#the point is his private life ain’t our business.

[tojiot]

ooh have about the main three with the fake dating trope :D

fake dating the main three

gn!reader, cursing here and there, typos and grammatical errors to be edited, past tense - present tense swerving to be fixed.

note: i was on vacation for 2 days without internet and i have bakugo's done in my notes but my phone died before i can even save it :D this will be kinda long because i went ahead of myself and detailed it exactly how i want. this is not betaed. please do tell me if there's a non they/them pronouns in here. hope you'll enjoy this!

requests are: open!

ㅡ bakugo

i spent the whole day thinking about how he'll agree to fake date. let's just say he's the one in need.

his mom has been bothering him for a long time now. she wants to see katsuki bring home a partner for them to meet.

it's a pain in the ears and he's very TIRED so he decided to just fake date somebody.

the only person he can tolerate in class a aside from kirishima is you. he doesn't care about the other extras.

he'll search for you in the heights' lounge area and ask to talk.

"hey, can we talk?" he grumbles, "uhh, sure? do you want to talk here or somewhere private?" "somewhere private."

when you guys are in a more private area, he'd glare at you for a minute, it'll make you wonder if you did something wrong, before finally speaking.

"date me for a fucking day."

you'll snort at what he said and laugh thinking it was a joke but the annoyed and impatient look on his face says otherwise.

"wait.. are you for real?" "what do you think, shithead?"

bakugo trusts you so much that you have this significant role to play in his life.

you agreed, of course. it's the bakugo katsuki asking for your help. a once in a lifetime chance. (you just like him, stop making things up)

he brings you to the bakugo household the day after and his house is BIG big.

mitsuki, his mom, welcomes you with a big smile and a hug. he then glares at his son, "WHY ARE YOU ONLY BRINGING THIS PRETTY LITTLE CREATURE NOW, YOU BRAT?" "SHUT UP, OLD HAG! BE NICE OR I AIN'T BRINGING THEM HERE NO MORE."

masaru, who's just sitting there at the couch like nothing's happening, gives you a wave.

the dinner was good. his mom's a great cook, his father's a chatterbox. what surprised you the most was how quiet katsuki is. you're not sure why. maybe he's like this at home? quiet, calm, just serene.

"it's not everyday i see a person who can tame my brat of a son. i can see why he likes you, (y/n)." his mom beams at you, "you're pretty, a kind little one too. take care of my son, will ya?"

not knowing what to say, you smiled at her and said what's currently inside your mind, "if he'll let me, i'll take care of him for the rest of my life." you looked down, "but knowing katsuki, he doesn't need anyone to take care of him. he's strong and independent and he knows it. it'll hurt his pride if someone helps him without him asking them to." you smiled to yourself, "i just hope he knows that when he needs me, i'll always be here for him."

mitsuki smiled at you in awe. you have the mother's approval, congrats!

katsuki just stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, masaru pats his back, "good job, son. i'm happy for you."

he then murmured a protest before drinking his water.

time passed by and it's eventually your time to say goodbye to the bakugos.

mitsuki hugs you for the last time and ask you to come have dinner with them again, masaru pats your head and thanks you for being there for his son.

both of you were in a car provided by the school for safety protocols when he spoke, "did you mean it?"

you looked at him, confused, "mean what?" "what you said earlier to my mom, shithead. did you mean it?" "well, yeah. i mean it when i say i'll always be here for you."

he wore this unreadable and unclear expression on his face. he looks mad? confused? no one knows.

"why?" he asked, "why what?" "WHY DO YOU KEEP MAKING ME REPEAT MYSELF. WHY DID YOU SAY IT?" "YOU'RE A FRIEND OF MINE, THAT'S IT."

he chuckled bitterly, "a friend. that's fucking funny. i literally though you also like me for a second."

huh.. what does he mean? also? you laughed nervously, "hey, did i hear you right? thought i heard 'also' there."

"you're fucking dense, aren't you? do you want me to scream it straight at your face? i fucking like you."

you froze. yes, but embarrassment caught up and you covered your reddened face, "WHY ARE YOU SUDDENLY CONFESSING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT? WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SAY?"

"I AIN'T EXPECTING YOU TO SAY ANYTHING, SHITHEAD!" "I LIKE YOU TOO!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY OF A CONFESSION." "IT'S NOT A PITY OF A CONFESSION BUT FINE! I DON'T LIKE YOU." "OKAY THEN. I'M BRINGING SOMEONE ELSE NEXT DINNER AND TELL THE OLD HAG WE BROKE UP." "NOOOOOOO!!"

ㅡ todoroki

i was contemplating whether to have him help fake date or have him need help. it's fitting if he's the one in need so i decided just that.

he might seem dense and clueless most of the time but he's the epitome of evilness.

he talks about you all the time that's why fuyumi has taken a liking to you and asked shoto to invite you to dinner with them.

shoto sees this as a chance. he'll take advantage of the situation because he knows you won't say no.

he goes to where you are sitting, "i apologize but my sister, fuyumi, she thinks we're dating. she wants to invite you to dinner at our house later." he said that with a straight face but this mf is smirking on the inside.

"uhhh, okay? sure? but uhm, why would she think we're dating?" "she thinks everyone close to me is dating me. she's like that.. yes. fuyumi likes you the most, i think. that's.. uh, that's why she's inviting you to dinner." (I HC HIM AS A BAD LIAR)

sounds suspicious and weird, but okay? you have a lot of question in mind.

"i would go. but how should i act? why didn't you tell her we aren't dating though?" "i don't want to disappoint my sister. you can act like you're dating me, if it's fine with you. just for a day."

"sure, sure! just tell me where and what time. i'll be there." "no, you can come with me. we'll go there together."

he brings you to the todoroki household after class. their house is soooo pretty. it's a traditional japanese house.

fuyumi was the first one to greet you, with her sparkling eyes and bright smile, she held both your hands gently and said, "i'm so glad you came! i've been wanting to ask shoto to have you come eat with us. thank you for coming!"

natsuo jogged from the back and gave you a cool wave, "hey, (y/n). how was it dealing with shoto?"

you faked sighed, "awful. how did you deal with him for the last 16 years?" "we never did." "oh.... OH NO I'M SORRY!" "HAHAHA. it's fine, i'm just kidding. no biggie."

enji won't be home for the day. he's busy doing number 1 hero works.

the dinner was fun. it was the funniest dinner you have ever had.

shoto's quietness is the exact opposite of natsuo's talkativeness. that man is talkative and funny as fuck. throwing jokes everywhere. it was entertaining.

all shoto did was take care of you. he serves you all the food you point at, gets you water, he even went too close for comfort and wiped a stain just above your lips. it made you blush, yes. you don't know why but it left you lightheaded. (you're in love with him, that's why)

fuyumi.. our beautiful and beloved fuyumi.

she exposed his brother's ass.

"aww. you guys are so cute together. ah! (y/n), do you remember that time when.. uhm, kaminari was it? i forgot his name but do you remember that time where he told you, midoriya, and the girls to wear a maid costume for the festival because your class is having a maid cafe booth? shoto told me you were so pretty that time! he hated how the boys in your class looked at you like you were some sweet treat, isn't that right, shoto?"

"and do you remember when you fought bakugo at the sports festival? where it was a close fight and you gave him a hard time? shoto said you won if the decision was up to him and that you were so cool!"

and she went on and on.

shoto was red as a tomato (or even redder) beside you. he was clutching his pants as if he was asking the floor to just eat him up.

you decided to ask him about this later to not uncover the fake dating plan.

dinner ended after a little talking, fuyumi gave you leftovers to take home which you will not reject because her cooking is divine, and asked you to come again after giving you a big and warm hug.

natsuo gave you a high five and thanked you for coming. he also thanked you for laughing at his jokes. he feels like he's very funny now.

both said goodbye to shoto.

the journey back to the heights was quiet but not awkward. it seems like shoto knew you have a lot in mind.

you spoke when he's about to open the main door. "what was that?" he looked at you with a confused expression, "the one at dinner."

"ah, if it isn't obvious yet after my sister opened her mouth, i like you. i have been for a long time now." he said that with a deadpan expression, "it annoyed me at first, it annoyed me that you're in my mind whenever i try to sleep, you're in my mind everytime i wake up. it annoyed me that i want nothing more than to hold you near me, hold your hands, warm you up with my fire everytime you feel cold, hug you, kiss you." he sighed frustratedly, "i just want to do everything with you... i'm sorry. i'm not good with words."

WELL YOU DID NOT EXPECT HIM TO BE THIS STRAIGHTFORWARD.

but again, this is todoroki shoto.

"..what? shoto... i didn't know you felt that way. why didn't you tell me?" you asked him concernedly, you lifted your hand to hold his face but stopped halfway thinking maybe he doesn't want to be touched.

but then he held your hand and guided it to hold his face, "i didn't actually plan to confess but when people started talking about how good of a hero you'd become in the future and when everyone started saying they all want to date you, that's when i decided it's now or never." he looked at your eyes, "i don't want to lose this chance. that's why i started telling fuyumi stories about you and asking her what to do."

"is that why your sister thought we were dating?" "yes. she knows about how i feel for you. she told me to confess and i told her i did and that it went well. i lied to her. i don't know why."

you coughed, "so, she doesn't really think everyone close to you is dating you?" "yes." "you lied to me?" "yes, i apologize."

"you could have told me you like me too!?" "it's not that easy to confess. plus, i really wanted to know how everything will go. it went well, i'm satisfied. you like me too, right?" "i do, shoto. i like you so much." he smiled at you, that rare fucking smile he knows is pretty, "that's enough for me."

"BUT YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF EVERYTHING?" "yes. yes, i did." "WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU!!?" "date me, (y/n)" "OKAY!"

ㅡ midoriya

a lot of guys from the other class have been bothering you. they kept on asking for your number and stuff. one even sent you flowers and a box of chocolates.

you appreciate it if you're being honest. what you don't appreciate is them sticking to you the whole lunch.

you told mina what's happening and she told you that the best shot of getting off those admirers of yours is to date somebody.

you don't wanna to that though. aside from focusing on studies, you have feelings for this certain someone with green messy hair and freckles. you don't want to date someone just to use them and lie to them.

"you know, what if you just get your shit together and confess to midoriya?" "MINA, BE QUIET! SOMEONE MIGHT HEAR YOU!" "confess to midoriya!" she whispired.

"or just ask him to date you until your followers stop following you around?" kaminari interjects, "what, you mean like, fake date him?" "yeah. something like that." "you're really useful sometimes, aren't you?" "shut up, mina."

you've thought about it all night. would izuku think i'm using him? would he reject the idea? would he be mad about it?

after contemplating, you finally went out of your room and walked straight at his door. he opened it with a smile after 3 knocks.

"hey, (y/n)! how can i help you?"

you looked at him nervously. what you were about to ask is a big part to act. "i will get straight to the point. some people from the other classes have been bothering me for a while now. they keep on following me and asking for my number even though i rejected them all the time. i want to ask you if you could date me? IT'S FAKE! OF COURSE. will you please fake date me until they get off me? i, uh, i'm not taking advantage of your kindness. i promise. right?" you said with a shaking voice.

he laughed at your rambling, "no need to be nervous, (y/n)! i would love to do the honors and fake date you! it's like an undercover hero mission. it's so cool! when do we start?"

you smiled at his enthusiasms. izuku is really the kindest person here on earth. you told him what to do, who those people are, etc. your fake dating starts tomorrow.

izuku was waiting outside your door when you opened it, he has his usual beaming smile when you saw him, "hi, (y/n)! ready to start our mission?" he's surely so into this whole thing.

you both walked down the lounge area holding each other's hand. everyone was gaping at the sight except todoroki who remained munching on his sandwich and bakugo who, well, "fucking finally you idiots." he said.

izuku let go of your hand and held both his hands up while shaking his head in a panicky manner, "no, no! we're just fake dating. i'm helping (y/n) get rid of their admirers! they said it was bothering them!"

"okay. but (y/n), why deku?" the motherfucker was smirking at you. todoroki, bless him, caught the panic in your eyes and called bakugo off. "that's enough, bakugo. leave them alone." "tsk! fucking icyhot a fucking killjoy."

most of your admirers stopped following you after they saw you holding hands with izuku. he's been doing a lot for you. he tried to tie your hair at training and brought you water. nothing much happened inside the classroom because everyone knows it's just a show. lots of outsiders believe you're dating izuku. some still bothers you from time to time especially at lunch.

you were sitting with bakugo, todoroki, kirishima, and of course, izuku, when a group of 3 went to your table (they're brave. no one would come bother bakugo's table because everyone's terrified of him.)

"hey, (y/n). can you give me your number now? i just wanted to get to know you better." "(y/n) give me your number! i'll send you lots of chocolates. i promise!" "they're liars but i'm not. i'd take you to your favorite movie this sunday of you'll give me your number?"

you pursed your lips in an annoyed manner, your friends are here and they're embarrassing you. you were about to speak when izuku beats you to it, "please stop bothering (y/n). it's obvious that my partner doesn't want to give you their number."

the group stared at each other with bewildered expressions on their faces, one looked at izuki and asked, "partner? you mean, combat partner or boyfriend? (y/n)'s dating someone?"

izuku wore a prideful expression on his face, "yes, i am their boyfriend and they're dating someone. that's why with all due respect, please leave them alone."

the 3 backed out and apologized. not everyone has the same personality as mineta. the person who seemed like their leader walked forward and bowed, "we're so sorry. we should've stopped when they rejected us the first time. they're just so intriguing that's why we wanted to know more about them. we're really sorry." with that, they left.

you faced izuku and thanked him. it was nice to finally walk and look around without seeing unfamiliar faces follow you. "thank you so much, izuku! you saved me. really."

he smilled at you, "it's nothing! i'd do anything for (y/n)." izuku froze at what he said and started chuckling anxiously, "i.. i didn't mean it like that! hahaha! but if you need anything, i, uhm, i'd always be glad to help." you stared at him and said, "me too, izuku. i'd always be glad to help you! you can come to me everytime you need something." he blushed at what you said.

"FUCKING IDIOTS JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY! I'M TIRED OF HEARING BOTH YOUR SHIT! CONFESS TO EACH OTHER GODDAMNIT!" "oi bakugo. that's not how to do it." "SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR!" "bakugo, you're too noisy." "YOU HALF AND HALF BASTARD I'M TIRED OF YOU TOO!"

izuku coughed tensely, "(y/n), can i talk to you outside? i just need to tell you something." you nodded, "of course!" you both stood up and left the table of wild animals.

when the two of you got outside, izuku's hands were obviously shaking so without a thought, you held it. "are you okay?" "I AM... i am." "why are you acting like this? did something happen?" you asked worriedly.

"no, everything's fine. i just.. i don't know how it started but i just woke up one day thinking how i'd love you to be mine. i want to walk you to school, i want to tell everyone i'm your boyfriend, i want to kiss you good night. haha, is it to much to ask, (y/n)? i like you a lot." he told you that nervously, the boy was shaking and sweating.

"i can't believe it... izuku, i like you too. oh god, are you serious?" "i am, haha! i didn't know you feel the same. i'm really happy!" "i didn't know you feel the same too! half of our classmates knew that i like you. katsuki's just too noisy. he literally told everyone when you did extra training." "(y/n).. kacchan also knows about my feelings for you! he told todoroki and kirishima. is that why he's so persistent in getting us together?" "i don't know. that's just how he is."

you both were awkward as fuck but izuku asked if you'd like to date for real and you said yes.

when you came back to the table, it was bakugo who spoke first, "are you idiots finally together?" you replied to him with a middle finger which aggravated the blondie, "YOU FUCKER!"

[cowboy-canoodler]

Can’t Teach The Mad Dog New Tricks, Chapter 1 (Majima Goro x GN! Reader) SMUT

This work is for 18+ readers only, minors DNI ! ! !

You’re the captain to The Majima Family of The Tojo Clan of Kamurocho, a diligent worker who balances out Majima’s own brand of crazy.

You trust him and he trusts you, but does that trust go deeper?

Are there feelings you previously hadn’t thought about?

And just how far are both of you willing to go so the other may survive?

Tags: TW: Blood, knives, stab wounds, bullet wounds, doctors, fighting, smoking, “c-word use” Slow Burn, Angst, Fluff, Smut, blowjob (giving), dry humping, whining, bottom Majima, praise kink, edging, throat fucking, almoat public fingering/handjob, possessive sex, dirty talking, private fingering/anal fingering

Notes:

“Seiko” is a nickname for the reader, not an OC or a specific gender, it’s a moniker like Hawke or Shepherd in their respective games.

Set during the year off in Yakuza 3-4

Also:

When the reader is having sexual things done to them I have included separate vagina and penis versions just read the one that accommodates you. Chest and body descriptions are left gender neutral; it's only genitalia that’s different. If you’re unfamiliar with the way I write I try my best to be as inclusive as I can for the reader. This includes writing separate paragraphs for each genitalia (penis and vagina) while also including non-descript hair, skin, chest, and body sizes. If you feel that I haven’t done a very good job at that in particular parts of this fic please let me know and I will alter it to the best of my ability.Slowly working on this while balancing life.

Also this chapter has no smut but the rest of the work does

“We all know what you and Majima-san get up to you behind the closed doors” the lieutenant of a small family said out loud as you collectively waited patiently for the officers meeting to be finished.

You were there with a calm, level headed, expression. Your eyes fixed on the painting on the other side of the hallway as you stood by for Majima to either be told to leave or for him to walk out on his own terms when it got too boring.

“It’s no wonder a newbie was able to be promoted so quickly in their family,” another snide comment from a different lieutenant, once again from a smaller family but a family that was getting too big for its britches, “sleep with the patriarch and you’re sure to move up in the world.” A couple of them laughed as you took a deep breath in, your calm composure falling ever so slightly as a sensitive topic was touched upon.

It was true that you had moved up quickly within the ranks of The Majima family but you hadn’t gotten to where you are now by sleeping with Majima himself. He had always seen how diligently you had worked, sticking to The Yakuza ideals and always keeping a level head when doing your work. Right now, however, you did not have to work, there was no reason to keep these low-level lieutenants happy with you, or the family you belonged to, as you thought of that your hand slowly slipped into the back of your suit and grasped the dagger that was tucked away, ‘always for safe keeping’ Majima would say to you. This, however, did not mean to keep it safe, but to keep you safe, always.

“Gotta admit” the one who had spoken up first walked towards you, a cocky smirk on his face as he strode towards where you were patiently stood, hidden dagger in hand. “Someone who’s so good at keeping level headed does suit Majima-san the most, like that Nishida guy, gotta keep someone calm to balance out the craaaazyyy” his last few words had been drawn out in a mocking manner, a hand raised to his right temple and jokingly twirling in the air to represent his words.

As the other men laughed you pulled out your dagger, grabbed his hand, and turned the tides, pinning his face down against the wall where you had previously stood while twisting his arm and pressing the dagger against his neck. “Mock me all you like,” you whispered into his ear as the other men gasped, “but mock Majima-sama and we have serious problems,” you pushed the dagger further into his skin, a slither of blood dripping down the blade as he swallowed his pride, along with his saliva, “I don’t think your family would survive against ours, would they?” Your tone was one of feigned ignorance, calm and inquisitive as you asked the quivering coward simple questions. “Perhaps you should think before picking a fight with someone you can’t handle, particularly me and Majima-sama, hm?”

Before your victim could reply the door swung open and Majima came into view, his brow furrowed and an angry glare emanating from his good eye. Immediately you stood back, placed your hands firmly at your sides and bowed to greet him.

“Sir! I wasn’t-“

“It’s nothing Seiko-kun, musta deserved it. What’d he do?” A small grin made its way to Majima’s lips as he admired your devotion, he knew you only got that way when someone had insulted him, or the family, personally.

“Nothing that concerns you, Majima-sama , believe me-“ you glared over at the guy and held up your dagger to him once more, “it’s not worth your precious time” you placed the dagger back into its sheath and hid it behind your back once more

“No sir!” The lieutenants bowed as an apology before Majima shrugged and began walking down the hall.

“If ya say so, let’s go Seiko-kun” Majima began walking away and you followed closely behind, your eyes upfront and calm as you made your way out of Tojo HQ and into the car, you in the driver's seat and Majima behind.

A couple of minutes had passed in silence, both of you enjoying the calm of each other's company as you focused on the road and Majima focused on you. His eye bore a hole into the back of your head and you saw it every time you checked behind the car in the mirror, but you chose to say nothing. He was obviously in a bad mood from the meeting, him escaping partway through with a scowl was enough to tell you that, but usually there was chatter in the car as you rode back to the office.

“So what happened?” Majima broke the silence after a couple minutes of staring out of the window, he must have grown bored with the passing cars.

“They said things I didn’t agree with”

“Like?"

“Do you really need to know?”

“Now,” Majima tutted as a smile made its way back to his face, a finger pointed up and waving side to side, “is that any way to treat your boss?”

“Tch-“ you looked back in the mirror and saw his smirk before moving your eyes back to the road, you hated how he knew your weaknesses, “they said we were sleeping together, and that was the only reason I had been so successful, and so quick, with my promotions in the family”

“Ohh, no wonder you were so harsh on ‘em, I woulda been, too” Majima leaned back and looked out of the window as he crossed his leg, his right ankle on his left knee and his lightly hands resting on the inner of his thighs. “Having your achievements pinned on something you didn’t do that woulda been a lot easier, sure as shit ain’t nice to hear- ah- I didn’t mean it like that-“

Knowing Majima had your back always brought a smile to your, usually calm, face. A small display of emotion that was usually kept hidden, on show just for him. “I know what you mean, don’t worry about it, to be honest, I would have slept with you if I could but you were always so damn busy”

“Oh? You woulda?” Majima’s gaunt cheeks reddened a little as he looked over at you, smirking and staring at him in the mirror, “oh- you’re joking” he rolled his eyes and sighed looking back to the window at the passing cars.

“You got really happy at that Majima-sama, something you wanna tell me?”

“Eat shit”

You sat there staring at each other through the mirror as the car sat at a red light before bursting into fits of laughter

The light turned green and you drove off towards the office once again, the last few minutes sat in a happy silence between you both, appreciating the content atmosphere you had cultivated with Majima. Your eyes often wandered back to the mirror to watch him in his small and comfortable world, one of the few places he could let his guard down a little before heading back into his role as Patriarch and Senpai to the family, plus his jacket did nothing to cover himself and you did so enjoy watching him breathe.

