#the fucking research i had to do before i felt worthy enough to draw a period accurate outfit.

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

i'm KIND OF REALLY BAD at making outfits/designs for characters so i'm not sure if i'm ever going to get around to anyone else.... but the isat tag can take my cultist au odile. as a little treat.

Odile - Siffrin

[wiypt-writes]

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

 Ransom Drysdale One Shot

Summary: It’s the Annual Pre-Easter meal at the Thrombey’s and Ransom and you are in attendance. As usual, there’s fireworks, a lot of swearing and there’s only one way you know he can get rid of his frustrations…

 Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW) NO UNDER 18s!

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this was originally written last year for @jennmurawski13​ who requested a smutty one shot with an Evans character of my choice for her birthday. It was coined from a Brainstorming sesh me and @icanfeelastormbrewing​ had for our intended Ransom x OFC series (we might get round to it in 2022…so by then you’ll have forgotten if we use it again.) FYI Eighteen year old Ransom is totally Bryce from Fierce People, you can’t convince me otherwise… I also very much now see this being the same Reader as in mine, @ohthankevans13​ and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​’s  Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale series.

Your brown leather, knee high Saint Laurent boots (a gift from the man whose lap you were curled up on) were on the floor by your feet leaving you in your grey, woollen over-knee socks. One of your boyfriend’s large hands was resting on your left shin, the other just at the top of your right thigh, almost on your ass cheek. You were well aware your black sweater dress was riding up so went to shift and shimmy it down a little, conscious that you were, after all, sat in the large drawing room at his grandfather’s house whilst the rest of his family milled around as the pre-Easter dinner, which always took place the weekend before the actual holiday, was being prepared.

“You okay?” Ransom looked up at you, noticing you shift on his lap and you smiled.

“Yeah, just don’t want to flash everyone too much if you get my drift.”

Ransom cocked an eyebrow at you, then peeked around the room, before he gave a snort as his eyes fell on his cousin Jacob who was watching the pair of you.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want Adolf junior getting a boner now would we?”

You gave a chuckle as you re-arranged your dress, making yourself more comfortable.

“He’s just a kid, Ran.” You soothed.

“He’s a deviant, Princess.” He replied, his voice quiet.

“So were you when I first met you.” You grinned, looking at him as you bent closer to whisper into his ear “Still are when the mood takes you.”

Ransom pulled back to look at you, his face inches from yours, his eyebrow raising slightly as that dirty smirk spread across his handsome face. “Stop it.” He warned, and you shrugged innocently, as he placed a soft kiss on your mouth.

“Come on son, put her down.” Richard’s voice rang across the room and instantly you felt Ransom’s entire demeanour change. Gone was the relaxed, jokey, happy Ran you knew and loved and in his place was Hugh Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire.

“Piss off, Father.” He shot back, his head moving back from yours, fixing his dad with a steely glare.

“Hey.” Richard glowered “Don’t speak to me like that…” he turned to Linda. “Did you hear that Linda?”

“Ransom…” Linda said lazily, not looking up from her phone. “Don’t speak to your father like that.”

Ransom rolled his eyes and you gently looked at him, shaking your head, silently telling him to stay calm. It was always the same with the Thrombey family gatherings. Ransom despised them for the simple fact that Harlan was the only one he had any time for, bar his mother on a good day, and you were inclined to feel the same way. It always ended in chaos, each individual nuclear sects within the extended family trying to get one up on the other, prove they were the best players in the game.

Frankly, they made the fucking Lannisters look normal.  

All your friends were constantly asking you how you managed to stay tangled in this web of dysfunction, but the answer was right in front of you, his crystal blue eyes now narrowed as he shot a sarcastic reply back to his mother.

The simple truth was, you loved him and couldn’t walk away if you tried.

It hadn’t always been that way, mind. When your High School had been asked to submit nominations for the coveted position of Harlan Thrombey’s Summer research assistant, you’d been short listed along with 15 other candidates from the New England area. Each of you were asked to produce a five-thousand word thesis on a literary subject of your choice to be submitted for reading by Harlan. You’d been ecstatic when you received the call from his Publishing Company to say you’d made the final three and were requested to attend an interview.

You’d been and bought a new suit. Nothing fancy but decent enough quality. You made sure your hair was tamed, your make up was as on point as you could get it, and had driven the thirty minutes or so out to his mansion from the home you shared with your Nanna in Brookline, following the directions on your GPS to the area near Pierce Park where the Thrombey Mansion was located. You were greeted by his housekeeper and shown into the large office where the man himself was waiting. Harlan was nothing like you had expected him to be. He was eccentric, sure, but also dmaned good fun. He’d asked you a few questions about why you wanted the position “I’m going to major in English at college and I hope to work in publishing when I graduate, this would be an invaluable experience.” He had then discussed your paper with you and after a few more general questions he had reduced you almost to tears of laughter by telling you a about an incident when he had been at college and was almost caught climbing down the trellis of his girlfriend’s parent’s house following a late night rendezvous of the very naughty kind “Don’t think too badly of me, we ended up married for forty-seven years…”

Then, just as he was showing you out of his study a tall, well-built young man, your age you had correctly guessed, with a strong jaw, dark hair flicked to the left side of his forehead, and a pair of the bluest eyes you had ever seen, waltzed down the hallway. He was dressed in a pair of riding breeches, a polo shirt and wore a long pair of tan leather riding boots.

"Ransom?” Harlan looked at the young man “I wasn’t expecting you till this afternoon.”

“Yeah well, the fucking horse I should have been riding is lame.” Ransom shrugged “Which means I can’t ride, and I probably can’t compete this weekend.”

“Dressage?” you had asked, your mouth speaking well before your brain had engaged, for some reason thinking it was a good idea to comment. Ransom had looked at you with disdain, scanned you up and down and cocked his head to one side, his eyes cold as they locked onto yours.

“Polo.” He had answered, a sneer on his face “Do I look like a dressage rider to you? Mind you, from the state of your cheap high-street dress the nearest you’ve probably ever been to a horse is those shitty little trail rides they run at kids parties.”

“Ransom!” Harlan had snapped sternly “Enough!”

You felt the heat rise in your neck and cheeks, and you drew yourself up to your full height, folding your arms as you looked at the ass hole stood in front of you. One thing your Nanna had told you was that, despite your humble origins, you were as worthy as the next person, no matter how much money, status or self-importance they may have.

“My apologies. I always thought polo was played by arrogant, snobby, stuck up pricks.” You retorted as you made a show of looking him up and down in the same way he had done to you. “Actually, on second thoughts, I should have guessed.”

As soon as the words were out of your mind you let out an internal groan. Way to go, flush your chance of landing this summer internship down the fucking toilet by insulting Harlan’s grandson. Nevertheless, you held the gaze of the man in front of you who stared back, his expression and face utterly stoic bar the blink of surprise his eyes made.

You heard Harlan chuckle behind you and the old man dropped a hand to your shoulder. “Fran, could you see Miss Y/L/N to the door.”

Two days later Harlan had personally called you to offer you the position, and it had turned out to be everything you ever wanted, and more. Three weeks into your internship, to your utter surprise, Harlan confessed that he had been looking to fund a worthy, local candidate through college and as the successful applicant it was yours for the taking. Some strings had been pulled, and in the last week of September thanks to his generosity you started your English Major at Harvard.

And so did Ransom.

He pursued you with a dogged determination, seemingly viewing your indifference towards him and his advances as some kind of challenge. You weren’t fooling yourself, however. He was devastatingly handsome and your traitorous vagina and that part of your brain that controlled your libido harboured a deep desire to fuck his brains out, a desire you finally gave into at the end of your first year when, following your final exam, you got drunk and woke up the morning after in his bed.

It wasn’t all puppies and roses though. You were on and off more than his boxer shorts, as simply put, Ransom was a player. And it didn’t bother you to start with. He was a hook up, a way to relieve tension when you needed to, and he was a very handy person to know with his seemingly endless network of connections. But by the time you graduated you knew you were head over heels for him, and needed to break this seeming cycle of being in and out of his bed.  So you turned down Harlan’s offer of a job at Blood Like Wine and were ready to move away from Boston after landing a job at a publishers in Manhattan…but then your nanna had been taken seriously ill and suffered a stroke meaning you had to stay.

As a result of her illness, your nanna was unable to live in your house in Brookline alone and so you were forced to sell it so she could afford to move into a supervised Retirement Village a five minute or so drive away. You were now jobless, drowning with the house-sale which would leave you homeless, and your emotions and been all over the place. You had no other family since your Grandfather had died at the start of your senior year so had no one to turn to.

Enter Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

You’d called him one evening, drunk and emotional and needing a release and he came over alright, but instead of fucking you into the mattress he made sure you drank water, ate something, and then got you into bed. The next morning, Harlan had shown up, telling you the job offer at his company was still open, and then to your utter surprise and initial horror he had offered to buy your nanna’s house, meaning you could remain there as a tenant. At first you had refused, insisting you weren’t a charity case but Harlan had simply waved your concerns away by insisting it was an investment. After a little discussion he agreed to allow you to pay rent which, all things considered, was a pittance in comparison to what other properties the same size in that area commanded but it was a rent nonetheless and made you feel better.

And you knew all of it had ben Ransom’s idea.

This was the side to Ransom he very rarely displayed to anyone. A softer side, a caring side, a gentle side. A side that held you as you cried at the thought that your nanna was growing old and may soon leave you behind, a side that made you a sandwich when you hadn’t eaten in days, a side that helped you pack up and move your Nana’s stuff to her new home, a side that turned up at 9pm with several tubs of ice cream and a bottle of wine after you’d messaged him earlier that afternoon to tell him what a shit day you were having when his Uncle Walt was being a dick at work.

The rest, they say is history. History which meant you were now curled up in his lap some eight or so years post that initial meeting in the hallway of this very house, listening to him bicker with his family, feeling his leg beginning to shake in that way it always did when he was agitated.

“Ran…” you said gently, squeezing his arm and you felt him take a deep breath and he looked at you, his mouth closing as you shook your head “Don’t.”

He turned away, looking to the other side of the room and his face glowered as he spotted Jacob once more had his eyes trained on your bare thigh. God the pubescent creep did his fucking head in, and if he stayed here he was going to end up putting the lanky streak of shit through the wall.

“Can we go?” Ransom looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“We’ve not even had dinner yet.”

“Please.”

That single word was enough to make you understand. It was a word he hadn’t learned until he’d met you, when he realised that his demands and arrogance got him nowhere with you. He still rarely used it mind, but when he did, you knew he was in desperate need of what he’d asked for.

“How about we take a walk?” You suggested “If you still wanna go after then we will”

He took a deep breath as he considered what you had said. Compromise was another word that hadn’t been in his vocabulary until you. His eyes locked onto yours and you looked at him, encouragingly and he took a deep breath, nodding.

“Okay.”

You uncurled yourself from his lap and stood up, him following so you could sit down and place you boots on.

“Are you leaving?” Linda asked, looking up for the first time.

“For a walk.” Ransom said simply, grabbing your hand and pretty much dragging you from the room. He didn’t say a word as he reached the coat stand and retrieved your lightweight Ted Baker belted mac, holding it out for you to slip your arms into, in a display of chivalry he reserved only for you. Once you’d done it up, he took your hand in his and you headed through the kitchen and outside into the reasonably mild April afternoon.

“Don’t let them get to you.” You said softly, leaning into him a little and he sighed, untangling his fingers from yours so he could drop his arm round your shoulders. He hated the fact his family could make him feel like this, like he wasn’t in control, like he was insignificant in the grand scheme of things. He could quite happily go without seeing any of them, well, bar maybe his grandfather, but you had told him he would regret it if he pushed them away completely because you had always wished you’d had a large family unit like that. So, despite the fact he knew deep down that was a load of bullshit, he played the game. He attended the damned gatherings more for your benefit than any as you adored Harlan and seemed to get on fairly well with Joni, Meg and his mother. He hung onto a glimmer of hope that maybe one day it would all change and he’d feel part of it.

But it never did. And he never did.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence across the Mansion grounds, round the lake where Ransom stopped by the small pier, looking out over the water.

“You know my most vivid childhood memories are of this spot.” He mused, his gaze focussed over the lake “Grammy used to bring me down here to feed the ducks.”

“It’s beautiful down here.” You agreed, snuggling further under his arm. “Peaceful.”

“Yeah unlike that fucking house.”

You gave a chuckle, as his hand curled over your shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing over the smooth material of your coat. He was agitated, you could tell, and there were very few ways in which he could calm down when he was like this. One was riding his beloved BB- a polo horse Harlan had bought him for his 21st, one was the pair of you curling up on the sofa with snacks and a good scotch or bourbon, getting drunk and watching Trashy Films, in particular horrors-you both loved to pick plot holes and insult the main characters, declaring the victim a dumb bitch for running up the stairs and not out of the door and the other, well…

You glanced around, checking you were alone before you pulled away from him, taking his hand and tugging on it slightly.

“What?” he asked looking down.

“Come on.” You gave his hand another pull.

“Y/N?” he questioned again, but followed nonetheless despite you not answering. You tugged him away from the lake, into the thin thicket of trees a little further round. You could still see the house here but you knew there was no way anyone from up there could see you.

“Seriously, Y/N what the fuck?” he groaned, as he stepped in the slightly squelchy mud “You’re gonna ruin my Gucci’s…” “Should have worn something a little more substantial then shouldn’t you?”

“I didn’t know you were planning on going fucking hiking in the fucking woods.”

“That’s not what we’re doing.” You said, stopping in front of a large oak tree, looking up at him.

“Then what are we doing? Reconnecting with Mother Nature? Or are we on the hunt for Oberon, Titania and Puck?”

“Ooh, good Shakespeare reference.” You grinned at him and he rolled his eyes as you slid your hand up over his navy blue lightweight Barbour jacket which was done up to his sternum, leaving his plain white, Armani t-shirt slightly visible at the neckline. “Does that make us Lysander and Hermia?”

“You got a hidden suitor called Demetrius I don’t know about?” he arched an eyebrow, his hands falling to your hips.

“Nope, I’m all yours Tiger.”

The sound of your ridiculous nickname for him drew a large smile across his face and he shook his head, giving a genuine chuckle. Here, with you there were no annoying voices to listen to, no family politics, nothing to care about but the gentle brush of the wind as it blew through the canopy of trees above your heads and the faint sounds of birds as they went about their business and Ransom felt a sense of comfort. Because you were his rock. The one person that saw through his bull shit, the woman in his life that knew all his horrible personality traits as well as his slightly less horrible ones and loved him all the same. The girl that had rounded off his harsher edges no matter how much he protested to the contrary.

You were his better half for sure.

“Well that’s good, because I don’t like sharing.” Ransom smirked, dipping his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Don’t I know it.” You mused against his mouth. His fingers flexed on your sides, pulling you closer to him as he slid his tongue across your bottom lip. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing him control over the kiss, knowing that’s what he craved when he was like this. His lips were soft on yours, tongue domineering as he kissed you deeply, slowly. Eventually he pulled back, his nose bumping yours slightly as he gave a little chuckle.

“I know you’re trying to distract me from those shit heads in the house.” He said, his tone playful and you loved playful Ransom. Another side to him only you really got to see.

“Is it working?” You played along.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his lips pressing to yours again.

“Good. Now why don’t you let your inner deviant come out to play?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice, Princess.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he had pressed you into the harsh, earthy bark of the tree behind you, kissing you hard again, groaning as you palmed his crotch through his designer denims. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head before he did the same with the other one, easily holding both in place above you with one large hand, his other softly tracing up the outside of your thigh, fingers skating under your skirt.

“Is this why you wore this?” he smirked, toying with the material slightly. “So you could tempt me away for a fuck in the woods?”

It wasn’t, it was because it looked and felt good, but you decided to play along “Maybe. Was it a good choice?”

“Damned right it was…” he growled against your mouth, his long, soft fingers sliding your lace panties to the side. His index finger traced a path up your slit and you gasped at the feeling as he gently began to toy with you. Soft, teasing touches, his eyes never once leaving yours. That was one of his things, he liked to see your face, watch as your expressions changed as he undid you, fuelling his ego. Your hips gently started to move in time to his strokes as he played you, like an instrument from which he could always draw a tune. And in no time at all, he was listening to the music as you let out a soft keen, a purr almost as your head fell back against the tree, your mouth parting slightly.

“Like that?” he asked, and it was all you could do to nod, panting brokenly as the familiar feeing began to rise in the pit of your stomach, the fire growing hotter and hotter. “God you’re a fucking minx. Come on, cum on my fingers, you know you want to.” And you did, hard, your knees trembling, as you let out a loud cry of his name as the lights exploded in front of your eyes. Ransom pressed into you, his erection evident as it dug into your stomach, keeping you pinned between him and the tree as he coaxed you through your orgasm, before he moved his hands, allowing yours to drop to his shoulders as you held onto him tightly.

The clanging of a belt buckle, then the zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric broke through the post-orgasm haze as Ransom undid his flies, reaching into pull out his painfully hard cock. He gently pushed forward, sliding the tip against your folds, gathering your slick as you gave a moan, the feeling of him sliding against your clit sent lances of red, hot desire through your veins.

His hands gripped the back of your thighs as he pulled you off the ground and you hooked them round his slim waist, ankles locking at the base of his spine. In a swift, fluid moment, no teasing, no gentle ease, he buried himself inside you with a deep thrust making you cry out as he filled you. His lips crashed onto yours as he drew back, then thrust back in hard, his cock dragging against your walls inside, hitting that spot that he knew would leave you seeing stars.

Yes, if there was one thing on this Earth Ransom knew he was good at, it was fucking you.

His lips traced a path from your mouth to your jawline, then to your neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to, his hips moving back and forth in a slow but deep pace which was torture, and you needed more.

“Ran, harder…” You groaned, digging your heels into his ass and he gave a dirty moan of his own as his hands held your hips.

“You’re such a needy little slut.” He smirked against your lips, not waiting for your reply as he picked up the pace, his hips snapping back and forth with a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of you again and again. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you kissed him, teeth clashing together as your back repeatedly brushed against the harsh, rough surface behind you as you clawed desperately at the material of his jacket.

It wasn’t long before you felt another orgasm brewing and your head fell forward, teeth nipping at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Your hands moved into his hair and you pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up you.

“Fuck, Y/N….” he groaned, the pupils of his eyes blown wide with a desire you would never tire of seeing. You pushed your hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and you let out an almost primal cry, the noise you made simply revving him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck Ran…” you moaned as your head rolled back against the tree, hands back on his shoulders, as once more that snake in your belly moved. Ransom felt the tell-tale flutter of your heat tightening round him and he continued his voracious pace, his eyes locked onto yours.

“You feel so fucking good…” he panted “So fuckin’ good Princess...”

His words made you moan again, and he pushed up once more, stilling slightly, grinding up against you as opposed to thrusting and a few rolls of his hips later you were done. The world faded around you as you came hard, with a loud scream before your head dropped to his shoulder, as you moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through your orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Y/N…I’m…fuck…” his words tumbled into your hair as his movements became desperate and he came a short while later with a loud yell. You felt him fill you up, as his hips stilled and he groaned, face buried into your neck, his chest heaving, sweat beaded both his brow and yours as he simply pressed into you, panting and shaking.

Neither of you had any idea how long you stayed like that, but eventually Ransom managed to gain enough control to pull his softening cock out of you and set you gently on your feet as he brushed the tendrils of your hair that had fallen over your face back with a tenderness he reserved only for you. He said nothing, simply looked at you, his lips gently greeting yours in a soft, loving kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones you had shared moments before. You smiled at him, unadulterated love in your eyes as you moved your hands to brush his hair back before you leaned up and kissed him again, your nose sliding against his.

“I adore you Hugh Ransom Drysdale. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t fucking call me Hugh.” He grumbled and you chuckled as he pulled you to him, nuzzling into your hair as he sighed. “But for the record, the feeling is mutual Y/F/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N.”

You gave a laugh and were about to reply when you felt his head snap up, and his entire body tense and he let out an angry cry causing you to jump.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! The perverted little shit!”

“Ran?” You saw his face contorted in anger as he pushed back from you, striding away from the tree, rearranging his jeans as he went before he broke into a sprint. You watched him go and then, to your horror, saw the retreating back of a smaller male running away from the thicket of trees on the curve of the bank to your left and you felt yourself grow cold.

Jacob.

How long he had been there Ransom had no idea but he chased the little fucker all the way to the house, yelling insults and threats as he burst into the kitchen. Ransom finally caught up with him just as he ran into the hall and grabbed the kid by the collar, spinning him round and pinning him to the wall, arm crossed over his windpipe. “Enjoy the show did we?!” He yelled, the noise drawing the rest of the family out from the sitting room into the tiled hallway. Walt started to shout angry threats about what he was going to do to Ransom if he didn’t take his hands off his son, which then sparked Richard to bite back at Walt saying if he touched Ransom he’d give him a damned good hiding. If Ransom hadn’t been so focussed on the dirt little bastard he had pinned to the wall he would have laughed because the idea of his dad fighting anyone was hilarious, he couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.

“Give me your phone.” Ransom demanded.

“I didn’t…” “GIVE ME YOUR PHONE NOW YOU PERVERTED PRICK!” Ransom yelled, and reached into Jacob’s pocket, grabbing his hand where it was curled around the offending item, bending the boy’s fingers back. Jacob gave a yell, pulled his hand out of his trouser pocket and Ransom seized the phone, yanking it out, just as you walked into the hallway.

He looked at you, then to Jacob and saw you pale as the realisation washed over you that you’d not only been seen but recorded or snapped, by a twelve year old boy nonetheless.

“Unlock it.” Ransom demanded, thrusting it back at him.

“Now listen here…” Walt started until Harlan turned to him.

“Walt, shut up.” He barked, turning to Jacob “Unlock the phone, now Jake.”

Jacob sullenly took the phone from Ransom and did has he was told, Ransom snatching it back. He glanced down at the screen, flicking to the Gallery and let out an angry noise as he saw not only footage of you both in the woods but ten or so photos of your bare thigh and close ups where he had attempted to see up your skirt when you had been on his knee before. Thankfully from the snaps there wasn’t really anything visible, but still the fact he had even taken them in the first place made Ransom apoplectic with rage.

“You dirty little prick.” he mumbled, looking back up at him. Jacob visibly recoiled under Ransom’s glare.

“Ran?” You questioned as you gently touched his arm and he tilted the phone so you could see the screen and your eyes widened, your entire body growing warm as you saw the close up of your thigh on the screen.

“How the fuck dare you?” You exploded, glaring at Jacob.

“Can you explain what he has supposedly done?” Donna, Jacob’s mother spoke for the first time and you turned to face her, your pretty features contorted in rage.

