back as he slid against the back of the chair. In a daring move, his forehead thunked exhaustedly to her shoulder.

"Here." Maka rummaged through her bag, taking out a second paperback and shoving it under his nose.

"No," he elongated the vowel in agony. "Reading sucks."

"Says you," she snapped back before tapping his cheek with the spine. "Why didn't you bring your headphones?"

'Cause I kinda wanted to listen to you… He let that thought drift by as he tilted his chin slightly. The closeness was a bit of bravery, but there was something about doing these homey things with her that always stirred the want. "Broke 'em."

"Another one?" Maka rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Soul, that's like the third this month. For a man who loves music…"

"Real music is better without headphones," he grumbled in return. He could see the goosebumps on her neck from his breath, and he paused, waiting for her to clear him away from his spot.

"Like this?" Maka wiggled a finger up at the busted boombox, one speaker settled askew on top of the line of dryers. It was spewing a piss-poor copycat of Kenny G.

"Oh, this is grade A." His smirk glowed, flashing those sharky teeth. "You don't like it?"

Maka snorted.

"C'mon." Soul nudged his cheek a little more firmly into her shoulder. "Dance with me."

"Here?" Maka glanced around the dilapidated laundromat incredulously.

There were two other late-night launderers, one with his face in his newspaper and the other scrolling through her phone in ennui. The rest of the scratched linoleum or half-broken chairs were empty of life.

"Save me here, Maks. I'm dyin' of boredom." He pulled out the big guns, that pleading stare that thankfully birthed a smidge of weakness in her. He latched on to it along with her hand, getting up from his seat to pull her with him. It was easy to slip her into position, just reliving that black room again.

Maka let him coax her into slow waltzing steps between the washer-dryer sets and the seats. Her smile blossomed almost immediately, but the giggle that followed took time, building as he twirled her until she couldn't hold it.

"What's funny?" The sweet sound broke Soul's concentration.

"It's weird," Maka paused to let another laugh flutter. "You get sort of happy when we're doing housework stuff."

"I feel like you're insinuating me being happy is weird…" Soul leveled a glare at her, promoting more giggles that pressed into his heart. "But yeah, sure, I like this stuff."

There was a tenuousness to their connection, a blip on the line from soul to soul as they revolved again. It was just long enough for Maka to nibble into her lip before asking simply, "Why?"

This was the spot for an obligatory shrug- the kind that killed conversation like a lightning strike. Except… that mood struck him again, the one that was starting to get undeniable every time he was near her. "Well, never did it back at home… had maids and stuff for that so when I got here it was kinda like I wanted to learn it in order to let go of all that Evans bullshit."

Maka was blinking up at him, absorbed with hearing another piece of his truth. It was always hard to tear them away from him and when he offered them, she always seemed entirely immersed, dying for the next word.

"'cept that stuff sorta sucks," he added with a throaty chuckle.

"But you like it," she corrected softly.

"Uh…" Soul let that rumble in his throat for a second. "Yeah, now. That didn't happen 'til you came along."

Her eyelashes fluttered wide, that deep green blooming in surprise.

"Sorta… I mean, alone, in the apartment, cooking or cleaning- it was just me. Just a chore." He couldn't stand the way she was staring so he broke the moment, forcing her into a twirl that urged a tender laugh from her but didn't ruin her concentration.

Her eyes snapped back to him mercilessly as soon as he had her back in his arms.

"When you moved in- us livin' together… guess I realized what I was really missin' about it in the first place."

Maka's eyebrows furrowed but she didn't speak, didn't offer him an out with interruption.

His fingers tensed in hers as his heart lost the tempo of their movement, a jagged beat reminding him that while it was unnaturally easy to love her, it was so hard for him to somehow piece together the idea of it into words. "Doin' it alone… just feels like somethin' you gotta get done. Doin' it together is just like everythin' else we do- life in harmony." It was no longer a smirk but a nervous smile as he searched her eyes. "'Cause when it's you and me it feels homey, like family."

While his grin faltered, Maka's blossomed. "That is the cheesiest thing you've ever said."

A withering laugh struggled from his throat. "Sorry."

Maka quickly shook her head as the glow on her face continued. "You're right though."

Soul could feel the color creeping up his neck to his ears.

"You are my family, Soul." The sweet lilt of her voice was saturated in such a contented joy that his heart was melting down to his shoes. "I like that you feel that way." The octave trembled just slightly, a little pink of her own dusting her cheeks.

"G-good." He swallowed the stutter as his fingers suddenly became entirely unsettled. The urge hit him to spin her again, but in the next breath, the idea of letting her out of his arms struck him as utter agony. While he sat on the precipice of entirely losing his mind, the dryer buzzed, forcing him a jittery step back.

"Looks like you're done," Maka chimed, letting her hands still drift over his arms in gentle reassurance that bled from her fingers to his soul.

Soul tried to push all his energy into the normalcy of opening the dryer, barely feeling the puff of hot air as it opened in his face because of his already burning blush. He managed to shove every sock and wayward piece of underwear into his laundry basket before shuffling it across the floor back to their chairs. His knees gave up, wobbling as he took a hard seat. She- she likes that I feel that way? Does that-?

Maka settled next to him in the seat. "Are you going back to the apartment?"

"No," he shot back immediately, vexed by the thought.

There was no annoyance on her end, just a soft hum of satisfaction. "Let's make cocoa tonight."

"Cocoa?" Soul snapped out of his headspace, finally losing focus on his spiraling thoughts.

"Yeah." Without hesitation, her fingers were wrapped in his. "Homey, right?"

"S-sure. Maka, I- uh-" Different sentence strings shouted in his head. Family- like, together?

"And a movie. Maybe two even though it's late."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Anythin' you want." Or, brother and sister?

"Anything?"

Soul was too deeply occupied with trying to rein in his mind to hear the playfulness in her voice. Or meister and weapon?

"I can sit however I want on the couch?"

"Yeah." Spit it out!

"And you won't complain when I use you as a pillow?"

"Whatever." Since you were so damn love-drunk that you spilled the other part but not the part that terrifies you!

"And if I ask you- you'll give me a goodnight kiss?"

"Listen, Maka-" He froze, hands already spread in a silent plea as he let her words filter into his head. "Wha-what did you just say?"

A bit of bashfulness caught up with her as her fingers kneaded into his. "A kiss, Soul. If I asked you to, would you?"

There was no foothold for his fear, not with that blush blaring on her cheeks and a tentative smile waited to boom with his answer. His lean was a little too quick, knocking noses with her at first until she tempered him with a soft hand to his cheek. The tempting touch only made it worse, his lips clumsily locking to hers as he tried to steal away every last ounce of the happiness in what she'd said.

"Hey, get a room!" The man had dropped his newspaper and was eyeing them with distaste.

Maka parted them with a twittering laugh, her hand coming over her face to finally give in to a second of the embarrassment.

Soul offered the man a sneer before letting out a quaking laugh of his own. "Maka, that was-"

"Nice," she murmured as she let her hand slip away to reveal a smile.

"Yeah," he sighed out desperately.

She squeezed his hand in hers again, "So, cocoa, a movie, and maybe a little more practice."