“We're here, sir” you said before stepping out of the car and opening his door for him, once more bowing as he exited.

“Thanks Seiko-kun” Majima smiled at you before walking to the doors, hands in pockets and his guard back up once more in the characteristic sway of his hips. You stood and watched him walk away amongst his family members who were all bowed with their head low to greet their patriarch, and you. Another member ran up to you and bowed as you stood aside to let him take over the car and park it in The Family’s usual spot.

The feeling of walking amongst your peers as their captain was still a strange one, while you had filled in the role easily and commanded their respect it was still very alien to you being their commander. Listening to the shallow breathing of the men at your side as you walked past calm and collected, sticking to the Yakuza code and showing them the amount of respect you were supposed to, was rough and something you had never fully agreed with. These men were willing to die for Majima and the family, the same way you would, and probably will, and not being able to show all of them what that means to both you and Majima was insulting. A code that doesn’t value the people who uphold it, not just the top brass who are in charge but those grunts who do the hard work, is a code that will die. It was inevitable.

As you came to the doors you looked back at the men, still bowing low and waiting for you to enter the building, and then down at the pin on your lapel. A familiar, warm feeling spread through your chest as you felt the comfort of your found family before turning back around and proceeding into the offices.

Majima usually took time to himself after a meeting he didn't agree with, usually they were asking him to do something he didn’t wish to do or demanding The Majima family lay their lives down for some bullshit cause. Everytime a Patriarch dies, or a family has to disband Majima, more often than not, would get up to 200 hundred new recruits into his own, making it the biggest of The Tojo Clan so he’s always asked to lay down his men's lives for the sake of Daigo or the greater good. It’s really one of his biggest peeves about being tied down into the Tojo Clan, while he was, ultimately, in charge of his family he had to obey Daigo’s orders no matter what. Yakuza code to uphold and all, and Majima always upholds his moral codes even at the cost of his dignity, freedom, or life.

-

A couple of hours passed and you had kept yourself occupied looking over paperwork concerning the finances of The Family, sorting out spending, repair work for damages made to Majima family turf, and collection payments from said turf. This was the work that you liked, the filing and organisation of it all, keeping things behind the scenes running smoothly. It was what you were good at, the best in the family if your title was anything to go by, and you often felt proud of the work you did, and how little you made mistakes.

Of course there were others who handled the wages and every day frivolities, you were there to check any major problems or spare work whenever you had a moment to breathe away from Majima… but you hadn’t heard from him, not a hair or even a whisper of what he was doing right now.

“Hmm...” you hummed, quietly putting your documents down and looking out of the window, “he’s been too quiet tonight… maybe I should check in on him” the statement seemed to be questioning but you had already placed your documents into the drawer before speedily heading to the door.

The halls of Millennium Tower were always so quiet, the slightest cough or sneeze ringing and echoing through the walls of your floor. Just like the footsteps you were making that erupted through the desolate silence. As you walked down you nodded to the guards, men were stationed at each door, 2 at yours and Majima’s, and 1 at the lieutenants along with their respective groupies inside the rooms when needed.

Your footsteps continued to echo through the halls as you passed various doors, the guards bowing in respect as menial mumbling chatter rang through the cracks of each room until you came to Majima’s corridor, you walked up and signalled his men to move further down the hall. Still on guard but with a little more privacy. You took a moment to yourself before knocking lightly and waiting for a response.

“Who‘s banging at my door this fuckin’ late?”

“It’s Seiko, sir”

“Oh… justa sec-“

A pause before you heard something heavy drop behind the door and Majima exclaiming painfully.

“Majima-sama? Are you okay?” More groans of pain made your heart quicken in worry, the beating echoing into your ears overpowered your, usually, calm composure, “I’m coming in!” Hastily you opened the door and saw Majima sat on his couch clutching his foot, and a bowling ball on the floor slowly rolling towards you.

“Ah,” you chuckled to yourself, “I think I see what happened”

“Just tryna have a happy memory and it’s gotta do that shit to me?!” Majima sighed and leaned back, legs apart and knees spread wide with his arms stretched out along the back of the seat. You smiled and closed the door behind you before picking up the ball and walking over to him, bowing for respect, and placing the ball back into the open bag on the coffee table, his eye following you every step of the way.

“Are you hurt Majima-san?”

“Naw- well... my pride maybe? Having you see me like this sure is a kick in the dick” he rolled his eye and looked away from you, sending his pout out of the window.

“Better than an actual kick in the dick though, right?” His response was nothing more than a click of his tongue and a sigh as he rolled his head, and his eye, back, “I hadn’t heard from you tonight so I thought I’d check in. After today’s meeting you seemed preoccupied, maybe even a little stressed-“

“I ain’t stressed Seiko-kun” his tone was short and guarded as he raised his head to meet your gaze.

“With all due respect Majima-sama, you are. I know you very well, better than most, and I know something happened in that meeting today” you sighed at his silence and sat in an adjacent chair, placing your chin on your fist and staring at him with bored eyes. He looked at you and scowled before averting his eye back to the window, but you continued to stare and crossed your legs.

“Tch- it’s just- it’s shit The Chairman’s got me doing, now that he’s healed and able to lead again, plus losing Mine and shit, everything’s just gone to fuck and I’m the one who has to put it together again”

You could see how annoyed it made him to be tied down like this, he just wants to do his own thing with people he trusts surrounding him but every time something happened in The Clan Majima was usually the one who had to clean up the mess and with every mess he got tied down even more.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t like in 2006 when you were able to just break away and start on Kamurocho Hills… although-“ he looked back over to you, eye soft and pleading behind his dagger-like glare, “-technically there’s not much stopping you from doing the same right now, if that’s what you choose to do, sir”

“Nothing but a promise”

“To whom?”

“Kiryu Kazama"

You both sat in silence for a moment, the muffled sounds of Kamurocho below echoing into the dimly lit room. The silence was suffocating, unsaid feelings and context ripping the two of you apart before you gathered the courage to break it.

“I see, you do hate breaking promises, sir"

“You really do think you know me don’t you Seiko-chan? Huh?!” Majima stood up and balled up his fists, the soft squelch of leather rubbing against itself filling the angry atmosphere. You sat there and stared at him silently, your eyes telling him you weren’t buying this façade he was putting up. “Ain’t nothing worse n’ a guy who can’t even keep his word. It’s too much that we let Yakuza get this fuckin’ soft all this time, only caring about makin’ money and being on top. Ain't shit without the strength to back it up.”

Majima turned around and sighed before walking over to the window, he placed his elbow above his head and stared down at Kamurocho like a lion watching and guarding over his pride.

“Is this about Makoto Tateyama-san?”

Once again, silence.

You could hear Majima’s breathing getting heavier as he thought about how he wanted to approach this with you and you sat there ready to take it all, he needed to get his emotions out and into the open. Carrying a torch for someone for 21 years wasn’t exactly healthy and the only way Majima knew how to take his mind from it was filling his days with menial tasks, or finding people to fight to prove to himself

“It’s been 4 years since she left the country with her family” you could see Majima’s fist tightening and the scowl on his face getting even angrier as he continued to stare out of the window.

His voice was low, almost a growl, and nothing like his usual scratchy tone “you should know when to shut up and to keep her name outta your mouth”

“I can tell you how she’s doing if you wish, I have people checking on her and her family often to make sure she’s safe”

Majima’s breath hitched in his throat and he looked over to you, his eyebrows still knitted together but now in a combined look of anger, curiosity, and affection. “Why? I never ask’d ya to do that, how’d ya even know?!” He took a step towards you, his arm falling down to his hip and hands still balled into fists. You stood up and clasped your hands behind your back keeping eye contact with him.

“When I joined the family I had my sights fixed on becoming your captain as fast as I could so I dug into your past. The things that happened with Shimano-san and Saejima-san, Yuki-chan and Makoto-san.” He stopped and stared at you, eye wide with awe and mouth slightly agape along with his still knitted brow, “I’ve made it my goal to make sure no loose ends come and bite you in the ass in the future, and that the people you care about are taken care of no matter what. I had hoped to keep your mind at ease.”

“At ease?” Majima’s voice was barely a whisper, the words only just crawling their way to your ears as you stood your ground. “Finding out one of the only people I trust is going behind my back to get info on me, that’s supposed’ta put my mind at ease? Huh?!” Majima’s voice rolled into a roar as he took a step towards you, the anger radiating off of him and his mad eye shaking around as he bore a hole into your skull with glare alone.

“Yes.”

Your reply was short and abrupt, the final tipping point before Majima ran towards you and grabbed your collar pushing you back into the wall. You both grunted at the impact as books fell off of his shelves. Your hands came up and gripped his arms in a futile effort to keep him at bay, there was no way you’d be able to take The Mad Dog in any kind of fight, not that you’d want to but you had to try to calm him down somehow.

“The fuck you think you are?! Huh?!”

“The one person who’s always on your side no matter what Majima-san!” He didn’t budge, “I didn’t do it for blackmail or for any kind of leverage, if I wanted that I wouldn’t have worked so fucking hard to get to where I am now. Here! Right by your fucking side where I plan to stay!”

Tears blinded your vision as you poured your heart out to him, the things you admire most about Majima flashing through your mind as his grip on your collar loosened.

The way he never backed down from fights.

His loyalty to the people close to him, especially his family.

The promises he never breaks no matter how hard it is to get to the result.

How hard he fights when he lets loose, especially when he fights Kiryu.

His smile.

His laugh.

His nose.

His lips.

Him…

“Sei- no… (Y/N)-kun…” him saying your name made your heart skip a beat and the breath in your lungs disappear. His hands lay on your chest, slightly smoothing down the fabric of your creased shirt and he averted his gaze, almost sheepishly, as he realised what he had done.

“Unless you throw me out yourself I don’t ever plan on leaving you, Majima-san. Not for all the Yen in Japan, not even to start my own family-“

“You’d be a great patriarch, y’know”

You smiled and lightly sighed, “not nearly as great as you.”

A small gasp made it’s way past his lips once more before his gaze made its way back to your own, eye slightly watering as you studied him making sure to remember every little detail you could. Only now could you feel how close he had gotten, Majima’s breath a small breeze upon your lips, both of you breathing in eachothers air.

All the blood in your body became intimately known to you as well as where it was rushing to. The heat rising in your cheeks and the small, rushed, beating of your heart echoing into your eardrums.

Majimas voice was barely above a whisper as he leaned his head forward, eye now focused solely on his gloved hand smoothing down your shirt. “Seiko I…” he let out a breathy sigh before a small smile made its way into his lips, Kansai accent slipping from his words, “I haven’t felt this comfortable alone with someone in years, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel… not anymore”

“I know” you were in no position to give him advice about how to feel when your own emotions were hardly ever in check, “I’ll be here whenever you need to feel comfortable. No matter how far away I am, even if another family has me locked up. I’ll fight my way to you with every fibre of my being, nothing will keep me from you Majima. Our world has no enemy I won’t kill to make my way back to you.”

He leaned his head down slightly, eye closing as he became more and more vulnerable the closer he got to you, and you felt the same about him. Your breath became shakier as your heart continued to beat out of turn, you leaned your head forward and pressed your forehead against his, feeling how hot his body was, your noses barely touching and your hand resting on his bicep.

Kamurocho stopped in those few seconds, no sounds, no lights, no traffic, just the two of you alone on this earth.

Majima was the first to move, his hand creeping up to the side of your neck and his head tilting to the right as he brought your lips closer together, your breath trapped in your lungs as you anticipated his lips upon yours. Your eyes had been focused on anything but his gaze until now, you looked up and he had already been studying you. Just as your lips were about to touch there was a knock at the door, both of you jumped and parted before someone walked in and bowed, looking like he had bad news.

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt but there’s a phone call from The Chairman, he says it’s urgent”

Majima sighed and turned away from you, the lingering heat from his hand on your chest slowly fading away as you averted your gaze. All of the trapped air in your lungs made its way out and you stood there out of breath and embarrassed.

“You should get that! I’ll leave you alone. Thank you for seeing me Majima-sama, have a good night.” You bowed and Majima opened his mouth to protest but before he could you quickly made your way out of the door and down the hall to the elevator, face red and still short of breath.

Once the elevator doors closed, and you were alone, everything hit you and you couldn’t stop yourself falling onto the wall for support, the cool metal of the lift. All breath left your lungs as the emotions took over, arms wrapping around yourself and eyes fixed on the floor as you tried everything you could to calm down the thoughts in your head and the thoughts in your heart.

You remained that way until the elevator came to the floor of your office. You stepped out, having regained your calm persona, and walked down the halls with your hands firmly by your side, the right one almost burning as you remembered the feeling of Majima’s bicep in your grip. Your chest aflame with his handprint as you continued trying to keep your composure, determined not to let any of The Family see you like this.

You spent the remainder of your night awake and alone in your office, laying down on your couch with a pillow for company and the Kamurocho sounds, and rain, for ambience. Each thought was of him, how close the two of you had gotten, and how much closer you were about to get before you were interrupted.

[kkyujikoo]

These are my... 2...? Maybe 50, cents about the whole "freejk" thing. I'm gonna be extremely petty and at some points a whole lot sarcastic and it's gonna be long but I had to say it. As soon as I get my computer I'm gonna make it under read more, but the app does whatever it wants, as we know.

Listen, this ain't my first fan rodeo, and not even the first fan rodeo where I've been directly or indirectly accused of being some sort of pervert or delulu. I've been in fandom spaces since I was a teen, I was shipping mlm couples when queerbaiting in TV shows was still something that was seen as the norm rather than some cheap disgusting trick. I was there when fanfic spaces saw "slash" fics as something "different" and to be tagged with a more mature rating even when they just looked at each other.

I was in BBC's Sherlock's fandom and I shipped Johnlock during the hiatus between S3 and S4, at this point I'm not even feeling it when people call me delulu or a weirdo.

So, yeah, take this with a grain of salt: as a person who has seen thousands of times fandom drama unfolding and has lived too much of it... This whole situation is so ridiculous it makes me laugh. Like, yeah, it's maddening how people will blame anyone and everyone because they don't even see their own bias and homophobia, granted, but like... It also makes me laugh for the sheer dumbassery of the reasoning behind it all?

Like... Y'all are getting mad and for what? Because it sure as hell isn't the invasion of privacy, since y'all are watching the same content we're all watching and you're paying to see it the same way everyone else is. If you don't want to "invade their privacy", you should just... Stop watching content that isn't their music videos, RUN episodes or interviews. Memories and any kind of dvd/video that shows what they're doing behind the scenes shouldn't be part of their job as musicians, and therefore we're intruding in their privacy... Or aren't we?

Or maybe it's more nuanced than that: maybe the content they release on dvd/on their official channels is part of their job as entertainers, and it's been approved, and it's a small window THEY are granting us.

You know what's the REAL invasion of privacy and what REALLY invalidates someone autonomy? When you, who maybe aren't even paying to see that content (which is something I understand, like, dude, I'm not covered in money either), DEMAND what kind of behind the scenes content you want when I swear ABSOLUTELY NO ONE has asked you. Once again: you don't like it? You think it's some huge invasion of privacy? Don't buy it. Don't interact with it. Convince your friends to do the same. For all I care, just go and petition to boycott this kind of content. I know you won't do it, because... That's the thing, isn't it? It's not the invasion of privacy that bothers these people.

Y'all aren't mad because we get into their business or else you would have gotten real mad when we were privy to REAL private moments like people crying their hearts out.

No, no. Y'all are mad because it's "shipping content" and "fanservice" which apparently bothers you because it lacks authenticity.

Pick a side, lovelies: either you DON'T want to invade their privacy, and thus all the content they release should be focused on what fans want to see, or you WANT to know how they interact TRULY in private.

And here's the catch: "shipping content" can be anything. Shipping existed WAAAAAYYY before the word for it was invented, same way with fanfictions. Shipping means, literally, "seeing two (or more) people interact and thinking they would make a good romantic pair". That's it. That's quite literally it. Everything else is just some nuance of the concept of shipping, but at its core, it's nearly impossible to ban all shipping content when it's a group of seven people, because they should for real go in social distancing mode to do so. Most people who have parasocial relationships tend to have "ships" whether they know it or not, because we've all, at least once, looked at a dynamic from the outside and thought "oh man they look cute together". So, even if, o dear ones, your wishes were granted... What the hell do you mean by "shipping" content? Should they just film solo clips, avoiding talking about the other members? But wouldn't that be fanservice, since it's focused on pleasing the fans? (Which, ultimately, is what fanservice MEANS, and I hate to break it to y'all but the whole concept behind entertainment and thus all the content BTS releases it's... For the fans. Like, they're not going out of their way to just meet our expectations but they're certainly doing fanservice by the mere act of releasing bonus content.)

But it's not even quite that, is it? Because no one bats an eye if it's Tae kissing Nj's cheek. I've seen no hashtag against everyone - and I mean literally every one of them - wolf whistling at Nj. It's okay to show intimacy... Because they're bandmates and it's okay to be close to someone who you see basically 24/7, I hear you. And it's also okay when people see that and gush over that closeness, because it's such a nice thing to see.

Soooooo... We've got to free JK from whom exactly? From what?

Are y'all mad cause people pointed out there's very little way a bruise that stayed for a whole ass night could be a quick bite? Because that doesn't harm jk, at most makes fun of him and jimin and their poor excuses (seriously, guys, next time consider using mosquitoes or "I was doing stuff". It'll be equally embarrassing but at least the meme will be funny), and it's literally... A fair observation. Like. It's a hickey, people are gonna make jokes about seeing a hickey and poor excuses of covering it up in the exact same way they're gonna make jokes over jimin falling out of chairs. And yeah, a hickey is AT LEAST something that happens in a sensual context. Like, I could understand "people who are extremely familiar with each other will have different body language/touch in areas where usually you wouldn't see friends touching each other", but that's not. Not a hand on the thigh. It's a hickey on the neck. I don't even know a more stereotypical placing for a hickey. But once again, are y'all mad because someone is pointing it out? Because that's not being delulu or even being a shipper, really, it's just commenting on something that was approved to be shown and discussed in something that was released BY THEM.

Are y'all mad at hybe for showing something that literally fell onto their hands? Cause like, unless someone (I'm counting on Jimin, since as we know Jungkook was busy spinning him round and round and had both his hands busy) called at hybe headquarters to say "yo bang pd substitute, is it okay if I give my friend jk here a hickey? Cause he's being really annoying rn and he has to pay", I highly doubt anyone expected Jungkook to come to rehearsal all neatly marked up. Or idk, maybe someone at hybe asked them "we need Jungkook to come in with a hickey but refuse to say it's a hickey, so that fans will feel reeeeally served." That sounds perfectly plausible too. Or a good marketing strategy.

Now, if you're a big company and your objective is to have some footage of the rehearsals for a concert, and the fandom is too good at noticing stuff for their own good, and one of your artists comes in with a very visible mark, and he and his bff bropal4lyfe come n with a story about how they were playing and a bite happened, you've got three choices: 1. Cut the artist out of aaaaalll the footage. Someone would have noticed the "bite mark" anyway, you best believe that. If you don't want anyone to notice it, you gotta cut him in most of the footage where it's visible. 2. Keep the hickey, discard the explanations. You could do that, but also it would feel a lot more unfaithful to everyone involved. Also they clearly worked their ass off to invent an explanation, come on! They truly tried to do their best inventing something that was not "it's a mosquito bite", they should get some credit! 3. Keep the bite, keep the explanation.

Notice how none of these solutions include the biting never happening because... They couldn't prevent it? The only thing they have any control over is how they're framing each "accident". And that's not an easy job.

I applaud you, people on the editing team.

So... On whom should we cast the blame now? Ah, yes, I think it's finally time for the ultimate scapegoat of this fandom: Jimin. Which is funny, cause... You know... If this were really about privacy, or being "victims" of shipping... This should be about freeing him too, you know? But obviously Jimin does it for attention, while Jungkook, poor angel that he is, doesn't even know what shipping is.

Furthermore, don't we all know how much Jimin imposes himself in Jungkook's life? To the point where he, multimillionaire man feels compelled to share a car with Jimin even if they're both late in the process. And can't you see how uncomfortable he is, draping himself over Jimin, making Jimin drap himself over him?

Oh lordy, truly such an awful eight years Jungkook spent, choosing to have vacations with someone who made him uncomfortable, spending free time with him, even having to suck his ear in public to the point you can see his saliva just because Jimin was sad :( truly an all-around bad time for Jungkook, as evidenced by alllll those times when he said Jimin was pretty, cute, and all-around knowing every little thing about Jimin. I absolutely concur, the dude would be so much more happy if jimin was not in his life.

Did that sound weird and absolutely ridiculous and a really absurd joke? Because that's what y'all sound like to me. Like. Jungkook is out there living his best life, getting hickeys and showered in affection and y'all paint him as a fucking martyr??? I'm sure he's really truly desperate that Jimin holds him in such high regards 😭😭😭 I can see him suffering whenever he starts doing his own serendipity rendition 😭😭 and when he claimed you are me, I am you as his and Jimin's only 😭😭😭 I cannot believe this poor baby 😭😭😭

I've reached a point where every time I hear this stuff I laugh because the levels of twisting reality when it comes to jikook are extraordinary, Jungkook will have a literally blissed out face and people will cry in outrage.

But coming back to my point: let's pretend you're not mad at Jimin and the possibility that jikook are dating: are y'all mad... At the hickey? Because at this point it seems like the only feasible solution. And if you are, do not worry: I'm sure Jungkook's skin was throughly healed by his boo. A kiss soothes even the worst pain, doesn't it?

[morganaspendragonss]

holding our breath (again)

in which carlos is at the minefield call, like he deserved to be.

title from the projectionist by sleeping at last

ao3 | 1.9k | 2.06 spoilers

They’re late arriving to the scene, the rescue already well underway when Carlos pulls up. His heart sinks when he sees the large 126 emblazoned on the side of the firetruck; normally, he loves getting on calls with them, but an active minefield is the last place he wants to find his danger-magnet boyfriend. His only consolation is that TK should be hanging back with the rest of the team, but that doesn’t stop the fear, which, at this point, is just a given.