“He’s…” You shook your head “Taken photos of me, before up my skirt.”

Noise erupted in the hallway, Joni and Meg screaming about you being violated, Richard and Linda yelling at Walt and Donna whilst Harlan shook his head, making a noise of disgust. Ransom ignored them all as he selected the photos and images, deleting them, and showing it to you.

“Gone, Princess.” He turned the screen off before he leaned over and kissed your temple.

“Look, he’s a teenage boy…” Donna was protesting “He’s a bit curious…”

“He’s a dirty bastard.” Richard snorted and the irony wasn’t lost on Ransom as he’d seen his father eyeing you up on more than one occasion. He looked at his dad, eyebrow raised as Jacob bit back at the dig.

“I’m a dirty bastard?” The pre-teen snapped, his eyes flicking from Richard to Ransom “I’m not the one that was having sex against a tree!”

Everyone paused and their heads turned to you and Ransom. You gave a groan, your hands sliding up to your face to hide your utter embarrassment, but besides you Ransom’s expression never changed because, well frankly, he couldn’t give two shits about everyone knowing what you had been up to.

“I’m a grown ass man.” He snarled “If I wanna fuck my girl outside on private property I will”

He held Jacob’s phone out to him, but as Jacob went to take it Ransom opened his hand, dropped it to the floor with a loud “oops” and stomped on it, the metal and glass crunching under the heel of his expensive, leather boots.

There was more yelling, and Ransom simply turned, taking your hand in his. “We’re leaving.”

This time you didn’t argue. The pair of you walked away, ignoring the screaming which grew fainter as you headed down towards the large front doors, only to hear Harlan calling after you. Ransom stopped, took a deep breath and tuned to face his grandfather.

“Y/N are you ok?”

“Of course she’s not.” Ransom snapped but you gently squeezed his hand, shaking his head.

“I’m okay Harlan, thank you. But I think its best we go before Ransom commits murder.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not far off killing the little turd myself.” Harlan shook his head, sighing. He then took a deep breath, looked at Ransom, and there was a flash of something which you knew only too well to be amusement in his eyes. “Which tree?”

Ransom frowned “What?”

“I asked which tree you two were doing the naughty against.”

You groaned as Ransom blinked and then shrugged “Just in the thicket to the south side of the lake, near the little jetty. Why?”

“Well, instead of barking up the wrong tree so to speak, next time stick to the North side.” Harlan grinned cheekily “It’s in the dip and no chance you can be spotted by anyone unless they’re a foot or so away.”

Ransom’s mouth curled up into a smirk as he looked at his grandfather then to you.

Meanwhile you simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow you.

Harlan bid the two of you goodbye as you headed out to Ransom’s Beemer. He stopped just besides it, turning to you, his hands falling to your hips again. “Well, I don’t know about you, Sweetheart, but all that excitement has made me a bit hungry. Seeing as we’re not getting dinner here, how about I take you to Asta?”

Your face lit up at the mention of your favourite restaurant and you gave an eager nod before you frowned “Aren’t we a little underdressed? And it’s Saturday evening, we’ll never get in.”

“Baby girl, enough money can get us in anywhere, and you look fine.” He said, dropping a kiss to your lips before he grinned “You might wanna brush the twigs outta your hair though.”

[hajimeiwaswife]

THE WAY I LOVED YOU

Word count: 4,2K

Wanings: angst (but fluff, too)

Summary: You weren't over the love Childe provided you, even when you were engaged to Albedo years later.

A blue, pink and mauve sky garnished the surroundings of the Stormbearer Mountains. The summery breeze, warm as the light of the bright sun, comforted those who walked along the path of fallen leaves, wild flowers and the smell of mint. A beautiful landscape presented itself for sore eyes to see.

A certain Alchemist was working on his new masterpiece, relaxing under the few rays of light that came with dusk, painting the one he considered the most beautiful person to ever put a foot on Teyvat. Mixing the colours of nature, he portraited on the sketch book the view he had of his fiancée and the scenery, all of it worthy of a cheesy romance novel and a fantasy book.

"How much time do you need?" Y/N asked in a tired tone, trying not to shift her position, "I'm getting crumps on my face from smiling."

The man didn't answer at the moment, considering for a brief time her question and filling a space on the page that still needed his attention. At last, he looked at her and smiled at the image he had the honour of witnessing. The girl, dressed in a summer white and blue dress, was slightly pouting at the lack of talking from his part. Her hair danced with the wind and he thanked Barbatos for letting him see her golden locks fly around her face.

"Just a little more, my love," he answered, his attention shifting back to the drawing in front of him.

"You said that an hour ago," the girl sighed, putting a smile again on her face so she didn't disrupt her lover from painting her, "I thought you wanted to go see Sucrose before the sun came down. Oh! And also, you promised Klee you'd visit her."

He hummed, immersed in the way her features took a hardened expression when she tried to remember something that needed to be done. Brows furrowed and fore finger on her right cheek, she looked at him in search of a comment from the Alchemist.

"Albedo! Are you listening to me?"

"You're so beautiful." mumbled the man, lost in her and the blush that was forming on her visage.

Shameless and, at the same time, honest and shy. That was Albedo, the one she was engaged to. Such an honourable and good man, someone who loved her as much as the Sea loved its waves, as much as the birds loved the Wind, as much as a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire. He gave her his everything and from the bottom of his own person, and she was grateful for it.

"I'm sorry" he promptly said, coughing on his palm to hide the evident embarrassment he felt, "It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable."

At that, she couldn't help but laugh. He was such a beautiful person, always searching her comfort and well-being before anyone else's, always taking care of her and looking for her. A pure soul, she would venture to affirm.

"Don't be silly, sweetheart," Y/N chuckled, positioning once again for him to portray her, "you know I love it when you compliment me. Now, c'mon, finish before the sun falls."

"As you wish."

One more hour of dirtying their hands in paint and observing the marvellous dusk that came upon them, they left to visit Sucrose, who was willing to tell Albedo about her advances in the research they both were working on.

"That's impressive, Sucrose," Albedo praised the girl, reading the documents and correcting those things he found could be improved.

Y/N turned off the conversation, not really interested in the depths of the Alchemy. She respected what the husband to be and her friend did for a life and she couldn't be prouder, but that didn't mean she wanted to hear the endless conversations about properties a flower could have.

After saying goodbye to the little Alchemist, they both headed to say hello to little Klee, who was mad at them for coming so late, it was already her time for bed and, as she said, 'We can't go bomb fishing!', followed by a 'Do you not love Klee?' Reassuring the little bomb crazy kid was more draining than she could imagine, but she did it for Albedo, nonetheless.

The afternoon turned into the late hours of the night, lilac sky was now dark and adorned with stars. The Alchemist had intertwined his fingers with Y/N's, sighing in content, allowing himself to relax at the warmth of her hand and the serenity reigning in Mondstadt.

"Maybe we should head home, you seem exhausted," commented Albedo after watching his fiancée yawn for the third time in ten minutes.

"That would be great, actually." Y/N yawned again, gaining a quiet chuckle from the man next to her.

No one talked again, everything already said until the moment to bid goodnight when they laid in bed. Albedo, being the reserved man he was, kept himself in his side of the bed, not too confident to spoon his girl still.

The silence was only accompanied by Albedo's soft snores. Darkness decorated the walls of the room in the AM. The sense of being trapped growing inside Y/N as she thought of the implications of her new life. She was engaged to an incredible man, who told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her every single day; who went with her on strolls and made her laugh; who could teach her more than she could ever imagine; who appreciated her as she was.

Still, she felt nothing. At all.

She liked Albedo, that was clear. Who wouldn't like Albedo? He was the perfect man. On more than one occasion, Y/N had Amber and Barbara drooling about how lucky she was to be with someone like him. She knew she was the luckiest girl in Teyvat, most women simped over Diluc or Albedo. But, at the same time, she only felt guilt for being with him without actually loving him.

Anxiety growing on her, she decided to stand up. She walked out of the room, being careful not to disrupt Albedo's sleep, and headed to the transport point, she needed to be away from any form of human activity, she felt like shouting and hitting the first thing she could see. Breathing becoming a very tedious task as she approached the device, opting to go to Mt. Aocang. If she was going to wake someone up, she preferred an Adeptus who wouldn't ask more than any nosy human.

The wind, colder than that afternoon, calmed her to the point her lungs could take the oxygen she had been trying to get for minutes. The orange leaves obscured by the night reminded her of the hair she used to love so much. The hair of that man she had once despised, then loved, and then lost.

He, who claimed to be brave enough to enter her heart, had been the one to take it and keep it even until those days. Y/N noticed how her breathing became irregular again, she was used to it, every time she thought about the Harbinger. That repulsive, irresponsible, dishonest, cunning, intelligent and breath-taking man she couldn't forget. How had she let it come so far?

Albedo gave her everything, yet her heart yearned Childe's love. How pathetic.

"Fuck you, Childe!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, not caring for the Adepti, not caring for those who could hear her cursing the Harbinger Tartaglia at 2 a.m. a Thursday night. "You ruined me, you motherfucker!"

So many fights, so many make outs, so much love making, so many nights under the stars trying to comprehend their feelings for the other. All of that for nothing. Like the bitter cold of Snezhnaya they froze, their hearts on their sleeves, light that came from the satellite above turned off.

"You know, sometimes I feel like you don't like me that much." she remembered him saying, his characteristic smirk on his face, "It's true we had our... abrasions, but girlie, c'mon, don't be so stiff."

She could clearly see in her mind how his hands came to her waist, grabbing her in a gentle but at the same time rough grip. A shivered down her spine, in the present and in the pass, and she was sure she would feel it in the future, too.

"How am I supposed to trust you, Harbinger?" she had said, crossing her arms after pulling away from him.

"Easy, trusting me."

And she did. She felt like a fool for allowing him to be so near, to had felt love from him, for loving him.

"Are you feeling okay? You look pale, my love," Albedo commented, a hand of his on the forehead of his lover, a worried expression on his face.

"Yes, Albedo, don't worry, I didn't sleep too well last night," Y/N reassured him, smiling slightly at her fiancé.

The Alchemist hummed, nodding to himself and returning to his work. The girl had returned to their room after a couple of hours in Mt. Aocang, praying for Albedo to not had noticed her absence. Apparently, he didn't. Had he noticed he would had already asked about it, or so she thought.

"I was thinking about visiting Liyue today, there are some materials there I need for my research," Albedo said after some minutes, looking at her, "I was wondering if you'd like to come."

Y/N's heart dropped. She had to say yes, how could she say no to Albedo? He wanted to spend time with her while still working, an effort she really appreciated. But, going to Liyue? What if he was there? Strolling those streets the two of them had travelled a thousand times.

But his gaze was still on her, waiting patiently for a reply. Doubtfully, she considered all her options: not going and upsetting Albedo; going and crossing him; going and being unable to continue due to the memories. No option was good, she had to choose between her fiancé's well-being and hers. 'He's made so any sacrifices for me'.

"I would love to, love."

Merchants selling, people buying, contracts being signed. That was Liyue in all its glory. Red, green and blue being the most recurrent colour themes on the walls, roofs and gardens, a gift to anyone who wanted to visit a paradise.

Albedo was buying some materials while Y/N stood next to him, not looking at anyone's face in case Childe decided to make one of his classic appearances. She grabbed Albedo's sleeve as a way to comfort herself, reassuring one time and one time again that she didn't have that much of bad luck to cross him in such a huge city.

She turned her head to look around at last, brave to see the stores and Liyue's people. Many of them knew who she was, having helped most of them at least in one occasion, great people with beautiful and peaceful lives. She had that now, at Albedo's side. But why did she feel like it wasn't what she wanted?

The red mask in one of the stalls froze her in her place, it looked identical to Childe's. She knew it wasn't his, of course, he was too involved in the Fatui and too wealthy to pledge his mask, but it made her remember him and one of the many memories she had with him in Liyue, again.

"Girlie, don't be like that" Childe exclaimed, smiling at her with bravado, "You don't have to feign you don't want that bracelet."

"I don't want it," repeated her for the third time, growing irritated.

"I have enough money to buy it for you, darling," the Harbinger insisted, taking her left hand in one of his and kissing her knuckles.

"How charming," she murmured ironically, rolling her eyes and pulling her hand out of his grasp.

"I know," he smirked, going after her, "and I also know how much you love when I act like a gentleman."

"How would you know that if you've never acted like one?" she snorted, watching his expression turn into an offended one.

"I'm a gentleman, you just can't appreciate my efforts to woo you," he replied with a pout.

"Aw, little Childe can't take a no for an answer," Y/N continued to tease him, smiling slightly at his spoiled brat's act.

"Very well, little lady, you're not having that bracelet," he stamped and turn away from her, walking without a real direction.

"Not that I wanted it!" she shouted at the distance.

Needless to say, she found the bracelet in her purse that night with a cheesy note that claimed 'To my favourite and stubborn traveller, with love, Childe'.

She still had it in her wrist, accompanying her wherever she went, reminding her of the stupid man that gifted it to her. Golden with Snezhnaya patterns, orange jewelry decorating the surface of the material. Albedo never said anything about it, never asked, and she was grateful for it, he knew to respect her space.

Her fiancé had just finished purchasing what he needed, looking at her with a loving gaze. She felt nothing, only appreciation, and she felt awful for not returning his feelings at their best, he deserved to be loved and spoiled. However, she missed him, she missed what they had.

The grey sky announced the storm that was coming, thunder and lightning appearing to give a performance of nature power. She had fought, walked, ran and danced in rain. She had danced, kissed and loved. But nothing of it with Albedo.

"Now a step to the left" instructed Childe, grabbing her waist with his left hand and her hand with his right one, "and now turn around... That's it! Perfect! You're a natural."

"Stop lying," she laughed, following what he was saying and dancing with him in a forgotten valley in some old ruins, "I can't dance for the love of Barbatos."

"I think you're really good, almost seductive," he purred, kissing her jaw and going down her neck, "seeing you move your hips like that just" an animalistic growl came from the back of his throat.

"Okay, calm down big guy, we're not fucking here."

The sound of thunder interrupted his reply, confusing them both for a moment. Suddenly, rain poured and soaked them wet. Y/N looked for somewhere they could go to shelter from the storm, but Childe just laughed and started making her dance again.

"What the hell are you doing, pee-brain!" she exclaimed, desperate.

"Dancing with you under the rain. Isn't it romantic?" he asked, smug as always.

"Romantic until we catch a hypothermia."

He didn't budge. Swaying them both with the dark landscape behind them, leaves flying around, wind aggressive. But nothing mattered as they looked at each other; love, affection and lust hidden in their souls, wanting nothing more than to indulge to the other and become one. How can anyone love this much? How can feelings root that deep? Childe was the only answer to those questions.

With nothing but a soft caress to her cheek, he smashed his lips on hers, kissing her while the rain accentuated the wet sounds. Everything with him was wild, but so addictive she couldn't help but coming undone, indulging to everything he asked silently from her. A kiss in the rain never felt so good.

"I'll be right back, I just need to drop this at Mingxing Jewelry," Albedo said, giving her a peck before leaving.

She stood there for a few moments, wondering what she could do white she waited for her lover. The rain was nearing Liyue Harbor, Albedo had told her he needed to do a couple of things more before going to the transport point to return home. She felt like throwing up, not a single spot in the city did not remind her of the love of her life, including their ugliest moments as a couple.

"How could you!?" Y/N screamed, feeling completely devastated and deceived.

"I had to! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No! It's not okay!" his indifference was breaking her heart, looking at him with disappointment, "Again! You did it again!"

"I was ordered to!" he shouted, his voice the same tone as hers, wrath in his eyes, "I have a job and you knew about it when you decided to fuck me!"

"What the hell, Childe!" she cried, "First of all, you nearly destroy Liyue! Again! Not only once but twice!" she was tired, everything was going down in front of her and she didn't want to watch it come to ruins, "And fuck you? You mean love you?"

"Love, sex, everything's the same, isn't it?" he replied, calmer and returning to his indifferent tone.

"W-what do you mean?" the fuming storm stopped to bring an eye of the hurricane, waiting patiently to unleash the tsunami over them.

"What you heard; I don't find a difference between the two concepts."

"You're lying," she murmured, unbelieving. How could he say that when an hour ago he was looking at her with so much love? Was it all an act? No, you can't feign feelings so deep.

"You're just too fool to see it, girlie," his smirk appeared, making her shake in fear, fear of losing what she cared about, "confusing terms and assuming things without asking."

"You're lying." she repeated, more to herself than for him to hear. He sighed, as if he was done with her.

"Think what you want. Now, there are people waiting for me. Until next time, girlie."

The shattering of her heart served up as the soundtrack of his departure. The leaves that had been once so vibrant and full of colour now danced around her in muted tones, mocking her. That was it, the end of their love. The palace the resembled their union fell into pieces, she needed to let go of him. The words he said cut deeper than a knife, made her feel cold. But how could she let go if she still loved him?

"So now you're with the Alchemist," a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts, making her turn to the source of it.

There he was. Orange hair and piercing blue eyes. His smirk wasn't present in the portray he displayed of himself, walking as the noble man he said he was. Her heart raced for the first time in years, asking her for indulgence, for permission to feel.

"Yes," was the first thing she said after some minutes processing what was happening. Childe was there, in front of her, "yes, I'm with Albedo."

"I see," he commented, uninterested. She thought that was all the interaction they would have, that he would go away again and leave her live her life, but she had to know better, "even if you can't forget me, you allow yourself to be with someone else?"

"What is it to you?" Y/N felt offended, who did he think he was to reprimand her in such a dirty way? He couldn't know she wasn't over him, could he?

"It's unfair for both of you. You see, love shouldn't feel like you owe something to someone just because they love you." Childe said, his gaze falling at the bracelet for a couple of seconds before looking at the landscape, "You're fooling him and yourself."

"And what would you know about love?" the question came in a bitter tone. She was angry, how dare he talk about love when he did her so wrong? When he hurt her so much?

"Touché." Childe gave her a sincere smile that reached his eyes, it was breath-taking. Y/N felt her stomach twirl and her heart jump at the sight of such a beautiful scenario, "Glad to see you well, Y/N. See ya!"

And like that, he left the place as if he hadn't turned her world around again. She missed him, she admitted to herself that she missed him. She missed his wild nature, his odd conversations, the mystery wrapping around him. She couldn't forgive him, but she couldn't live without him, either. That's the way she loved him.

Once Albedo returned from his errands, they both went to the transport point to return to Mondstadt. The way back was silent, but not a comfortable one as they always had, there was some tension lingering in between them. She wanted to attribute it to the tension she had been carrying since her encounter with Childe, but deep down she knew there was something else.

When they entered their house, they both changed into their sleeping garments without sharing a word, waiting for the other to be the first one to break the silence. Y/N didn't have it in her to be the brave one in the situation at hand, so, finally, Albedo spoke.

"I know you're not over him," he said, calmly, but there was jealousy in his tone.

She was surprised to hear him say those words. She never mentioned Childe before, less being in a relationship with him. She wanted to feel fear, the same one she felt when her argument with Childe broke them apart, but she felt nothing at all. Why? Why couldn't she be in love with a man life him?

"What?"

"You know what I'm talking about, Y/N." Albedo sighed, sitting at the edge of their shared bed.

"B-but", she stuttered, searching for words, "H-how do you know...?"

"There were rumours... some years ago, about the 'traveller' being with one of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. It was during your time at Liyue."

She nodded, understanding, but really not understanding anything, "Did you believe them?"

"I can't say yes, but I can't say no, either." Albedo looked at her, he didn't look angry, and that made her feel a little bit better. "I just couldn't know if it was true or not because I wasn't there."

"I see." another moment of silence followed. She took a deep breath and looked at him in the eyes, "Why do you say that I'm not over him, though?"

"There are so many signs, you aren't the subtlest person, love." he chuckled, "The bracelet has Snezhnaya patterns and you haven't taken it out in all these years. I can only assume it was a present from Tartaglia."

Y/N nodded again, impressed with how observant Albedo was and with his deduction skills. She wished for the hundredth time that day that she would have fell in love with him and not with the Harbinger.

"I'm so sorry-" she began, but was quickly interrupted by her fiancé.

"Don't." he commanded, "That's not the only thing that gave you away."

"What do you mean?"

"Your late night trips."

'He knew' she thought, searching for any clues that could tell her when he had discovered it, but there were none. 'He has known all this time.'

"Why haven't you said anything?" she asked.

"I wanted to give you space," he began, "I must admit, however, that at first I thought you were cheating on me."

"I would never-" she was interrupted again, a kind gaze on his eyes.

"I know, I know. I realized when you came home smelling like grass and mint and not with the cologne of another man."

It was silent again, Y/N tried to find anything she could say to make him feel better, but she couldn't even understand himself. Why isn't she feeling her heart shattering? She knew why, but she didn't want to indulge in that feeling.

"I'm so sorry, Albedo. I really am."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not." those words sounded identical to the ones she had directed to Childe once upon a time.

"I am aware that you don't love me the way I love you."

"Albedo-"

"But it's okay, I can love both of us enough to fill that gap."

She was at a loss of words. Had she heard it right? What did he mean? Albedo was so calm, so ethereal, looking at her fondly even when he knew she didn't feel the same. He was going to marry a woman that didn't want him the same way she wanted her. And even though he was aware of that, he was smiling.

"Why?" she wondered out loud.

"Because that's how it works, that's the way I love you, until you can return my feelings."

The leaves that danced aggressively at the other side of the window stayed still, processing the scene going on in the room of the Alchemist and the Traveller. Their colour coming back to a vibrant one, giving her hope of being able to love again, to feel something.

Her love with Childe was like the Sun and the Moon, so in love they were crazy for each other, but impossible and unworkable. But, Albedo loved her like the Sea loved its waves, like the birds loved the Wind, like a Dwelling loved the warmth of the fire, and she was going to return it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but she would. And when she did, she would love him as much as the Leaves loved their trees, as much as the Lake loved the rain that floods it, as much as the Horizon loved dusk.

She bid goodbye to Childe that night, leaving the bracelet in the drawer in her nightstand. Adorning her hand only was the ring Albedo had gifted her.

"See you, Childe," she murmured at 2 a.m. before falling in her slumber.

[magioftheseas]

Gundham & Yasuke

Summary: The Forbidden Tanaka’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. YES.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and blood/injuries.

Notes: Unsurprisingly, Tanaka was the winner of the poll for which FTEs were to be done next. So his FTEs, quite hilariously, are getting posted on the anniverary date for sdr2′s initial release. That feels pretty...fitting. Writing Tanaka’s dialogue was really hard but I did my best. Despite my best efforts, these two don’t get along the best that they could. Cursed.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

It went without saying that he didn’t have a normal middle school experience so he didn’t interact with a lot of people who exhibited the so-called eighth-grader syndrome. But he knew that once kids had the cognitive ability to identify their lot in life and long for more, such desires could get...twisted, to say the least.