Only, he can’t find TK anywhere, and Carlos barely listens to the sheriff briefing them, his need to make sure TK’s safe winning out. He and Owen are the only ones missing, including the paramedics, and Carlos - well, Carlos knows what that means. But he refuses to think it, even if he’s only buying himself a few more seconds of relief.

He heads over to the rest of the 126, pointedly not looking at the minefield as he approaches. Paul greets him with a tight nod, then goes back to staring outwards.

Carlos leans in. “Who’s out there?” he murmurs, though he knows, deep down, that it doesn’t need asking.

Someone needs help, and TK’s nowhere to be seen. It’s an easy conclusion.

Paul’s mouth twists into a sympathetic grimace. “Who do you think?”

Carlos squeezes his eyes shut, feels a hand gripping his shoulder. He takes a couple of steadying breaths, then finally - finally - forces himself to look.

He’s just in time to see TK take another leap, and his breath catches in his throat as he watches TK stumble, hand landing perilously close to the edge of the circle. Carlos had thought there’d be nothing worse than watching the man he loves run into burning buildings, but this… This is some kind of torture, the knowledge that TK’s safety - his life - rests almost entirely on pure luck.

“Why’s TK even out there?” he asks, turning his body towards Paul though his eyes remain locked on his boyfriend. It’s a distraction, of a kind, to stop his mind from barrelling down all the worst case scenarios. “Shouldn’t it be a paramedic with Captain Strand?”

“He is one,” Paul answers. “Dual function medic in New York, apparently. Must have kept his certifications up to date since coming out here. Nancy’s out on medical leave after one of the trial medics ran the ambulance over her foot, and Mr Perfect Record over there chickened out. Captain Vega was going to go but then TK, uh.” Paul stops, clearing his throat nervously, and Carlos feels his own heart rate tick up even as he realises with some relief that TK and Owen are almost at the two boys. When Paul speaks again, his voice is quieter, speeding through the words as if he doesn’t want Carlos to hear them. “He volunteered.”

“He what?” And Carlos does look over then, turning to gape at Paul, which is of course when it happens.

One of the mines goes off.

TK’s name rips out of his mouth as he takes an unconscious step forward, though he’s blocked from going further by a hand on his arm yanking him backwards. Carlos lets himself be manhandled, his mind feeling separate from his body as they wait for the smoke to clear. 

He can just about see TK crouching on the edge of the blast, an arm flung protectively over his head, which at least means he’s alive. He could still be hurt, though, could still be bleeding out, and Carlos has never felt more helpless.

“Breathe, Reyes,” Judd reminds him, leaning close to his ear, and Carlos manages a tight nod even as he feels his chest seize with anxiety. He clenches his hands into fists to stop the shaking, looking over at Captain Vega, praying for a sign that they’re okay.

Then, “Still in one piece,” Owen reports over the radio, and Carlos’s entire body sags. The rest of the team are wearing similarly relieved expressions, exchanging glances and nervous head shakes. Carlos allows himself a moment to breathe before turning back to the scene, his heart in his throat as TK takes the final few steps towards the two boys. 

The rest of the call passes in a blur, Carlos feeling like he’s underwater as he tries to force his body to come down from the anxiety still thrumming through his veins. Pride bursts in his chest when TK saves the boy, but the arrival of the bomb squad sets him on edge again, desperate as he is for TK to be back on safe ground. 

He needs to see he’s okay with his own two eyes, and it’s only the team’s grounding presence at his side that stops him from completely losing it.

It’s an agonising wait, the minutes dragging out painfully, but then -

Then, TK’s walking toward them, an exhausted grin lighting up his face. Carlos stands back as he’s immediately mobbed by the rest of the 126, but their eyes meet over the top of Marjan’s head, and Carlos sees his own relief mirrored back at him. As much as TK can be reckless and as much as he seems to gravitate towards danger, Carlos knows he often gets just as scared as he does, especially now they have this. Especially now that they both have so much to lose.

Judd is the first to step away, following the line of TK’s gaze until he spots Carlos. “Hey, come on now, y’all,” he says gruffly to the others. “Let’s give the kid some space, we ain’t the only ones here for him.”

He punctuates it with a tug on Mateo’s arm, and they all begin to disperse. Judd cocks an eyebrow at him as he walks past.

“What are you waiting for? He’s all yours.”

Carlos nods gratefully, then turns his full attention over to TK, quickly closing the short distance between them to crush him in a hug. TK staggers a little under the force of it, but soon enough he’s hugging back just as tightly, hands fisted in the back of Carlos’s jacket. Carlos drops his head to TK’s shoulder, closing his eyes. 

He’s okay, he realises. This is real. 

TK smiles at him when they separate, though neither of them move too far away. Carlos keeps a hand wrapped around TK’s wrist, his thumb resting on his pulse point. 

“Hi,” TK says.

“Are you okay?” Carlos demands, forgoing any greeting. TK laughs, a little taken aback, but Carlos just… He needs to know. He needs to hear it.

“I’m good,” TK promises. “I swear.”

Carlos nods, breaking eye contact to stare at the field, at the crater that could have ended TK’s life. TK must notice, as he’s suddenly in Carlos’s space again, a gentle hand turning his head towards him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, frowning, and Carlos could laugh.

“Am I? Am I?” He’s aware his voice is bordering on hysterical, but he doesn’t care anymore. He breathes out shakily, scrubbing his free hand down his face. “I’m not the one who just volunteered to walk onto an active fucking minefield, TK!”

He sucks in a breath, clamping his jaw shut before he can say anything else. Carlos can feel the eyes on them and he flushes, staring down at his shoes, trying to blink away the sudden tears. He hadn’t meant to yell, but it had all just been too much all at once, the relief and panic and worry and frustration mixing up inside of him and coming out all wrong.

He shakes his head, preparing to excuse himself, when TK’s arm twists in his grasp, linking their fingers. 

“Come on,” he murmurs, and Carlos lets himself be pulled away somewhere more private. The 126 do a good job of appearing busy as they pass, but Carlos knows they’ll be more curious than they’re letting on, and he burns with shame all over again. TK leads him around the back of the truck, pushing Carlos down on the step and sitting down next to him, their joined hands resting on his thigh.

“I’m sorry -” Carlos starts, but TK cuts him off.

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he says. “You don’t need to apologise for anything. God knows if I’d been where you are, I… I don’t know what I would have done.”

Carlos nods. “It was just… When I saw you out there - when the bomb went off - it was the scariest moment of my life, Ty. And then I find out you volunteered? I mean… Why did you?”

“I had to,” TK says, squeezing his hand. “We were just standing around, arguing over who would go, and that kid didn’t have time to wait for us. I knew I could do it, so I said I would. Is that - Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Carlos looks up, meeting TK’s eyes, and his heart hurts at the worry in them. “Of course I’m not mad. I was worried, and I’m still not convinced you’re not trying to give me a heart attack, but mostly I’m just glad you’re safe. It came out all wrong back there, I’m so -”

TK cuts him off with a kiss, and Carlos all but melts into it, eyes fluttering closed. He rests their foreheads together when they separate, smiling softly.

“I’m so proud of you, you know?” he murmurs.

TK hums. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Carlos pulls away, bumping their shoulders together. “You were amazing out there.”

TK grins, looking down at the ground. “It was pretty cool,” he admits. “Kind of makes me wonder if -”

A loud bang on the side of the truck makes both of them jump. Marjan’s standing there, a smirk on her lips as she looks between the two of them.

“We’re rolling out soon,” she says. “Cap wants you to get checked out by Vega before we leave, so you’d better wrap this up, loverboy.”

TK opens his mouth to argue, but Marjan holds a finger up. “Don’t even bother. Cap’s already been checked over himself, so get your ass over there.”

She leaves with a warning glance, and TK looks apologetically at Carlos as they stand.

“Sorry,” he offers, but Carlos shakes his head.

“No, I get it,” he says. “Just, what were you saying?”

TK bites his lip, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh. I’m not sure. I’ll see you at home?”

Carlos nods, frowning, but before he can get another word in, TK’s kissing him goodbye and leaving, Carlos’s hand trailing after him until he’s forced to let go. A smile plays at his lips as he watches TK interact with the team, but all too soon he’s being called away himself, and he leaves with a quick backward glance.

“You okay?” his partner asks as he slumps into the passenger seat.

He heaves out a sigh. “Yeah. I’m good.”

She raises a dubious eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, starting the ignition. “Buckle up, then,” she says. “I want to get out of here before the firefighters; I hate getting stuck behind their truck.”

Carlos laughs. “Better step on it. They’re all getting in.”

She curses and complies, the car lurching forward as she speeds out of the field. Carlos watches it shrink in the rear view mirror, the remaining heaviness in his heart slowly fading as the scene disappears from sight. He could have lost so much today, but he knows that that’s always going to be a fear for as long as he’s with TK.

Which will be for a very long time indeed, if Carlos has anything to say about it.

[bbrandy2002]

Fool’s Rush In

Part 15

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warnings: mild violence

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine – his pick during the social season – the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. After a drunken night, he finds himself with more than he bargained for.

Thanks @burnsoslow​ for the beta read.

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

Supposedly, the more a person suffered in the name of love, the more it showed they really cared. 

At least, that's what Riley thought. 

After nightfall of this particular evening -- when she least expected it -- she never realized how much truth that belief held. 

Or how much it would hurt to sacrifice the one person who made her believe she was worthy of love and saw who she really was on the inside.

Her dainty arm -- a delicate bronze in color, sleek, with a glittering red strap across one shoulder -- linked through the arm of the man she had grown to love more than life itself as they entered the palace ballroom. Working tirelessly over the last week to ensure everything went off without a hitch had taken its toll on her. All she could think about, as she shook hands and charmed dignitaries with a sparkle in those twinkling brown eyes, was how much sleep she planned to make up for after the ball ended.

This ball was to introduce the King and his new bride to the Cordonian court for the first time. A show of solidarity and, hopefully, strength. A way to establish that what happened in a tiny chapel 10,000 miles away weeks ago between two strangers wasn't a careless mistake, and that she could handle the duties bestowed on her as a common American woman. 

Or at least pretend she could for now.

However, for the King and the "Jewel of His Heart" whom he escorted through the curious crowd of pretentious naysayers in extravagant gowns and tuxes, with their fake smiles and tedious posturing ...

It was nothing less than fate. 

Riley was the key that unlocked that safe space deep inside Liam's heart that had been sheltered for so long, waiting for the perfect person to come along and open it. This was the place where he kept his most sacred feelings: a genuine love, never-ending laughter, joy, romance, ecstasy, and every dream he ever held for the future -- one he presumed would never exist in any form he longed for. 

But she didn't just unlock it. Riley shattered it wide open, where everything came flooding out at once and consumed him like a raging wildfire. 

And it was the most remarkable, intoxicating experience of his life. 

Liam showed her off all evening as they mingled during their rounds, danced, and conversed with the variance of nobility. She was the sexiest woman in that room, and he'd dare say the looks of envy shot in his direction from high-class men as he proudly cavorted her around didn't bother him in the least. Not that that was her only quality -- far from it. There were so many things about Riley that were special. But he couldn't help feeling a sense of pride that she was all his.

And without question, he was all hers.

Seated at the head table, Riley swallowed a morsel of the veal medallion she wanted to be served for this occasion. When given a choice between fish and lamb, the fish never stood a chance. The memory of that smelly, god-awful lunch with Regina three weeks ago was not something her palate had forgiven her for yet. As wonderful and savory as this extravagant meal, covered in a light brown mushroom sauce and served with a side of broccoli rabe, was, it couldn't hold a candle to what she craved the most: a slice of white pizza from Carmine's back in Brooklyn.

Or a slab or two of the New Yorker.

With maybe some cheesecake.

Covered in chocolate.

And a sausage rice ball. A Frito pie smothered with sour cream. Definitely a rainbow bagel from The Bagel Store. Barbecue ribs and beans from the mom-and-pop diner hidden just off the strip in Vegas. 

Of course, her grandma’s country fried steak with white gravy sounded delicious too.

For sure, a fried Twinkie like the one she ate at the New York State Fair in 2013. 

"You've outdone yourself, sweetheart," Liam marveled while wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "The meal was delicious, and our guests appear to be enjoying themselves." The others seated at the table looked up, adding their compliments.

Still dreaming about a fat slice of New York-style pizza, Riley smiled graciously back at him, until she noticed the server refilling Liam’s glass with merlot, causing her to do a double-take. 

Hot tears pooled in her eyes, and a heavy feeling of sadness swelled in her chest as she panicked. "I asked for the Pinot Noir. Not the merlot,” she rasped meekly. “You don't like merlot, Liam. And the Pinot Noir was from the 'C' place where Duke Hakim lives. He'll be so disappointed and think I'm slighting his duchy. They’ll all hate me forever and ... wait a minute." She trailed off as a realization hit her, and Riley quickly glanced down at her plate before scanning each of the dishes from those seated around her.

The anxiety intensified; she could no longer suppress the heartbroken sob that wailed out of her. "Where are all the potatoes? We were supposed to have the potatoes, Liam. They didn’t serve the potatoes. Now the whole night is completely ruined, and it’s all my fault. I'm such a failure as a queen, and you should just send me to the dungeon now and throw away the key. I apologize to all of you for my incompetence and the lack of potatoes with your meal." Riley’s red-hot face, full of tears, plunged into the palms of her hands, then quickly sprung back up as Liam hesitantly tried to place a hand on her shoulder. A strong urge to use the restroom ended her crying spell as if it never happened. “Oh, oh. I gotta pee so bad. I’ll be right back.” She gave a warm smile and excused herself as she pushed her chair back and scurried merrily toward the nearest restroom.

Liam, Regina, Leo, Maxwell, and Olivia watched with confusion as she happily took off, not knowing what to say or what to make of the sudden shift in her moods.

“What the hell was that?” Olivia scowled, her eyes fixed on Liam.

“Is she all right, dear?” a concerned Regina asked.

Liam scratched the back of his head, nearly at a loss for words. “I ... I don’t know. I’ve never seen her that upset … especially over potatoes.” He paused in thought. “She was a little on edge this morning. Still, she’s been working a lot on the preparations and everything else going on. It must have gotten to her.”

Maxwell shrugged. “Maybe she just finally snapped.” 

Leo shook his head, swallowing a forkful of beef. “Or maybe she has the premenstrual syndrome.”

“Leo!” The group admonished.

“What?” Leo bit back, taking in each of their disappointed glares. “Don’t act like it’s not true. Trust me, when I have cramps and bloating, I can go from a happy little Leo to a Bertrand, just like that.” He snapped his fingers, following it up with a frown. “It ain’t pretty, you all.”

Maxwell looked across the table at Liam and agreed, “He has a point.”

Wanting to shed his skin and slither away, Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we not discuss something so personal and private, especially while several hundred people are dining around us?”

“I’m just saying, little brother, that you need to be understanding and gentle during this special time of your wife’s 'lady business.' You should speak softly and slowly to her because Shark Week messes with a girl's mind, man. Their brains short-circuit, and there’s nothing left up there but a couple of crickets and man-eating rattlesnakes. One second, you think she’s fine, but if you’re not careful, in the next second, you’ll find yourself with two venomous fangs rattling from your nut sack, dude. She will tear you apart and spit you out like a rabid dog. You can make it through these next few days, but only if you take my advice.”

“That is the single dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Olivia spat, boring her eyes into him. “And you’ve said a lot.” She turned to Liam, whose face was slightly pale and void of expression. “Don’t listen to his sexist drivel. Why you haven’t declared him insane yet is beyond me. You should have sent him away with that filthy hairball to Valtoria you had caged earlier.”

“IT WAS MONGO!” Leo erupted, causing the dishes on the table to clatter as he jumped to his feet and hovered over the redhead. Every head in the ballroom whipped around to see what was happening, and a deafening silence filled throughout. Even the orchestra stopped playing their classical tune.

A wide-eyed Regina smiled sheepishly as she glanced out at the quiet audience who were waiting to see what all the fuss was about. She thought fast before calling out, “We were just playing a little game of … 'It was Mongo.'” The former queen snatched Maxwell’s Sunset Rum punch from his hand, thrusting the drink up at her stepson, towering beside her, and instructed in a grandmotherly tone, “Be a good lad, Leo. You lost this round. It's time to chug-a-lug, my boy.” With his face burning, Liam slid down in his seat.

“Ooooo, I wanna go next.” Maxwell bounced excitedly while the guests resumed the festivities. "How do we play?"

“I think I want to go, too,” Liam replied, straightening back up before hurling his napkin on the table. “I’m going to go find Riley.”

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

Riley exited the ladies' room, clutch in hand and a fresh dab of clear gloss gleaming on her pink lips. She stopped walking just as the door closed behind her and smiled with a look of surprise at seeing Liam leaning against the opposite wall. "What are you doing out here?"

He pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between them and meeting her in the middle of the empty corridor. They wrapped their arms around each other, indulging in the warmth of their lovers' embrace. "Would you believe me if I told you I just missed you?" he answered, placing a tender kiss on her lips that skimmed lower to her jawline. 

"I missed you, too," she moaned with each gentle pressure of his seductive lips, suckling and nibbling along the spot that trailed behind her ear that he knew drove her crazy. "But something tells me that's not the only reason you left the ballroom."

Their gazes met simultaneously. "Leo."

Riley chuckled softly. "Do I even want to know?"

Liam sighed, smoothing back a loose hair behind her ear. "You know my brother and his wonderful words of wisdom." There was no way in hell he would tell her what they really discussed after she left; he could only imagine her embarrassment. "Everyone was just a little worried about you, that's all."

"I didn't mean to scare everyone. I just wanted tonight to be perfect. Instead, so many things went wrong. I can only assume what the court thinks about me now." She lowered her gaze to the red carpeting where they stood. "I let you down."

"I don't want to ever hear you say that again. Riley, sweetheart, you can never let me down. Do you understand that?" Liam lifted her chin; her tentative eyes stared back at him for a moment before nodding. "Good. And just so you know, our guest are used to bombings, stabbings, kidnappings, shootings, and terror plots at most of my palace events --"

"Wait. What?"

" -- I assure you, just the fact alone, that none of that took place tonight, and they're all going to leave here soon -- alive -- will be huge for them. Not having potatoes with the meal or the right wine was the least of their worries. They will consider this night a success. And a testament to their new queen. You should, too. I'm so very proud of you."

"I have so many questions about everything you just said."

Liam smiled, caressing Riley's petal-soft cheeks and lowering his head to kiss her again. "All in due time, my love.”

Riley let out a deep, drawn-out yawn she lightly covered with her palm before stretching and rolling her neck. A couple of weeks' worth of planning and endless decisions had left heavy tension in her shoulders and overwhelming exhaustion like nothing she'd felt before. None of it went unnoticed by Liam, who placed his hands on her shoulders and gingerly kneaded the taut muscles. 

"What do you say about heading back to our quarters, taking off all of your clothes, and I'll be up soon to massage this gorgeous body from head to toe? And hopefully, when I'm through, you'll massage parts of me, too … with any part of your body that you'd like." His lips curved into an inviting smile.

"Mmm, that's tempting," she purred, rubbing her hands over his ample chest. "But I can't just leave. It's the Queen's Ball. Without me, it's just ... The Ball." She chuckled, despite herself.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little panties over the ball. Just go upstairs and take them off. I’ll handle everything down here. Then … “ He squatted down to her eye level. “ … I’ll handle you.”

Her heart fluttered every time Liam spoke to her that way. The way he desired only her. She bit the corner of her lip teasingly. “I love you so much.”

Liam smiled. “You better. You’ve got one hell of a husband. I’d even venture to say you’re the luckiest woman on the whole damn planet right now.” Before Riley could respond to his jest, he put both of his hands on her cheeks to hold her head still and began placing playful, wet smooches all over her face, causing her to laugh riotously. After a few seconds of her squirming around and cackling at his antics, he paused to look at her. “You know I love you, too. Now go on up. I’ll be right behind you soon.” 

With a pat to her backside, they went their separate ways.

---------

Liam returned to the ballroom, having offered to finish what little time was left without her. He would offer his apologies for her absence, but in reality, the King couldn’t have cared less what anyone there thought. Since his bachelor party weeks ago, he had grown from a man who had no choices to one who made his own. His marriage and relationship with Riley came first. Her wellbeing was the main priority -- to hell with anyone who had a problem with that.

As Riley placed a hand on the elegant wooden handrail of the grand staircase and took the first step up, her thoughts meandered to where she had been in her life one month ago and how vastly it had changed in such a short time. For the first time in years, she was happy, and it felt so good to be in that place where she could finally let go of the past and move on. Liam was a game-changer, and she was thoroughly convinced he was the only person on the planet who could have gotten her out of her own head and to this level of blissful existence.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, she reached into her clutch to pull out the key card to her quarters, exhaustion slowing her strides. Shuffling past a row of closed office doors and framed artwork, she made her way to the residential wing. 

The squeak of a door behind her and the click of heels drew her attention, causing her to stop and turn to see who was there. 

The color drained from her face as Madeleine casually stepped out, her hands behind her back and a devious, unsettling grin cemented on her face. 

It wasn't the fear that made Riley's heart pound with a sickening thud, but more shock than anything. No one had seen or spoken to the Countess since the confrontation in Las Vegas when she showed up unexpectedly after finding out Liam had married Riley the night prior. 

Now, suddenly, there she was, as if out of nowhere, a gleam in her eye, looking all too pleased to have this run-in with Riley.

"A little dramatic, don't you think?" Riley scoffed, taking one step back the closer Madeleine approached. "What are you even doing here?"

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about," she answered contemptuously. Her green eyes drifted to one of the cameras mantled at each end of the hallway. Riley placed a shaky hand over her stomach, letting out a low, relieved breath, hoping that was the truth. "Not physically, anyway."

"Well, that sounds promising," Riley replied sardonically. "Now, if you don't mind ..." She turned away, wanting nothing more than to escape this conversation and make it back to her quarters. 

Madeleine reached out and grabbed the Queen by her elbow, pulling her back and harshly twisting her around so they were now face-to-face. "You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you," she hissed with an icy glare. "I told you I would make you regret what you've done."

Riley jerked her arm, trying to free herself. "Let go of my arm, Madeleine!" 

"Not until you hear what I have to say."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say! Now LET ME GO!" Riley hoped someone heard her yell or at least witnessed what was happening on the camera. Where the hell is security?

While continuing to struggle to free herself, she reached up with her free hand in an attempt to pry off Madeleine's bony fingers that were squeezing tight grooves around her elbow, her manicured nails digging deeper into Riley's skin. "You're hurting me. I said to let me go."

"Very well, then." The woman, who had twice lost her chance at the crown, released her firm grasp, knowing that the momentum would cause Riley to stumble back as soon as she let go. 

Just as predicted, Riley planted a foot behind her for leverage before drawing her arm back as hard as she could, one last time. Her eyes grew wide, and she let out a sharp gasp that sounded well down the corridor. Riley sailed backward, tripping over herself and toppling to the ground. She finally landed with a hard blow on her backside, the rear of her head just inches from slamming to the floor.

A shockwave of pain coursed up Riley's spine from hitting so abruptly. Before she had a chance to respond or process what happened, Madeleine crouched down beside her, holding a DVD up and gaining Riley's attention. 

The pain had morphed into a throbbing ache that was soon forgotten as the Queen stared quizzically at the object displayed in front of her like a grand prize. 

"What is that?" her voice trembled.

"It's my ace in the hole," Madeleine stated, then wagged a finger. "Someone used to be a very naughty girl." 

Furrowing her brows, Riley responded. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know precisely what I mean, but just in case, please allow me to refresh your memory," Madeleine smirked before rising to her feet and prancing around as if she were having the time of her life. "I did a little digging after my brief visit to Las Vegas and came across a man who knew you very, very well at one time. I made some calls. We exchanged e-mails, a transfer of money or two. And he was all too eager to accept my offer of payment for any dirt he could give me on you."

There was no point in asking "who" -- she already knew; the thought made her nauseous. Riley closed her eyes and muttered. "Tyler?"

"Yes," Madeleine beamed, " Your ex-husband. He had a lot to say about you."

"I'm sure he did. Does it even matter to you that he's a liar and a cheat -- not to mention greedy? He would make up anything if he thought he could profit off of it."

"Oh, it matters. Personally, I don't believe a damn thing he had to say. Honestly, Riley ... even someone like you could have done better than that slime."

Riley cringed in pain as she pushed herself off the floor and turned to her oppressor. "Just get to the point, Madeleine. Clearly, he gave you something you thought was valuable enough to use against me, so just spit it already."

Madeleine smiled, "How very astute of you. You're correct. He did." She held up the disc as Riley regarded it suspiciously. "On this disk are several hours of the two of you ... together. Very graphic, if I do say so myself." Riley's jaw dropped upon hearing those words as Madeleine continued, "Now don't worry. I only watched it long enough to make sure the video was legit --"

"Give me that!" Riley reached out to snatch the DVD, but Madeleine pulled it away just out of her grasp. A burning sensation filled inside her chest and spread across her face. "You're lying. I never made videos like that."

"Oh, I think you did," the blonde countered with a mirthful tone. "You just didn't know about it. Your ex admitted as much to me ... an asshole move, for sure. But nonetheless, I purchased the copy from him for a hefty sum. And ... well ... here we are now. You're more than welcome to take this disc and see for yourself; I have it downloaded as a backup, knowing you'd want proof."

At that moment, all Riley wanted was for Liam to walk down that corridor where she now stood, pick her up in his arms, whisk her away to safety, and tell her it was all a bad dream. Not that she did anything wrong -- she was married at one time to the man, presumably on the video, and would have been a consenting adult. 

No, it was the fact that Tyler Brooks had taken intimate videos with her during their marriage, without her knowledge. Now Madeleine had possession of them.

God only knew what she planned to do with them, but Riley had a pretty good idea. "What do you want?" she whispered in defeat, afraid to hear the answer.

Madeleine grinned from ear-to-ear. "For you to leave Cordonia tonight and never return, or I release everything to the press."

Riley shook her head. "No. As much as I don't want anyone to see that video, I did nothing wrong, and I won't be blackmailed or intimidated by you so that you can get your grubby little paws on the crown."

"Is that so?" It wasn't a question so much as a remark meant to convey who was in control. 

Maintaining her position, Riley raised a brow, refusing to give in.

Madeleine was far from giving up, though; she had manipulation in her blood. "Very well, then. I'll release the video in the morning. It should be interesting to see how the world reacts to yet another scandal by this monarchy. Their Queen plastered all over the internet again, except this time, uploaded on every porn site on the web. 

"The news will run the story with your blurred-out silhouette in the background. Your father will see it, and his business will become a target.: Your friends. Family. Students. They'll all be inundated with your sexual proclivities. But the worst part will be the tribunal. The council will have no choice but to question Liam's decision-making abilities after not only squandering his pick of queen on some American nobody, but now one whose ass will be featured on the desktops of teenage boys across the world. It's a shame that he'll lose his reign, all because of you. Would you really do that to Liam? Do you genuinely believe you're worth all the trouble it will cause him?"

Riley froze. She knew Madeleine was taunting her with the people she cared about the most. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass each of them. But to possibly cause Liam to lose his legacy, his birthright, and the rulership of a country he loved so much? It was something she couldn't shake. 

Staring blankly, twisting the bands of gold that belonged to Liam's mother, she couldn't get the question Madeleine just asked out of her mind: Did Riley believe she was worth the trouble it would cost him? 

Nothing was damning on that video, aside from the fact that she never knew it existed. But she already had so much to prove; another video in the press' hand would tarnish Liam. Maybe the Countess of Fydelia was right: He would lose it all.

"Time is ticking," Madeleine reminded Riley as she tapped her watch. "What's it going to be?"

----------

@burnsoslow​ @dcbbw​ @ao719​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @jessiembruno​ @texaskitten30​ @janezillow​ @merridithsmiscellany-blog​ @mskaneko @callmeellabella​ @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​ @bebepac​ @kingliam2019​ @lovablegranny​ @cordoniaqueensworld​ @amandablink​ @liamxs-world​ @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography​ @txemrn​ @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren​ @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie​ @theroyalheirshadowhunter​ @princessleac1​ @kimmiedoo5​ @graceful-leah​ @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin​ @gkittylove99​ @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis​ @pink-diamond13​ @walker7519 @natureblooms24​ @yourmajesty09​ @gabesmommie1130​ @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801​ @debmcg1106

Liam x MC: Cordonia-gothqueen

FRI Series Tags:   @narrytheworld​​  @queenwalton​  @cordonianprincess​        @zaffrenotes​ @zilch3​  @drrookie​ @sfb123​​

[kiribakuficrecs]

hello!!! im going on a very long trip at the end of april and I'm looking for some very long fics to download to keep me entertained! i dont care what they're about as long as there's no major character death or mentions of non-con. ur blog is a godsend ilysm and you do such a good job thank you so much 🙏

hi there!! i definitely have a lot of good lengthy fics i can recommend to you!

quote love unquote by newamsterdam 

Sero nods. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, really,” he says. “We want you to date Bakugou, for the sake of his reputation with the press. Some public appearances, a few ‘candid’ photos. For at least a couple of months.”

“Bakugou sent you to ask me to date him?” Kirishima asks, baffled.

“Of course not. We, his people, are asking you to date him. He’s going to have to get on board, if he wants his career to survive. And in the bargain, Riot will get all sorts of publicity, because their lyricist will be dating one of the industry’s hottest stars. A win for everyone.”

When Kirishima Eijirou's band hits the big time, he's not prepared for his newfound fame. He's even less prepared to meet the actor he's been crushing on for years, or to start dating him as a publicity stunt. The closer Kirishima gets to Bakugou Katsuki, the more he realizes he's in over his head. But it's hard to stop, once his heart is in it.

acceptance and denial by poteto

It all goes okay when Kirishima decides to come out to his friends and it all goes wrong when decides that Bakugou is the best fake boyfriend material.

cause the darks not taking prisoners tonight by imatrisarahtops

“Are those soba noodles?” Kirishima asked.

Again Bakugou’s only reply was a grunt. He offered no further explanation—not that Kirishima honestly expected one—as though making soba noodles from scratch at half past four in the morning wasn’t at all a bizarre occurrence and made complete and total sense. For a fleeting moment, Kirishima even wondered if maybe he was the odd one here. Besides, he’d already decided it was generally not in his best interest to question these types of things with Bakugou, especially when it was something essentially harmless.

When Kirishima has a nightmare and is unable to fall back asleep, he accepts defeat and decides to study in the common area of the dorms. What he doesn't expect to find is Bakugou, also very much awake, and Kirishima can't help but think that maybe they're both having the same problems with sleeping. If he's worried, it's just because they're friends. (Right?)

the weight of your hand by kamin

That night, to the citizens, the explosions were a jolt of fear at every blast, but to the heroes and the students of UA, they were punches and swings, fierce fighting and loud strength. The explosions were the pulse of the battle, and the power of a boy that would never back down.

One after another, explosions set a chorus through the shuddering city.

And then, suddenly—the explosions stopped.

(In which Bakugou’s kidnapping goes a little differently, and just a few seconds could change so much.)

so take my hand (your life will be brighter) by multiclassmaps

When a stranger shows up at the ice rink during Bakugou's usually private training sessions, Bakugou expects to hate him. He doesn't expect to develop feelings that become increasingly difficult to deny, or for them to help each other sort through their emotional baggage. - Bakugou really didn't like Kirishima's smile. There was something about it that made his stomach hurt, something about it that made it difficult to focus. He definitely hadn't thought about that smile on his way to the ice rink that day. He definitely hadn't.

distance makes the heart grow fonder (false) by dragontrappedinhumanskin

When Bakugo and Kirishima get hit by a quirk that forces them to literally stick together or face the less then desirable consequences, how the fuck is Bakugo supposed to keep his crush hidden?! Well, turns out he never needed to.

-- “Well, this fucking sucks, how are we supposed to train?!” "Really closely?"

perihelion by tauontauoff

Bakugou was a comet, blazing out of reach. Kirishima knew he was stupidly lucky that his furious trajectory went by close enough that his fingertips got to graze the cowl of fire. It was enough.

During Christmas Class 1A and 1B spend a laid-back week learning about extreme environment hero work in the Alps. Kirishima was used to keeping part of his feelings for Bakugou hidden, and had every intention of keeping it that way, but things don't always go according to plan.

fight me by mr_todoroki

Bright red, spiky hair. Annoyingly bright smile. Clothes that radiate ‘look at me’ vibes. Neon yellow tank top with black shorts. And those were definitely crocs on his fucking feet.

Yeah, Katsuki hated this guy.

-

Bakugou gets a new roommate.

quietly by chezka

“We’ve been taking the same way to and from school for weeks,” Kirishima grinned, and then when Bakugou frowned at him he put on an affected pout, tilted his head so that he was looking at him through his thick, long lashes, “you never noticed? Am I that easy to miss?”

He could barely finish the sentence before a laugh escaped his lips, and Bakugou rolled his eyes, hit him with a shoulder a little more violently than necessary.

“You stick out like a sore thumb, broom-head,” he grumbled, promptly ignoring Kirishima's whining about his hairstyle when it started coming, “I didn’t notice ‘cause I didn’t care.”

“And now you do?”

everyone knows that cats are independent by purplepersnickety

Eijirou enjoys his job, working the graveyard shift at a 24/7 coffee shop. His daemon Riot is always there to keep him company, and he likes meeting the early-morning patrons and giving them the best possible kick-start to their day. It's been his routine for about a year now.

Then one day, a grouchy guy with a daemon in the form of a lion walks into the shop in the dead of night, and Eijirou decides to strike up a conversation with him.

punks not dead by wrunic

“So you want to use me to piss off your mom?” Kirishima summarized, raising one pierced eyebrow at Katsuki.

“Look, if you want to be all fucking judgy about it, I take cash,” Katsuki said, dropping his hand palm up on the table.

“Hey now,” Kirishima said, raising his hands in surrender, “I didn’t say I wasn’t doing it. I’m always down for a little chaos.” He flashed a grin, showing off his ridiculous shark teeth.

“Good,” Katsuki said. “We start tomorrow."

sent, delivered, read, loved by kiribakuhappiness

Kirishima E. [6.49pm]: ur okay for such an angry dude bakugou! :)

Bakugou K. [7.12pm]: FUCK YOU!

Kirishima E. [7.14pm]: haha! :D ttyl!

Bakugou K. [7.48pm]: FUCKING WHAT DO THOSE DUMB LETTERS MEAN???

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: I JUST LOOKED IT UP DONT FUCKING TALK TO ME LATER!

Bakugou K. [7.52pm]: STOP TXTING ME!!!

- OR -

Bakugou's and Kirishima's relationship develops from classmates to friends to more, as told through their text conversations.

flicker by mr_todoroki

He was starting to feel depressed. Life was so uninteresting. It was so mundane and forgettable. He had no one to hang out with besides Kota, his family didn’t even live in the city.

He grew his hair out as some sort of rebellion, some sort of stand to make his life the slightest bit more interesting. But he could already feel himself giving in to the pressure of cutting it. He needed to work to live. Without a job, he’d truly have nothing.

OR

Kirishima never applied to UA, therefore never became a hero.

let’s get down to business by kjelfalconer

Katsuki Bakugou, one of the brightest rising stars on wall street, is in need of a new personal assistant. Again. Could Eijirou Kirishima finally be the one to last more than two months?

Katsuki's long suffering HR department sure hope so.

something about us by bigstupidjellyfish

nothing like being in highschool and having no idea how to deal with emotions

fireproof by inkbender

Four years after a classmate nobody seems to remember is kidnapped by the League of Villains, Kirishima drags an amnesiac hobo he found washed up on the beach into his apartment, attempts to teach him how to adult (with varying degrees of success), and discovers along the way that the line between heroism and villainy is quite fine indeed. Plot-divergent after episode 45, the Forest Training Camp arc.

blood riot by magicallee (alternatively)

Kirishima from a universe with no quirks is mind-swapped with an alternate universe version of himself where there are superpowers.

And in that universe he’s a super villain.

And Bakugou is the superhero who caught Evil-Kirishima and put him in prison.

blindside by drowclericpelor

“You’re the first guy friend I’ve had that I can just like, be friends with. You’re either the most unthirstiest boy ever...” Camie shrugged and made another wobbly illusion appear between her hands. It looked like a sparkly rainbow with the word ‘friendship’ beneath it, accompanied by what Bakugou assumed was supposed to be a twinkling sound effect, but it had a tinny quality to it and sounded far away. “...or I just ain’t got the kinda straw you like to ssssip.”

Carefully, Bakugou considered the strange turn this conversation had taken.

He had never been asked, point blank, if he was gay before. And he honestly had never thought about how he would respond. Lying about himself didn’t sit right with him. But he’d always wanted to wait until he was the number one hero - when he stood above everyone else - before coming out. Though he’d had times when he’d thought about doing it before then and had almost gone through with it once. But being the number one hero came first. It wouldn’t matter what people would say about it then as long as he’d risen to the top.

Bakugou knew his lack of a response would give Camie all the answers she needed.

flour power by wingsonghalo

“I’m telling you now, Shitty Hair,” the blonde growled, “I am not gonna play house with you. We will cart this stupid flour around for a week like the assignment says. But some of our idiot classmates are naming the thing and setting up ‘playdates’ and dressing it and I am not doing anything that stupid. Got it?”

Kirishima and Bakugou are paired up to take care of a flour sack for a week. It would be so simple, except nothing with Bakugou is ever simple. Also Kirishima might be kinda sorta completely head over heels for him.

sunchaser by chonideno

that feeling when you suddenly want to jump off a cliff for no reason but instead of a cliff it’s your best friend and instead of jumping it’s growing feelings out of nowhere

or how Bakugou has to try really hard not to throw everything to the wind, and Kirishima doesn't help

i also have a tag specifically for fics that reach somewhere between 30k-70k words long if you wanted to check that out as well! i hope you enjoy the fics here and that i was able to help, ily enjoy your trip!!! :D 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

No, It's Definitely Funny

Prompt: Can I request a second part to "Let's Call It Funny" where Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Peter unite forces to confuse and concern all the other avengers (with at least one instance where two or all of them respond to something by pretending to jump off a building?) Love you! -Auggie

Does it count as being back on my bullshit if I never left?

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for gen z humor

Pairings: it's still found family hours

Word Count: 2259

Peter’s gonna be honest, he may or may not have some competition for the funniest person in the Tower right now.

Because let’s look at the list here:

Traumatized? Everybody and their private jet’s worth of vintage and designer baggage needs therapy.

Queer? If you think Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or Sam Wilson is straight, you need to tell them everything they’ve ever done to make you think they’re straight so they can stop doing it immediately.

Superhero? Yeah, okay, shush, now you’re being stupid.

Neurodivergent? Have you seen the way these men behave? Definitely the model of Perfectly Normal Person™, what on earth are you talking about, absolutely 100% Normal™.

The only things he’s still got going for him that the others don’t are high-schooler and trans. That’s not a lot when it comes to the fact that hey, two of them are from the Great Depression—let’s be honest, they’re the OGs when it comes to fatalistic humor—and they’ve all got years of practice.

Sure, Peter’s got some trauma-given raw talent, but it’s not refined by years and years of throwing yourself off of buildings and out of planes to avoid having conversations about your emotions.

The day Aunt Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files on the Internet and Peter found out that Steve yeeted himself out of a plane—without a parachute!—to avoid Nat’s prodding about getting a date was the best day of his fucking life.

“Don’t you go stealing my moves there, kid,” Steve had scolded playfully, winking over the rim of his mug.

“Try and stop me, I dare you.”

“And this is why,” Tony had sighed, looking every bit his 79 years—“Hey!”—as he watches this interaction go down, “you have a parachute built into your suit.”

“I’ll just wear my old one, don’t worry about it.”

“That heinous thing that’s just a cut-up old hoodie and goggles? Peter, no, that thing is being held together with safety pins and hope!”

“I mean, me too, so it’s fine.”

“Peter!”

“Also, like, it’s the one I almost got crushed to death in, so it’s got the emotional trauma seasoning already.”

“Wait—“ Bucky had sat up— “you almost got crushed to death by a building? Sheesh, kid, you’re really flirting with the reaper, huh.”

“It wasn’t so bad, I had training from the years and years of carrying the weight of my sins crawling on my back.”

“At least ask Death for his number next time, he’s not returning my calls.”

“Sergeant, I swear to God—“

“Actually, Death uses they/them pronouns, I asked when I met them last weekend.”

“What the fuck did you do last weekend?”

“Really? Oh cool, well, can you get their number for me? We had a date back in ’45 that they missed.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

“Tony, why are you screaming? Not keeping dates is a very serious matter.”

“Trust me, I speak from experience, Tony, it’s not a good habit to get into.”

“You should respect your elders and not scream while we’re talking to you, mister.”

“All of you shut the fuck up.”

See? On one hand, it’s great to have more partners in this venture of making Tony’s hair turn grey—he’s that age, it’s bound to happen any time soon now— “One more crack about my age, kid, I swear.” — but on the other hand, Peter is seriously losing his massive lead on funniest person in the Tower.

The other thing he’s worried about is Sam’s ability to make it so the others can’t actually worry about him.

Because—listen, Sam Wilson is a fucking national treasure and all you fuckers better acknowledge that. It’s no secret that the Captains take turns going out with the shield, all of them answer to ‘Captain America’ because that’s what they are, but no one—and Peter will never say this under threat of death because he does not need any more of the Steve Rogers’ Puppy Dog Eyes™, thank you very much—no one does it better than Sam.

And that means that Sam fucking Wilson can turn a fatalistic, self-deprecating joke into a motivational speech that doesn’t feel disingenuous or cliché at all and everyone is too busy processing the philosophical revelations they’re having to scold him for his, frankly, outstanding sense of humor.

It’s not fair and Peter can’t do it.

He tried. Once.

Didn’t go very well.

No, he’s not gonna talk about it, let’s just move on.

Sam has offered to catch him a couple of times when he gets himself a little too deep into the Mamma Spider™ or Iron Dad™ trap of feeeelings, and he gratefully scoots out of the way when Sam sits down next to him and just makes another joke.

Sam is also a fantastic role model for the brand of ‘I’m going to the store and only have twenty bucks, stop asking for your will to live back’ jokes.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go, bodega run.”

“Can we pick up some hopes and dreams, too, all of those got scribbled out in fat red Sharpie yesterday.”

“I said bodega run, not Court of Miracles run.”

“But Sam~”

“Listen, kid, if you manage to find your hopes and dreams in this bodega, keep an eye out for your childhood innocence, that might be on the next shelf over.”

“Deal.”

“Do you two need some more therapy appointments?”

“Only got fifteen bucks, man.”

“I’m literally a billionaire!”

Peter eagerly studies under this pinnacle of humor and keeps his worries to himself.

Because if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and Peter’s sense of humor is wonderful, but he is a tad intimidated by the amount of variety the others have got going for them.

“You’re a fucking terror, Spider-ling, that’s what you are.”

“Not true! I was ‘a pleasure to have in class.’”

“Oh, is that why you’re taking ‘Little Shit’ lessons from Barnes and Rogers?”

“And Sam! Don’t forget Captain Wilson, he is an invaluable part of this team. I’m surprised at your ignorance.”

“Pete—no, that’s not—“

“I’m ashamed for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Listen here you little shit—“

Anyway…

Steve and Bucky have a habit of telling these like, really awful jokes that have Peter in stitches for half an hour. It’s not fair and he doesn’t get why they’re so funny because they aren’t, and yet here he is, laughing anyway.

It’s probably some combination of Steve’s perfected innocent face that he wears when he has to do interviews and Bucky’s habit of not giving a single solitary fuck. But they’re able to make the worst jokes with completely serious expressions and it’s not fair.

“Hey, can you guys come help me with something?”

“Sure, Peter,” Steve says instantly, bounding over with his 95-year-old Golden Retriever energy as Bucky trails behind him like a cat that’s sitting in your lap because he wants to, not because he likes you or anything, “what’s up?”

“I have a history project on WWII due tomorrow and I haven’t started it yet.”