Just about everyone wants to be fucking special if they’re not too focused on surviving. And most people grew ashamed of the lofty aspirations and special interests they developed in that delicate era. Matsuda understood that much, even if he was considerably detached from it. In some ways, those people were like animals. Strange beasts that acted on impulses and instincts. That still had intelligence but not, like, awareness. When it came to engaging with these types, Matsuda had no choice but to accept them even as he shook his head at their delusions of grandeur.

He understands he’s supposed to do that in theory.

In practice, however...

“Sharp-tongued fool!” Tanaka bellowed. “You draw too near to the barrier of the Ice Kingdom!”

It’s a beautiful day outside. It’s always a beautiful fucking day. Clear, sunny sky. Warm but with a pleasant breeze to keep it from being too sweltering. It’s such a nice day—and Matsuda Yasuke does not want to be here.

Without another word, he turns on his heel.

“Aha!” Tanaka sneered. “To think just the warning prose would be enough to make you turn tail and run. A cowardice I did not expect, but perhaps... I should have.”

While walking away and listening to that guy cackle to himself, all Matsuda had in response was to flip him off.

He proceeded to avoid Tanaka for the rest of the day—and would’ve avoided him for the rest of his life had fate not had something else in store.

--

It was another beautiful day. The perfect day for a walk. He was thinking by the ranch so that he could admire the chickens as he passed. Unfortunately, he not only came across chickens but also the cow that used to be a chicken he quite liked.

Also Tanaka Gundam.

And their eyes ended up meeting.

There’s no real point in reasoning with someone who exhibits grandiose delusions, he reminded himself. It’s no good to denounce them, but it’s also no good to enable them. It’s a delicate line that I do not want to fucking bother with.

Matsuda does look away, intent on ignoring the other. Despite that resolve, his thoughts don’t shut up.

I didn’t have any peers in middle school for obvious reasons. I never actually spoke to someone my own age who felt this way. I was too busy being fixated on my own goals and lofty aspirations.

A couple of steps forward. It’s fine. If he continued the way he was already going, he can just pass Tanaka. It’d be easy. Simple.

...

Fuck.

He pauses. He turns. Tanaka has already turned away, but as if guided by the third sense of a fucking Evil All-Seeing Eye, he turns back to Matsuda. His brow quirks.

“Has the barrier truly weakened so?”

“I don’t know,” Matsuda replied intelligently. “For some reason, I feel too worn down to go through the effort of pretending you don’t exist.”

Tanaka cackled lowly.

“Such an insolent remark. It seems you do not truly know your place. But that is just as well. Even now, your true name is one that seems out of my grasp.”

“I’m Matsuda Yasuke. Nice to meet you.”

Tanaka clicked his tongue, scowling at Matsuda’s blank expression and his deadpan tone.

“That,” he snarled. “Is merely a brush against the surface. It does not encompass the deepest depths of your rogue soul.”

Alright. So he wants to know what makes me tick. If I had to guess.

“Your true name,” Tanaka requested impatiently. “I have no need for superficial titles.”

“That’s cold,” Matsuda huffed. “The name my mom gave me isn’t superficial.”

...even if it is ironic.

For some reason, Tanaka does perk up. He gives a nod of approval.

“A fair retort,” he concedes. “That maternal bond is its own scarring shackle.”

That admission was the first true crack in the wall between them. Or so Matsuda supposed, and he felt himself slip just a little bit further.

What a headache...

“Anyway,” he went on with a wave of his hand. “It’d be incredibly foolish to give you my true name, right? If telling a demon my name gives them possession of my soul and telling them my birthday gives them control of my life... Then telling someone like you...”

Tanaka nodded again, grinning so widely it was damn near grotesque.

“I see...the sharp-tongued fool is still retaining a sharp mind...”

I shouldn’t have played along even in jest. Fuck.

“What special abilities do you possess?” Tanaka purrs, drawing closer now. “What hidden capabilities have you acquired?”

Tanaka stalks even closer, his eyes are flashing with curiosity and hunger. Probably because this fucking weirdo wouldn’t understand a normal interaction if it bit him in the face.

I still hate that stare. I fucking hate that stare.

“You already know that,” Matsuda snapped, forcing himself to stay relaxed. “Neurology is my talent. You even know my name and birthday because of those damn student files...”

Calm down, calm down. It’s just fucking Tanaka—

Tanaka does halt. His head tilts quizzically.

“Hmph.” With nostrils flaring, Tanaka seemed to duck into his own scarf. “I suppose you are human after all.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Simple.” Tanaka chuckled. “I sensed your apprehension, Matsuda Yasuke. I sensed—and yet, I could tell it was not a chill brought about by the Ice Kingdom.”

Matsuda does flinch at that.

“I shall take my leave for now so that you may re-gather your peace,” Tanaka declared. “Till next time, sharp-tongued fool.”

Tanaka gave him a salute. Matsuda barely had a chance to wave back before Tanaka flipped his scarf and coat so that it would dramatically billow behind him as he made his overly dramatic exit. So fucking extra, and yet—

He left so that I could take the time to calm down.

And how the hell was he supposed to feel about that?

--

“Even now, I can hear the crackling of the Ice Kingdom’s barrier.” Tanaka was cackling. Another beautiful day. Yet somehow this weirdo was set on shrouding himself in asinine mystery as well as his own dark layers. How the hell was he not burning up?

Tanaka noticed his staring and merely smirked. “What brings you today, Matsuda Yasuke?”

Aah. Even with that pompous fucking tone, it’s an understandable question.

“I don’t like things to be unbalanced,” he said which was a bald-faced lie but sounded persuasive enough. “Since you interrogated me last time, I thought I’d ask you a few questions of my own.”

“Hmph!” Tanaka snorted. “You seek a comprehension that may underlie a deep terror that cannot be contained! Do you not fear for your sanity?”

“No, I’m insane already,” Matsuda said flatly. “I drove myself insane years ago.”

“Is that SO?!” Tanaka boomed, incredulous or admiring, Matsuda wasn’t sure. “Your humanity is one that only hangs by a thread, then?!”

I...can’t disagree with that, huh.

Matsuda shrugged.

“We’re not supposed to be talking about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Tanaka remained guarded but gave a nod.

“Very well. Demi-human or no, I shall not lose to you.”

That’s more like it. You’re much less annoying this way.

“What talents do you have?” he settles on since it’s only fair. “Even if it’s not the full roster, I’d like to know some...special abilities.”

“You shall only get a portion,” Tanaka said, sniffing. “Despite my appearance, I’m an active fiend. Between sorcery and human hunting, I manage my website.”

Matsuda blinked, trying to imagine this guy at a computer. Actually, it was really easy to imagine. There’s no way Tanaka learned to talk like an edgelord on his own.

I bet he spends a lot of time looking up stupid shit like Norse mythology. But, if he has a website, then...

“I have encrypted my research with magic,” Tanaka informed him. “Thus, only those worthy can gain access.”

...if he means through password then I could probably hack in with ease.

“If I had to guess what kind of research it was,” Matsuda mused. “Then—probably something like a pet diary, right?”

There were a series of muffled squeaks from Tanaka’s scarf. Tanaka burst into a boisterous boom of laughter.

“Even with your wits, you would only be able to access the dummy site!” Tanaka grinned victoriously, even though no conflict had taken place. “Your skill level would only open the gates of the Exciting Breeding Journal.”

“...Alright. That’s fine by me.”

You’re literally here because of your talent in animal husbandry.

“Favorite food?” Matsuda asked next. Tanaka stiffened. Growled, even. Because he was pissed off about getting such a lukewarm response? Matsuda didn’t bother inquiring, instead pressing, “Do you have one?”

“The orange melon that bears the face of the devil,” Tanaka huffed, put out. “No other food compares in terms of high nutrients or versatility in cooking methods. More importantly, its seeds are the most effective food source for my Four Dark Devas of Destruction.”

...a pumpkin. He’s talking about a pumpkin, right?

“However! Those seeds must be carefully washed, carefully dried, carefully peeled,” Tanaka rambled on. “And lightly fried.”

“How meticulous,” Matsuda muttered. “But nothing less for...them.”

“Indeed. A difficulty that beguiles pain and pleasure alike matters not in the face of a grand purpose.”

I can agree with that even if I hate how it’s worded.

“There is more when it comes to the caring of beasts,” Tanaka rumbled. “Shall I lead you deeper?”

“Uh.” Matsuda waved his hand. “Next time. Let’s talk more next time.”

Tanaka gave him a truly wicked grin. For once, it actually felt malicious.

“Take as much time you need to prepare yourself, sharp-tongued fool.”

Matsuda made a face but bit his tongue.

Piece of shit.

--

Tanaka wasn’t out and about today at the ranch. He wasn’t in the diner, either. It went to reason that he was likely in his cottage.

It’s only because I found some pumpkin seeds that I’m even going...

When he knocked on the door, he found it unlocked. Since he wasn’t an animal, he was going to wait for Tanaka to answer the door rather than barge in but...

“Ku—!”

He heard a noise. A sharp, strangled sound that was undeniably made through gritted teeth. Matsuda opened the door immediately.

“Is everything alright?”

And indeed—Tanaka was holding his bloodied hand in a death grip. The hamsters were chirping and chittering, but unaffected. What happened was clear, especially in how Tanaka’s shoulders were hunched.

Thankfully, Matsuda carried around packets of wet wipes. He rummaged through his pocket for one, stepping forward and reaching out.

“Let me...”

“NO!” Tanaka shrieked, and like a startled beast he scrambled away from his hand. He was panting, still gripping his injury with a wide and wild-eyed stare. Seeing Matsuda there did little to calm him down, as he growled, “The blood that flows through my veins bears a fearsome curse. You must step away now to spare yourself their potency.”

Thankfully, Matsuda carried around disposable gloves. He slipped them on, tearing the wet wipe packet open, and made his way closer.

“Come on. We really don’t want that bite to get infected.”

“This is not my first blood sacrifice,” Tanaka snarled, even showing his teeth. Gross. “I have no need for your medical sorcery. And furthermore, that meager covering...!”

“Oh my fucking god, shut the hell up.” Matsuda snatched up his hand, prying the other off as Tanaka shrieked some more. Thankfully, Matsuda was able to pull it away and got to work dabbing and cleaning the wound. Tanaka had completely frozen now, but Matsuda was still fuming.

“Don’t ever fucking call me meager,” he snapped, and thankfully Tanaka had spare clean bandages for him to re-wrap his hand with. “Crude and foolish I’ll take. Meager I won’t.”

Tanaka finally scoffed as Matsuda made sure the bandaging was secure.

“A demi-human like you has such pride.”

Look who’s fucking talking.

“You should not have endangered yourself, however,” Tanaka went on. “I was not telling falsehoods about my poisonous blood. It is only by a thread that you have not already deteriorated. As crude and foolish as you are, I do not desire your demise.”

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of poison, so you’re worrying too much,” Matsuda replied but winced from a sudden headache. As he rubbed removed his gloves to rub his temples, Tanaka stood up.

“You once again face the ramifications for your hubris!” he exclaimed and rushed back to deal with his hamsters. “I grant you relief, and I advise you to take your leave immediately.”

“I’m fucking fine, it’s just a migraine,” Matsuda griped and disposed of the gloves and wipes. “Should you really be handling those hamsters again so soon?”

“They are not mere hamsters!” Tanaka bellowed. “The fangs I have taken are that of the Crimson Steel Elephant, Maga-Z!”

Maga-Z blinked its bright beady eyes at Matsuda.

“For the sake of the Invading Black Dragon, Cham-P,” Tanaka went to coo over the largest hamster which was orange, not black. “A golden demon, one who understands fear all too well... Much attention should be heeded to make sure they do not get overly stressed out... While many devil beasts of this ilk are aggressive and fearfully territorial, the golden variant is the most docile and intelligent. They recognize me as...”

He trails off. It’s as if he’s too moved to speak.

I have heard hamsters had an unnaturally high rate of cannibalism, Matsuda thought. But I suppose like with dog breeds, they come in all sizes...and temperaments...

It was obvious Tanaka knew his shit, being an Ultimate at all. But seeing it firsthand, watching him dote on the beasts with a cottage interior largely dedicated to their cage and tube, the guy definitely loved animals. Like, a lot. Despite his delusions of grandeur, he at least seemed to love animals a healthy, non-obsessive amount.

“They’re living well,” Matsuda commented blandly.

Tanaka scoffed at him.

“For demons that live a mere 1095 days, the luxuries in life mean everything. I would never settle for less.”

“I see...” He scuffed the end of his shoe against the wooden floor. “That’s good.”

Shouldn’t have worn open-toed shoes, but I don’t have any alternatives. Oh, right.

“I got pumpkin seeds.” He tossed the bag and it landed on Tanaka’s lap. The hamsters jumped, and even Tanaka flinched. Matsuda, however, turned on his heel. “Sorry. Bye.”

With that insincere apology, he headed out. He could feel a disproving stare on his back but that didn’t lessen his steps in the slightest.

--

His favorite chicken-turned-cow was in a good mood today. She was accepting pets and even nipping at his fingers. All he had on him was candy. Not any fruit much less hay although...

“If you plan to feed that creature, you should be wary of apples,” Tanaka rumbled from behind. Where the fuck he came from, Matsuda wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t surprised to be hearing from him. “You can risk over-eating which will cause a bloated stomach for the animal.”

“Ah, thanks for the advice,” Matsuda said sincerely, turning back and frowning when he noticed the other’s own hanging head. “What’s with the long face?”

“I would hope that you do not consider that creature to be your familiar, Matsuda Yasuke,” Tanaka murmured sullenly and solemnly. Like he had come across something truly pitiful to the point of depressing.

Although he seems more focused on the cow itself...

“I don’t have a familiar,” Matsuda huffed.

Tanaka quirks an eyebrow at him. Furrows it, even, as if Matsuda is the one not making sense. How seriously annoying. But rather than inquire further, Tanaka just shakes his head.

“Creatures like that one are born to be slaughtered,” he said, turning on his heel. “What a wretched fate, one that cannot be escaped even with the use of the Evil All-Seeing Eye. If one is to form a bond with such an unfortunate beast, they will invite only calamity.”

“That’s...” Not necessarily true. There is livestock out there allowed to live full lives. But they’re exceptions that prove the rule, I suppose. And the fact that I even thought to use a word like allowed... “Woof.”

Tanaka barked back. “This sentimentality only arose because I have not encountered any new beasts. I shall go searching as to put my mind at ease.”

He walked on, and Matsuda found himself following. Tanaka didn’t seem to mind at all. The opposite, in fact.

“There are many creatures I’ve tamed, sharp-tongued one,” Tanaka went on to say. “The Cerberus. The Phoenix. Even then Midgardian Serpent.”

Looks like I was right on the money about him looking up Norse shit. That’s just another fucking word for Earth, asshole. I’ve read enough shitty fantasy manga to know.

“I saw a toucan one time,” he commented in lieu of verbalizing his thoughts. “And I guess there are the seagulls. Or those mascots.”

“Those uncute fiends cannot be trusted with their speech,” Tanaka hissed. “As for the others... Ah, the ravenous, feathered beasts.” Tanaka nodded sagely with approval at that one. “They are a perilous project as they are quite fearless and impulsive. Even when greater threats arise, they gather like a court waiting to hand down judgment.”

I think...that’s more something that crows do rather than seagulls.

He does think about it though, birds judging one another. If he looked up, he’d even see a seagull or two soar overhead. A phrase rose to his mind, unbidden.

When the seagulls cry...

“Hm?” Tanaka paused when he noticed that Matsuda had stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, and whatever expression was on Matsuda’s face—whatever that was had Tanaka clicking his tongue. “What is on your mind?”

“Something stupid,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Even in peaceful times, I can’t help but worry about how easily things fall apart. Sometimes for something as petty as a broken promise.”

Is it speech alone that gives us the means of betraying one another?

Tanaka did stiffen.

“It sure is fortunate for us that we’ve yet to deal with any storms,” Matsuda went on to say. “In fact, it’s perfect weather every single day. Isn’t that strange? It almost doesn’t feel real, and if it’s not real... Does anything that happens here matter?” He paused again. “Like I said. It’s stupid.”

“Your inane ponderings still have an air of malice,” Tanaka muttered darkly.

Huh.

“Are you saying I’m someone to be on guard around?” He cracked a dry smile. “I’m not that fucking interested in messing with people. I just lack patience.”

Tanaka gave him a look. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

“I think... I will seek solace elsewhere. Do not follow me.”

Matsuda didn’t. Simply watched the other go. It might’ve been one of those annoying situations where the person was saying the exact opposite of what they wanted, but even if he could tell that was the case, he still wouldn’t have followed.

After all.

He lacked patience.

--

Tanaka seemed especially moody today. Although no matter how sullen his air was, the island sun wouldn’t let up in the slightest. In a way, that was pretty cruel, right? In that much light, it made it difficult to hide. Or something like that.

Wonder what he’s being so fucking temperamental about...

Matsuda makes his way over, waving as he does. He stops, however, when Tanaka regards him coldly.

“Matsuda Yasuke,” he rumbled in a gravelly tone of voice. “The sharp-tongued fool whose practices engage in the constitution of the mind... Would you like to duel?”

Huh?

Matsuda dropped his hand.

“...have you finally fucking gone actually insane?” He sighed. “Don’t answer that. No, I don’t want to duel. And if you push it, I’ll leave. I don’t have time for that bullshit.”

Tanaka’s cold stare became more of a glare.

“I’m afraid I do not have such luxury around you,” Tanaka said sharply. “You grind down my defenses with this continued, unsightly association. Despite wearing the face of a human, you, Matsuda Yasuke are...!”

“I’m just human,” Matsuda replied before he could finish. With an unimpressed shrug, he added. “And if you wanted me to stop bothering you, all you had to fucking do was say so.”

“I allowed these exchanges out of a sense of curiosity, arrogantly unheeding the danger,” Tanaka went on, muttering as he did. “Truly, I have been foolish.”

The sun shone down on him. On a day this bright, there wasn’t anyone to hide. Tanaka ‘Gundam’ looked a bit ill. When Matsuda took a step closer, however, he recoiled. With a sharp hiss, Tanaka held up his hand in warning.

Like an agitated cat.

Matsuda drew back with a sigh.

Someone like this—really is so needlessly fucking difficult. And for what? An inflated sense of importance? Wasn’t getting into Hope’s Peak enough?

...if he complained too much, he’d veer uncomfortably close to hypocrisy.

Hope’s Peak was just another step for me, but I wonder what it was for someone like this? Where the hell would he be if he didn’t get in? Honestly—I doubt it would’ve been all that significant.

“Alright,” he said. “Did you get anything out of our interactions at least?”

Tanaka stared at him, but being a normal fucking person without magical powers, Matsuda was more than capable of staring back, unaffected. For some reason, Tanaka did shy back a little.

“I have keenly observed you,” he said lowly. “Namely how your regard only shifts when directed towards creatures already marked for death. I suspect—you are a creature of calamity. The eye of the storm.”

“So, what,” Matsuda drawled. “Like a demon?”

Tanaka hummed, seemingly considering it. “No... That is not quite right.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, then,” Matsuda huffed, waving his hand dismissively. “But—I think I get what you’re saying. I just think it’s funny coming from you—and that you don’t understand.”

Tanaka’s stare blazed with an offense, and Matsuda paid no heed at all.

“How I regard creatures marked for death...” Matsuda snorted. “I’m a fucking doctor. Obviously, I treat them differently. It’s part of my fucking job.”

Although he’s referring to the cow, isn’t he? Seriously...

“I guess it’s weird,” he admitted. “With how shitty of an attitude I have. But I take my job seriously. If you can’t get something that simple, then your Evil All-Seeing Eye is pretty fucking lacking.”

“You...” Tanaka growled. “You’re truly impertinent. You wield your blade recklessly and foolishly. You and I both know—that it runs deeper than mere duty for you, Matsuda Yasuke.”

...so what if it does?

He supposes he should be impressed that Tanaka isn’t that fucking dense. That the animal freak is, in fact, a little perceptive.

Smiling mirthlessly, Matsuda reached out to pat the flinching other’s shoulder. He gripped him for just a moment.

“That’s all you need to know about me,” he murmured into Tanaka’s ear before pulling back. “I think we’re at enough of an understanding. Thanks for your time.” He gave a salute as he headed on his way. “We don’t need to talk again. We especially don’t need to duel. Have a wonderful fucking day.”

“One day,” Tanaka swore. “You will meet your cruel, disastrous end. That is the decree of the Tanaka Kingdom!” As Matsuda got further away, Tanaka boomed after him. “Mark my words, sharp-tongued FOOL! You are MARKED for des—!”

It was such a headache that Matsuda tuned him out. But as he found himself alone, he did wonder.

Marked for destruction? Or something else? Despite all that time, rather than growing close, that weirdo is now convinced that I’m hopeless. He might be right. Actually, I’d still consider us closer if he can recognize that. I still don’t really care. I don’t.

He walked on, moving forward because he had nowhere else to go.

Decree. What a fucking riot. If I do die, it won’t be because of an idiot like him. But whatever makes him feel better I suppose.

Matsuda shook his head, brushing the whole thing aside except...

If I die... It won’t be until I reach the very fucking pits. I won’t settle for anything less.

[bulletproofscales]

Could you do a Yoonseok fic where they are uni teachers and they teach in the same room? Like when Yoongi's class finishes, Hoseok's class comes in after and Yoongi has a bad habit of overstaying to get a glimpse of the other cute teacher and they just end up falling in love somehow?

– hello!! i dont know why i had such a hard time writting this request???? like its simple its cute, its lovely. i just struggled so much to find a direction to take it form. so i really hope this fufilled your vision it came out supper fluffy!! i didnt make it feederism because the pormpt didnt specify, theres like hints to a chubby yoongi if you squint . anyways enjoy!!!

3.8k words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30115707

Yoongi loves literature. 

He’d go as far to say, literature is his favorite thing in the world. 

No, he hasn’t read fiction since he was in highschool, and he hasn’t read fiction voluntarily ever.

What’s that got to do with anything?

When the university offered Yoongi this job as the professor in Thermodynamics, they had assured him his schedule wouldn’t clash with the other Calc II classes he gave during the week; always with a break in between. Which meant, the professor always has at least 2 hours in between his classes to use for research purposes. 

Yes… Research purposes. 

LIsten he hadn’t meant for it to get this far. Yoongi had only curiously stayed as he saw the new professor who was replacing the old lady who gave World Contemporary Literature after his class. The man looked young, about his age, delicate complexion, angelic face. 