Bucky snorts, taking a swig of coffee and sitting down on the floor. Which, same. “You got your eulogy planned?”

“Drafted, sighed, notarized, but Aunt May said no so I gotta do this.”

“Well, if Aunt May says no then I guess that’s that.”

Tony, from far away in another part of the Tower, has a sickening feeling that May Parker has once again proven that she is the most powerful parent and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I, um,” Peter mumbles, fidgeting with his pen, “I want to be respectful of your boundaries, and if you don’t want to talk about anything then—“

Because it’s one thing for someone to make jokes about their trauma and another for someone else to go poking and prodding at it.

“Hey,” Steve interrupts softly, nudging him with his knee, “first off, thank you for saying that and we appreciate your respect, but we got you. You worry about enough, sweetheart, let us take care of ourselves.”

Peter gives him a look.

“When it comes to this,” Steve amends, having the decency to look a little sheepish, “we’ll take care of ourselves.”

Bucky scoffs. “Uh-huh.”

“We will, Buck.”

“My therapist will be real happy to hear that.” He looks up at Peter and winks. “Besides, what good is our trauma if we don’t pin it up and display it for good grades?”

Peter huffs, the joke undercut a little by the way Bucky knocks his foot against Peter’s and Steve’s arm stretches over the couch behind him.

Peter has to resist the urge to lean his head onto Steve’s shoulder, because then Steve’s hand will come up and ruffle his hair and Peter’s eyes will droop slowly closed as he loses himself in the warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace and then Steve will lean down to press a kiss to his temple and—

Right. Homework.

“What’s it on specifically,” Bucky asks, clearly spotting the temptation on Peter’s end, “home front? Overseas? Time period?”

“Uh, it’s an analysis of total war.”

“Like, how much of the country was devoted to the war effort?”

“Yeah, basically. It’s talking about how the Nazi War Machine made their war total and how that extends to a lot of other countries, but also about the reasons why the war was fought—“

They delve into a conversation about total war, Peter pointing out how Italy’s motivation for territory keeps it from being a total war on their part, Bucky speaking to how the different dynamics worked in various countries and the fallout, Steve bringing up how much of the home front was devoted to bringing attention to the war being fought overseas. Then, of course, as is inevitable, they devolve into storytelling.

Peter’s notebook—with notes! He did his job!—is set aside as he gives in to the need to let Steve cuddle him on the couch. Come on, the man is warm and big and gives good hugs, how is he supposed to not? Bucky sprawls out on the floor, leaning back on his hands as he smiles fondly.

“You know,” he remarks casually, “I fought a Nazi in my pajamas once.”

Peter blinks sleepily. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, though how he got in my pajamas, I have no idea.”

Peter snorts. Then he giggles. Then he’s collapsing into Steve’s side, positively sobbing with laughter.

It’s not funny.

It’s really not that funny.

But here he is, fucking dying, and he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to welcome the sweet embrace of oblivion.

“Okay, note to self,” Bucky murmurs when he’s calmed down a little, wiping away tears, “sleepy spider likes corny jokes.”

“Just don’t break our baby spider, Buck, Momma Spider would kill you in cold blood.”

“Listen, if Natasha Romanoff kills me, don’t prosecute. That’s on me.”

Peter can’t do corny jokes. He really can’t. He just sounds like he’s a recording so old it’s unintelligible and it’s bad. He has a reputation to maintain here!

However, there is one sense of humor that Peter is very eager to learn and adopt, and hey, it might actually be Iron Dad™ Approved!

It’s a rookie mistake, asking Bucky Barnes for a hand, but in his defense, Peter was left unsupervised and was distracted.

“Hey, Bucky, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

Something nudges his arm and he looks down. It’s Bucky’s metal arm, bumping up against his elbow.

It’s a cheap joke. It’s bad. It does not deserve Peter’s laughter.

He snorts anyway.

“That’s on me,” he says after a second, “you know what, that’s my fault.”

“What, is this not what you meant?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Peter scruffs a hand through his hair. He looks down at the prosthetic again. “Well, that’s disarming.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to snort. “You gotta hand it to me, though, it’s a good joke.”

Oh, it’s on.

“No, no, of course, I understand. You really can’t let an opportunity like that slip through your fingers.”

Steve chokes on his next sip of coffee. “Stop making the kid shoulder the burden of making puns with you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t palm this off on someone else, Steve, you’re as bad as he is.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Peter shrugs. “You just gotta knuckle-down and find the right one.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to reach for puns?” Bucky hefts his arm.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say a lot.”

“Jeez, Pete, good one.”

“What, are you not finding them humerus?”

Sam’s gone, Steve shortly after. Bucky just grins proudly at him.

Then there’s a massive thunk from behind them. Peter turns around to see Tony slamming his forehead into the counter.

“You are all going to kill me,” he mutters, glaring up at them, “all three of you.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Stark, Captain Barnes would never hurt you.”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“After all,” Peter grins, gesturing to Bucky who is doing a very good innocent face—he must’ve been taking notes from Steve— “look at him, he’s completely armless.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker—“

Okay, so maybe it’s not Iron Dad™ Approved.

Oh, well.

[commander-diomika]

Fandom: Rusty Quill Gaming Pairing: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde Rating: Gen Word Count: ~2000 Additional Tags: Slow Burn, 18-Month Time Gap (Rusty Quill Gaming), Rating Will Change to Explicit in Later Parts, Opposites Attract, just two people trying to figure out how to keep the peace with each other and very occasionally succeeding

Summary: Part 2 is here, set several months after Part 1 in a Damascus safehouse. (here's Part One)

"There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control."

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” Wilde's eyes were shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with.

“The message doesn’t sound certain. Just a theory.” Zolf pointed out. He settled back. The couch was a threadbare number but it was comfortable enough, and this wasn’t the first evening they’d spent sitting here discussing plans and directions.

The two of them couldn’t have gotten the hell out of Cairo at a better time. Two weeks after Zolf and Wilde made their quiet exit from the Meritocrats, Aphophis disappeared, taking with him the last few loyal agents. In the ensuing chaos, Wilde pulled some strings and… appropriated significant funding for the next phase. Enough to rent a modest base of operation in Damascus, where they had been for the past few months.

Zolf wasn’t quite sure how Wilde made it all happen so smoothly. At the time he’d just thought Wilde got lucky. Though having worked together for just a few months, he was tempted to say Wilde got lucky a lot… Or perhaps he was just very good at making it seem that way.

“Ho, Wilde,” Zolf called from the kitchen, as he heard Wilde enter the townhouse.

His companion entered the adjoining sitting room, dressed almost-sensibly for the heat in a cream linen suit, a satchel slung over his shoulder.

“What you got there?” Zolf called. He had been chopping vegetables for the evening meal but seeing that Wilde looked flush with success, Zolf put the knife down and wiped off his hands as he went to join him.

His step faltered as he realised that Wilde, once again, was not alone. With him was the man Zolf couldn’t help but think of as “the interloper”.

Alfred Douglas stood just a few inches shorter than Wilde, similarly dark haired and dashing, as he followed Wilde into the sitting room and greeted Zolf with a winning smile. “Hello, Mr Smith.” Wilde had once said that he chose his friends for their good looks, and to look at Alfred, Zolf would begrudgingly agree.

Zolf had met this newcomer just a few days ago. Returning from a fruitless trip to Turkey, he was shocked to find another person at the safehouse; an old friend, Wilde said. When pressed for details, Wilde had first deflected, demurred, and then dug his heels in. It had gotten ugly.

Not wanting to repeat the fight, Zolf just nodded tightly. “Douglas.”

“Oh please, I’ve been telling you, you can call me Bosie.” Zolf, basically immune to affected charm, ignored him and repeated his question to Wilde. “What’s in the bag, Wilde?”

“Books!” Wilde replied, pointedly ignoring the pair’s less-than-warm interaction.

One by one he produced several tomes from the leather satchel with a flourish, revealing each as if waiting for applause before placing them on the low wooden table. A History of Dwarven Achievements; Svalbard, a Japanese travel guide, and one more sizeable volume. Zolf couldn’t immediately understand the title, but he could see that it was written in Dwarvish. That last one gave a small puff of dust as Wilde gently ran his fingers through the pages before adding it to the pile.

“Bosie was such a help, weren’t you dear, I would never have found that last little merchant alone. I swear we went down so many side alleys it was like a maze!” Wilde’s voice was honeyed and light again. It made Zolf feel itchy and irritable. In the months they’d been in Damascus, he’d almost gotten Wilde to just act like a normal bloody person when it was just the two of them, instead of some conversational artiste looking to make a spectacle of every interaction. Two days in the interloper’s company and he was back to the same smarmy, dunkable cad Zolf had met in London.

“The Svalbard one wasn’t exactly easy to get our hands on, either. It’s not like anyone is doing transfers from The London Library anymore.” Wilde reported as he speedily shed jacket, hat and shoes, then plopped down on the settee. Still looking overly pleased with himself, he patted the seat next to him, inviting Bosie to sit. He did so.

“How did you go with your leads?” Wilde asked, still slightly breathless from the performance he made of unveiling the books.

Zolf’s lips pursed, and he considered not answering. Even though Wilde was probably telling him everything in the long hours they spent sequestered in Wilde’s room, it still felt wrong to discuss business with Douglas here. Since he’d arrived on the scene he’d been nothing but disarming smiles and quiet interest but…

Maybe I’m just bein’ paranoid, Zolf said to himself. It was immediately followed with another thought, unbidden and unwelcome. More like bein’ jealous.

That couldn’t possibly be the case, so Zolf opened his mouth and started speaking. “I went askin’ after our initial contact with the Hephaestus lot. You know, the one that sent me on that bloody wild goose chase?” Zolf’s recent trip to Ankara had been based on that lead. He’d been looking for Garten, with no success.

“Turns out she’s not keen on explaining to me why her lead was a blumin’ fake, and the rest of ‘em have closed up ranks.” Finding something to do that didn’t involve looking at either of them, Zolf picked up Wilde’s hat off the table and hung it on the hook by the door. “Also, it looks like the whole Cult is gettin’ ready to move, if I’m honest. A lot less folks workin’ and a lot more packin’ up than I saw last I wer’ there.” He picked up Wilde’s shoes and put them by the door.

“Yes, actually, I noticed something similar at the Artemisian temples the other day,” Douglas said thoughtfully.

Zolf glared at him. Who did he think he was?

As far as Zolf was concerned, the man’s only saving grace was that his sudden reappearance in Wilde’s life made him happy. Pleasant or positive things had been in short supply, and Zolf wasn’t a monster. But Douglas had been tottering about on thin ice since the moment he arrived, and his comments were only salting the surface.

Wilde’s eyes tracked between the two of them, and with a melodramatic sigh he said, “Perhaps you ought to head off, my dear.” He threw Zolf a glance that said there, are you happy now?

“Yeh, I’ve got some things to discuss with Wilde. In private.” Zolf added, eyebrows brewing up a thunderstorm.

Bosie tilted his head, an expression of mock-hurt on his face. It was an expression Wilde made often and Zolf did his best not to explode. These two were as bad as each other and getting worse.

Wilde made an apologetic shooing motion with his hands, and Douglas did as he was bid. He gathered his hat with a reproachful look at Zolf, and gave Wilde a peck on the cheek before leaving. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Oscar.”

Wilde walked Douglas out and returned to the settee, sitting with an exasperated sigh.

It had been getting better between them, heroes with their backs against the wall that they were. It had been. For all that Wilde was insufferable when he got on his airs about “need-to-know information” and couldn’t cook and was constantly preening as though any of that even mattered… But for all the myriad of ways he got up Zolf’s nose, he was also talented. Adept at making and keeping contacts. Able to talk his way into places Zolf couldn’t even get a foot into. An incredible mind for language, information, and planning. He was useful to have around, and for that Zolf was trying his best to extend a bit of graciousness.

And for all Wilde was frustrating company, at least he was someone. Wilde had been dead right, back in Cairo. It was nice to not be alone.

A mulish expression settled on Wilde’s face. It was obvious he was getting ready to jump straight back into the argument about Douglas, but Zolf wasn’t in the mood to rehash the same angry words.

you need to trust me, Zolf

you ain’t supposed to hide things from me anymore

we’re supposed to be partners

it’s none of your business

I thought you were more careful than this

With all the tact of a glaive to the face, Zolf changed the subject.

“There was another Sending from Curie’s people.” From a side-table awash with documents, Zolf fetched a piece of paper. “New workin’ theory on London, some kind of disease, rather than mind control. But it is affectin’ paladins, so it’s not any kind of disease we’ve dealt with before.”

Wilde frowned. “Oh, that’s much worse. Mind control magic at least implies some kind of central power system, a culprit to be fought. If it’s an illness… it might just be chaotic, undirected spread.” As though a spell had been lifted, as soon as Douglas left the room, Wilde turned into a different person, sharp and incisive.

Zolf nodded in grim approval of Wilde’s assessment, moving to sit down next to him.

“She also reckons we start treatin’ it like something communicable. Isolatin’ when we’ve not been able to keep an eye on each other, so on.”

“Well, that’s not very practical for us, now is it. We don’t have the kind of operation Curie does, with the people and resources to run proper quarantine.” Wilde said, eyes shrewd. This was the Wilde that Zolf actually liked working with. “We split up all the time.”

“The message doesn’t sound certain. Just a theory.” Zolf pointed out. He settled back. The couch was a threadbare number but it was comfortable enough, and this wasn’t the first evening they’d spent sitting here discussing plans and directions.

“Still, a theory from one of the sharpest minds left on the planet. Worth giving credence to. Maybe we need to look at bringing a few more people on board.” Wilde paused, thoughtful. “How would you feel about working with James Barnes?”

Zolf cocked his head, unable to place the name for a moment. “Commander James Barnes?”

“The very same.”

Zolf’s jaw worked as he started several different sentences then abandoned them. “I mean, he’s in the Navy, ain’t he? Last I checked, that’s still under Meritocratic order.”

“Perhaps he won’t be with them for much longer.” Wilde said mysteriously. Zolf nearly called him on it. Fighting about the sudden inclusion of Douglas in their affairs, Zolf had pushed Wilde hard on his habit of half-truths and leading statements. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with it. He was starting to think Wilde might be just an incorrigible equivocator, and there was nothing to be done about it.

So Zolf simply grunted.

“So that’s a solid maybe on Barnes,” Wilde grinned. “Besides, we’ll be fine for the moment. I won’t go running off and recruiting anyone new, because now we’ve got Bosie.”

Zolf took a slow breath at this topic change. He gentled the first angry words that came to mind, and spoke. “Wilde… I know you trust him. I know you two have a long history. But in light of this-” Zolf tapped the transcribed Sending. “-I don’t know how I feel about you bringing him in on… everything.” It lay on the table next to the satchel.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Wilde said smoothly, grabbing the bag and reaching inside. “I managed to pick up one more thing.”

From the satchel he produced a much smaller item, a banged-up paperback with a bright cover.

“Ohhh it’s the second Hearts of Fire!” Zolf exclaimed. He knew a misdirect when he saw one but couldn’t contain himself. “Those are so hard to get!” He took the book-shaped olive branch from Wilde quickly, already opening to page one.

“I knew I shouldn’t have given it to you until you’d at least had a look at the Svalbard books,” Wilde teased.

Zolf considered Wilde over the top of the book for a long moment. Wilde wasn’t off the hook. Neither of them were. They would have to come back to this jagged mess of a conversation at some point, but for now, Zolf chose peace. Of a sort.

“Look, the quicker I’m done with it, the quicker you can have it. Don’t pretend like you haven’t read my Campbells. I’m not the one dog-earin’ the pages. I thought you were sposed to be a man of culture.”

“Oh, stop hounding me about it, Zolf,” Wilde said, picking up Dwarven Achievements and relaxing gratefully back into the couch. Zolf was already so engrossed he didn’t even groan.

[steve0discusses]

S5 Ep6: Joey Wheeler is on Fire, Yet Again

Came down with a little sickness-not the biggie, just a little sly guy. But I took some meds, I’m a little floaty, I’ve only been listening to baroque music all morning for some reason? And I hate baroque music usually? But I’ll leave it to bro to tell me if this is fluid enough.

Just so you know, these caps were kind of a hot mess for a while and some of them read like that Garfield in of hot eat the food comic until...today. So pls don’t judge me, Judge my damn DMV where no one was following Covid regulations because I’m pretty sure that’s where I got this damn cold.

We start off with Roland getting more attention than he ever has in his entire life. Like honestly, I don’t know what Roland’s job really is...but he’s got a very diverse set of very useless skills. One of which, is knowing how to announce sports games that aren’t really a sport, while those games he’s announcing slowly fall into chaos.

Anyway, Roland’s taking so long cherishing his sweet time before everything goes to hell, that he’s boring Joey, who’s kinda turned into a ball of stress in the waiting room.

A lot of this episode is us watching them watching Joey having a break down moment by moment, TBH.

(read more under the cut)

Yugi telling Joey to study his cards and straight up--what?

Like at this point they know what’s on the cards, right? Like there comes a point where even Yugioh cards have a finite amount of words and I’m just going to assume that like...Joey probably knows them all in his own deck, right?

(bro note: they have no limit on what they will put on a card)

Then again, maybe Yugi doesn’t know what “study” means?

Also, appreciate how some artist crosshatched the hell on Joey’s nose there and I zoomed out and ruined it.

Now for some reason every duelist is hanging out in the duel lodge, including our current arch-villain guy who’s brought a book. I want to know what book this guy even reads so no one could suspect he’s actually a hacker who uses computers. He’s reading romance, right? And I don’t think he’d even be into Twilight, I think he’s straight up into hard core Mom romance like a lame ass Nicholas Sparks over there reading “Dear John” for the millionth time because he is completely un-phased by anything else happening in this room.

Joey, our hero, just out there being an asshole for no reason.

After Tea is pushed into a locker or something screaming about her need for female friends (which she screamed in earshot of Rebecca again, who I figured was on friends terms with her after last episode...but I guess not) Leon hops up to remind us that we should be caring about the fact that his character exists.

And like, I love Leon’s hair color--that’s a good choice, and legit that is the color I tried to dye my hair at the beginning of the epidemic (it didn’t work PS, my hair cannot take dye for the life of it) but also like...he just kinda feels like a weak Rebecca as far as characters go. He’s young, he’s good at cards...I think he goes to a private school? That’s all I can think of about Leon.

He mostly just reminds us that the big prize of this tourney is to duel Yugi, who anyone could have dueled at any point even without the tournament.

On the way out of the...duel room? lounge? Area? Joey decides to like...make peace with Zigfried, and I gotta tell you, I kinda have to side with Zigfried, because Joey spent the last ten minutes being a freak in the dressing room/lounge/bathroom and at one point looked like he was going to hold the entire locker room in a stranglehold.

I would also want some space from Joey Wheeler, is what I’m saying.

After insulting Joey’s style (which honestly, Joey...has a style? He pops his collar, that’s his entire style.) Zigfried assures us that Joey’s gonna lose and like...

...probably, right? Just looking at the plausible direction this season will go.

Anyway, Joey is such a mess (which is the theme of the episode, that Joey needs to learn to chill in order to win at card games) that Rebecca is like “I understand if all of you leave me to go help our poor baby Joey.” And no one felt bad for her.

Mokuba comes over to tell everyone all of the Kaiba family secrets because Mokuba has no filter.

Seto has devoted himself to staring at a computer screen for the rest of this episode. I guess he’ll put their names into Google, realize that social media hasn’t been invented yet, and then just lie his head down on the desk and take a power nap until the tournament is over. Much like I did after taking Dayquil this afternoon.

I like how Seto dressed for success and then locked himself in the server room for most of this arc so far. Maybe he’s just...really tired, I dunno. I don’t really blame the guy, he’s had a hard time.

And then Yugi was like “DAMN IT MOKUBA, JUST ONCE CAN YOU NOT INVITE THE ILLUMINATI???”

And we had a weird scene where Yugi just started talking to the ghost and it was while he was talking to everyone else, and the show didn’t treat it like that’s a weird thing to do...but it was a weird thing to do.

This show does that sometimes, where I guess they imply that Yugi’s Pharaoh conversations are split second conversations but...they’re not, right?

Also this chick ain’t gone yet, and Mokuba is just failing at his entire job for not zeroing in on vibes coming off this chick like stinky cheeseman.

So listen.

Did the Kaibas make like 3 types of Blue Eyes Caboose to one up Noah? Because Noah made one choo choo dragon, and then Mokuba and Seto were like “how dare” and then made sure that everyone ride every single version of the blue eyes caboose just to see how proud of them they were.

How many months of troubleshooting was the train? Like how long in development did Seto and Mokuba spend on these? A lot right? Like most of the time?

I did not check the subs to see if Roland said Jumping or Champion but I like to believe that Roland thought it was a cool new name he gave him.

Then these guys all showed up.

Hey so...can we talk seating arrangements?

Tea decided not to sit next to Yugi after complaining about not spending time with him for like how many episodes? Or was it too awkward to sit on top of what was probably Pharaoh?

Or did Mokuba go like “please, Tea, I cannot sit next to the others because I’m pretty sure one is a mole that is about to go cray” and was Tea like “Good, I need female friends, these ones are driving me crazy!” and then was Mokuba like peering desperately over the edge of his self made dragon train prison realizing he has to listen to Tea complain about boys for the rest of his ride across molten lava?

Headcanons abound about this weird seating arrangement that the animators drew for the reasons they did...but reasons I cannot fully understand. That and the Dayquil is making me overfixate on random stuff.

And also, Tea is kind of the Kaiba’s security’s understudy. Just there to always protect Mokuba with her ass because she’s the strongest woman alive.

PS I missed the tumblr wars because at the time I was trying to like...run a proper business on blogger. When Blogger died and I jumped over here it was like a weird ruin where everyone was like “tumblr is the most toxic place alive” and...I’ve had a really nice time here, actually. Completely missed that civil war period and I have no regrets.

Now I was there for the Petz wars (warz, I guess) where people were very militant about Petz abuse (abuze?) where apparently people were using the spray bottle on their catz too much and people were very, very upset about it to the point that they were like campaigning about it on their angelfire websites with the most bizarre grassroots campaigns that I still recall, to this day because they were like...well they looked like this:

PLAPA. Not only am I 100% positive that only this one guy ever called this movement PLAPA, but I’m 100% positive that not only are Catz not real people, but also this wasn’t actually happening and we never had any proof that it was. Either way, if people knew or suspected that you hadn’t deleted the spray bottle from your game (which at the time I had no idea how to do because I was a wee child) they would basically assume you were on a one way road to being a mass murderer in real life.

In real life we were 7 years old so like...thanks?

But that’s the closest I got to toxicity and at the time I was too young to make an email account and actually converse with these people. I was just there to download their Petz hexes, and I already made a post about how wonderful and incredible Petz Hexing was.

And y’all, I heard, just now after a little deep dive into the Petz Abuse debacle (which yes, is on the wiki), that apparently, like gardening, Petz Hexing came back in a big way during the epidemic--and I have found an active Petz forum in this the year 2021. The only problem is that I no longer remember how to use old timey forums...and I think I’m locked out of seeing most of these threads (and like this forum is so old I think I have to send them a letter in the physical mail to apply). But, I’m pretty sure they’re hosting a picture contest for who’s dogz poses the best. And I’m pretty sure someone created a hexxed Pickle Rick. Or it’s a photoshop that was made to look like a hexxed Pickle Rick.

Dammit why did it have to be Pickle Rick? That’s not worth re-installing Petz and getting it to run on Windows 10...

Guys is this the Dayquil? Is this really happening? I feel like I’m losing my mind for so many reasons...

Anyway, speaking about useless hexing it’s about time that our villain did something that was actually dangerous, so Zigfried decided to install a new virus that does more than turn off the lights. (it still turns off lights)

the Spreadsheet Virus!

Confounded by the spreadsheet software, it...um...it does this:

Straight up how does Excel make a volcano erupt? Is that why I have to pay for Microsoft office now?

All this because Joey made fun of Zigfried’s naturally pink hair? Which is the most normal hair on this series outside of like...Tristan?

Hey guys...Joey’s fine, right? Like how many times has Joey been on fire? And once in an iron cage next to like...a Fire Golem?

Joey’s fine.

MAN I miss Fire Golem. He had a good mug.

And then we just kinda watch chaos go across the park, chaos that includes: Too many ghosts in the haunted mansion (which honestly--you’ll get your money’s worth, sounds great!), the Ferris wheel goes kinda fast and thus might accidentally be fun, the lights turn off at some concert stage that only had 2 people on it (so it might just be motion detector lights and not even a virus), and um...literal fire and magma are going to set Joey Wheeler on fire.

Just...one of these events does not seem like the others. In fact most of these things sound like good improvements to the park and they should just hire Zigfried at this point.

Roland puts down his microphone and jogs across the stage, about a mile through the audience bleachers, and into the staff lounge, to go and bother Seto Kaiba, who is in a room that has a hi-def classical painting copy-pasted on the wall and I can’t look away from it.

I almost did a Google search on this painting but then thought better about it. There’s like...a billion classical paintings that look exactly like this, and they wouldn’t use like a Monet, they would have to do something that’s harder to catch to avoid copyright issues (because yes, even old ass paintings have copyright issues, but no one tell NFT’s which are going to be so freakin screwed and was such a bad idea, that I can’t even start).

Anyway, I have no idea who it is and it is legitimately driving me up a wall, but I’m on too much meds to do the effort of putting it in a reverse google image search.

Plus, a reverse google image search would only pull up Seto Kaiba.

So Kaiba takes us on a little flashback to his weird ass past, a weird ass past that just...doesn’t follow any of the established timelines, but I assume was shortly after adoption but before Seto got into a phase where he wore his school outfit everywhere and tried to shove his MMO off onto his Dad as a business model.

Seto is like 8 for some reason. I don’t know why, they kinda drew him younger this season anyway, like maybe they got a lot of fan mail and realized “Hey I think we made the 16 yo boy too sexy?” And they just toned Seto the hell down. That, and it’s a different animation team, and maybe they looked at Seto’s character design and were like “we don’t get paid enough to draw this well.” So...since Seto actually looks like a teen again, I guess his 12 year old self has to look like he’s in Elementary school.

Also, I only recognized this, because at some point in S3 as I was roasting Noah Kaiba’s weird fashion:

I remember distinctly roasting that little bow tie. I don’t remember when I wrote it, I think there was a version of this outfit that was in color...but I don’t remember where.

Anyway, it’s not the same jacket...but man that’s kind of awkward, ya? Like the maid who dressed Mokuba deffo got fired?

He um.

Turned the lights off a little bit.

Guys this villain is like...

...why does he think lights are scary? Like look at little Seto here. The boy is already bored. Seto duels on the edges of cliffs...he doesn’t care about the freakin dark.

We had a guy who killed everyone on the planet last season, and this season we have a little fashion gremlin standing in the corner and flicking the light switch going  “wooooo you never catch me!” and it’s like...

...I’m starting to think this guy isn’t a witch.

Like we’re at Episode 6, there’s still time for this guy to be a witch...but I really am starting to think this guy is just...straight up not a witch. It’s everything Seto wanted, a rival who isn’t a freakin magic person...and sets Joey only fake on fire instead literally on fire like last time...

and Seto is just completely unhinged by it.

Anyway, I’m off to go drink a bowl of soup and pass out. If you’re new here, this is a link to read these in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[ginwhitlock]

Southbound : Chapter 6

After the Cullens leave her behind, Bella is left to pick up the pieces by herself. A year after her eighteenth birthday, a split second decision lands her in her truck, running far away from everything she has ever known. She decides to go south. What will she find in San Angelo, Texas?

After Peter left, the air between us felt stagnant, cold, like a pond left uncovered in the first freeze of winter. The man in front of me didn’t smile, didn’t even fake a breath for my own comfort. I know he could feel the shard of glass slowly sinking into the pit of my stomach; the fact of its direction changing, resigning, surpassing my throat to lodge itself in my skull as a sharp ache not lost on me. 

And I’m sure, not on him. 

I knew Jasper. I had sat feet from him not even years before. What had changed in those aching months? What kind of lust seeped into his unbreakable bones since? This man was toothier, slumping shoulders spread wide against the settee. Who was this brother of his and why did he have Jasper now? I mean— he had explained just moments ago the short extent of Alice and his separation, but the questions were tar in my brainstem: unmoving, guilty, painful. The faint imprint memory of his hand on my knee softened the creases under my eyes. His eyes were nothing if not full of memories.

He scared the shit out of me. The worst part of me liked it. 

The keys in my hand were jangling as I wrung my hands against the metal. They were ice cold from Peter’s grip and yet I never shied away from them, I rested into their cut, their steel mill scent. It’s all the comfort I had left in this unfamiliar sandy home. 

“You never told me where you meant to end up, Isabella.” 

The look on his face hadn’t changed from its hawk-like gaze, his mouth upturned in what was made to be sincere questioning.

My teeth seemed to buzz in my jaw as they clenched. I was stuck between trying to find the answer that made the most sense— but this far away haunted house was nowhere close to where I was headed. To be honest, I hadn’t even made a plan for my drive, the road had been a black licorice rope pulling me deeper and deeper south, its vines unswervable. 

Those damn carmine irises were still on my face. My hand settled on the silver scar.  “Somewhere without you— your kind.” There's a horrible dread that sinks deep into the pit of my lowest bones, down past the acid lining of my stomach. It wasn’t mine in the first place…

He smiled again. That fangy lip twitch he implemented earlier in his bedroom, his searing white canines glinting in the southern sun. Jasper did some twist of his knuckles as they rested on his denim knee, the bareness of the marble flesh punctuated. 

“Do you truly think your life will not continue to be… supernatural?” He paused something big and let his lashes point away from me, his gaze settling right behind my head, “The world has never been that kind. Especially to you, Miss Swan.” The way his tongue curled around my name made something twist in my gut. Something that felt like finally breaching the top of a rollercoaster after clunking around in the seat for several minutes. 

I took a breath, “No hope for me then, Mr. Cullen?” 

“Whitlock, darlin. Mr. Whitlock.” 

His correction was daring and quick, like a dare. The scared shitlessness was starting to turn. 

“Oh?” I’m sure my eyes were the size of dinner plates served on the damn moon. 

His quirk faltered as he refocused on the skin of my neck. “The Cullens aren’t the biggest fans of the ousted members keeping their name, I’m sure. Whitlock was my human name.”

My lip twitched, “Like Peter?” He did say they were brothers, it would make sense the tanner man kept it while Jasper stayed up north. 

“He adopted it when I changed him in the twenties. He didn’t need to remember his own.” 

The paint covering the living room walls was starting to feel warmer and warmer. There was a sort of mysticism in the air, the kind of feeling Phil said he got standing on the pitcher’s mound. This charge of electricity. And if I felt it— did the man in front of me do too?

“You changed Peter?” 

A hum came from his Adam's apple. I quickly stopped staring at its vibration, focusing on my still hands. “Is that where you got that name? The ‘Major’?” My legs felt like salt blocks sat out for the new fawns. 

Jasper kicked his foot out, inches from my own. “All in time, Isabella.” 

Why the hell was that the question he kept dodging?

I nodded against my own snooping judgement and sat up straight, gripping the cut key again. “Peter said something about seeing my truck?” As if on cue the sound of a backfire sounding across at least an acre of dirt, the laugh of the man in question following in direct response. 

He reminded me of a wilder, leaner, Emmett. 

I didn't know if that was a good thing. 

The blond rolled his eyes, something I would’ve passed out seeing months ago, which now just made him more and more intriguing. His hand raised without fantastical speed and made an ushering motion, inviting me silently to stand and follow him to the front door, not even twenty feet to our backs. I did as I… wasn't… told and raised to my shuffling feet, watching with barely suppressed intensity as he did the same, his shirt unbunching as his long legs swept past me. His strides were unhurried yet strong, quickly reaching the exit without me. Jasper’s slim fingers turned the knob gently and allowed the now open door to rest against his shoulder. 

“I’m sure my brother will find you the moment you start walkin’. I have to get to some business caused by my early departure earlier.” My shoes scuffed the hardwood as I passed by him, the scent of firewood and malt whiskey light in the air of the threshold. I nodded again as I looked back at the giant southerner. 

“So I’ll be making it back?” Half joking, half fearful the words slipped past my lips. 

He smiled truly that time, his teeth hidden behind his smile. “Of course Isabella. No one plans to kill you… for as long as I can see.” 

The door closed slowly as I turned away from him in only slight ease, the sound of his footsteps behind it unrecognizable. Texas dry wind called to me from the bare porch, wooden planks creaking ever so slightly underneath my weight. The world was quiet— in only a way nature could be quiet. Silence without loneliness. 

Another diesel racket sounded over the slight hill in the property, some of the only patches clustered with shruby, overgrown trees.  

“Bell!” 

There was a smile hiding under the surface of my skin, not the least undetectable. My stride started up again as I half jogged through the crab grass and rusty dirt. It had to be almost two or three o’clock now, the sun high and bright in the cloudless sky. 

Had the day gone by so fast— or so slow?

I couldn’t decide which it was. Not yet. Not now.

The baked exterior of my cab was just in sight over the small hill, somehow further away from the bare dirt trail than it had been this morning. Had the black eyed man… moved it? It didn’t run, at least not by my hand, he would’ve had to have pushed it… or picked it up. 

God, Peter was starting to turn out more and more like the biggest Cullen boy by the second. 

My shoes were caked in dead weeds and clay dust by the time I reached the freckled vampire— an attribute I still hadn’t made sense of. His cowboy hat was a stark black against his darkened porcelain skin. He smelt rough like a redwood forest, something private. Secluded. Peter’s hands were covered in the ink black of motor oil and grease, the solutions clinging to his perfect fingernails. 

He had to be related to Jasper somehow, there's no way he wasn’t. I was sure of it. 

Or maybe I was just hoping.

Silly girl. 

His eyes could’ve mirrored his brother’s and I wouldn’t have noticed anything past the sight just behind him: my truck was pulled at the seams. 

“Sorry bun, I think your baby might need some extra attention before it gets anywhere near a highway.” My breath was loose in my throat, air whistling behind my eyes. The transmission was the only thing complete under the hood. The engine block was propped up by a chain tied to a lone pecan tree, the rest of the assembly laid out on a blanket on the pitted ground. The well of tears hit the back of my eyes before he started to speak. 

“I had to take the engine apart to diagnose the problem— something to do with some coils. It ain’t as bad as it looks, I promise, Bell.” I nodded for the fiftieth time that day, my words fleeting in the paralysing tunnel that had become my voice box. The only thing I had kept when I left was now in pieces at my feet, the soil unforgiving and rough against the cotton blanket they sat on. The downpour of fear came down my sinuses and filtered out through my spine, the tips of my fingers pulsing with thunder. Peter stood, apathetic to the storm raging through my body, his stance curling around my own slightly, as if in defense to the world around us, to the truth in front of me. 

“How long will it take to fix?” My voice was weak and pitiful, stripped of its playful kick Peter initially instilled. 

He twitched his shoulders in a shrug. “Could be a week or more. Maybe two.” His own speech didn’t reflect his burdening appearance. It was almost airy, a light glee hidden subtly behind the consonants. 

My brain stored the small inflection for a much later time. 

“You know,” he started, his massive wiped hand drawing to my shoulder, “me and the Major don’t mind some company around the house. The old thing could use some life in it while your truck gets some beauty work done.” His suggestion wouldn’t have sounded like such a question if anyone else had uttered it, but the draw of the Whitlock boys held a certain power over my otherwise powerless existence, at the moment. I wanted answers, stories, the in and outs of the clan I had called family as a younger girl. 

I wouldn’t admit to anyone else my other wants. 

Hell, I couldn’t even admit them to myself yet. 

I made a sound in the back of my throat that made up for another nod and pursed my lips in false thought, the field stretching before me in an unwavering sea of curiosity. 

“Only until she's fixed. I’ve served my time living with vampires for two lifetimes.” 

There was an explosion of a laugh from Peter’s tan lips and I smiled in turn. The truck was a cesspool of terrifying possibilities, insecurities. But for right now, the horrible itch in my brain led me further into the immortal light. 

The cold digits of the human drinker felt featherlight against my back as he sputtered to an airy stop. “You are truly something Bell.” My teeth poked through my lips as I looked into his face and found simple lineless skin and sandy curls. My eyes rested back on the rusted out birthday present and sighed. “Do you want any help?” It sounded almost like a plea, the time splitting me farther and farther. 

He shook his head with vigor. “Baby doll, I’m not sure you’d make it go any faster.”

I had half a mind to slap him on the chest, no matter the bruising I’d sustain. 

“I’m not that dimwitted.”

He sucked unneeded air through his teeth and let me go, stepping towards the hull. “Just believe me.” 

I shook my head like a dumped dog and looked back towards the house, just barely noticeable at this distance. The question bounced around my stomach before it left my mouth, “What is Jasper up to?” 

Peter raised a brow and picked up an impact wrench.

“I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

[sweatersexual]

Now I Want to Hold You Too

Read on AO3

The party welcoming both sets of Pines twins back for the summer had never really ended. Mabel’s friends had slept over that night, and Soos was still playing party music even into the afternoon. Fiddleford had come over for lunch and now he and Ford were discussing new projects, blueprints scattered all over the dining room table.

Becoming a man of means had suited Fiddleford. He now spoke with the confidence Ford remembered from the old days. He stood up straighter, and the healthy weight he’d gained filled his endearingly garish patterned shirt in all the right ways. Yes, Ford was happy he was doing so well, and that their friendship had been rekindled.

But Ford had to admit, feelings of friendship weren’t all that had been rekindled in him, especially when their hands lingered around each other, tracing the blueprints, or when Fiddleford gave him that familiar lopsided grin, or hearing him hum quietly the way he always did while thinking hard. Still, Ford worried it was too soon, or perhaps inappropriate altogether, to make any romantic overtures to Fiddleford. He didn’t even know exactly how much Fiddleford remembered of their romantic history. No, it was better to take their relationship as it currently was, because the fact that Fiddleford was even talking to him again put a spring in Ford’s step.

He and Fiddleford had finished making revisions to one of the cooling systems when a short cough caught their attention. It was only then that they noticed Ford’s thirteen-year-old grandniece standing next to them, her two best friends not far behind her.

“Are you two having fun?” Mabel was grinning widely enough to make Ford a bit wary. Had she planted a glitter bomb again?

“Yes, of course,” he answered. “Fiddleford’s been showing me -”

“Yeah, we know,” called Stan from the kitchen. “You two have been at it for hours. I’m gonna need you to clear the table before dinner’s ready, okay?”

“Sure thing, Stanley,” replied Fiddleford. “We were at a pretty good stopping place, weren’t we, Ford?”

“You two should join our braid train!” said Mabel.

“I appreciate the offer, Mabel,” said Ford, “but I don’t think either of us have hair long enough to braid.”

“Mr. McGucket’s beard is long enough,” Grenda pointed out.

“I bet an extra finger really comes in handy for holding multiple sections of hair,” said Candy.

“It’s definitely been useful for tying complicated knots,” Ford agreed, “but I’m afraid I’ve never tried braiding hair before.”

Mabel gasped. “Really? Okay, now we have to teach you. Are you ready for a new look, Mr. McGucket?”

Fiddleford shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt none.”

Once the dining table was clear of blueprints and they took their seats in the living room, Ford noticed his heart rate pick up a little. Braiding Fiddleford’s beard was going to include touching his face, and the last time they had been in each other’s personal space like this was many, many years ago, in a . . . different context.

“Let’s start with a simple braid,” said Mabel, running her fingers through Grenda’s hair. “Divide the hair into three even sections, like this.”

Ford let out a deep breath and ran his hands along Fiddleford’s jawline, blushing at the memory of using the same movement to pull him in for a kiss, once upon a time. He was close enough to notice Fiddleford’s cheeks also reddening beneath his facial hair.

“Is this okay?” he asked Fiddleford, just to be sure.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Go on and do as she tells you.”

He could feel Fiddleford’s facial muscles moving beneath his hands - but he had to focus! Three sections of hair. He could do that.

Fiddleford’s beard was shorter and much better groomed than it had been last summer. The weird little bandage was gone. Ford hadn’t expected to enjoy the sensation of soft hair through his fingers so much. With Mabel’s simple instructions, the strands were soon woven together into a thick braid.

“That looks great!” she praised him. “You’re picking this up fast! You want to try a French braid?”

“O-okay.”

Candy turned out to be right about his extra fingers coming in handy, though it still took him a few tries to get the hang of it.

“Nice! Keep going, Grunkle Ford! Careful not to drop that strand.”

“Oh. My. Gosh,” said Candy, pulling out her cell phone. “That boy I told you about from regionals just texted me! Do you think I should send him a selfie?”

“Ooh!” squealed Mabel. “We should take your picture outside while the lighting is good.”

Before Ford could say anything, the three girls ran out the door with nothing more than a “keep practicing, Grunkle Ford!” from Mabel. Their giggles slowly faded away.

“She’s a regular ray of sunshine, ain’t she?” said Fiddleford.

“Yes,” agreed Ford. “I’m very lucky to have her and her brother in my life.”

“Me too. You know they helped me start getting my memories back.”

“Yet another thing I’m grateful to them for.” He came to the end of Fiddleford’s beard with a hum.

“I reckon that looks pretty snazzy,” said Fiddleford, checking his reflection in the window, but Ford shook his head.

“Hang on, let me try that again, it got really messy near the end.” He reached for the beard again, more out of a desire not to end this intimate moment with Fiddleford than out of dedication to immaculate braiding.

Fiddleford grinned, a knowing glint in his eye. “Always the perfectionist.”

“Pot. Kettle.”

“Guilty as charged!” With a laugh Fiddleford added, “Do you remember that stupid fight we had about coffee filters? We was yelling at each other right in this here room, weren’t we?”

Ford’s breath caught. Of course he remembered. He also remembered that fight had ended with a makeout session on the couch.

Did Fiddleford?

“Yes, it was in here,” he answered. “But . . . is the yelling all you remember?”

“No.”

He said it quietly, but with an intensity that brought Ford to a rigid attention. The tender look in his eye loosened Ford’s tongue, and before he knew it he blurted out, “I’m still in love with you.”

Fiddleford brought a trembling hand to Ford’s face. “Ford . . .”

Leaning into the touch, his hands moving from Fiddleford’s beard and onto his shoulders, Ford continued, “I know that after everything that happened between us, it’s more than I could ever ask for simply to be your friend again. And if you want to keep it that way, I’ll still consider myself incredibly fortunate. But if you still feel anything romantic towards me -”

Fiddleford cut him off with a kiss, soft and tender, leaving Ford tingling as he pulled away. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Yes, consarn it, Stanford, I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried. Which I did try. Multiple times. I don’t want to try again.”

“Me neither,” said Ford, and pulled him into another kiss, more intense than the first. Ford’s hands fell around Fiddleford’s waist and pulled him closer. When their mouths broke apart, their foreheads rested together, drinking in the closeness that had so long been denied them.

“The beard’s different,” murmured Ford. “But I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Fidds chuckled, rubbing his beard on Ford’s face and peppering him with kisses. Ford was laughing when their lips met again.

“Oh, great,” said Stan, jolting them apart. “Now I owe Mabel fifteen bucks.”

“Stanley!” Ford cried. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Literally two seconds, sheesh,” said Stan, leaning against the doorway. “I just wanted to tell you dinner was ready, not watch you make out like a creep.”

“And since when do you gamble with the kids?”

“Since when do I not gamble with anyone? I really shouldn’t have bet against Mabel’s matchmaking skills, though. I just thought you two were so repressed, you wouldn’t know a gay urge if it bit you in the rear.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Just because I like to keep things private doesn’t mean I’m repressed, Stanley. I accepted the fact that I’m gay back in college, when we first got together.”

“Really? So Mabel didn’t start your relationship, she just got you back together. I think I can make this work for me.”

“You give that girl her fifteen dollars, Stanley,” Fiddleford insisted. “I never would’ve guessed that braid train business was a setup. That girl is good.”

When she came in for dinner and found Fiddleford and Stanford holding hands, Mabel squealed and accepted her winnings with relish. Though Dipper was less exuberant, he did say that their getting together was “neat, real neat. You guys are, like, the ultimate science power couple.” Even Stan admitted that despite all the teasing, he was happy for them.