His name is Jung Hoseok, and Yoongi had only talked to him for a couple of minutes, welcoming him to the university before leaving for his office. Though he was later very frustrated to find out, he could barely get any work done with his mind playing unhelpful reruns of his exchange with professor Hoseok. The most reasonable thing would be to try and not cross paths with him again for the sake of his investigation, right?

Yoongi is not nearly as strong-willed as he needs to be to accomplish that. 

In fact his time at the World Contemporary Literature class, only prolonged after that encounter. Waiting until the class was full to make his leave, or sometimes waiting until Hoseok started the class, or sometimes even staying for a bit at the front row before leaving. By now, his two bi-weekly classes of Contemporary Literature had become part of his routine. Staying at the back of the class where he admired the young man, as he walked around giving the class diligently; impressively capturing a large number of students who were now actively interested in it. 

Yoongi had been captured, in a different way. 

“You’re staying over this class too?” Hoseok’s voice is soft spoken, not upset but just lightly accusatory. It’s been weeks, of course he noticed Yoongi staying over every single class. And as startled as Yoongi is, he still considers himself lucky that the professor doesn’t sound annoyed. 

“I just–I really…” Think Yoongi, think of anything. “I’ve just really been trying to get into literature.” He manages to smile softly through his lie. And it seems to work, because Hoseok’s expression is widening and then grinning in excitement. 

“Who would have thought!” He beams cheerfully. “Well you’re free to come as many times as you want. Though I might have to start testing you along with the rest of my students?” Hoseok jokes, or at least Yoongi hopes he is joking. He just laughs it off and goes to his usual seat in the back, where he will be doing nothing except staring as professor Hoseok gave his class; without actually registering anything that’s being said. 

Lucky for Yoongi, the test never comes. But him and the literature professor grow closer, Hoseok starts inviting him out to have their lunch break together; since he knows for a fact Yoongi gave his class first thing in the morning and then stayed until near noon in Hoseok’s lecture. And just like had accepted defeat before, the older agrees without a second doubt.

In comparison to his typical lunches stuffed in the Sociology department with Namjoon and Seokjin, those bi-weekly 40 minutes he spends with Hoseok are… so refreshing. He remembers fearing that the literature professor would ask Yoongi what he thought of the class, but that wasn’t the case at all. 

Long forgotten were his heated debates about deeply rooted issues within humanity over lunch. Now Yoongi couldn’t wait until it was wednesday or friday, and he could just converse with Hoseok. Of course it started out like it typically would, professors talk, complaining about students, complaining about their superiors, how they got into teaching. But somehow Hoseok deemed him worthy, and just opened himself up for Yoongi. Nothing too dramatic, but the engineering professor found himself walking down the campus and being able to register what Hoseok’s favorite sitting spot was, under what specific tree; because he had told him. Or pushed himself to get weird stares by his colleagues for grabbing one donut too many because he recognized the strawberry filling ones that were Hoseok’s all time favorites and was considering dropping them off to him. 

It had been half a year, and by now, Yoongi could say he had opened up to Hoseok as well. He was more than happy to take his role as a listener to everything the younger had to say. As useless as it was, Yoongi would soak it up even when he didn’t mean to; and he had come to accept that. But, Hoseok didnt let it happen, always attentive, always considerate; asking Yoongi’s input into anything their conversation had decided to settle on. Asking for Yoongi’s favorite spots on campus, or what donuts did he reach for first when they brought some into the professors’ room. 

And Yoongi… he soaked up all that attention Hoseok gave him, too. 

It didn’t take long until they learnt the other’s schedule, sometimes using their own breaks to stop by the other’s class; just to see one another during the day. He’ll never forget the first time Hoseok came to visit as Yoongi was finishing one of his own classes, and widened at the different graphs and drawings that took over all the chalkboard. 

They were definitely friends, of course they were by now, but Yoongi couldn’t help but think that their friendship had something more special to it. Maybe it was the way the older just felt safe and soothed whenever he was talking with Hoseok, or the way Hoseok didn’t shy away from showing how much he enjoys Yoongi’s company. 

They were friends but they treated each other, just a little bit softer than the rest of their friends.

Which didn’t have to mean anything, of course. Different people have different dynamics and it just so happens Hoseok takes out the gentler side of the engineering professor. Just like it also happens to be Hoseok the one who takes out all the butterflies caged in Yoongi’s chest.

Well… maybe this different dynamic does mean something… To Yoongi at least; and he has come to accept that fact. He had reached an age where he didn’t really think he could get a crush again, yet here he is. 

Considering his feelings, he had felt a little hesitant to initiate anything with Hoseok outside their work hours; a little voice in his head telling him not to abuse the younger’s friendliness because of his own ill intentions. Hoseok made him happy as is, and he should be content with that. 

Surprisingly it’s the literature professor who, during the peak of exam season, offers to hang out and correct exams together. The little voice reminded Yoongi of his ‘ill intentions’ , but, like he keeps saying: he is simply a little weaker when it comes to Hoseok. And that first time, getting to see Hoseok outside their university, at the doorstep of his apartment which he had organized very last minute, casual clothes, beer pack in hand, gentle smile on his face. Yoongi feels himself fall in love all over again. 

Yeah… He is in love, by now he had come to accept it. 

Maybe he should be nervous, but he wasn’t, not really. How could he be when Hoseok had become his safe space? No amount of romantic feelings could change that. 

They laugh, they drink, they revise exams, they drink again, laugh some more; Yoongi finds out Hoseok is a lightweight. Third beer bottle is halfway done as the literature professor slurredly tries to write feedback onto the back of an exam.  

“You doing alright there?” Yoongi can’t help the amusement and endearment in his voice. 

All he gets is a slurred hum, and that’s all the response Yoongi needs. Still grinning as he stands up and comes back with a glass of water to Hoseok, who seems to be in some sort of trance staring at the universe. “Drink up, handsome.” He swears it was meant to sound teasing, but a blush betrays Yoongi spreading on his cheeks. 

Hoseok doesn’t seem to dwell on it, thank fuck; rather focuses on drinking his water slowly and in a way that is too endearing for Yoongi’s heart to bare. He watches as Hoseok downs the glass, trying hard not to focus on the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, stop staring at his neck in general, creep, and rather rubb the younger’s back. 

He finishes the glass and he leans his head on the table groaning. 

“I think you’ve done enough grading for tonight.” He chuckles enamoured. “Think you can take a ride home?” Hoseok still has his cheek squished against the table and eyes fully closed when he nods. “Ok, Seok, up.” He instructs softly, squatting down as his hands reach for Hoseok’s middle. Surprisingly cooperative, Yoongi manages to get the younger buckled up in the passenger seat of the car looking dazedly out the window. 

It's… pleasant, Yoong thinks. The silence is always comfortable with them, and he gets to drive around the deserted city with simply the knowledge that Hoseok is by his side. He makes sure to take his liberties stealing glances at the younger, his face angelical even when confusedly staring into nothingness. 

“Here we are.” Yoongi feels the need to announce it given they’ve stopped and the drunk man hadn’t made any sign of moving… He still hasn’t. “Uhm… Hoseok?” He offers trying his best not to smile a little amused at the situation. 

It looks like it physically costs effort for him to open his lips to speak. “Can you make sure… I actually go to bed?” His eyes barely meet Yoongi’s, quickly glancing somewhere else. It could be the older’s mind playing tricks on him, but even with the white street lights Hoseok’s cheeks still manage to have a beautiful pink tint. He is blushing, and it only makes Yoongi’s smile spread wider. 

“You don’t seem like the type of drunk to cause any trouble.” He questions with a smile that already gives away his answer to Hoseok’s request. 

“No, but I’ll fall asleep halfway into my apartment.” The younger man manages to smile lazily, dainty hand settles on his shoulder. And Yoongi feels himself swallowing thickly, no person should be allowed to look this good when they’re this pathetically drunk. 

“That adds up.” He chuckles getting out of the car and turning around to open Hoseok’s door for him. “Look at that, you unbuckled your own belt. Impressive.” Yoongi teases as he takes Hoseok’s hand to help him stand. 

“I’m drunk, not 5.” His playful tone and little smile makes the idea of Hoseok being annoyed at him less convincing. He is taller than Yoongi, yet he feels so much smaller when he is tiredly leaning his weight onto the older, a protective arm wraps around the literature professor as they walk inside Hoseok’s apartment complex. 

Yoongi tries his hardest not to blush when the doorman eyes the two oddly and Hoseok mumbles a sleepy: “He’s with me.” with his head buried deep into the engineering professor’s shoulders. And keeps it there all through the elevator ride… and all  through their slow walk around the hallway… and it’s still there as Hoseok clumsily tries to type in the security code for his door. 

He doesn’t want it to go away, the weight of the younger’s head on his shoulder giving him a sense of pride that makes Yoongi want to swell his chest up. But Hoseok keeps failing to type in his code, with his nose buried into Yoongi’s neck. 

“I think you might need to look at the keyboard to actually type the code.” His hand rubs up and down Hoseok’s side, with a smile that’s too fond; though the younger can’t see from where his head is resting. 

Hoseok groans. “Can’t we just be comfy?” The older specifically loves the way Hoseok assumes this position is comfortable for the two of them. 

“Wouldn’t we be much more comfortable on your bed?” Yoongi swears he didn’t mean to say that. And he knows if the other were sober, he definitely wouldn’t brush past it. 

Drunk Hoseok, however; he hums as if thinking it through “Yeah… We would be more comfy there…” He sounds so serious about it, like he was actually considering just staying here for the rest of the night, comfortably settled against Yoongi; the older can’t help giggling. Too cute. 

“Put the code, then.” He urges, big hand squeezing at where it is settled on Hoseok’s waist. 

It’s his first time going into the literature professor’s apartment, it is very neat, even if it’s filled to the brim with books. Yoongi tries to take in as much as he can, while still helping Hoseok balance himself as he takes off his shoes and coat: the hanged pictures, the bookshelves, the toys. Hoseok owns toys: stuffed animals and figurines adorning his couch and bookshelves; Yoongi is a little stunned as they walk by. He never would have guessed. 

“Room is at the end of the hallway.” Hoseok mumbles, not only his head falling back on the older’s shoulder, but his arms wrap around Yoongi’s middle. 

Right… He has to make sure Hoseok gets to bed. 

There’s a knot at Yoongi’s stomach, but he nods; slowly walking towards the closed door. Despite seeming impossible, his room has more bookshelves, bed adorned with a few more odd looking plushies. It’s so Hoseok, the older can help his heart as it does a little flip. The younger settles on his bed, sitting down before letting his back fall. Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with himself; staring feels a bit inappropriate, yet he doesn’t know if leaving him in such a state is much of an option. 

“Should I…-” 

“I just sleep in underwear.” 

They both speak at the same time. Yoongi’s cheeks blush a furious red, Hoseok seems unfazed. He already managed to get the younger to bed. After all this time he had meant Yoongi had to tuck him in?!

“O–Oh, okay.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Then, similar to a toddler, Hoseok raises up his arms. It takes Yoongi a full second to realize; and when he does, his face gets simpossibly redder. With timid hands, he slides Hoseok’s shirt off his torso delicately. Yoongi is pretty sure he isn’t breathing, but he can’t bring himself to do so, the moment too fragile for him to possibly ruin it. The little voice in his head tells him it’s immoral to stare, but he does anyway; admiring Hoseok’s lightly tanned, slim body. 

It seems he is Yoongi only one of the two with the professor-chubs, huh. 

His blatant staring is interrupted by Hoseok popping his torso heavily onto the bed, legs extending forward in Yoongi’s direction. The older feels his heart stop completely. Yoongi is so thankful that Hoseok isn’t sitting upright so he can’t see the tremble of his hands as they hover above the button of his jeans. 

He has to hurry, otherwise Hoseok will get suspicious, and he’ll notice Yoongi making things weird. 

He feels like a teenager all over again.

He undoes the button, slowly pulling the zipper down. Yoongi’s slim fingers slide barely underneath the waistband of his jeans and start tugging down. He tries his best to be gentle, but with Hoseok’s dead weight on the bed it’s a little hard; college professors aren’t known for their strength. So he makes the younger’s body rock back and forth on the bed until he gets the pants out of the pool by his calves and finally takes it out. 

Huh, Yoongi totally would have considered Hoseok a boxer’s guy.

He somehow feels he shouldn’t say that outloud, or shouldn’t hint at paying attention to Hoseok’s underwear at all. 

Or maybe, he is just overestimating drunk Hoseok. 

“All done, you just need to wash your teeth.” He says simply instead, and the man plopped down gorans dramatically. His thighs even clench at the loudness of it, not that Yoongi was staring. 

“I need to get up?! Again?” He looks up at Yoongi with a disbelieved expression, like suddenly brushing your teeth was the most ridiculous idea anyone could propose. Yoongi has to hold back a laugh. “Why didn’t you make me go brush before I laid down!?” He sounds so insulted but his lips have the softest pout to them. 

“You plopped on the bed before I got the chance to, genius.” Yoongi finds himself rolling his eyes, all the tension that had accumulated in his body minutes before had dissipated. Even with so much of the expanse of Hoseok’s sin staring back at him, so much so quickly that Yoongi had never gotten to see; the man in front of him is still the safest place. “Come on, Seokie, up.” It feels like a dejavu from getting him out of Yoongi’s apartment. 

Hoseok’s hands are so dainty in his own, he pulls him up gently; chests bumping together softly. Soft chuckles as their noses brush, Yoongi can feel his own adoring smile. “Careful.” He mumbles, his hands squeezing into Hoseok’s. All the response he gets is a grumble, eyes barely opened as they stare directly at Yoongi, shamelessly. 

As sleepy as his gaze is, and as cute as the pout on his lips is, Yoongi can’t help it but feel somewhat intimidated, there’s something blatant about the way the younger is looking at him. And even if he can’t put a name to it, it still manages to make Yoongi shiver the slightest bit. 

He wastes no more time of Hoseok being forced to stand and rather guides him slowly towards the bathroom. Graceful Hoseok, elegant, diligent inside the classroom, that same man is looking down at his feet with a concentrated pout and frown as he takes heavy steps following Yoongi. It’s endearing enough for a giggle to slip out past his lips. 

The bathroom is only a little cramped but, it’s not like it matters; Yoongi was already holding Hoseok close to him already. Lets the younger lean against him as he has to balance his sleepy legs into picking up toothbrush and toothpaste. Yoongi allows himself to stare, even if it’s quiet and obvious he is doing so. There’s something so domestic about the sight, he can’t tear his eyes away; exposing himself through the evident adoration in his stare. 

Hoseok doesn’t pay him any attention, washing his teeth with sleepy long blinks. Only noticing Yoongi through the mirror once he is washing his lips, sleepy as he straightens back up, and when he is back to leaning against the older, he turns his head to face him. Face looking sleepy and ethereal as ever. 

And Yoongi must have gotten too caught up staring at the sleepy glimmer of Hoseok’s eyes because nothing could have prepared him for the slow, soft meeting of the younger’s lips on his. 

Hoseok kisses him like he is the most precious thing in the world; a gentle peck that makes his eyes flutter close relaxed. Not Yoongi though, his eyes are wide like plates until the younger separates. 

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he manages to speak. “Why….Why did you do that?” Yoongi has a hard time finding his own voice, opting for a soft whisper. Part of him thinking this was all just an elaborate hallucination. 

“I didn’t want to do it with bad breath!” He whines like he was being antagonized for doing something completely normal; and not kissing your friend/coworker. 

Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with himself, or with the Hoseok laying against his body, staring at him expectantly. He feels his face begin to heat up with what is most probably a deep blush. “Uhm… Well I appreciate that.” He tries to say as neutral as possible, getting his hold back on Hoseok to get him to his bed. 

The younger is pliant in Yoongi’s hold, letting himself be dragged as he tiredly lets his head fall against Yoongi’s chest. “You appreciated the kiss too though, right?” Hoseok’s voice is gentle, unsure. And it probably doesn’t help that the older one takes a second to reply; too busy trying to control the tug at his heartstrings. 

He is back to guiding the younger out of his own bathroom, only replying once he manages to set Hoseok down on the bed as gracefully as he can; only then, when worried self conscious eyes are staring up at Yoongi. 

“I do appreciate it, so much.” He mumbles gently with a gummy smile spreading his lips softly. And Hoseok looks so visibly relieved by this, it earns a chuckle from the older. Yoongi is leaning over, hand pressed to the pillow so close to Hoseok’s soft locks it could just– fuck it. 

He runs his hands through the younger’s hair, just to see the way his eyes close relaxed by it. “I’ll get going, yeah?” A little voice in his head urges him to not leave Hoseok’s side, to stay until he gets another kiss from those addictively soft lips. 

But another, more rational, voice tells him he’ll have all the time in the world to do that. 

Hoseok looks unconvinced though, it takes an endeared smile and a kiss at his temple for him to look somewhat pleased. “Fine.” Yoongi has to hold himself back from leaning to peck the pout off his lips. “Will I see you tomorrow?” 

“Text me when you wake up.” 

Yoongi can feel how different everything is from the moment he watches Hoseok walk towards him at the little campus cafe. His eyes are a little groggy stil, and a pout is still on his lips; he looks like he has a hangover, basically. 

And Yoongi is still so, so stupidly enamoured by this man. 

“Morning.” 

“How are you so upbeat? You aren’t even a morning person.” Hoseok grumbles, obviously cranky, taking a seat beside Yoongi instead of infront of him. Their shoulders touch as well as their thighs. 

“I know this may come as a surprise to you, but not all of us get drunk from a couple of beers.” Yoongi teases softly, turning to side eye him. 

“I’m not sorry.” He smiles turning to face the older. Their noses brush similarly to how they did last night. Now it should be different though, the morning fills the small cafe of busy people trying to get on with their day, not private, not imitate, not one bit romantic. They don’t need it to be, though; they managed to fall in love in the simplest of ways; through Yoongi’s obvious love for literature.

[illusionlockarchive]

Cornered: A short Security Breach fanfiction.

Hi!! As a foreword, I wanna say that this fanfic draws ideas from this little theory of mine, so if you’re confused by what is exactly going on between Vanessa and Vanny here, I recommend you check that out first. Happy reading!

content warnings: swearing, death threats, unreality

Vanessa jumped and backed up against the wall, her thumb pressing the elevator button once, twice, five times, maybe ten or twenty five times. Her heart pounded and the sweat that rolled now over her face lit up with the pink neon lights. Her vision blurred as a purple tint filled up her vision like a flood, as if someone had messed with the lights of the entire floor.

Graceful, mocking, flickering rabbits danced around her vision and encircled the woman in a rabbit costume in front of her. Like happy bunnies from a children's cartoon approaching a princess. They wanted her to go to her, of course. It didn't matter if she had a knife, long and sharp, glistening in the low light.

Vanessa squeezed her eyes together, hoping to make it all go away. For a moment she saw herself, as if she were in a movie, just another victim in the way, not enough to be the main character, one that put up a worthy fight, only to die at the knife, cornered, screaming. Maybe she would make a real scandal, raising her voice up high, struggling as much as she could, be the perfect movie cliche.

But she could not. Her eyes shot up again, and the rabbits hopped slowly alongside the woman who approached her, confident and slow. She was paralyzed, unable to even utter out a gasp. Of course, whatever had latched onto her, whatever had been messing with her head and body for these past months, would want her to just sit still like a good little sacrifice, as the true vehicle of this demon's will executed his plan perfectly.

All her resistance, her cries for help, her research on how to break free, for nothing. And the rabbit woman was getting closer. Vanessa gave a last attempt at resistance, shakingly holding her flashlight up, maybe hoping to blind the attacker, or even successfully block the knife, enough for the elevator to finally come up, though she knew, the virus had probably already spread to the goddamn entire building complex somehow.

She dropped it. It was barely even a blink, and she was dropping the flashlight to the side with a resounding clank, a slight bounce on the shiny checkered floor. One of the purple rabbits leaped forward with brighter glee, and a sinister smile. The bunny woman, oh, of course, she stopped for a moment just to tilt her head to the side, Vanessa could tell she was beaming behind the mask.

She squeezed her eyes together again, praying for a last second in which the elevator would open, she thought she would have so many thoughts, but now, her mind felt utterly empty, aside from the sinister grin of a purple rabbit, one she had been seeing in her nightmares for so long already.

The knife landed right next to her head. Vanessa's eyes shot open to see the rabbit staring right back at her, up to her face, so close, pinning her against the wall. She couldn't understand, was the attacker toying with her?

"Why are you making this so difficult, blondie? We're two of the same kind!" The bunny woman finally spoke up. Her voice was just as Vanessa expected it to be, mocking her in a sweet manner.

She drew the knife slowly, raking across the wall, a horrid scraping sound that made Vanessa's heart jump.

"It would be just so easy to give in... you don't even have to do the dirty work, honest!"

"W... what?" Vanessa's breath was shaky, she'd been certainly holding it for a while, and as she released it, it all came out heaving.

"Give in... give in!" The words echoed through her mind. The rabbits were climbing over her now.

"I'm not-" Vanessa swallowed, finally being able to speaking, the could touch of the demon seemed to be lifted for a second. "I'm not going to give in. I never asked for this- if you want to do... whatever it is you're doing, so badly, just kill me now!"

She surprised herself by how bodly and loudly she was speaking, blood boiling. It was the first time she felt she could directly speak to whatever had been tormenting her for so many months, making her lose track of her own actions, messing with her thoughts.

She wanted her voice to be heard one last time.

"I'll be of no use to you now, and I'll never be, so just get rid of me and stop trying to get me on your side for fuck's sake!"

The shouting seemed to be effective in at least getting the rabbit woman to back off, and the bunnies glitched and flickered out of view.

And then the woman... laughed? And began to laugh, and laugh, a giggle that turned into a deranged, uncontrollable fit of laughter, shaking and contorting her whole body. She came to the point of bending over, hands on her knees.

Vanessa just cursed under her breath, that seemed to buy her some time, so could that damn elevator hurry up?

"You, you are so funny, blondie. Acting like you're some sort of hero. Like it'll make a difference." The rabbit woman straightened up now, shooting a scarily piercing glare for someone wearing a smiling rabbit mask. "You and I know he doesn't care what any of us thinks. He'll just keep coming back. History is made by the winners, so why don't we get on their side?"

"Because it's not the right thing to do. How do you live with yourself, knowing that this is what he wants?" Vanessa replied. She lowered her head in defiance, gaze still fixated upwards to the woman. "You've seen it, right? The carnage, the torture, the manipulation, those are the things that he wants. How can you work with someone like that? What could you possibly get from that?"

The rabbit woman scoffed, and examined her knife as if she were looking at her nails, twisting it to reflect the multicolored lights. "You don't, like, know me, and you should stop acting like you care. It's too late for me. He chose me to carry his bigger part, to be the leader of the operation. You were just a backup plan, like all the other attempts."

"Fine." Vanessa glared at her. "Answer me this. When you bring that knife down, when you give the finishing blow, when you'll hear that kid's scream, when his blood gushes out and you can't stop yourself anymore, how will you be feeling?"

"I can look away. I'll close my eyes. I'll be a good vessel, at that time." The woman turned her head, gaze now at a distance that was not in this place or time. There was a softness to her voice. "It'll be like falling asleep for a moment, and waking up in the other."

"You can't be serious. You act like you're so high and mighty, the leader of the fucking bunch, but you clearly don't want to do this." Vanessa gritted her teeth now, glaring. She wanted so desperately for this to big her big break, finally getting through to that ridiculous killer rabbit.

The opposite effect, instead, took place. The woman leaped at her, with a sudden speed and strenght Vanessa thought she may surely die from a heart attack before the blade even pierced her, and she found herself pinned back up against the wall. This time, though, the knife was closer, threatening.

The sinister, wide open smile on the rabbit mask felt even more grim now, illuminate with an eerie glow. The purple lights came back on, as the words filled her mind, rapidly coming and going, like loose streams of thought.

"Die."

"Worthless girl."

"Your attempts will get you nowhere."

"I laugh at you from beyond death."

"Your death will be nothing but a testimony to your incompetence."

Dark rabbits in shades of purple and black danced.

For the second time, however, the blade did not come down.

The rabbit's arm shook, and swerved, but it did not come down. From within the suit, Vanessa could hear, a guttural growl, as if the person inside was fighting with all of her strenght to keep the blade in place.

For what purpose, again, did this torture come to be, Vanessa wondered.

As the two stayed frozen in the moment, the swirl of unwanted thoughts within Vanessa's head grew louder, into a cacophony of unpleasant suggestions, all interrupting each other and drowning themselves out in desperation to be heard.

The blade stood still, save for it shaking a bit along with the rabbit woman's arm.

"She's not the target. She is not your target. Killing her will get us nowhere. She is not my target. This will make it more complicated." The woman spoke, but Vanessa could tell, it wasn't to her. “Please, I’ll prove it to you, this isn’t worth it. I won’t forget what you told me. But she is not the target.”

The elevator's anticlimatic ring was what startled Vanessa, and she fell backwards, right into the inside of it. Scrambling back up, she pressed any button to close it as fast as possible and get away from there, before the rabbit woman could even realize what was happening.

Vanessa rode the adrenaline spike as she escaped her attacker, and her thoughts calmed down and gave way into her very own. She'd be safe, for the moment.

[caffeinated-yearning]

The Start of Something Awful

@werewolfpine said I should post my writing and I’m doing it because I will literally never post unless someone forces me to, here’s a snippet of the lore of How Doc Ock Comes To Be, featuring my/Ock’s actual mind thought mannerisms. Technically this has only my S/I Oliver and Doctor Octavius a little at the front end, because I do my best work when it’s one character who thinks too much.

Word Count: ~1.4k Warnings: Self-harm (minor), queasiness (minor), astonishingly sarcastic narrator voice

“Hoshino.”

Oliver looks up from the box; as much as people focused on biorobotics, he rather preferred the metal things he’d been working on. None of that confusion of the ‘bio’ aspect. Cold techne and cold metal, a perfect compliment to his frozen heart. Looked up at his teacher- professor, Otto Octavius, and said nothing.

“The test results..?”

Of course! How could he possibly forget the mind-crippling endeavor of writing up a lab report for the sake of his dear professor? It would never pass off as science if he didn’t suffer the hideous toil of turning his experiment into a report; let it be known that the gods themselves would forbid anyone to simply look at the raw data and draw their own conclusions- no, he has to bring their attention to that all himself.

Ability to self-replicate- [Y] Hive mind program- [Y] Formation of simple and complex shapes- [Y] Link to human minds- concept phase. Mobile complex shapes- concept only. Modify macro chemicals within human body- tested in organic slurry, dubious results. Anything else that could be interesting- hasn’t been conceptualized yet.

“Would you call it a success?”

“If it teaches something new, it is a success.”

“Then have you been taught anything?”

Oh, doctor, do not pretend! This is all just a reinvention of the wheel at this point. Smaller and still programmable they may be, but these are all things that have been done before. They were done decades ago, before everyone found biological machinery to hold more promise. What then is there to learn? Humans disagree with metal, that has been the lesson. Oliver answers in so dry a tone; “discussion section: page three. Sir.”

“So I read.” Oliver returns his attention to his robots, still attentive to the good doctor’s words; “you sound irritated- both in the paper and at present.”

It is proper to smile and shake his head, to set the doctor’s concerns to rest. He fails this task, and in the same dry tone; “I’m not. I have concerns that this research is dated at best.”

“Then you are-.”

Interrupting, and how uncharacteristic that was- “I don’t have the time to be emotional, in any event.” The professor seemed off-put by that. Indeed, it was rude of Oliver to interrupt; he makes note of that, and fails to realize that describing himself as necessarily emotionless might instead be the reason for the doctor’s discomfort. Even the good Doctor Octavius had room to be emotional when good or ill fortune struck.

There was a pause, a little too long, before the doctor spoke- he’d turned back only to give a half-question; “I trust that you can be left alone in the lab, Oliver?”

“Yes, Dr. Octavius.” Really, this was such a dumb question. Could Oliver be trusted? Of course not; every faculty member would agree, if they only knew the contents of his mind. Which made it a rather good thing, how very skilled in keeping his thoughts under lock and key he was. Not with his friends of course. With friends you were expected to share a certain amount of information, and in turn they shared meaningless data points that helped one curry good favor if one kept it all in mind. What a fun game that was, sifting through all that data and hoping you came across anything of interest.

Ah. And he was alone. The professor had left without him noticing.

“And if I am consumed by the plague I now set loose upon the earth, thus was my fate since the moment I was born; not God nor Man could stop me or my creations; Pandora, I call upon thee.” He was alone, could he not be dramatic? The box was opened, and the robots did... Absolutely nothing.

Oh good, they hadn’t developed sentience while he acted out his drama.

A scalpel he’d pilfered from his sibling on a recent trip home; it was perhaps not the cleanest, but it would serve to sever, given he’d sharpened it against bricks and stones when he’d had a moment to do so. The only issue now was to shut down his self-preservation instincts, which barely allowed a scratch to be made against himself. But not seeing the place he would cut made easier the act, and he cut into the skin that made up the hair line just behind and below his right ear.

The incision was easier than he’d expected, perhaps because it was so much closer to his dreams’ completion than anything else had been before. He pretends to be surprised by the blood, but to what end? No one is around.

He starts his computer up, watches the robots come to life, and opens up the file “Concept_Phase.chk”. Checkpoint reached, your game will now auto-save, he hums; for the first time he feels the striking chill of fear. He thinks perhaps it is the first time in his life, but knows instinctively this cannot be the case. Either way, one error at this point would be so much more devastating.

They were crawling into that bloodied cut now. He should have worn a different shirt, but at least the black on this one might spare the rest from carrying a stain. They were a horrible itching sensation in his skin- he forces his hand stationary, to meddle now is more threatening. It is most threatening; he does not understand the limits of the human body, but he does understand the delicacy of the brain.

And they are in his brain.

That is the most terrifying part of it all, and he suppresses the urge to vomit. Brains are such delicate things and he has put so many bits of metal into his. He suppresses the urge to stand and run from this horrible thing that he has done. He stays stock still, and feels fear in every muscle and every nerve ending of his body.

And they are in his brain.

He woke up, cold, and pushed himself off the floor. Linoleum or plastic tile- didn’t matter, it was cold. He almost felt annoyance- hadn’t he been doing something? It was awfully uncharacteristic of him to sleep in the lab. The computer lab, maybe, but this wasn’t that.

Oh fuck the robots and the cut- he grasps at his neck, drawing his hand away with the full expectation to pull away half-scabbed gunk, or blood still running. Nothing. He sighed. Maybe it was another dream- maybe he was still dreaming. Dreaming of being something worthy of pride and love, instead of the falsehood he’d built himself into. Of being a worthwhile investment on the part of his parents and friends. Of being something better than this, whatever this was.

Log onto his computer- and how very strange! He’d never run the checkpoint file before, if it was a dream, so why was there a .log version now? It was suddenly beginning to feel very much not like a dream. Uneasiness, like so many maggots in his stomach, seemed to eat at him. He reached up and closed the box that had once been the house of his pride, and scanned over the .log file.

Program terminated successfully.

Oh thank the gods and devils both. It was successful.

But they were in his brain, now. Theoretically, he should be able to interact with them, if all had gone according to plan. He tried not to think about how unsanitary last night’s actions were, or rather to think about that instead of the presence of so much non-biological material now swarming around in his skull. He could feel the crawling- the sensation of parasites under his skin, but how much of that was simply psychological? He couldn’t say.

“Not nearly enough time to run any sort of experiment on them,” he sighed; class would begin soon. Sure, he was already in the building, but still. “How disappointing. How many are left in there?” He finally bothered to stand up and check the box; maybe if he… tried to input commands to those ones? There were still plenty in there; doesn’t take that much metal to make a computer chip inside one’s head then.

They stirred, sluggish and confused. They had never moved of their own accord before... Responsive? Again, move again- and they did. They swayed with little ripples, ocean waves almost.

Link to human minds- [Y].

[thequeenht]

High Society

Let see where do I begin?? Growing up in California in the high society I was exposed to a lot that I didn't realize or put together till now. How corrupt and disgusting that society truly is. I use to think that traveling all over and going to fancy dinners and club functions were fun and something that I wanted to be accepted into. But the more I remember and look back into my childhood, the more corrupt and satanic that society really is. Opening my eyes and researching all about the rituals and sacrifices you have to make to even be apart of the high society is mind blowing and disheartening. How can a decent human be apart of something so heinous? so satanic? Just to be in with the elite? Just because they want fancy cars and houses? What happened to working hard for what you want and have? what happened to being proud of putting in a longs days work in and raising your kids to be respectful and to never give up on anything? what happened to raising your kids to be hard working people of society? 

“They” just want to take the easy way to making their money. “They” don't want to earn anything they have. So they choose to make a blood sacrifices that is suppose to be somewhat important to them to get into the cult “clubs” to earn higher and higher status in society and in their career to become important and earn more and more money. But is it really even their money?? They get a platinum or black cards from the club and in their careers to be able to purchase what they want. They buy stocks, bonds, houses, cars and jewelry and whatever else they think they need to be accepted into this society. To prove to the other elite that they have made it. That they have had a blood sacrifices as well and now they are in. 

I have first hand experience being a survivor of these rituals and they have haunted me through out my life. I am a product of being the “step daughter” to a man who was already in these clubs before I was even born. My mother and her husband have been together since they were 15. They married at 18 and had my older half sister 5 years later. I was told all my life that they had their issues and so my mother left her husband and partied for 2 & a half years with all the NASCAR drivers and ended up getting pregnant with me during that time. “Supposably” She begged her husband to take her back because she still loved him and wanted to be with him again. They never got divorced officially so he said he took her back. When I was born her husband signed my birth certificate because it was his way of showing her that he forgave her for leaving and parting. It wasn't until now 30 years later, that I found out that the real story of her leaving was that her husband sent her out to go find someone worthy enough to get her pregnant with me. He needed to make a blood sacrifices again and preform the clubs satanic rituals to continue his membership in the club. He didn't want to use his own flesh and blood child to preform these rituals on, so he did had the club do them to me instead. 

All my life I have lived in this state of clouds. Always confused, missing gaps in time, hearing voices, and not being able to pay attention and focus in school. They would send me to doctors who would just tell me that I was having anger issues, I needed to be put on medication and that I needed “special tutoring” to help me with all my issues. They hired tutors to take me out of school for 2 hours every other day to stand up on this wooden step stool in a dimly lighted room to draw shapes and numbers on a chalkboard while my tutor would play this awful music that would make me incredibly tired. I would black out from the repetition of the shapes, numbers, and music. I would snap back and I was back in my class room with all the other kids in class like everything was normal and I would be confused as to how to fuck I got back there. My tutor would tell me how we had a great time and that after our session we went for McDonalds and got ice cream and then I went back to class. I didn't think anything of it. I just thought thats what had happened. This went on for years. From 1st grade all the way through 6th grade. Still to this day I am missing a lot of information about my childhood. I don't remember any of my teachers names except for 2 of my teachers. I get flashback of bits and pieces of my childhood that I haven't remembered. I get vivid visions that take me back to moments in my childhood that shock me, as to why was I sitting in my fathers office for hours sitting in a chair listening to him and other club members talking to me about how I need to do what they say or things will get worse for me. That no one will believe me or anything have to say and that they will send me to a mental hospital and drug me. That I will be painted as mentally ill if I do not listen to them. I always thought that the “talks” my father had with me were about school or a competition coming up. But that was what they had planted into my head for me to believe. Those “talks” were lectures that I better keep my mouth shut and not tell anyone about what they did to me or what had happened incase they didn't erase my memory enough. They would use these talks into scaring me to keep me quiet when I was a kid. I was extremely skinny, not sleeping very well, had dark circles under my eyes and hating life.  I have always been terrified to be in room full of men. Always been terrified of going against the rules. Always terrified of letting anyone down and disappointing anyone. It was drilled into me that you have to be perfect and anything less is unacceptable. I would start to shake and tremble if anyone raised their voice to me.

 As I got older around 13/14 my father got me an apartment to live in, in a different city over an hour away from where he lived with his family. He just told me that he needed to have the apartment to get the address in the school district for my little half sister to be able to go to the school there. But she didn't live in the apartment with me. It was only me. My mom would come and check on me and bring food to fill the fridge every week. And I was to come home on weekends at first but that changed over time to where I never went home because I was busy with school, gymnastics, shooting and cheerleading. I did everything I could to stay away from him and his people. I was terrified of going back to that house. I never felt safe there. And I didn't know why. But they did such a good job of having everything that they did to me blocked out of my mind. But this is what that society does. They do these satanic rituals that are awful, and heinous to children. They abuse, torcher, rape, and play mind games with them. Then they toss them away like trash. They erase their memory and leave bits and piece of memories in their mind for them to remember to keep quiet or enough to make them appear insane. 

I am 31 now. I have moved out of state and married to an amazing man who has helped me through all of this. He has made me realize it is time for me to stand up as a survivor instead of a victim of the brutal satanic rituals that man has done to me. I have been quiet for 31 years and now it's time for me to have a voice and speak up. I was one of the lucky ones who have gotten out and survived. But there are so many children that have been killed and gone missing because of this society. And no one is talking about it!! 

[thatfanficstuff]

Battle Scars - 13

Pairing: Tony Stark x Soulmate!Reader

Warnings: um...no

A/N: So, so much love and every bit of it makes my heart happy. This is my new favorite chapter. And while I could end it here, this story isn’t over yet. There is more coming, my friends.

***

As luck would have it, the team was gathered in the main living area on your floor. The one time you didn’t want to see them and they were all there. More than one called your name as you passed and you held up a hand to stave off the questions. You so weren’t in the mood for questions.

You slammed your door behind you and dug through the closet until you found your suitcase. After tossing it on the bed, you threw it open and started dumping clothes inside. That lasted about three armfuls before you got pissed at it, too. “Fuck!” you yelled and shoved the bag away from you.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you dropped your head into your hands. This was so stupid. The whole thing. Tony. You. Soulmates. It was all stupid as hell. You gave another scream of frustration only to be interrupted by a knock on your door. “What?”

“It’s Nat.”

With a sigh you pushed yourself up and opened the door to let her in. You gave her an insincere smile as you shut the door behind her. “Hey.”

“So,” she said drawing out the word. “Soulmates, huh?”

You were only stunned for a second before shaking it off. “Bruce?”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “To be fair, he kind of had to tell us. The boys were about ready to lose their shit over your face.”

You hummed in agreement and leaned against your dresser. Nat pushed your suitcase further to the center of the bed to sit beside it. “Going somewhere?”

“I guess that’s up to Tony. I don’t want to go anywhere, but I’m not sure he wants me to stick around. I could always go home I guess.” You shrugged as if it was unimportant, but of course it was. It’s your entire life.

“I’m pretty sure you are home, Y/N,” Nat said, not meeting your eye and you had to resist the urge to cry. No crying in front of the assassins damn it.

“Thanks.” You’re proud for getting that word out without it being evident you were on the verge of tears. You kept your eyes locked on where you were toeing the carpet.

She sighed. “Look. I will never be Tony’s biggest fan. We’ve got too many issues, but I do know that he’s had to deal with more than his share of shit. And I know that he loves you.”

That got your attention. You jerked your head up and met her eyes.

“He wouldn’t shut up about you the whole mission. I’m pretty sure I heard about your kiss a dozen times and I could recite detail for detail the perfect date he intends to take you on. You know, whenever he gets his head out of his ass.”

You huffed a laugh at that.

Natasha smirked before turning serious once more. “Can I ask you a question?”

You nodded permission.

“Why didn’t you tell him from the beginning that you were his soulmate?”

“Lots of reasons. Mainly I wanted to know that he was interested in me because of me, not because fate said he should be.”

She lifted her chin and tilted her head slightly. “I can understand that. I can also understand being disappointed when you find out the person you thought liked you for you knew they were your soulmate the whole time. I would probably come up with all sorts of reasons why they hadn’t told me, whether they were true or not.”

You frowned and she just continued to sit quietly and study you. Finally, you shook your head and pushed away from the dresser. “Damn it, Nat.”

Her lips twitched and there was that smirk again. She stood and paused at the door before leaving. “I’ll get everyone out of here. You do what you think you need to do. At the end of the day it’s between you and Tony. The rest of us don’t matter.”

Your gaze followed her until she disappeared behind the door then you sat on the end of the bed and dropped your head back into your hands.

***

Tony and you needed to finish your conversation, but you weren’t about to head back to his floor without calming down first. It took a couple of hours before you felt like you wouldn’t explode if he said the wrong thing. Your teeth worried at your lip as you took the elevator up.

When you stepped out in Tony’s apartment, your gaze ran around the room taking everything in. The lights were dim and some nature documentary played on the TV though the sound was muted. Tony sat on the couch with a half full glass in his hand and a nearly empty bottle on the table in front of him. Whatever he was drinking, he’d hit it hard. His gaze was empty as he stared off into space.

“Tony?” you said quietly to get his attention as you stepped closer to him.

His eyes darted over to you then back to the glass in his hand. “I thought you left.”

“I left the room, Tony, not the tower. We weren’t getting anywhere yelling at each other.” You wrapped your arms around your waist like a shield. This man had your whole heart whether he wanted it or not. You weren’t certain what you would do if he turned you away.

He draped his arm across the back of the couch and met your gaze. That fake half-smile you hated so much—the one he wore when he wanted everyone to think nothing bothered him—twisted his lips. “Is there something I can do for you, Y/N?”

You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth as you counted in your head. You hated this mask he wore and loathed that he felt the need to do it with you. It made your heart physically ache in your chest. You sucked in a deep breath through your nose and moved over to sit on the table in front of him. His eyes followed you as you settled yourself, pressing your knees together so they fit in between his without touching him. Your palms together, you wedged your hands between your thighs to keep from fidgeting.

“When I was a kid, a teenager I guess, I didn’t care that I had a soulmate.” You kept your eyes locked on the soft glow you could see beneath his t-shirt as you spoke. If you were going to do this, you couldn’t risk seeing annoyance or indifference in his eyes. He deserved to hear your side even if he never wanted to see you again. “My mom was thrilled, but I just wanted to live my life.”

You huffed a laugh. “It’s kind of hard to do that when you’ve constantly got love bites on your neck. I had to either let the boys think I was easy or admit that I had a soulmate. That puts a damper on a relationship, let me tell you.” You fell silent as you thought back to those days. “Honestly, I didn’t care much. It wasn’t until I was older and in college that I really wanted a relationship and well, I guess you know how well that went.”

He cleared his throat and placed his glass on the table beside you. “I’d seen some bruises before. Not anything major, just enough to make me wonder but I was always in the lab, running into things. I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just me. But that morning…the only other time I can remember feeling so empty was the day my parents died.” You looked up then to meet his eye. He’d shed the fake smile and was just gazing at you with those intense, dark eyes of his. “I couldn’t believe that I had a soulmate. And suddenly I knew you were out there, and that you were hurt, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I had all this money and it didn’t do me a damn bit of good.”

“Did you quit sleeping around because of what happened to me?” It was a question you’d wanted the answer to for years.

“I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I could guess. I didn’t think you needed to be dealing with the evidence of my activities while you were recovering.”

The corner of your mouth kicked up into a smile. “I might have fallen a little bit in love with you when you did that. It made me feel cared for, important.” He gave you a small smile in return and you reached one of your hands out to grasp his. Relief flooded you when he linked your fingers together instead of pulling away. “Nothing happened. Not really. My roommate came home and interrupted him.”

He breathed out in relief. “Thank God. I always assumed the worst.”

You shook your head, your gaze shifting to where your hands where tangled together. “Once I realized it was you, I started digging. None of this tabloid where you went with who crap. I told you I like my research. I found the obscure articles about your charitable activities. The posts where people contemplated whether or not you were the one that gave that donation to save the children’s hospital.” You glanced back up with a half-smile. “It was fairly easy to determine that you did. You also renovated facilities nearby for the kids and their families.”

“Maybe you should have been a journalist,” he teased.

You laughed. “I would be horrible. I don’t care about the drama.” You paused slightly before continuing. “It was never about your money, Tony. In fact, that only made it harder to talk to you. The media circus that surrounds you is intimidating to say the least. You think I don’t know that everyone is going to be sizing me up, deciding if I am worthy of Tony Stark.” The thought was depressing. You’d seen the women that Tony dated and you were under no illusions that you would be modeling any time soon.

He squeezed your hand. “You got that backward, sweetheart. It’s me who’s not worthy. Never have been, never will be. I know you don’t give a shit about my money. You could have emptied at least three accounts and disappeared by now.” He stood abruptly, grabbing his glass and the bottle to carry them over to the bar. “I come with a lot of baggage. You don’t deserve any of it.”

You stood and moved over to stand behind him. “I’m a big girl, Tony. I can decide for myself what I deserve or don’t.” You wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself to his back. His hand found one of yours and lifted it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Personally, I think you’re worth the hassle.”  

His hands rested on your arms to hold you in place as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry I overreacted. I just had this moment where I was certain you were only here because I was your soulmate. And that you’d decided to accept me because of my money and fame.”

The undercurrent of pain in his voice broke your heart. “I’m sorry, too. I should have told you the truth right away. Honestly, I would have if it hadn’t been for Pepper. I didn’t want to get in the middle of a relationship.”