“It gives me a lot of hope for the future,” said Ford as he walked Fiddleford home that evening, “having that kind of support from family.”

“Don’t it?” Fiddleford concurred. “Those kids ain’t growing up with the same limits on self expression, or love, that we did. What a blessing that is.”

“For so long, I felt like I didn’t have a future,” said Ford. “Everything was about stopping Bill. But now, the possibilities are endless. This is the freest I’ve ever felt. I’m so glad I get to share that with you.”

“I feel exactly the same way.”

Ford kissed Fiddleford then, right there in the street, not caring at all if anyone saw.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Never Alone (Don “Wardaddy” Collier x reader) Fury 2014

Just something that popped in my head today and I had time to write. Yay! Plus I watched Fury recently and my love of that movie grows every time I watch it.

Reader is written as she/her instead of y/n but no other description is given.  

Warnings: none really. some swearing, sadness, fluff. 

Words:1780

  She had been so excited when the Private told her she had mail. Tearing the envelope practically in half, she did not check who sent it. There was only one person (well two technically) who sent her mail. Her grandparents. Her grandfather was the one who wrote the letters though. He was the one who mattered. Since his own son dumped his toddler on his parents' doorstep and walked away, her grandfather had treated her as his own. Better than his own. 

 Ever since she was able to walk she waddled around following her grandfather. He teased her calling her his shadow, but she knew he loved it. He was the one that taught her to fish, to hunt, to shoot, to defend herself, everything he knew about engines and machines. 

He had been in the Great War, a Captain, but when this war rolled around, age and injury prevented him from joining. 

 So she did. 

 The tanks were supposed to be rolling out soon. This was only a short reprieve until they headed to the next town to liberate and secure it. Nothing unusual. 

 For the brief moments she had, she hid behind her current home- the tank Fury. As an assistant mechanic, she knew every part of the tank, almost better than Grady since she could fit into the smaller spots better than him. The rest of the crew- her boys as she teased them- were getting some hot chow. Wardaddy probably was talking with that stupid lieutenant, that acted like he was better than everyone else, to learn where they were going. For the moment, she was alone. A rarity that she planned on taking full advantage of. 

 She tore the envelope and ripped out the letter, eager for news from home. 

 Immediately she knew something was wrong. 

The words were written in a lovely cursive, not the typical choppy, slant she associated with her grandfather's handwriting. There were dried tear marks smudging some of the words and scattered around the paper. 

 Sweetheart, I don't know how to make this any easier on you, so I am just going to say it. Your grandfather is gone. There was an accident. The neighbor's truck was acting up again so your grandfather went to help and then…

 The words blurred before her eyes, no longer recognizable.  Gone… her grandmother could not even come out and say the truth. He was dead. The man that mattered most to her was dead. 

 She wanted to scream at the heavens, she wanted to cry until there was nothing left in her, she wanted to burn the letter and pretend her world had not imploded.

 Mostly she just wanted her grandfather back. 

 Instead she sat there, kneeling in the mud, staring out over the field next to the tanks, the letter clutched in her hand like her life depended on it. Tears streaked down her cheeks, cleaning away the grime and grease that felt like a permanent stain on her skin. 

 The fog in her mind lifted when she heard someone call her name. Turning her head slowly, she glanced over her shoulder to see Bible approaching her. Gordo stood a few feet away watching her, eyebrows furrowed. She could guess why. She never cried. Even when a chunk of tank pierced her thigh and Wardaddy had to pull it out, no tears fell. Even when everyone else in their unit died, tanks blown sky high, she never shed a tear. 

 "What's wrong, Whiskey? You hurt?"

 Silently she handed him the letter. Words felt like too much effort right now.  Even hearing her nickname felt like a stab to her gut. Her grandfather had instilled in her the knowledge of good whiskey so now she was humorously picky when it came to drinking alcohol.  

 It did not take long for him to understand. "Oh, Whiskey. I'm so sorry." He wrapped his arms around her, putting his chin on the top of her head as she pressed her face to his chest. "He's in Heaven now with our Lord, looking down on you. No more pain, only happiness. He probably found himself a bench with Saint Peter and is keeping an eye on you, yeah? Looking out for his girl."

 She nodded, thankful for Bible's intuition of what she needed to hear. 

 He held her for a few more moments before the cries of 'move out' sounded and men piled back into the tanks, war ready to resume. 

 He let her go but stared into her eyes. "You need to talk, or even a hug, you find me."

 "Tha...thank you."

 "We're family. A bit dysfunctional but family."

 She chuckled, quickly wiping away the dried tears with the sleeve of her jacket, caking her face in grime once again. One more nod to each other, they stood up and clambered into Fury. Gordo squeezed her hand when she slipped into the gunner's seat next to him. Coon-Ass patted her shoulder awkwardly. Wardaddy gave her a brief nod, but it was his gaze, all the sentiment in it almost broke her resolve to bury her pain. 

 Now was not the time. They had a job to do. 

 Best job she ever had. 

 ******

 That evening, under the stars, she leaned against a brick building that once was a cafe but now was half demolished. Cigarette between her lips as her thoughts threatened to overwhelm her. Everyone that was not on guard duty was asleep. 

 Footsteps approached her but she knew who it was without looking. She knew he would find her eventually. He always did. 

 Without a word, he leaned against the brick next to her, lighting his own cigarette. They stood that way, silently, watching the stars as the smoke from their cigarettes drifted upward to join the celestial beings. 

 Giving in, she tipped her head to the side, laying it against Don's shoulder, his arm wrapping around her. 

 "He's dead."

 "Yeah."

 "I don't… I don't know what to do."

 "You keep living." His harsh tone made her peer up at him in the dark, but he continued, staring ahead. "You keep living every goddamn day doing the best you can, to honor them, but mostly cause you alive and they aren't.  You live while there is breath in your lungs because one day there won't be and you don't want to realize you wasted those breathes. Trust me on that."

 And she did. She knew about the scars on his back and where they came from. One drunken night he told her and Bible about it. 

 He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head. "I'll take care of you."

 "I know. But when this damn war is over and we go home, I…."

 "I'll take care of you." He interrupted, exhaling, smoke slipping between his lips. 

 "What?"

 "You heard me. You aren't going home alone. You're coming home with me." His statement said, so matter of fact, as he kept staring at the stars.

 "I am?"

 "Yeah, be my wife. There's land behind my folks place. We'll build a house and you can hunt in the woods all day long or work on vehicles in the garage."

 "You want me to marry you?" She needed to make sure she was not hallucinating.  

 "I sure as hell ain't letting you marry any of these other bastards."

 She could not help it. She threw her head back and laughed. God, it felt good. Anything was better than crying. 

 Turning around so she was facing him properly, his arm still around her, hand on her hip now, she stared at him. Taking one last inhale of her cigarette, she dropped it onto the ground. She had always thought he was attractive. At the beginning she may have even had a schoolgirl crush on him. As time passed and she got to know him more, that crush evolved into something deeper. Something stronger. His loyalty, his  protectiveness for those he cared about, his nerves of steel, his sincerity and his ability to think calmly and rationally even in the most dire of circumstances...those things began to mean more to her than just his pretty face. Even if it was very pretty. 

 "You serious? You really want me to marry you?"

 "That's what I said."

 She stared at him, trying to imagine herself as his wife, as living a simple life together. Something she had never imagined for herself before...until now. And with the picture in her mind, she realized she wanted that. More specific, she wanted that with him. "Well, ok."

 He finally looked down at her, lips turned up just slightly. "Yeah?"

 "Yeah. Yes, Don, I will marry you."

 A full, brilliant smile split his face. He dropped his cigarette and cupped her face, pressing his lips against hers in a mad rush. Her own hands grabbed his jacket, pulling him as close as possible as she opened her mouth to allow their tongues to dance. She wondered if this is what it felt like to be on morphine. A lightness filled her, everything felt right with the world, a warmth stirred in her belly. Kissing Don Collier had to be the best thing she had ever done in her life. Well maybe second best thing, since she agreed to marry him and fully expected more kisses in the future. 

 Breathing heavy once their lips unlatched, Don held her close, his chin on top of her head. Her hands still gripped his jacket but now more to steady herself. Her legs felt like limp noodles and her mind was in a euphoria of bliss. 

 "So, this means we're calling you Warmomma instead of Whiskey?"

 She looked over to see Bible standing nearby, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

 "Don't you dare." She glared but his smile only grew and she could feel Don attempting to suppress his own laughter. 

 "We'll don't stay up too late you two…" he pointed a finger at them, "...and no funny business."

 "Night, Boyd." Don said, lighting a new cigarette. 

 Bible shook his head, still smiling before sticking his hands in his pockets and strolling away. 

 "He's right. We should probably bed down."

 "Mmm…" He slowly ran his hand up and down her back. 

 "Want to keep me warm tonight? Gordo stole my blanket yesterday, so…" she shrugged, struggling to keep her voice light. 

 He smirked. "I can do that."

 They walked back towards the others, his arm around her shoulders and hers around his side. She realized in the moment that if they survived this war, she would never be alone. Her future was not how she planned it to be...but perhaps it would be even better.

[aricazorel]

tagged by @raflesia65 and @noire-pandora Thank you!

This is from a future chapter of my Dragon Age story "Anchor: Ripples" featuring Cullen Rutherford and Anyssa McBride. The third in the Anchor series it centers around their lives after the end of DA:I and the Trespasser DLC.

Read Anchor: Ripples here on AO3

Read Anchor: Moments here on AO3

Read Anchor (from the very beginning) here on AO3

“And you and Cullen-wullen? Cully-Wully?” Sera teased from the top of the ladder in the vault. “Lots of men under him. Needs a woman over him. Because positions.”

Anyssa McBride shook her head as she packed up the lasts round of artifacts recovered from the Dales. By her estimation this was the second to last shipment of its kind. The Clan from the Dales had made arrangements to take the artifacts to the forthcoming 'Arlathvhen' were all the Dalish clans could decide what to do with the parts of their culture that had been retrieved.

Sera had no interest in such things but she was bored. Dagna was busy being boring according to the Red Jenny so that left Anyssa to entertain her. Apparently that meant listening to Sera disseminate information about her private life with Cullen that others thought they knew. Right now it revolved around their sex life.

Checking off the items as she carefully prepared them for their journey, she continued to listen as Sera went on. “Don’t you think you and ‘im took long enough?”

McBride paused in her actions, glancing up at the blonde elf. “Excuse me?”

“You know. Your thing and his thing doing things?” the archer clarified as she illustrated the point with hand gestures.

The historian arched an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’m going to regret this but are you insinuating that everyone knows that Cullen and I only recently—”

“Oi! Quit using them big words! I ain’t no uppity noble you have ta deal with,” Sera complained as she hoped off the ladder.

Anyssa smiled as she set the ledger down beside the crate. “Okay. Fine. You mean to tell me that everyone knows that our bits have only recently started doing things?”

The Red Jenny snorted. “That’s more like it!”

Rolling her eyes as she picked up another piece, the historian asked more seriously, “They can’t really know that…Could they?”

Sera tilted her head almost in sympathy but not quite. She began cackling instead. “Nah, them uppity types don’t know the good details. They just make ‘em up. Now Leliana? She knows the goods. I do ‘cause I’ve seen how he looks at you and things.”

“And things?”

“Yeah,” Sera replied as she handed Anyssa the lid to the crate. “Commander Grumpy Pants isn’t as grumpy any more. He smiles more when you aren’t even around. He’s actually havin’ a good time with his men not just barkin’ at them. Annnnd he likes keepin’ you close, whispering things in yer ear that make you blush, rushing through things to get you alone…”

“Okay. Okay! I get it Sera! If you know what to look for, if you know us then you probably figured it out,” Anyssa conceded as she placed the lid on the crate and began sealing it.

The Red Jenny giggled. “I wouldn’t worry about it. People talk all the time and most of the time have the details wrong. When you and Cully-Wully get on with that life you two are planning, none of it will matter, will it?”

Anyssa smiled realizing the blonde elf was right. “I suppose not.”

“Yeah,” Sera said as she hoped up on the ladder again. “Now tell me somethin’. Does he like you over him?”

The historian replied without glancing up from her task and gave a very simply answer. “Yes.”

[kim-bobbae]

12. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Where you’re a dancer/choreographer cum YouTuber pulling the ‘I want a baby now’ hidden camera prank on him, inspired by some of the Korean couple YouTube channels that I’ve watched where the boyfriend goes ‘wtf’ most of the time hahaha. Hope y’all enjoy it! :-)

“For the first verse, why don’t we have Jay and Ji Eun do a little duet choreography?” Wassup suggested much to everyone else’s agreement.

“That’ll work,” Honey J nodded. “The next verse would look fuller with a group choreography, so the first verse would be the best fit.” 

 You took a quick glance at Jay through the reflection in the mirror who simply shrugged in response, face void of any expression whatsoever and upon seeing that he wasn’t responding, the rest of them turned their attention towards you to which you nervously cleared your throat, “Sure, let’s go with that.” 

You were at the AOMG dance studio with Jay’s dancers from Alter Ego and Holy Bang for a practice session in preparation for the upcoming filming of his ‘All the Way Up’ music video. The excitement of finally collaborating with Jay after years of dating sure as hell got you feeling excited all week…if it weren’t for the little argument that you guys had gotten into this morning due to a hidden camera prank gone wrong which had him leaving the house without you. 

“A baby? All of sudden? Where is this even coming from?” He asked, utterly confused. 

There he was on the couch replying to some emails when you had simply gone up to him and said ‘let’s have a baby’ out of literally nowhere which had him absolutely dumbfounded, to say the least. 

“Well we’ve been dating for a few years, and I’m not getting any younger,” You started. “We’re in our freaking 30s…!” 

“So…?” He asked, furrowing his brows at you as he put his laptop aside and tapped on his lap, signaling for you to come over. 

“I love you enough to want to have a family with you, and I don’t want to get pregnant when I’m 40,” You explained, your acting skills put to the test as you tried your hardest to hold back a laughter watching how serious he had gotten. 

“Babe…didn’t we agree on getting married first before thinking about starting a family?” 

“But that’s what you’ve been saying for the past two years, and…” You said, successfully pulling off a sulk as you raised your left hand in front of his face, pointing to your ring finger. “I ain’t got no ring on it.” 

“Okay hold up,” He said, hands on your lap. “So it’s about marriage now? What on earth are you trying to get at?” 

“I just want to have a baby with you.” 

“…what?” 

He was gawking at you by now, bewildered by your sudden marriage-and-baby talk. Of course, the both of you had spoken about this before where he had made it clear that he had every intention of marrying you – just not now. From his two labels to his several businesses, he just had too much on his plate to think about settling down. He didn’t want to get married nor start a family without being able to fully commit his time to you as he felt that it just wouldn’t be fair to you and you knew that – he had made sure you did. 

While how seriously he was taking this conversation did have you feeling a little flustered, the all too familiar beep that penetrated the momentary silence only made things worse as your entire body tensed up in panic, Jay shooting his head up as his eyes scanned the room. Having helped you with the filming of some of your YouTube content, he knew exactly what that beep meant – it was your camera running out of battery. 

His face hardened as he spotted the red blinking light from your camera that you had hid behind stacks of magazines in the dark corner of a shelf across the room and he shifted in his seat, gesturing for you to get off his lap before he walked over to retrieve it. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking at the camera in his hand and then back at you. He was not amused and you definitely weren’t expecting things to pan out this way. 

“It was a hidden camera prank,” You explained with a sheepish smile. 

“You got to be kidding me.” 

“It was the most highly requested video for the longest time!” You said, trying to defend yourself. 

On top of the choreographies that made up the bulk of your YouTube content, you tended to vlog from time to time, showing little snippets of your daily life varying from simply hanging out with your friends or the creative process for the collaborations that you did with other artists. However, ever since your relationship with Jay had gone public last year, the majority of your new subscribers have been his fans with many leaving comments on your videos requesting for you to include more of Jay in your videos. 

It started off simple with you filming some of your dates and backstage moments with his artists but every now and then, you’d respond to some of their hidden camera prank suggestions to which Jay had reacted to very sportingly. After all, it was entertaining for everyone and more than anything, he was glad that you and his fans were starting to get along despite the initial backlash that you received when news of your relationship first broke out. 

“There is a time and place for everything and the conversation we had really isn’t something meant for anyone else to listen to,” He stated. 

Yes, he was a fairly private person, especially when it came to his relationship with you. He had always made it a point to ensure that his appearances on your videos were never too intrusive, too. 

“What were you expecting to get out of this? If I had gone along with it we’d be filming porn by now,” He said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You really had to interrupt me while I was working for this? C’mon…” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t kno- I mean, I didn’t mean it and- …I’m sorry,” You whispered. 

For a while he simply stared at you, at a loss for words before he let out a sigh of resignation, “I need to cool off. Call Dukhwa if you need a ride to the office later.” 

Without any opportunity to iron things out with Jay prior to the dance practice as he kept himself busy in his office right up to the minute prior (you weren’t going to risk aggravating things by knocking on his door and interrupting his work again after all), you were left without a choice but to attend practice putting on a professional front, the both of you trying your best to put the incident behind as you guys worked on the duet choreography together. 

“What do you think of simplifying the shuffle to a side step? I think it’ll look cleaner,” You said. 

“Yeah okay.” 

“Should we do a wave for this part?”

“Yeah, whatever you want.” 

Despite most of the practice progressing rather smoothly, the awkward air between the two of you did get a little obvious with how stiff you guys were at any physical contact. His chic responses in comparison to how he’d enthusiastically contribute ideas when he was speaking with the rest of the dancers was also a dead giveaway. Nevertheless, you powered through the five-hour practice and you couldn’t be more relieved the moment it ended, although it didn’t last for long as everyone packed up quickly and shot each other knowing glances to leave the studio to give you and Jay some time alone. 

The silence was thick as you packed up your belongings, Jay sitting with his back against the mirror while he watched you in silence.

“About this afternoon,” You finally spoke, picking up your bag before turning around to look at him. “I’m really sorry. I just want you to know that I would’ve made sure you knew about the footage after I was done filming, and that I’d only use it if you were comfortable sharing it with the public.” 

“It’s not that I’ll be uncomfortable with it,” He explained. “It’s just that the internet would have a whole bunch of opinions about our relationship, marriage and family planning.” 

You nodded, your gaze falling to look at his feet instead. 

“As for me, I don’t really care about what they’ll have to say and you know that. I’m just worried that you’ll be affected and the last thing I want is for all the success that you’ve built from your dancing and career to be overshadowed by something as silly as this.” 

He then stood up, taking your bag off your shoulders and setting it on the floor before he murmured a soft ‘come here’, pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your face. 

“I’m sorry,” You told him, relaxing into his touches. 

You were just glad to have gotten the tension out of the way after working around it for the whole day. Fights with Jay weren’t common and you were just not used to him being angry or upset despite how long you guys have been together. He was never too proud to apologize nor forgive and if you had to choose one thing you loved most about him, that’d be it. 

“I’ll put a ring on it and have babies with you,” He chuckled. “Just be a bit more patient, I’m working on it I swear.” 

“I know,” You laughed, then buried your face in his chest in embarrassment. 

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other maintained its hold around your waist, “Heading home?” 

“Yeah, you?” 

“I’m meeting Pumpkin in a bit for a meeting. I’ll see you at home after, and we can think of something else to film for your video this week.” 

You smiled, giving him a peck on his lips before you wriggled out of his grip. “I shouldn’t hold you up any longer then.” 

“Shall I get someone to drive you home?” 

“No it’s fine, don’t worry about me,” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

“Well then,” He said, grabbing his jacket from the bench and handing it to you. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” 

“What about you?” 

“I have another one in my office,” He said with a smile, then waved you off.

“Alright,” You giggled. “I’ll see you later then, don’t keep me waiting too long.”

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed has taken great joy in watching Laxus become not only a powerful mage, but a celebrity as well. As any dutiful husband would, he saw it his responsibility to make sure Laxus' new found fame didn't go to his head. And what better way to accomplish that than to splash him back to reality. [Fraxus One Shot]

I'm not sure where this idea came from, but it seemed fun and I don’t write canon-focused as much as I'd like to. This is just a fun little one shot, that I hope can put a smile on your faces.

You can read this under the cut, on Fanfiction, or on Archive of Our Own. Hope you enjoy it.

A Splash of Reality

Freed wasn't entirely sure how, but Laxus had become something of a celebrity.

It had started out during their stint working for Blue Pegasus, wherein Laxus had been forced to take an interview with Sorcerer Weekly. Master Bob had insisted on it, claiming that the guild was run on patrons as well as their jobs, and having the world-renowned Laxus Dreyar suddenly as a guildmember was big news and could stir up a lot of business. It was made an even bigger deal because of Laxus' previous aversion to anything to do with press. It was his first interview, and it had been incredibly successful.

From there, things had snowballed. Other interviewers suddenly saw Laxus as a viable target, and Bob forced Laxus to do the more high-profile ones. When Fairy Tail had returned, Laxus had been one of the main points of intrigue, partly because now he was a well-known media figure and Fairy Tail returning was big news, and party because of the rumours about Laxus taking over.

Once he had started, he hadn't seemed to stop. Not only did he do interviews, but he also done an advertisement for the creators of his cherished headphones, which had kickstarted his pseudo-career in modelling. Every interview now came with a photoshoot, and Freed was immeasurably amused about how, with every shoot he did, the amount of clothing Laxus wore seemed to be lessening and the poses became more focused on his physique. Apparently the magazines knew a body they could profit from when presented with one.

While Laxus did complain, Freed knew he was enjoying it all. The man, while private, did like attention, if only on his terms.

The amount of time the couple could spend together did lessen slightly, but Freed didn't mind that. It would be hypocritical if he did, given when they had gotten together it had been the same year he'd gained the reputation as the 'Pretty Boy with a heart of darkness', and he had topped the 'Wizard I'd Like To Date' list; something Laxus had yet to do, Freed thought smugly. Media was something a famous wizard had to deal with, and it was a lot more fun laughing at Laxus' awkwardness in interviews than it would be if he allowed himself to be angry at the late nights Laxus spent in a studio somewhere.