He didn’t comment beyond an arched brow. “There is something else I think you should know.”

“What now?”

That startled a laugh from him and he kissed your forehead. “I was curious about this connection between us. I’d heard a lot of stuff about soulmates over the years but nothing about being able to feel the each other’s emotions. Jarvis, you want to tell hot stuff here what we found on the topic?”

You shook your head at that stupid nickname then leaned against his chest, his arms wrapping around you to hold you tight as if he’d done it a million times before.

“It would appear that this phenomenon between soulmates only occurs when they are truly in love with one another. It signifies a connection of their souls at the most basic level.” Despite the analytical tone of the AI’s voice, your heart raced at the information.

You pulled back only far enough that you could see those dark eyes. “You love me?”

He tilted his head slightly and shrugged one shoulder while giving you a lopsided grin. “I would have thought that obvious by now. And you love me.”

You grinned and nodded in answer. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Mr. Stark.”

“I think I can deal with that, Ms. Y/L/N.”

His lips found yours, soft at first, questioning. It didn’t take long for the two of you to find your rhythm. And for the first time, there, wrapped in his arms, you were whole.

***

Edited to remove tags.

[benbarnesescape]

Drowning

Logan Delos x Reader

Warnings: None. Language. Mainly fluff

A/N: So I got some pretty upsetting news this past week and just needed to channel this out and why not with Logan, the poster boy of also internalizing your feelings.

The thick, wad of papers that he held in left hand felt like a paperweight, causing his left arm to fall on his left leg as he fiddled with the ink pen in his right arm. The soft, cool breeze that was wafting from the Atlantic Ocean hit his face, filling his nostrils with the salty spray but he was too distracted to notice, his eyes intently on your form as you stood outside on the patio. You had planted yourself outside ever since you had driven in from the city that afternoon, a forlorn look on your face as you stepped out of the town car he had sent earlier that day that had brought you to his private beach home in the Hamptons. He had been traveling for weeks, an international trade gone south and had found relief when it had been resolved and he could come back to the city – back to you. He had remembered an earlier conversation he had with you months prior about how you enjoyed working at the Hampton home, how you took pleasure in having the ocean waves as your personal soundtrack for work, and so he had arranged for you both to stay in his Hampton home for the next two months, knowing that the city was a quick drive or helicopter ride away.

But the greeting he had been met with this morning was the opposite than what he had imagined in his head. Instead of running into his arms and distracting him with the promise of sex, you had instead slowly walked past him, barely acknowledging him as you shuffled into the cool, air-conditioned estate. You dropped your bag on a nearby chair before you walked out to through the back patio door, walking through the white, clean sands until you reached the oceans edge where you planted yourself. Where you sat for hours, knees in the air, hand digging through the coarse sand as a light wind whipped around you, your eyes focused on the endless blue horizon.

At first, Logan had thought you were in a bad mood and needed to decompress. You never were one to advertise your problems, least of all to him. But as the fire rays of the sun met water, the orange gleaming into the tall glass windows of his home you had only budged to adjust away from the current, moving to the patio as your eyes rested on the strong waves that bubbled to the sandy shore.

Now the moon was high and you were still standing there, the short sundress wafting around your legs as you leaned against the balcony and he shook his head, unable to watch and wonder any longer. Knowing that he would inevitably be sparking a fight but rather deal with your hot, fiery temper than this new version of you. Placid and unmoving.

He grabs the knitted throw blanket your mom made for him, specifically for the beach-side home and gives a low shudder as he walks outdoors, moving toward you with purpose as the smooth pine wood silently creaks under the padding of his bare feet.

“Y/N?”

His voice is soft and mingles with the sound of waves crashing but you don’t move, just continue to stare out in the dark mystery of the night. He sighs as he throws the blanket over you, noting how cold your arms are and wraps himself around you to provide additional heat, drawing you closer to him,

“You’re going to catch a cold. Come inside…”

“No.”

Your voice is raw but clear and stubborn and he exhales, resting his chin on your shoulder as his grip around you tightens.

“Princess, I don’t want you getting sick. Come inside.”

“There’s no point.”

“What do you mean there’s no point?”

He feels you tense up, your grip around the rail tightening as you repeat,

“I think we should break up.”

The words take him off guard and for a second he thinks he mishears,

“What?”

“I think we should break up.”

You say it louder and clearer, your voice distant and he can feel his stomach fall, a pit that causes his breath to hitch as his grip around you self-consciously tightens. It was the way he had navigated through life for years, feeling uncertain – unloved – unwanted. And then you had shown him the other side, what it felt like to actually care about something, what it meant to feel worthy of love, to appreciate life.  You had done it simply by being kind, patient and yet unafraid to call him out on his shit.

The idea of losing that frightens him. Causes the small, punctured scars that faintly laid on his forearms itch and he has to control his breathing as he tries to focus on the situation.

“What?” his voice is louder as he pulls away, turning you toward him, his hands planted firmly on your shoulder. Your crying, thick, heavy streams of tears that consume your face and you keep your face locked on his chest as you repeat.

“Can you not hear Logan? I. Think. We. Should. Break. Up. You deserve someone better than me.”

His eyes soften, his hands trembling as he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You’re stubborn, just as stubborn as him and try to fight him but he uses his other hand to cradle your face, your eyes meeting for the first time since you’ve arrived.

He can think rationally, can move beyond his selfish emotions to focus on you because he knows that this has nothing to do with the both of you as a couple. That something, or someone, had planted a seed that had sprouted this phantom insecurity about you and his relationship.

“I am only a better man because I have you by my side. You are far superior to me princess. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t think it or even say it into assistance because I’ll let you know right now that you are far too good for me.”

The sob you make causes your body to hitch as you fall into him and he wraps his arms around you as your tears consume you. He’s never seen this side of you, this vulnerable part that has you broken down to your core and he shivers as he draws you closer to him, wanting to take whatever has triggered you to feel this way and shield you from it.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there holding you, the wind whipping around the both of you until you finally mumble incoherently into his chest, your face pressing against him. The words get caught in the soft fabric and he pulls away from you far enough to ask,

“Sorry princess, didn’t quite catch that.”

You give a heavy sigh, debating if you should repeat it before you lean into him, pressing your face to the side as you say a bit louder,

“I may not be able to have kids.”

The last word gets caught in your throat and you clear your throat as you try to cover up the next statement,

“I know that you may not want to have kids, I know that. I know that we never even talked about our future together but….”

Your voice is shaky and he pulls away from you, watching you carefully. He doesn’t know what this means for him. He’s never thought about having children. In his mind, he had made peace in not having the kind of future most people thought of with a wife and a child. He had barely believed that he was capable of being able to stay in a long term, committed relationship so the idea of reproducing wasn’t even a bridge his mind knew how to process.

He doesn’t understand what this means to him but he understands to know that it was probably a catastrophic blast to you – your identity and maybe he’d push to say you’re worth as a woman. Like him, society had taught you since childhood that you were supposed to reproduce – that part of your identity on this planet was to contribute to reproduction. This didn’t matter to him but he knew, deep down somewhere in your subconscious, it was ringing with you.

You had briefly mentioned to him once that, until him, you had never really thought of children or being a mother. You had immediately reassured him that this wasn’t your passive way of letting him know that you were interested in having children soon. Just that sometimes, you thought about it. That something inside of you triggered your brain to think about it. And he knew that the long draw of silence that followed as you went back to cutting vegetables for the meal you were preparing together, that maybe it was being with him that made you trigger this new desire in your mind.

He would never admit it to you, could barely admit it to himself some days, but he liked the idea that you thought about having kids with him. That he was what you had considered to be your partner in what could be the most selfless act a woman could make for herself and her partner. And when he thought about that, only then did he venture with what a life could look like with you.

So being told that the possibility of having children were slim, or that you possibly couldn’t, made him feel powerless. He couldn’t fix this. This was a journey he could get a ride on but that you would have to go through alone. And he hated that.  

“Princess,” he’s mindful of the next few words. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable – was still learning thanks to your urging and he doesn’t know if saying the next few words will betray that something else he tries to keep hidden from you. That future he’s equally longed for only with you. “I can’t even imagine to know how you feel. Can’t even begin to understand what this means for you and your future. But I know this. I will research and find everything in my power to support you in this. If you want to have children, we will find the best fertility specialist. We will research what natural methods you can undertake. We will see if I need to make my sperm stronger. But whatever it is, we will get through this.  You aren’t alone. And I know this isn’t a solution, know this isn’t even the point but we can also adopt if having a family together is what we decide, what you decide. Honestly, it may be better than sharing my shitty genetics and fucking up your perfect genetics with my imperfect flaws….my point is,” he tilts your face toward him, cupping you gently, “if you want to have a child I will find it in my absolute power to make this happen. You aren’t alone.”

He doesn’t know what you’re thinking as another stream of tears fall down your face, before your hands are gripping over his wrist, your cold fingers causing him to shiver.

“This might sound stupid but,” you hesitate for a beat, “…would you even want to have a kid with me someday?”

There’s insecurity and fear laced in the words and he smiles as he leans down into you, his lips brushing against your own.

“I want the world with you. I don’t know if I’m the ideal mate to have a kid with; I’m kind of a mess,” you chuckle as he presses a soft kiss against your lips, “But you’re the only person I’ve ever thought about even having a future with. And……. maybe I’ve thought about what it would be like to have you as the mother of my children. Maybe just a few times. That’s not what matters though. We’ll get past this. You aren’t less of a woman, less of my other half because of this bump in the road. Remember that. You are not a lesser human being because of it.”

You smile against his lips, before pulling away and pressing your forehead against him.

“You don’t have shitty genetics by the way. Being an asshole is learned, not written in your DNA.”

He laughs, giving you another squeeze before he whispers,

“I hope you’re right about that. In the meantime, I’d love to practice us practicing starting a family together”

He’s fluid as he finds the back of your thighs, lifting you in the air and you can’t help the high shrill that escapes your mouth.

“Logan! Put me down.”

“Only if you agree to practicing…” the grin that paints itself on his face is wicked and large and you can’t help but laugh as you nod.

“Deal.”  

tags: @just-nikkii, @ladyblablabla, @drinix, @youveseen–thebutcher, @marauderskeeper, @thesandbeneathmytoes, @cutie-bug

[dandelions-sea-blog]

These are the Nights that Never Die Chapter Four

Read on Ao3(so much better there)

Fights between brothers are normal, though sometimes it’s taken too far.

Previous || First || Next

“boss… you know can’t ignore me forever.”

Red watched his brother cutting vegetables, fingers tapping arrhythmic against the surface of their shitty table in their shitty apartment on the shitty surface. He sniffed back a sneeze, allergies acting up thanks to that damn mangy stray Edge allowed into their home. Because of course, that’s what their shitty lives needed on the surface - a fucking cat. The radio in the background blared a news report at obnoxious volumes, announcing the third set of alternate monsters coming from the underground. ‘As far as we can tell, Jim, these monsters are far more peaceful than the last wave, coming out in numbers far greater than we’ve seen previously. Fourteen governments are already predicted to extend sanctuary to these refugees, which begs the question: will they run out of room?’ ‘Right Sall; it seems that more conservative politicians argue that the Ebbot portal may cause overcrowding. Scientists are debating the long-term ramifications of magic and dimensional travel on our society and the universe as a whole. Researchers from the Canonic Underground claim that the sudden influx of monsters has created a magic shortage, resulting in many of the newly settled monsters falling ill-’ “papyrus, for the love of shit turn that thing off and listen to me!” Red snapped, grabbing the slipper off his foot and launching it at the far-too loud contraption. The radio faltered, tipping back and falling off of the table with a crash. Doomfanger looks up from her grooming, staring at Red curiously from the top of the fridge. He snarled back at the littleshit, cursing it for every sneeze and every cough he has had since it entered their lives. Pieces of the radio scattered across the ground; a few caught on the torn-up bits of linoleum that lined the kitchen floor. Edge flared, spinning around with a snarl scarred across his features. Red smirked under his brother’s glare. That’s what you get, asshole. The animosity between them seeped into the room, bleeding out of the silence between him until slowly Edge stepped forward. Red smiled, leaning his his head into his hand as he awaited his brother’s wrath. Edge breathed slowly, fists clenched as he approached but never once made eye contact with the smaller sibling. His movements were precise and swift, as always Red found himself fascinated by just how intimidating Edge could be while simultaneously being the biggest, overgrown brat Red has ever known… Months of being ignored did not a happy Red make - he couldn’t even remember what started their arguments by this point. Or when they had started, for that matter; had they always hated each other? Red wanted to say no, his memory told him that wasn’t the case - and yet waking up to the everpresent silence between them that clung to their backs until the day was through made it hard for Red to remember why he loved his brother in the first place. Oh, but they talked sometimes; when Red left a shoe in the wrong place, or came home just a bit later than Edge would have liked, or when he yelled just a bit too long at the cat - whenever Red did something to piss that high strung asshole off, then and only then is red worthy of his majesty's fucking attention! Never when he did something right - not when he found a job. Not when he paid rent on time. Not when he would go to bed at reasonable hour, sharing a bed with Edge because stars knows money doesn’t grow on fucking trees on the surface. Red wished they never left the underground; all they have up here is poverty, squalor and stars… and only one of those things couldn’t have been easily seen in the underground. He hated this life; he hated the way that things changed so fast, how they lost all of their friends during relocation, how they are forced to live among humans and learn how to interact with them as if they are equals. He hated the way it changed Edge, hated how Edge shifted day by day, how he no longer seemed to want to give his brother a single ounce of his attention. If Red could have one wish, it would be to go back in time and kill that stupid brat before they decided that the Underground wasn’t good enough for them. Red kept his sharp teeth bared in a smile as Edge stalked forward, the rage coming off of him over the broken radio palpable. He folded his hands in anticipation for his lecture, already feeling the buzz of adrenaline over their impending fight. And yet, Edge walked right past him. Red’s eyes stared blankly forward as the footsteps fall behind him, heals tapping over to the broken radio bits strewn across the floor. Red turned to see Edge bent over, slowly retrieving the pieces one-by-one. It seemed that only the battery cap was damaged, so Edge is easily able to slot the pieces back together. The radio was returned to its rightful place as Edge pressed a button on the side to start back the broadcast. ‘-nd thanks for tuning into W-MTE’s news broadcast; now for your hour of smooth morning jazz…’ “i don’t fucking believe this!!” Red shouted over the melodic tones of a saxophone. Edge didn’t even respond, just returning to his cooking in the kitchen. Meanwhile Red was boiling. He slid the chair back, letting it slam against the legs of the dinning table. “i don’t have to fucking take this, you know?” He shouted, slamming his fist into the wall next to him. Edge refuses to respond. “i can go anywhere i fuckin’ want now, boss,” He spit, glaring down his brother’s back. “this is the fuckin’ surface; i don’t need your protection anymore!!” That was right, wasn’t it? Red didn’t have to stay with Edge anymore; the laws on the surface are far more protective of those who can’t defend themselves. Even if he’d have to watch his back, Red could certainly make it on his own. He did it before, back when his father abandoned him, infant brother in arms, to survive all alone in a kill-or-be-killed world. If he could do it back then, in the hellish nightmare that was the underground, as a child… Red stood up suddenly, stomping out of the single living space and into the only other room in the house - a miniature bedroom with half bath. He went for the closet, grabbing fistfuls of his clothes and shoving them into a sack. He grabbed a spare set of socks, a few shirts, a pair of pants, and his savings that he kept stashed under the drawer. He stomped into the bathroom and snatched up his toothpaste, toothbrush and medication, tucking them away with just as much enthusiasm as before. When he returned to the kitchen Edge still hasn’t turned around from his work, continuing to chop vegetables and slide them into a pot. As if Red were never there. Fuck his soup. Fuck his apartment. Fuck his cat and most importantly fuck him. Red coughed, eyes burning from what he pretended were his allergies. Finally, Edge spoke, not even turning around as he does. “...If you are going to leave, make sure you shut the door behind you, Sans.” The tone was hollow, yet sharp. Red felt his tight throat give, the tears burning as they welled up in his eyes. He shook - every inch of him on fire as he watched his brother’s nonchalant movements, even now that he is about to leave refusing to notice Red. He huffed, striking away the tears with the back of his hand as he head for the door. “good fucking luck, asshole!” The door slammed for the final time as Red walked away.

“Go fish!” “eh, i dunno if i believe ya, blue… that hand seems kinda fishy t’ me~” “nGHA IF YOU MAKE THAT JOKE ONE MORE TIME-” Red snickers behind his cards as Blue mock-fumes. Blue hates it when his friend reuses jokes like that… puns are an art form, and deserve more respect than simple repetition of the most obvious variety! How annoying. Regardless, Red reaches for the deck and draws his next card. Sans glances at his cards, eyes gliding over his hand as he seems to plan his actions several moves in advance. Blue tries very hard to read Sans’ expression; normally it is the only skill that allows Blue to win games like these. However since he is literally playing against himself he soon realizes that they all have his natural pokerface yet none of his tells. The van hurries along the road, Papyrus’ skillful driving avoiding most of the particularly awful bumps. Blue much prefers it when he drives; the other two can be careless at times and the extra movement makes him nauseous. “Alright, Sans, it’s your turn!” Blue says, looking to his other counterpart. Finally Sans gives a tell, however it appears to be too late as he chuckles victoriously, laying out his hand for the group to see. “royal flush, kiddo, pay up,” He says with wink. “THAT’S NOT EVEN THE RIGHT GAME!?” “oh shoot really? i thought we were playin’ gin…” Sans chuckles when Blue screeches, throwing his cards into the air. “heh, no need to split, ace,” Red retorts. “THAT’S BLACKJACK!!” “aw jeez, kiddo, i didn’t realize you’d made such a big deal out of this…” Sans fires back, returning his cards to the deck and shuffling. Blue lays his head out on the table and groans, defeated. “I am surrounded by dirty pun abusers…” He whines as Sans deals the cards back out. After a moment’s recovery Blue’s hand dips up from under the table to slide his cards in. He looks at his hand, examining his cards and faintly wondering what game they could possibly be playing now. Out of the corner of his eye he sees moment, and a smile breaks across his face. “Edge!” He calls, waving the taller skeleton over. “Come play with us! We could use someone with quality taste in jokes.” Edge proudly smirks, putting down his laundry basket to see what the others are up to. Blue has found that the best way to get Edge to do anything is to give him a compliment; he is particularly partial to ones about his intelligence and capabilities. “What game are you playing?” Edge asks, looking over at the cards. “rummy.” “blackjack.” “Poker!” Edge raises a brow, unimpressed. “...I see,” he says, crossing his arms. Blue smiles, picking up the deck and shuffling it. “Come on, just one round?” He pleads, using just the slightest pout to add to his persuasion. “I’ll deal you in after Red - it’ll be fun.” Edge’s face falls, a scowl seeping onto his features as he returns to his basket. “Thanks but no thanks, some of us around here have to work.” Red flinches at the words. Blue frowns, putting the deck down as he watches Edge stalk off. Red folds his cards as well, sliding out from the booth. “...i should probably get started on my chores too…” He mutters, heading back towards their room. Blue frowns as he looks back to an awkward looking Sans. The sweaty skeleton looks down at the cards in his hands, pretending to scrutinize them. Blue grunts, tapping the table with his fingers. “why are they fighting?” He asks, watching as Sans flinches harshly. “who’s fightin’, kiddo?” Sans asks, glancing away. Blue hums. For a guy who has such a great poker face when they’re playing cards Sans sure does look nervous when he’s hiding things… “Red and Edge,” Blue replies, looking back at the door. “When Red moved in with me I knew that he and his bro had… issues…” He trails off, remembering the vague stories Red would share with him about Edge. So far Edge hasn’t quite lived up to his reputation of ‘neglectful, abusive asshole’ as Red put it. He turns back to Sans. “But I never realized they were this bad… what happened?” Sans sighs, cupping his cheek with a hand. “honestly, kiddo, i have no idea,” Sans admits. “edge is pretty tight-lipped when it comes to his life before… metaphorically, of course,” Sans chuckles dryly at his own joke. Blue rolls his eyes. “eh, get it? we’re skeletons? no lips??” “Yes, yes, you are hilarious and very witty,” Blue dismisses. “But… It’s just so sad…” Blue says, returning to the conversation at hand. “Brothers shouldn’t fight like that…” “eh, it happens sometimes, kiddo,” Sans says with a shrug. “even paps and i have gotten into little spats once or twice…” “This isn’t exactly what I’d call a ‘little spat’...” Blue mutters. Sans hums. “...have you never gotten into a fight with your brother?” Blue shakes his head, dismissing even the thought of having such a fight with Stretch. “No! Never,” He defends, “My Pappy and I have always been very close… we would never just… ignore each other like that...” Sans sighs, a deep depression skirting across his face before he swallows it up with a smile. He carefully collects the cards back into the deck, Shuffling it twice before returning them to their box. “well, if i were you i wouldn’t worry about it,” He says, sliding out of the booth. “it ain’t none of our business, n’ i don’ think they like talkin’ ‘bout it.” Sans says. Blue frowns. Inaction never sits well with him, but he trusts Sans’ judgment. The other skeleton stretches, popping his back as he turns to look at his friend. “i’m gonna go tag paps out on drivin’,” Sans says, heading for the cockpit. “we’re gonna try to head out ‘t the shoppin’ center t’morrow, and it would suck if we had t’ walk all the way there.” Sans chuckles to himself. “even if the weather is lookin’ pretty runderful.” Blue shakes his head, holding up four fingers. Sans shrugs. “can’t win ‘em all, i guess…” Sans disappears around the corner and Blue sighs, leaning back in the little fold up chair. Closing his eyes he can hear the breathing of the van - the sound of Edge beating out dust from their clothes, Papyrus talking loudly to himself as he bangs out the engine, Doomfanger purring as she rolls around in the light of the sun streaming through the windows… It can be so peaceful around here at times. He wishes his friends could see that more often than they do. Getting caught up in little things isn’t good for you, not at all. It can make a person lose sight of the important things in life, and very quickly those things could disappear. Blue is jolted from his relaxed state by a puffy white tail suddenly appears in his face. He sits up straight, listening to Doomfanger as she gives off her ‘hungry’ meow. “Eddddge, has anyone feed Doomfanger today?” Blue calls. “Check the chart!” Blue lowers his shoulder so that Doomfanger can ride as he goes to the kitchen to make sure that their precious four-legged friend has eaten.

[ivarthebonemearmy]

Perhaps A Year Is All I Need Chapter 3

Summary: What do you do when you are paired with the person you detest the most? Beatrice is a History major at Oxford University. She is a straight-A student, but she cannot help but hate Ivar’s very existence. Fate likes to play tricks, neither of them has anything to lose if they choose to gamble. Or do they?

Part 1

Part 2

Word Count: 1965

A/N: Part 3 is up! Not much to say for this one, apart from apologizing for any grammar, spelling mistakes. English isn’t my first language so. Also, if I have gotten any history parts wrong, I will correct them and I apologize if I did.  Any kind of feedback is not only welcome but super duper encouraged. Hope everyone had wonderful Christmas, too! Enjoy!

Chapter 3

The first time Ivar Lothbrok entered my dorm room felt as if I have stepped into the twilight zone. I was worried about getting into trouble for having a guy over but no one dared speak against his wishes or presence; some were too scared and some simply pretended to look the other way instead of facing the trouble that may come with going against him.

He stood there, a white T-shirt clinging closely to his torso. I saw a tattoo peak its head out of the linen and my curiosity peaked, though I quickly pushed it down. He has propped himself up on his crutches, leaning slightly against the door frame, his eyes boring themselves into mine.

I cleared my throat. “Come in.” I gestured for him to take a seat wherever he would like and he began making his way towards the loveseat opposite my bed.

We sat there for a while, the air was charged with awkwardness and a slight tension and I whizzed through my brain looking for anything to start a conversation.

“So,” I began, not being able to take the silence anymore. “Have you made any progress on researching the Battle in Wessex, yet?”

He leaned back into the seat, his stance relaxing slightly as he propped his crutches by his side. He reached out into his backpack and drew out his laptop and notebook, along with some pens and highlighters. “As a matter of fact, I have,” he said, eyes glinting with pride and smugness that I wished I could wipe right off. “Have you made any progress on… “

“Valkyries,” I finished. “And yes, I have.” I turned to my desk, sorting through my notes to dig up a summary. “They’re immensely interesting.”

“Oh?” He cocked his head to the side. His full and complete attention made me slightly fidgety and queasy.

“Yes,” I said.” They are the choosers of the fallen. People called Valkyries the spirit helpers of the god, Odin. They were also only female.” I looked at him and he nodded at me to continue. “They chose who could get admitted to Valhalla, as well as they had the power to choose who could die in battle. Oddly enough, they were also known for using malignant magic to make sure their choices were fulfilled in the end.”

“So they were witches?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. He propped his elbows on his knees and I glanced at the flex of his forearm.

“Not exactly,” I said, looking back up at him again. “Vikings, at least for the most part, were driven by doing things that made them worthy of a place in the Valhalla, that would make the gods proud. Valkyries had many roles and functions. You know of shield-maidens, I’m guessing?” I cocked my eyebrow at him.

He rolled his eyes and let out a small chuckle, a sound I realized I was all too fond of. “Of course, I have.”

I allowed myself to crack a smile. “Well, they could have also been shield-maidens, or swan- maidens.”

“Swan-maidens?” he drew his eyebrows in.

I bobbed my head eagerly. “Yes, because their clothes were made out of swan feathers that people believed allowed them to fly and carry the chosen warriors to the gates of Valhalla.”

He leaned back again, going into deep in thought, his eyebrows drawing in in concentration. I watched him absorb the information, and place it neatly inside of his brain. I grew an inch of respect for the man across from me.

“Do you like writing about them?” he asked after a solid second of his own reflection. During our conversation, he seemed to have shifted towards me and it surprised me that I felt at ease, more comforted by his presence than I would have thought.

“I actually do,” I began. ”The legends, myths, and faith in the gods seemed to influence their way of life and behaviour a whole lot. It’s weird to think that a being, a creature who was probably just a simple human, could determine a Vikings fate with regards to the Valhalla.”

“A creature?” he challenged. “You mean to tell me you don’t believe in the supernatural, B?” There was mirth in his eyes, and they swarmed with a sudden warmth I wasn’t accustomed to. For a second all I could do was admire them. He looked down to his lap, a small smile dancing on his lips.

“You know no one calls me ‘B’, right?”

He shrugged his shoulders before looking up to capture my eyes. “Maybe I’m not everyone,” he mumbled. Although it was difficult to make out what he said, especially with the accent, I heard him loud and clear.

“Maybe you’re not,” I said. “Though, I doubt you’re much different.”

He tensed visibly at my words, his fist clenching slightly. A dark expression loomed across his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded, his voice intimidatingly low.

I bit my lip. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything, I should NOT have said anything, I thought and internally cursed myself for opening my mouth. I thought about what to say for a second, weighing my options. “Nothing,” I ended up saying. “Let’s just get back to the task at hand.” I hoped it would be enough to steer us clear off of any kind of thoughts or feelings about anything that was not our history assignment.

“Tell me,” he urged, the dark expression now forming into an abundant rage.

I took a deep breath to steady my internal screams of panic and looked away from him to find something to focus on in the window. “I hated you,” I finally whispered, not daring to look his way. “I hated almost, if not everything, about you.”  My mouth will get me killed one day, I swear.

When he didn’t say anything, I continued. “I worked so hard to get to where I am, you have no idea. I overcame every single obstacle thrown at me, I worked various amounts of jobs until I could barely hold myself up just to pay to be here. And then you showed up

“And at first, I truly believed that you only got here because of connections, power and the immense wealth.” He snorted. “But then you turned out to actually be smart and it seemed so exuberantly easy for you. I mean, you don’t even bring a notebook to class, or a pen for fuck’s sake,” I laughed, though it lacked humour behind it. I could feel tears pricking my eyes but I blinked them away. I have not cried in front of anyone for years and I refuse to let him see me this way.  

The silence stretched. I focused all of my attention on my breath and the distance tick-tock of the clock, throwing a glance across the room avoiding looking in his direction.

“You can’t hate something you don’t understand or know,” he stated. “Just like you can’t love something you don’t fully understand or know. You can only hate or love the idea you have formed entirely by yourself. ”

I heard him shuffle around, the zip of a bag made my head snap up. I followed his movements as he hoisted himself up from the love seat, slung the backpack across his shoulders, propped himself on his crutches and began to make his way out.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, warmth spreading to my cheeks as the wright of the situation hit me. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He stopped in his tracks, right before reaching the door. “I don’t get offended,” he said, turning his head to look at me. “But I also won’t be in the presence of someone who seems to hate me without knowing anything about me for longer than I have to.” With that, the door shut closed and he was gone in the blink of an eye.

I sat there for a while, staring at the door, wondering what the fuck just happened and how I managed to have gone from a surprisingly pleasant conversation to none at all.

*********

“You can’t possibly be serious!”

I exhaled loudly, kicking at the stones on the road. I was betting that to others I looked like a child. I also felt like a child.  “I am.”

“So, let me get this straight, you were in your dorm room, with none other than Ivar bloody Lothbrok, the hottie rich boy, and you flat out called him an entitled prick?”

“Well, of course not,” I hissed. “I just said I hated him and listed reasons that sounded both like compliments and insults all at the same time.”

Pause. “Wait, hated as in past tense?”

Of course, my cousin would get hung up on tenses. But then, I contemplated my choice of words in both instances for a second. I didn’t hate him anymore. He wasn’t as bad as my own jealousy and spitefulness painted him out to be. I didn’t like him, and I sure as hell would never hang out with him outside of it being anything but necessary, however, I didn’t hate him. “He’s not that bad.”

“Well, fuck me sideways,” she chortled. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Nothing is happening, so don’t jump to any conclusions,” I warned. “All right, buttercup, I gotta go see if he’s meeting me at the library tonight.”

“Okay, chick. If you hate shag I want all the details!” she said, just before ending the call.

“Fucking Lisa,” I muttered, before sliding the phone into the back pocket of my jeans. The air started to get chilly in the afternoons lately and I missed the warmth of the sun rays kissing my skin, although I couldn’t wait for autumn either.

I sat on the nearest bench and tried to think of what I could possibly say if he was there. In my head, I had approximately six different speeches and a scenario for each one of them. Needless to say, none of them ended well at all, but I also understand I have to grit my teeth and face whatever awaits me.

The library swarmed with people tonight. Students of all kinds and ages immersed themselves in books, their noses stuck to the screens of their laptops or iPads, some taking notes. I glanced around the room, occasionally standing on my tiptoes to try to see further around but he was nowhere to be found.

I walked around the library a couple of times until I finally settled on a free table by the entrance. I felt a tinge of disappointment and anger form in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t know if he was coming or not, after our conversation, but I still hoped he would put his personal feelings aside for the sake of this project. After all, this one is one of the many and we will have to complete them all together, whether either of us liked it or not.

I checked my watch and realized I have been waiting for a good forty-five minutes, before finally giving up and sulking back to my dorm. My emotions switched between anger and disappointment, though they weren’t aimed at him but rather myself.

That night I dreamed of blue eyes. They were oceanic orbs, pulling me in until I was so deep in my lungs hurt from the crave of a wisp of fresh air. His voice was a low melody, lulling me to let go and give in to the pull. Once I was on the ocean floor, a storm began to brew and his anger flared the lightning bolts up above. I was paralyzed into place as he made me watch the destruction happening around. All I could do is wait.

[franeridart]

Soooo Tumblr tagged your new post as "Content for Adults Only" and I can't see it 😢😢 srsly tumblr is pissing me off rn

Anon said:I don't understand how your most recent post about Denki is blocked by safety mode????? Like it's just your art of his birthday! I love the art of it tho, it's fantastic! Keep up the amazing work.

Anon said:*whispers* the thing you just posted contains sensetive media apperantly

Yeah it’s most probably Mineta isn’t it

(jk it was probs my inclination to swear my way through life’s fault, I asked for a review so it should be visible in a bit but for now you can see it here !!)

Anon said:!!! I didn't know when Kaminari's birthday was but his is the same as mine and I'm even more attached to him now !!! Thanks for bringing that info to my attention and also your doodles were amazing I love them and I hope you have a nice day!!

Yay for you and yay for him too!!!!!!!! I hope you’ll have a great birthday tomorrow, anon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And thank you!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I can't remember if you've already answered this question but in light of Kami's birthday - you once did a comic showing what everyone from the Bakusquad would get him for his birthday, so I wanted to know what do you think Bakugou would get all of his friends for their birthdays?

Bakugou has the hardest time coming up with birthday presents, presents are just Not A Thing He Does, he tries but it’s just ???? I mean think back to how he tried to cheer Kirishima up, that boy is so damn awkward - that said, given how all his friends gave him something he felt the need to show them he could reciprocate, so this is what he came up with: 

Sero’s actual tastes in material possessions are a total mystery for everyone, they make absolutely no sense, but what Bakugou KNOWS is that the fucker likes to eat his greens, so that’s what he did for him - he cooked the healthiest and tastiest meal he could manage to make, spent a whole damn lot of time researching it too, and Sero was honestly so touched (he loved it)

Jirou got a offer to go with her to a concert she couldn’t find anyone to go with - she hadn’t outright asked anyone, but it was clear she wanted to go but not alone - the band was too much for all of her friends, so she was sorta letting the idea of going go. Which is when Bakugou offhandedly mentioned that he’d heard there was the one gig from that one band and he was thinking of going since he liked that band and whatever she wanted to come or something? Bakugou had just spent the last day and a half listening to the band’s discography for the sake of making it believable and Jirou saw right through him (she didn’t mention it) (but man Bakugou could be seriously nice couldn’t he)

Mina’s present was to actually agree to go to her party. That was it. Mina’s parties are the opposite of Bakugou’s ideal place to spend a whole night at, they’re loud, and there’s drinking, and dancing, and the whole school is invited and it’s packed, so when she asked him to come she never thought he’d actually agree to go and stay the whole night, but boy did he. He also let her pick his outfit (Mina recognized the effort for the present it was. She was delighted)

Kaminari got a shopping trip - it went like this: Bakugou mentioned he was going to the mall, which always ends up with Kaminari tagging along just to go window shopping. So he stopped in front of the windows, pointed at stuff, made noises about the deals, and Bakugou went “wait here” and then went in and bought whatever Kaminari had been excited about. It happened four times before Kaminari caught on, and then Bakugou literally had to threaten him to make him stop holding back “I’m deciding I wanna do this so I’m doing this” (he still held back, but by the end of it Kaminari had actually whined the sentence “Bakugou please” pointing at yet another jacket or shirt of necklace way more than once) (he was so damn happy he didn’t even think about how he had absolutely no space for everything he’d just bought to fit in his room)

Kirishima was the hardest one (pun intended). Kirishima was actually so difficult Bakugou spent months thinking about what to get him and came up empty handed anyway. He was so damn complicated that Bakugou sucked up his pride and straight out asked him what he wanted for his birthday. “I don’t want to fuck this up”, he said, and Kirishima smiled so hard and so wide and so bright, it felt like enough of a present for him just hearing that. He told him he wanted to spend the day with him, so they did that - studied, sparred, ate, hung with the others. Bakugou didn’t think it was enough of a present since honestly it felt like any other day, but Kirishima was happy, so he guessed it was fine (he found and bought a super rare super expensive Crimson Riot figure to gift him anyway) (Kirishima cried)

Anon said:You are so awesome!!!

sob thank you SO MUCH !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;A;

Anon said:It's t[odobak]u week! It's honestly a ship I never thought about, but ever since I saw fanart about them I've been thinking about their dynamic as a couple. How would that even work with their personalities? I know you don't really ship Katsuki with anyone else but Kiri, but let's say for some reason Bakugou and Todoroki got together. How would you describe their complicated relationship/dynamic? I've been thinking about it ever since I saw that fanart Q_Q

I talked about my feelings for these two’s relationship here!! But in all honesty I just can’t see them as romantics (if I could I’d probably ship it hah) so I can’t say how it’d work for them in a relationship of that kind... mostly because all I can think of as an answer is “it wouldn’t work” haha rip

Anon said:I love when you draw Bakugou being a big old softy

Fun fact: I take the fact that Mitsuki is unapologetically soft to Masaru as a good enough proof that in a romantic relationship Bakugou would be the softest to his partner - he’s already soft enough for Kirishima, can you imagine how much more he’d be after being openly in love with him for years? (I can) (it’s beautiful)

Anon said:More adult!AU please!!!!!!!!!!!

Uhhhhhhhhhhh sure, but it wasn’t really an AU tho! It’s just me playing around with their designs a bit, I’ve been drawing them aged up now and again for a while now (tho I admit mostly what stays constant in the design is only the hairstyles, everything else changes based on how I’m feeling it atm) anyway yeah, more will come in the future! Can’t promise the designs will stay totally unchanged, tho haha

Anon said:We only have to last one more day until the next chapter (probably) kills us all with the feels. Thank you to you and your art for getting me through this terrible week of waiting.

;A; you’re welcome, I’m trying to keep myself sane with my own doodles too so helping you along is a beautiful most welcome side-effect

Anon said:Could i have a ref of your adult kiribaku scars? if not i understand! have a great day!

No probs, just, I can’t draw right now cause of hand-problems so you’ll have to make do with me telling you where they are? Also that’s just how I went for it in that drawing, it’s nothing set in stone, really, I keep on adding and moving them around every time I draw them

The only scars Bakugou has there are on his palms - cover the whole of it and reach a bit on the inside of his wrist too, they’re burn scars and come from overusing his quirk one too many times. Kirishima’s got more - aside from the canon eye one he’s got one on the left side of his mouth, one on each forearm in the same spots he’s been hurt in the latest chapter, and one covering most part of his upper back (this one he got protecting civilians with his own body too often and breaking one time too many)

Anon said:I don't know if you take request or not but if you do, could you draw adult bakugou with baby kirishima and vice versa, please? 😙😊

I already have tho!! x x x

Anon said: Holy crap, scarred up hottie Kirishima with the black roots saved my life

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! glad you liked him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *O*

Anon said:denki at the end of your last post is me xD

*whispers* honestly same

Anon said:Okay but think about how fucking pissed Baku would be if Todoroki tripped and fell and broke his ankle walking up the the battle arena and they didn't even get to fight because Todoroki can't even stand.

Listen, listen, if anything like this happened Bakugou would take Todoroki off his list of worthy rivals asap why was he ever even interested in this guy why did he even waste his time like this he’s so done

Anon said:I just got my wisdom teeth removed and can't pronounce "f" , and all I can think ab is Bakugo, in the same case, being pissed as hell because he can't say "fuck" anymore

That’s the moment the squad learns that Bakugou uses the word fuck out of convenience and not because it’s the only one he knows, really (did all those swear words even exist) (how does he even know so many)

Anon said:Fran I just found out why you've stopped posting Haikyuu as much and?? I feel so bad?? Because you're absolutely right, the fandom might be pretty healthy compared to others but it a certain idea of what should be and what shouldn't be. Like the minute you get into the fandom you're bombarded with the "canon" ships (which aren't even canon smh) and then there's other ships which are just automatically designated as "brotp" and if you don't follow the norm then you get hate. (1/2)

And it just makes me feel terrible because you obviously love(d?) Haikyuu a lot, and drawing for it, but then the fandom basically forced you to leave. And that just makes me really really sad. I used to be sad that you didn't draw for Haikyuu much anymore (because despite fandom I do love the series very much) but now I'm just. Really glad that you found BNHA and are having fun drawing for it. Ahaha this is kinda pointless but I really respect you and so?? Just keep doing you

Thank you so much oh my god orz it’s... true, posting for hq hasn’t been half as fun as it used to be, lately, but I do still enjoy it! Between everything the fact that the fandom is sort of asleep atm does make me lose even the last motivation to draw more, so! I’m pretty confident as soon as the fandom wakes back up I’ll start posting more for it again! After all I love the show and all the characters a lot still~

Anon said:*chanting* Draw that hair angst! Draw that hair angst!

I’m trying !!! (tomorrow might just be the right day)

Anon said:i just recently started watching bnha and i'm IN LOVE!!!! i'm also glad i can appreciate your art more bc now i actually know who the characters are 😂

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m SO GLAD you’re liking it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And thank you SO MUCH for sticking around even while you didn’t know the show!!!!

Anon said:i love your art!!!!!! im gay!!!!!

tHANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and great for you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:  I can't believe Kirishima wears Franeridart brand knickers

It’s the most popular brand on this blog, really

Anon said:bro i don't even read/watch bnha. why am i so invested in these kids. it's,, it's your fault isn't it. you're being paid by horikoshi (is that the mangaka's name?) to reel us all in aren't you. EXPOSED, FRAN

Joke’s on me anon, I’m not even being paid for this (lol) (since you like the kids you should really give the show a try, tho *nudge nudge*)

Anon said:hi just a friendly reminder that kirishima eijirou is amazing and incredible and so are you

Being given the same compliments given to Kirishima might as well be the best thing ever happened to me.... oh my gods.............. thank you............

Anon said:There's only one way for me to find out if my Quirk is breathing under water

Anon no

[sharky-bishaw]

Yoooooo gimme Erejearmin and LeviFar headcanons *grabby hands* 👀

Wait so you just want a list of them? Aight

As soon as you asked this I forgot half of my headcanons, so some of these are ones I thought of today

LeviFar:

Levi is sorta uncomfortable in relationships and still needs his space, so Farlan respects that and isn’t too touchy or anything, but eventually Levi misses it and becomes incredibly clingy. Farlan takes full advantage of these moods with lots of cuddling and kissing (this is also usually when they would have sex)

(This is less LeviFar and more them just being kind souls together) When they were thugs/underground, if they ever had any sheets/clothes they didn’t have a use for anymore, they would go around and give them to homeless children on the streets, for them to wear/sleep under.

They would keep a small amount of the money they earned to themselves, so they could use it to buy gifts for birthdays. This idea mainly came about from Farlan’s need to spoil his boyfriend, and even though Levi though it was kinda pointless he slowly gave in to Farlan’s begging. Farlan always knew perfect gifts for Levi, and even though Levi wasn’t that good at it, Farlan still loved everything he got.

When Isabel joined they made it a smaller cut so they could afford for her to join in as well.

Farlan has a habit of walking around the house half-naked after showers because he can’t be bothered to get dressed yet. Although Levi got used to this eventually, it would’ve shocked him at first to see his new (suddenly very hot) roommate/partner in crime sitting naked in the kitchen, first thing in the morning.

Levi is most talkative at night and often will ramble on to himself about nothing because he’s too busy to notice Farlan fell asleep. Personally, Farlan loves to listen to Levi spewing nonsense as he drifts off to sleep, but everyone who in the same barracks as them hates it.

When Farlan and Levi got engaged (*coughcough* self-promotion) because they couldn’t afford rings or anything, they tied a thin coloured ribbon around the handle of their knives. Levi still has the knife with its ribbon during the current time of the snk universe, Hanji is probably the only who knows why he has it and when someone asks he doesn’t explain.

The ribbon things were from the one Farlan sometimes wore in the manga, which is on Levi’s knife, and Farlan’s knife has some of Kuchel’s shirt tied to it. They chose these because they both were very dear to them (Farlan’s ribbon was from his mum or something too idk).

They were both incredibly protective of each other (Isa too but not in a relationship way), mainly when it came to Erwin and Mike.

Farlan was always lowkey salty that Hanji forgot his name that one time, and would occasionally bring it up when they said his name like “Farlan? Who’s that? I don’t know a guy named Farlan. Weird name, huh?” *proceeds to ignore Hanji*. (but seriously Hanji wow, the only one to put effort into a salute and you forget his name? Wooooow rude much?)

In a modern au, Farlan would be the one to come up with impulsive ideas that they neither can or should do, and Levi is always the one who has to say no. These are the rare occasions where Isabel sides with Farlan, and it in no way helps Levi

“Levi, we should go to every Universal Studios around the world, and compare them!” “Farlan, no! We had to go to McDonald’s the other day, just to steal the ketchup packets because we can’t waste money on a whole bottle!”

Farlan had a slight crush on Levi before they had formally met, he’d always found him incredibly attractive but more importantly he looked up to him in a way, and found his personality very interesting. Then from moment they met he started falling for him further. 

Handholding during sex!

EreJeArmin:

Before the three of them got together, Armin was a fucking nerd who wanted his to guy best friends (so excluding Mikasa, I haven’t just forgotten her) to get together. After a while of failed attempts, he went to Connie and Sasha for help, and they told him to fake love letters from each other. So Armin wrote them in the way Eren and Jean would, but they didn’t pick up on the style of writing and instead they both recognised Armin’s handwriting. He ended up with them both chasing after him, but he managed to work a compromise of “Let’s all just date each other then”

I can’t imagine them getting together in a non-messy way for some reason

When they found out about the whole titan shifters die after 13 years, there was not only an erejearmin cuddling/crying session, but also a 104th and Mikasa and Jean session.

Idk if the Jean’s mum owning some sort bakery/cafe is a popular hc in the fandom, or I’ve just happened to see it a lot, but we’re going with that for this one. Jean often takes Eren and Armin to see his mother, and then they will go to the cafe as a date.

 Eren and Jean will have little competitions over who loves Armin more, and even though Armin tries to stop them getting to into it, he loves the attention they give him. Eren will often have nightmares and night terrors that wake him up in the middle of the night. He used to either pace around the room or go down stairs, until he woke Jean up by accident. Before Jean had the chance to moan at him he noticed Eren was still shaken up, and after he explained Jean invited him to sleep in bed with him. They spoke with Armin in the morning, so now Eren alternates between them, rather than waking just one of them all the time. 

When sharing beds, Eren always has to snuggle into his boyfriend’s chest

Jean likes drawing Eren and Armin, and when they found out they put their money together to buy him some nice quality colours. Since he’s started using then he’s had a habit of accentuating their eyes.

When they started dating, Mikasa ran Jean through trials and tests to prove he was worthy to date her family. 

Eren was surprised to see how sensitive Jean actually when he got closer to him. 

One time when they went to help Historia at the care home, Jean got really attached to one of the children and spent the entire journey back to the barracks trying to convince Eren and Armin to adopt her. He cried when Historia told him she’d been adopted. 

If they’re sat together in the evening, Armin will take full advantage of being small and having two boyfriends, by laying his whole body across them, taking up as much of the space as he can. 

NSFW Headcanons

LeviFar:

They’re comfortable enough with each other that they try out new kinks and stuff, but Levi is always the one a little more reluctant about things. 

Levi has a thing for making clean surfaces “dirty” which Farlan loves, but he doesn’t enjoy the thorough cleaning they have to do again afterwards.

Farlan loves to pleasure Levi, and will more than often put his entire focus on during sex. 

He also thinks that the Levi looks during and after sex is equal parts hot and cute.

Levi tends to swear and say I love you a lot whenever he bottoms (which is the majority of the time), whereas Farlan will normally say Levi’s name a lot.

Farlan always makes sure to start off very gently, to make sure it isn’t too much for Levi

Levi likes to keep going after he’s come, even if Farlan is done he loves it when he then either sucks him off or eats him out afterwards. 

Farlan makes sure to kiss Levi all over when they’re having sex, and he repeatedly tells him how beautiful he thinks he is

Farlan is especially good at eating Levi’s ass, and Levi is surprisingly good giving blow jobs. 

Levi’s skill however is from researching through dodgy books because he was nervous about his first time. 

|At first Levi would get embarrassed about cumming

One of Farlan’s favourite times was when he convinced Levi to ride him whilst wearing a skirt. 

His all time favourite is their first time though, as he remembers how great it felt to finally touch Levi in those ways he’d wanted to for so long. 

Farlan once managed to convince Levi to have a threesome, which they had with Jan. 

EreJeaArmin:

All three of them love frotting, not only because of how they feel but also because it’s one of the few things they can do where they know what the others are feeling at that time

Jean and Eren are generally quite vanilla, Armin, however, is pretty much the complete opposite. They’re both open to try pretty much anything, but some of the things Armin suggest can be quite intimidating. The two only really draw the line when it comes to hurting each other (further than spanking and choking) 

Armin likes to tease Eren and Jean a lot, but will often put in rules such as “you can only touch yourselves” or “you can only touch each other, but you have to watch me”

If he had the right pole, Armin would 100% know how to pole dance. 

Armin and Jean would probably want to make a sex tape

All three of them love the feeling of being wrecked, but Eren is the best at taking two at once 

They fucked by the ocean

[83gigsof90semocore-blog]

Post 4: The letter C

Welcome back! It sure wasn't yesterday, how have you been? I'm fine thanks, been a little busy myself and had to put this project on the backburner as you can probably tell. I alluded to being really busy in the last post and that's been pretty much true for all of the past year. Luckily, things are looking a bit better up ahead so I might actually start posting regularly soon!

Much has happened outside of the blog too. I toyed with the idea of moving this beuat over to blogspot (where all the real emo blogs are anyway) when it looked like tumblr was self-destructing for a hot minute. But in the end cooler heads prevailed and it looks like tumblr is just gonna keep existing albeit with less popularity. In the emo world, 125, Rue Montmartre, the first band I covered about a year ago are releasing their discography on vinyl and are now on spotify. All thanks to my blog, I'm sure. Don't be fooled by my modest follower count

I actually have quite a few prestigious readers. Most notably perhaps being Prof. Anders Ahlén, a man important enough to have his own wikipedia page.

C has been the longest letter so far by far clocking in at a mighty 6.56 GB as opposed to the average of 2.8. I've been listening to it in phases with sometimes a month or more in between so it hasn't really been a coherent experience. It has been a real slog though, which is part of why I gave up several times. This has also been a letter with a great number of "famous" emo bands. Because part of the purpose of this listening experience is to experience 90's emo "as it was" rather than colored by nostalgia or what is deemed worthy of attention by the internet discourse I'm disqualifying bands that are prominent in the emo canon from best name, song or image. I will however still do a quick write up on them for those of you not as familiar with emo, chances are I'll reference them in the future so do take notes.

Emo classics

Cap'n Jazz

It's almost impossible to tell the story of 90's emo without Cap'n Jazz. Among their members they have Tim Kinsella, who would later go on to play in Joan of Arc and Owls, his brother Mike Kinsella who would later play in American Football as well as Owls, Their/They're/There and Owen and also Davey von Bohlen who would later play in the Promise ring. When they formed in '89 they where just a bunch teenagers, Mike being just 12. They released their first album 6 years later which goes by the title Burritos, Inspiration Point, Fork Balloon Sports, Cards in the Spokes, Automatic Biographies, Kites, Kung Fu, Trophies, Banana Peels We’ve Slipped on, and Egg Shells We’ve Tippy Toed Over, but is simply referred to as Schmap'n Schmazz by fans. Most of the lyrics where supposedly written by Tim one night while high on mushrooms. They have a wonderful surreal dadaist quality to them with lines such as Hey coffee eyes, you've got me coughing up my cookie heart or You are colder than oldness could ever be. The music is chaotic and full of a warm messy energy. I am personally absolutely enamored with their cover of Aha's Take on me which I insist on putting in as many playlists where it makes some sense whatsoever. As you can hear, Tims vocals do absolutely not Morten Harkets heights (not an easy feat in Tims defense) and you can plainly hear a teenagers voice falseto-cracking and it's absolutely amazing somehow.

Cap'n Jazz really hit the spot of this awkward sensitive yet punk energy that from the start was very central to emo. Although Cap'n Jazz are a big helping sillier and more pubertal than, say, Rites of Spring.

One popular quip about the Velvet underground is the following:

The Velvet Underground didn't sell many records, but everyone who bought one went out and started a band.

I suppose Cap'n Jazz is a bit like that for emo although their presence was perhaps felt as strongest around 2010 with bands such as Snowing, Glocca Morra and in particular Algernon Cadwallader aping their style.

Christie Front Drive

I think part of the reason for Cap'n Jazz's status as a cornerstone band stems from their originality. Christine Front Drive is in contrast a very prototypical 90's emo band. They have a sound that borrows heavily from both post-hardcore and indie-rock with the slightly whiny vocals typical for the genre and era. On their song November they sing Still the same // Fucked for what you've done // Still over // Staged over // November's almost done // Still the same which I think is a nice cross section of their lyrics (most of the rest of the song are just variations on the same words with "remember" also thrown into the mix). The overall sound is slow, moody and a bit dreamy, very typical of their brand of emo. As easy as it is to find bands that sound similar to CFD, I dare say that they did it better than most and that this is what has earned them their spot in the emo cannon.

Cursive

Cursive formed in 1995 and has since been together on and off up to the present day, the drive only has music up to 2005 though. This includes their 2003 release the Ugly Organ which was released by Saddle Creek and is the only one I've heard before starting this project. By that point they had already moved away from their emo roots though, and I'm glad to finally have gotten around to their earlier stuff. The Ugly Organ is artsy, catchy and a bit baroque, but also definitely on the outskirts of emo to the point where I'd perhaps describe it as an indie/alternative album if I wasn't talking about them in the context of emo. This doesn't mean that it isn't worth a listen because it absolutely is. Their early stuff is more typical of what the rest of the drive is like with a sound more in the ballpark of CFD but much more punk, with a higher tempo and angrier vocals while still maintaining a somewhat whiny voice, introspective lyrical content and the cold, big guitar sound typical to this branch of emo.

My favorite band

Car vs Driver

So far I've generally picked bands that stand out a bit because in a long stream of relative sameness, that's what you end up paying attention to. Car vs Driver is however not one of theses bands that stand out but rather pretty typical of the emocore sound. They do it pretty well though. They are undeniably punk, but with more introspective lyrics and a slightly melodic edge, which is exactly how emo was first conceived. One some of their tracks like the featured Without A Day day even flirt a bit more with an alt-rock sound but they also have songs that are a lot more hardcore like Livid Step.

When researching them I half expected them to be a pretty substantial band that I had somehow managed to miss, but they're actually very unheard of, something which I consider to be a shame.

I did however find that the drummer of the band has a blogspot at beyondfaliure.blogstopt.com where he catalogs various bands he's been a part of. There is a collection of Car vs Driver flyers as well as two live recordings and this summary he wrote for their discography

Car vs. Driver began when I was 17 years old. By the time we played our final show, I was 19. This band was the music of my life during a period when people usually experience the greatest amount of freedom, which is what I think of whenever I listen to this music now. There were so many new experiences: living on our own, meeting new people, getting a new perspective on life. Our lifestyle in turn gave us a new perspective on expressing music, and we poured all of our energy and emotion into it. Music that now seems a world away – music from a different life. It’s hard to remember that everything about being in a band at that time was simply making a 7”, buying the cheapest van you could find, and touring the country for the summer. There was no infrastructure to build your music around, which also removed its barriers. Instead of running our band like a corporation, we played peoples living rooms and basements, engaged in kickball tournaments, made record covers out of manila envelopes, slept on top of our van, cooked pasta, and played with some of the most amazing bands in the process. Bands that epitomized the time – like Spirit Assembly, Policy of 3, Friction, Current, The Yah Mos, Assfactor 4, Frail, Hoover, Freemasonry, Scout, and Inkwell. The experience we had is something that could never be recreated, and I consider myself incredibly lucky to have been a part of that moment in time. Thank you Matt, Steve, and Jonathan for bringing this to me.

James Joyce August 2004

This compilation is dedicated to our faithful roadies Ashley Lawrence Moore and William Anthony Nation.

We froze, sweat, bled, argued, and laughed.

Amazing stuff in all, I can highly recommend clicking around their for a while if you, like me are a bit obsessed with the 90's emo scene.

My favorite band name

Christopher Robin

Christopher Robin is a screamo band that go pretty hard. The name is a funny contrast to this and the juxtaposition between childhood nostalgia and angsty screaming works really well.

My favorite picture

Featured is the cover to a demo tape by french screamo band Cather Mathra, which features songs such as Ils M'ont Oubliés (they forgot me) or Leur Révolution (their revolution). You can read more about them on psychoviolence, a blog dedicated to French punk & violence. I think that using a medieval (?) drawing for a cover is pretty cool, especially if you're a french screamo band.

Curiosly they don’t have any music on youtube, you’ll have to check out the drive if you want to listen to them. Tumblr has a limit of 5 embedded videos anyway, so that worked out nicely I suppose.

[rizlowwritessortof]

The Contest

Dean x reader one shot - Dean loves to give you a hard time, and one night he pushes things a little too far...

Word count: 2293

No warnings, unless you consider a wet t-shirt contest tag-worthy (I have no idea where that came from, I think my muse was drunk...)

Flashback in italics

You sit in the booth, Dean's arm draped over your shoulder as you lean into his chest, your legs up on the seat, beer in hand. Sam slides back into the seat across from you, answering your smile with one of his own.

It's a good night, things have evened out for a bit, and you're all feeling relaxed, almost contented. Sam's new 'friend' had just left, saying she had to work the next day. You're enjoying hanging with the boys, drinking a few beers. You watch the college kids, early twenties at the most, playing the same games you all used to play, trying to hook up, make some kind of connection.

You let out a happy sigh, looking up at Dean as he watches them, too, a kind of distant smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, and he looks down at you, his smile turning a little sheepish.

“I was just remembering the night... well, the night you opened my eyes.” You blush a little, ducking your head in a vain attempt to hide the amusement curving your lips, and he raises an eyebrow at you, letting loose with a stunning grin. You bump him in the belly with your elbow, and Sam stares at you with a curious gleam in his eye.

“Okay, now I want to hear this story.”

You blush a shade darker, and Dean looks at you, asking without asking. “Oh, go ahead. You're dying to tell it.”

“Okay, Sammy, picture back a few years, a few months after we met Y/N...” You listen as Dean talks, letting your memories wash over you.

You gesture at the bartender, and Dean gives a derisive little hoot. “Whoa, slow down there. I mean, you're kinda past your two-drink limit, aren't you?”

“Who died and made you the alcohol police? I can drink if I want to!” You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs again.

“Sweetheart, I've never seen you have more than two drinks. I mean, walking on the wild side for you is staying late at the library. You make Sammy look like a party animal. Just sayin'.”

“Screw you, Winchester! You don't know me.” You take a big swallow of your rum and coke, rolling your eyes. “Just 'cuz I'm not a bar bunny who hangs all over every full-of-himself swaggering asshole, begging for attention, doesn't mean I never let my hair down.”

“That brings up a good point. I've never even seen you with your hair down. Always got it tied back, or in a braid. I mean, not that you don't look good, but you're about a million miles from being a wild child. I doubt if you've really ever just let yourself go and have a good time. You'd rather hide in a room and do research, not get out and really live it up.”

The bar isn't huge, but there's a band, and they're just starting to leave the stage for a break. The bar owner steps up to the mic and bellows out a half-drunk cheer, and you look his way, annoyed. “God, he's loud.”

“See? Marian the librarian, out on the town, stick firmly up her ass. That's exactly what I'm talkin' about.”

“Go fuck yourself, Dean,” you snark back, which just makes him grin. You both watch as the college boys begin to gather, and several of the girls move to the sides of the stage. Your curiosity is soon satisfied when the man behind the mic announces the Friday night wet t-shirt contest, and you clamp your jaw together as Dean chuckles, bending to speak softly right next to your ear.

“See, this is what I mean. You'd never let go enough to do something like that.”

You freeze for a moment, letting your anger settle into determination. Then you turn to him, unbuttoning your overshirt, peeling it off and handing it to him. “Hold this for me, would you?” He looks stunned, his jaw hanging open, and you manage, somehow, not to smile. You turn, almost able to feel his eyes burning holes through your tight, fitted t-shirt as you walk towards the stage, hips swaying, pulling the tie from your hair and letting it swing free.

You step up onto the stage, fully aware of the resentful glances from some of the girls. I mean, let's face it – you've got a few years on them, and they're thinking you've got no business up here. But - in for a penny, in for a pound. You want to make Dean eat his words. You ignore a few lewd comments from the boys gathered in front of the stage, excited to see someone new, but you shut them all out, block out everything but Dean. You lock your eyes on him as you follow suit with the rest of the girls, pulling your t-shirt free from your jeans, then reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. He's staring back at you, his lips parted, his gaze somewhere between shocked and lecherous, and you see him swear softly to himself as you do that magic trick every woman knows and pull the purple lace from under your shirt, dropping it to the floor.

You focus on watching him watching you, bracing yourself as the girls get doused with icy water, one at a time. You hold your breath as the deluge comes your way, closing your eyes for a second before opening them to Dean's heated stare, his eyes moving over you, and you swear you can almost feel it. You hear the boys’ crude comments as the announcer moves along the line, holding a hand over each girl’s head and judging by applause who’s still in the running. It comes down to you and one other girl, and you follow her lead, reaching back to lift your hair from your neck, arching your back just a little, and you’re pleased to see out of the corner of your eye that Dean’s jaw is still on the floor.

You almost win, too, the little cheerleader type with a belly ring barely edging you out, but you still get a coupon for a free drink out of the deal, not to mention the immense satisfaction of giving Dean a shock. You bend to pick up your bra, but a tall, blond jock quickly grabs it and holds it out to you. “You're fantasic,” he says, drunkenly enthusiastic, but before you can take it, the bra is snatched from his grip.

“Sorry, junior – she's with me.” Junior looks angry at first, but when he turns to face Dean, he backs down like a whipped pup.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Didn't mean anything by it,” he mumbles, heading back towards his laughing friends.

Dean's hand closes around your wrist, and then he's pulling you through the bar, your purple bra in his hand, glaring at anyone who stands in his way. You stumble along behind him, too stunned for words, until he bursts through the door and into the parking lot, the cool air and your wet shirt shocking you from your daze. You yank your arm away from him, furious. “What the hell, Dean?”

“Why the hell did you do that?” he shouts, and you smile, tight and angry.

“I felt like letting my hair down, getting the stick out of my ass. I mean, I'm no fun, right? I just wanted to live it up.” Your words are sharp as a razor, and what really pisses you off is that you're shaking.

Dean opens his mouth once, twice, finally managing words the third time. “You didn't need to... I was an asshole, you didn't have to do that to prove...”

“I don't have to prove anything to you, you egotistical prick! I do what I want.” You turn to walk away, but he grabs your arm and yanks you up against his chest, his arm circling your waist to keep you from escaping.

“All those fucking little college boys were in there drooling over you. I wanted to...” He stops, breathing hard, his nostrils flaring. “I didn't want them looking at you. You're better than that. And I don't want anyone looking at you, not like that.” He's staring down at you, his eyes glittering in the dim light. He draws closer, his lips a breath away from yours. “Not unless it's me,” he whispers, then pulls you even harder against him as he crushes his lips to yours.

For a split second you feel it, the power of it all, too long pent up and dangerous to release, but you don't care. If this is how you end, so be it. You stand in the parking lot of a seedy bar, pressed close together, desperately devouring each other until Dean finally pulls away, panting. “Motel...” he manages, and you nod. You rush towards the car, climbing in and pulling the doors shut before coming together again, your longing for each other magnetic, almost irresistible.

“Sam?” you ask as Dean resolutely pulls away from you and starts the car.

“We'll get another room,” he manages to answer, then sets his eyes on the road and drives, silence between you until he pulls up in front of the motel office. “I'll be right back,” he says, his gaze clinging to you, and you nod.

When you finally - even though it's only minutes, it seems like forever - get to the room, Dean leads you inside and closes the door. He locks it and then turns to lean against it for a moment, biting at his lip.

“What?” you ask, a tiny voice beginning to whisper that he's having second thoughts, he doesn't really want you.

“Look, I just don't want you to think...” he's stumbling over his words, and you feel your defenses begin to build.

“I know. Just one night, no big deal, right? Heat of the moment.” You turn away to hide the hurt in your eyes, but he's right behind you, taking your shoulders, turning you back to face him with the tears shining in your eyes.

“No, that's not what I was going to say.” His expression is troubled, and he brings a hand up to gently cup your cheek. “I don't want you to think that this is all because of... what happened tonight. I've been wanting this for a while now. I just – I guess it shook me up, how pissed off I was that those fucking dweebs were staring at you, fucking getting hard over you, and I couldn't...” He leans in, rests his forehead against yours. “I didn’t want to share.”

Your knees wobble a little at his words, and his arm slips around your waist. You watch as his eyes close and he leans down, and then you close yours as he nibbles at your lips. It’s sweet, and hot, and by the time he raises his head again, you feel a little dizzy. “Dean… Can we…?”

He doesn’t speak, just takes your hand and pulls you towards the bed, sitting you down and sinking to the floor between your knees. He helps you pull off your boots and socks, then runs his hands up the back of your calves, giving a gentle squeeze. Then he’s holding your waist, leaning towards you, his lips fitting perfectly to yours, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt and caressing, stroking.

“You’re cold.”

You shiver for an entirely different reason. “Well, I’m kind of – wet.”

He smirks, and you blush, glad for the poor lighting. “Insert dirty joke here.” He takes hold of the damp, clammy fabric of your shirt and looks into your eyes. “Can I?”

---

Much, much later, you lay in his arms, sleepy and sated. He drops a soft kiss on your temple, tightening his arms around you just a little more, and you sigh, content to stay there indefinitely.

You’re hesitant to break the silence, but the words want out. “You know, I’ve wanted this for a while, too. I just…” You trail off, and he moves his head on the pillow so he can turn to look at you.

“What?”

“I always felt like I was some kind of joke to you. The nerd girl, someone a guy like you would never think twice about. Just a friend that trades insults with you, punches you in the shoulder when you piss her off.”

He stares at you, his expression naked and unguarded, the usual swagger gone. “You’ve never been a joke to me. I just thought… I felt like you were kind of above my pay grade, you know? Smart, quiet, kind of serious... Giving you grief, at least I didn’t get shot down.”

You turn to your side, facing him, reaching for his face, and his eyes close as you touch him. “And I never thought a guy like you would ever pay any attention to me. Whatever this is, wherever it goes, let’s just always be honest with each other from now on.”

He slips a hand beneath your hair, cradling the back of your neck as he moves closer. “Promise.”

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

Sam’s laughter brings you back to the present. “Wow, I never would have guessed you’d go that far to shut him up. Well done.”

“Yeah, well… maybe not my proudest moment, but I’d do it all over again.” You tip your head back to look up at him, and he kisses you in spite of the awkward angle.

“Yeah?”

You smile up at him. “Oh, yeah.”

“Well, I still say you shoulda won.” Sam laughs as you blush again, and Dean raises a hand for another round as you settle back against his chest.

“I’m pretty sure I did.”

@saenalife @salvachester @misswhizzy  @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog@geeklibrarian@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid    @aprofoundbondwithdean@mamapeterson@mrswhozeewhatsis@littlegreenplasticsoldier  @sleep-silent-angel@darcia22@winchesterprincessbride @jessica-bones-winchester @ellen-reincarnated1967   @deangirl96@iamflanneltrash@deanslittleangel2y5  @melanie451  @juliaspnlover  @lovin-ackles@spectaculacular-sammy   @dyingforlove1992 @bookchic20  @jodyri @selma-jean@avasmommy224 @shadowlightforcast @tonifish@savingapplepie-eatingthings @angelofwinchester17 @kittenofdoomage   @masked-maiden42  @lean-mean-deanwinchester @ericuhlorain @undecided-garden@ceeceewinchester@typicalweirdbookworm@purplecocopops   @feelmyroarrrr@callmesweetheartifyoumeanit  @youtoldalie   @tanithlowisabamf @ch3353y1  @deandoesthingstome @jxackles @nerdwholikesword @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic   @kreweofimp   @deansbaekaz2y5   @trippleberrydeanpie @gabavaldman  @chaos-and-the-calm67  @darkx143@disassociativedogma  @ioanashalala@jencharlan   @deansthirst @randomvlogstuff   @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it @mischief-maker1