One such night, Freed found himself doing the dishes as Laxus returned home.

"Hey," Laxus greeted as he entered, immediately shucking off his coat. "You alright?"

"Perfectly well," Freed said with a smile, placing the sponge on the draining board and turning to greet his husband. "Did your meeting go well?"

"I guess so," Laxus shrugged. "They offered me the contract. Pretty good pay, lots of coverage, they seemed enthusiastic about it."

"I can't imagine why," Freed chuckled. "It's not as if you're the person everyone's taking about right now, and that everything you attribute your name to seems to explode in popularity. Oh wait, you're exactly that," Freed chuckled. "I expect they threw a party just because you considered it."

An underwear company had, a month prior, come to Laxus saying they wanted him to be the headliner for their new ad campaign. They had stated in no uncertain terms that they would do almost anything to have him as their lead model, and it wasn't hard to understand why. Laxus had done a photoshoot for Sorcerer Weekly where one of the pictures showed Laxus teasing his underwear, and it had been the year's most successful issue of the magazine. The company had openly grovelled to get Laxus to consider their offer, and Freed had found it hysterical. He remembered what it had been like when he'd gotten similar offers, and was thankful that he no longer had to deal with it.

"Are you considering taking it?" Freed asked as he turned back to the dishes.

"Not sure," Laxus said, walking behind Freed and pressing his lips against the man's crown, a silent greeting. "They're respectful, and they said I can pick a photographer I know which means I won't get stuck with a creep. But I'm a mage, y'know. It'd make me less credible if there were magazine and billboard with me nearly naked on them, right?"

Freed paused, and smiled. He had known Laxus most of his life and they'd been together for a good few years, so he could read the man well. The fact that he'd phrased his last statement as a question, rather than as fact, was telling. He wanted to do it, almost definitely would do it, but he just needed a push.

And unfortunately, Freed had a bit of a cruel side.

"You're absolutely right," Freed said, voice almost haughty in tone. He was grinning into the unclean dishes. "Not only would you seem a sell-out, it would also affect your guild work and your reputation. It would risk taking away the fear factor you bring to missions; you shouldn't do it."

There was a beat of silent, one that Freed relished, before Laxus spoke again.

"But there's good aspects to it," He stated, forcing a nonchalant tone. "I could get some more money for the guild, which it always needs. And it's not like it's uncommon for mages to do ad campaigns and get into modelling. I mean, Mira does it all the time and nobody questions how fucking scary she can be."

"I'll agree to that," Freed nodded slightly, looking to Laxus with a wicked grin. "If you agree that you're loving this."

This had been the unspoken aspect of Laxus' celebrity status. Before it had happened, the blonde had been ardent that he'd never get into the publicity side of mage work, and that the people who did weren't as respectable as those who didn't. He'd claimed he would never do an interview by choice, and that he would hate every moment of it if forced to do one. That might have been true at the start, but as he had gotten used to it, gotten more comfortable with it, and had created professional relationships with journalists and photographers, he'd clearly started to enjoy it. A lot. But he refused to admit it, another amusing part of the situation.

"You kidding me?" Laxus scoffed. "Wish they'd stop asking, then I'd go back to normal."

"If that's the case, I'll talk to Master Makarov and have him block all correspondence from the media," Freed offered, and smirked when Laxus' eyebrow twitched slight. "Just admit it Laxus, you've become a celebrity, and you're enjoying every second of it."

"No I'm not," He protested, collapsing into a chair at the dining table.

"Oh please," Freed chuckled. "There's a small voice in your head that is constantly celebrating every moment of this. The arrogant teenager who wanted to hog the spotlight," Freed smiled as Laxus blushed a little. "You remind me of me when I first got into the celebrity side of things."

"I ain't that bad," Laxus stated. "Nobody can be as bad as Freed Justine the Pretty Boy."

"You might be more subtle about it," Freed conceded. "But I know that if you hadn't made such a big deal about not being one of those people, you'd be just as bad as I was."

"So what if I'm enjoying it," Laxus huffed, looking away from Freed and ignoring the chuckle that got him. "It ain't like I'm doing anything wrong by liking it."

"Certainly not, you're a well renowned wizard and you have put a lot of effort into proving yourself capable and impressive. Your celebrity status just proves that it's not just magic you're proficient in, but also publicity, arguably something a lot harder to do," Freed said as he walked from the kitchen sink and towards Laxus. "But if you think I'm not going to take every opportunity to annoy you like you did when our roles were reversed, you are very naïve indeed."

Laxus chuckled slightly at that, and the minor amount of defensiveness dissipated. As a couple, they had always had a flirtatious, harmless tit-for-tat rivalry, and Freed was glad Laxus knew his teasing was a part of that.

"Guess I deserve that," Laxus conceded. "What are you planning to do then? Find an embarrassing picture of me and send it to every magazine you know?"

"I'd hardly do something so unoriginal," Freed chuckled, thinking back to when Laxus had done just that to Freed. The picture of Freed sleeping, leaning against his sword, hair a mess after a mission, drooling slightly, had been featured in every low-end gossip magazine for a week, something which Laxus and The Raijinshuu found great delight in.

"Then what?" Laxus probed, smirking. He was clearly thinking of the picture as well.

"I can hardly ruin the surprise for you," Freed chuckled. "But, overall, I simply intend to keep you humble. To make sure all the grovelling and worshipping doesn't go to your head."

"How d'you plan on doing that?"

"Well, this, for example."

Freed moved quickly. As he had walked from the kitchen sink, he had grabbed the sponge that lay on the draining board and hidden it behind his back, something that Laxus hadn't noticed. He speedily moved it above Laxus' head, wringing it out. A cold shower of dishwater dropped out of it, landing on the blonde's perfectly styled hair, and splashing onto his shoulders.

Laxus let out a loud and undignified squark, wide eyed as the water dripped down his face. He looked up at Freed with shock for a moment, before determination painted itself across his featured. Freed met the expression with a cocky smile.

"You'll regret that," Laxus stated plainly.

"I don't think so," Freed chuckled. "After such a lovely noise, I don't think anything you do could make me regret it."

Laxus strode to the kitchen sink, scooping his hand in and collecting a handful of the foam bubbles. He turned on his heel and looked to Freed, who had crossed his arms and looked at the bubbles with an unimpressed eyebrow quirk. Not put off, Laxus stepped forward and slowly stroked Freed's face over with his bubbly fist, covering the man's features. He chuckled as he stepped back, the bubbles clinging to Freed's face.

"Well I have had a taste of my own medicine," Freed said in a voice so sarcastic it was almost impressive. "And it is very bitt-"

Freed cut himself off, gaping slightly as realisation – and a glass full of water – hit him. He gaped slightly as the cup full of dishwater splashed cold against his face, part of it entering his mouth. He slowly spat the water out onto the floor, glaring at his husband as bubbles trickled down his face. Laxus loudly laughed at him.

"I see," Freed said, voice calm now. "It's war then, is it?"

"Guess so," Laxus shrugged, crossing his arms, and adopting the same stance Freed had used just a moment ago.

And so, the war broke out. Before Freed could get to the sink, Laxus had splashed another handful of bubbles and water in his direction, drenching his crisp shirt and sending a shudder through him. Freed quickly got his revenge, cupping his hands and doing the same. His attack had been more effective, and Laxus groaned at a large wet mark covered his designer clothing; designer clothing that looked indistinguishable from his other clothes, given that no designer could change his unique sense of style.

The impromptu water fight lasted for a short while, and was covered in a mixture of sounds ranging from cries of annoyance to loud and raucous laughter. Though their kitchen was something of a mess by the time the fight neared its end, neither man cared. They both faced a lot of pressure, and moments of ridiculous fun was something they both relished.

Particularly Freed, given that he was now holding Laxus by the hair, threatening to plunge his face down into the rest of the dishwater.

"You wouldn't," Laxus grunted, muscles flexing as he pushed up against Freed's grasp.

"We both know I would," Freed taunted. "Unless you concede, of course."

"Never," Laxus demanded.

"Well then, let me give you a taste of what you've got in stall," Freed laughed, and Laxus' eyes narrowed. "Tonight I had gravy with my dinner, so the water is not only cold and stagnant, but it's also got a delightful hint of soapy beef. The few specs of the dinner I didn't finish are still floating around, which I expect will make this interesting," Laxus curled his nose at that; he could already smell the mix of contrasting scents. He was fine not having a closer look. "And from your nasty sneak attack, I can say from experience that it has a disgusting taste."

"You won't push me in," Laxus huffed. "When it comes to arm strength, I win."

"Perhaps with another man, that would be true," Freed mused. "But as your husband, I know a weakness or two that I can exploit."

Freed's fingers grazed against Laxus' waist, and a tickling sensation flushed through the blonde. His eyes widened as he reaffirmed his grasp on the sides of the sink, because Freed had barely been trying to tickle him and he was now only an inch away from the water's surface. If Freed really wanted to do this, Laxus would be powerless.

"You have one last chance to admit I win," Freed chuckled, breath hitting Laxus' ear. "Or it's bath time."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Very well," Freed grinned. "Enjoy yourself, Mr Celebrity."

And with that, Freed's free hand attacked Laxus' weak spot, his muscles buckled, and his face was shoved into the disgusting water below him.

~~~

"You've made a decision then?" Freed asked.

He walked out of his bathroom wearing nothing but a robe, his hair a slight mess after a quick towel dry. After Laxus had been pushed into the sink, Freed had been declared the victor of their water fight, and the two had retreated to the shower to clean off. Laxus had left the bathroom before Freed, claiming he was going to call the underwear company and give them a definitive answer while Freed readied himself for sleep.

"Yeah, just got off the phone," Laxus said, smiling at Freed and shifting the covers so his husband could climb in. "Told them I'd do it, they seemed pretty happy about it."

"I imagine so," Freed chuckled. "I hope you don't become disillusioned by it all, because glamour shoots can be a tiresome bore. I'd certainly rather you endure it than me."

He climbed into the bed, automatically leaning against his husband and curling up around him. Laxus wrapped him in his arms without a second thought, smiling a little at the scent of Freed's distinctive shampoo. He nuzzled his nose into the man's hair for a moment, before resting his chin on the man's head.

He grinned to himself before speaking again.

"You were right, they really would have done anything to get me working with them," Laxus mused, seemingly out of nowhere. "I went to them with a pretty big demand, and they actually went with it. Kinda shocked."

"As I said, you're a big name," Freed shrugged, covering himself with the duvet. "What did you want from them?"

"Double the pay."

"They really were desperate," Freed chuckled. "What they offered before was generous anyway."

"Well, I guess they saw the perks of it," Laxus chuckled, and smiled a little wickedly. "I mean, when I say they doubled the pay, I might have been misleading. Because while they're paying twice as much, it's not just going to me."

"Then who is it going to?" Freed questioned.

"You, of course," Laxus smirked, and Freed froze in his arms. Laxus tightened his grip slightly. "You see, I told them just how much my stud of a team captain – who was the fantasy guy of the whole nation a couple years ago – wanted to get into modelling. How he missed the spotlight, and wanted to show off to the world. And when I told them in no uncertain terms that I wouldn't be doing anything without him, they seemed very happy to do what I wanted."

"You didn't," Freed said, voice hollow.

"Oh I did," Laxus chuckled. "So it looks like I'm not going to be the only celebrity living here from this point, huh?"

"You bastard," Freed grunted.

"Damn right I am," Laxus grinned, taking Freed's chin with his fingers and turning him so they were face to face. He smirked at the man, who was doing a mix of a glare and a pout. Laxus leant forward, kissing Freed with a victorious expression. "I guess I win after all, Pretty Boy."

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #3: Taking Care of BUSINESS!

November, 1984

This is a sad day for the fledgling West Coast Avengers. It’s a cool cover for the fledgling West Coast Avengers but a sad day.

Not only are they falling before Graviton but they’re falling perpetually.

Anyway, last time in West Coast Avengers: Hawkeye and Mockingbird were sent by the Vision to create a west coast branch of the Avengers. Since Wonder Man, Tigra, and Rhodey Iron Man were California based, they got the nod to be the West Coast Avengers, despite reluctance from Tigra and Iron Man.

Their first case was mistaking as a supervillain and beating up a friend of Tigra who had followed her to the Avengers Compound to make sure she wasn’t in trouble. So. That’s not great. Next, the West Coast Avengers tried to chase down a bank robber named the Blank. This is really overkill for a guy whose only power is wearing a slippery anonymizing force field but he manages to get away anyway. The charger for his force field also dunks Graviton back into the world.

And as you can see on the cover, this isn’t ideal for our West Coast Avengers.

But before that, there was an event that sort of happened between issues. In Avengers #249, Vision tried to contact the West Coast Avengers but only got their answering machine. And that’s because they were dealing with the local worldwide unseasonable winter.

If Avenging and stunt work doesn’t work out for Wonder Man, he should consider becoming the new Mr. Plow.

Anyway, the forever winter is over, thanks to the Casket of Eternal Winters being reassembled and shut over in the Thor book as part of a multi-pronged plan to take down Surtur.

The West Coast Avengers are still dealing with the remaining snow because its not like snow just evaporates! Without turning into water first! Look, it would take too much time, people have places to drive, or something.

The combination of snow everywhere but normal warm South California weather leads to some people taking advantage by going swimsuit skiing, mostly so Rhodey can wryly think that weird is a way of life for Californians as an excuse to not worry about why Wonder Man has been acting weird lately.

Uh, good rationalizing, Rhodey?

Some people who don’t care for skiing decide to instead rob Radio Shack because NOBODY WILL EVER KNOW!

But Mockingbird shows up and starts beating them up when they make the mistake of believing that they outnumber her. They are mathematically right and wrong in every other way.

Hawkeye also shows up to pin some others to the wall with arrows so one of the Radio Shack robbers runs to the getaway car and tries to get the getaway driver to help him getaway.

But cat’s got their car.

It sort of makes sense why Tigra has decided on this for her winter outfit and yet I’m still baffled.

If it had just been the boots, that’d be one thing.

She’s also the only one who has made a winter weather change to her outfit.

Bafflement.

The blond robber doesn’t even try running, saying “What’s the use? Just take me away. I wanna serve my time and forget this ever happened!”

Bad day when some electronics theft gets an entire superhero team on you.

By midday, the West Coast Avengers meet by the Hollywood sign (so that the audience knows that this is set in LA). At this point all of the snow is gone, as if it’s been whisked away. So I guess I was wrong. Earlier the casket hadn’t been repaired but now it has been.

Hawkeye: “Well, whatever happened to [the snow], you can all be proud of the job you did over the past week! You put in a lot of long hours and saved thousands of lives! I’d say we’ve all earned a little time to unwind! That’s why I propose we hold the first annual Avengers barbeque... commencing tonight at sunset, back at the compound!”

Oh ho, I see that Hawkeye is going to be the fun Avengers chairman. Don’t see Vision organizing a barbeque.

The rest of the team is pretty excited about this... except for Wonder Man, who is distracted, answers without any real enthusiasm, and then takes off.

Hawkeye wonders if he’s still upset about the Blank getting away but c’mon that was weeks ago! Surely no superhero ever obsesses over anything!

When the Avengers disperse, Tigra lies that Iron Man promised her a lift as an excuse to talk to him in private about Wonder Man.

Tigra: “Something’s bothering him, and I thought maybe you could get him to talk about it! After all, you’ve known him longer than the rest of us!”

Iron Man: “Uh... not really, Tigra! I hardly know the man!”

Tigra: “What are you talking about, Tony? You fought alongside him dozens of times!”

Iron Man: “Tony -- ?! Ohhh... you think I’m Tony Stark!”

Womp womp.

This is one of the exact things Rhodey was worried would happen if he joined a team with a bunch of people who knew Tony/Iron Man!

Rhodey isn’t about to just reveal his name to her over a case of mistaken identity but he does prove to a doubtful Tigra that he’s not Tony by showing Tigra the skin on his hand.

Iron Rhodey also suggests that Tigra talk to him for reasons of it’s always flattering when a pretty cat girl pays attention to you?

I mean, sure. Yeah. True.

Tigra is also the only person on the team who actually realized Wonder Man was bummed who didn’t immediately dismiss the idea.

I guess its up to you, Tigra.

Meanwhile, in the Santa Monica Mountains, our coverboy Graviton.

He didn’t sit idle during the big snow, oh no! He took over an estate. And then sat idle!

Dammit, it was cold out!

Graviton: I prefer starting my empire in a warmer climate!

With the snow cleared up though, he can get down to business........ of recapping his recent travails.

So, Graviton.

He comes from Canada because Marvel Canada is just like that. He was a researcher in Research City, working on a teleport beam, and accidentally gave himself gravity powers by increasing the power to see what would happen. People at the lab didn’t like him because he kept throwing stuff at them so he took over.

Then he fought the Avengers. He kicked their asses. But the woman he was trying to force to date him threw herself off his floating city rather than date him (its cool, Jarvis saved her) so Graviton accidentally compressed his floating city into a super dense sphere with him as the nougaty center.

He managed to get out of that sphere, but with AMENSIA, and tried to kidnap that female scientist again but was stopped by the Thing and Black Bolt. So Graviton imploded.

He showed up AGAIN and tried to kidnap an entire Bloomingdale’s and was stopped by Thor, who dunked him into an interdimensional void.

Now here’s where it gets slightly weird.

The Beyonder’s construct passing through the void on its way to Secret Wars woke Graviton up and let him find his way back to Earth by homing in on the energy field of the force field the Blank uses.

I don’t know why that specific energy field. We may never know. The scientist who made it walked into the street without looking both ways and got run over.

Graviton is actually fairly pleased about winding up in “this most hedonistic of world cities!” He’s decided he’s all about creature comforts now.

The Blank returns from delivering message for Graviton.

Graviton gets annoyed that the guy is nervous despite having a cool dude who never fails like Graviton as a new boss and takes REAL exception when the Blank points out that the Avengers have beaten him before.

As well he should! Because technically its not true. If you’ll recall my recap, the Avengers didn’t beat him. He imploded. And then when he reappeared to fight the Thing and Black Bolt and imploded again. Now Thor, solo, managed to beat him where Thor, plus Avengers, couldn’t. Don’t ask why. That’s just a rule of comics. Daredevil beat Ultron once.

Among other ways he shows the Blank what’s what, Graviton demonstrates his force field belt ain’t so slick by switching it off through the field. Which, yes, technically gravity could work that way?

Meanwhile, over on ye private Avengers beach because if you’re going to have a sprawling compound, why not get a beach while you’re at it? Tigra interrupts Wonder Man pacing on the private Avengers beach and offers to tell her DEEP DARK SECRETS if he shares his.

Wonder Man: “There’s not much to tell... mostly, I’ve been wondering if I did the right thing in joining Hawkeye’s New Avengers team. I sometimes wonder if I ever did anything right, where the Avengers are concerned.”

He recaps his ENTIRE LIFE STORY to her, as is the style. Got powers from some Avengers enemies, turned against them, died. Came back to life, uneasy as a superhero, quit to become an actor.

He leaves out the part where he embezzled from his own company and was arrested, the part where he was a competitor to Tony Stark, and retcons in that he’s always loved acting. Rather than seeing one (1) movie and deciding he wants to be an actor now.

Apparently, Hercules’ offer to set Wonder Man up with some sweet Hollywood contacts didn’t pan out.

Then Simon worked as hired muscle for some scientific research groups but decides not to go into that.

There’s no ‘see such and such issue of book’ so I can’t tell whether this is a thing that was published or is a noodle incident.

Then a former agent got Simon that gig on the David Letterman show. Remember that one? David Letterman knocked out the villain with a big door knob? It probably made more sense at the time?

Anyway, although the show got pre-empted for a news report in New York, it did air in Cali-for-ni-a and a director reached out to Simon with stuntman work.

And its not the acting he wanted to do but it is acting and being good at it has done wonders, man, for his confidence. Which is why he jumped at Hawkeye’s offer to join the west coast team.

But then he let the Blank escape and now he’s back to feeling out of place on a cool superhero team.

So now that he shared his not so deep, not so dark, secrets, Tigra shares hers.

She knows what he means when he says he feels like a blunderer. Her stint on the New York Avengers team was a disaster (although she managed to get Molecule Man to go to therapy! By calling him a big loser! That’s something!). And she feels like most of her life is just things happening at her without her ever really feeling in control.

She also demonstrates that she can use that little tiger amulet (a gift from the cat people that turned her into Tigra) to look like her old self but she’s more comfortable as Tigra.

Hm.

That’s two whole characters who can technically transform but prefer to stay ‘powered up’ at all times. Tigra and She-Hulk.

It’s almost a pattern.

Anyway, Wonder Man and Tigra both try to be the insecure one on the team complimenting each other and deprecating themselves but Tigra decides fine. Wonder Man is hung up on losing the Blank? They’re going to track down a goddamn the Blank.

SHE MOONLIT AS A PRIVATE DETECTIVE SHE HAS A TRENCHCOAT SHE CAN DO THIS!

Tigra: “All right, Mr. Wonderful, come on!”

Wonder Man: “Where are we going?”

Tigra: “To see a man about filling in the Blank!”

Damn, good turn of phrase. You really do have this private eye patter down, huh?

She takes Simon to the Cat’s Jazz Club, Shroud’s hangout, to see if he has a lead on the Blank but they find the joint has been busted up.

The club employees are reluctant to talk at first but the Shroud shows up and tells them its cool, the Avengers are his friends. Also: he would like to know himself.

Club employee Mouse says that the Galeno Gang hit the club but they had a message that they were under new managment and that anyone that wanted to do crime business in town had to do it with said management.

So they hit the Cat’s Jazz Club because Shroud is pretending to be a crimelord to infiltrate all the crime.

So far, its working out really well for you, huh?

Anyway, Shroud says it’ll be easy to track down the Galeno Gang and find out who the new boss is but Wonder Man insists that he tag along to help. Call it payback for cracking Shroud’s ribs in issue #1.

Shroud doesn’t want all the crime to think he associates with the Avengers but Wonder Man has a STUPENDOUS IDEA!

So at the former home of Lucky Max Galeno, where some people are getting down and maybe even boogieing, the Shroud’s black fog fills the room and out strolls Shroud and Definitely Not Simon Williams.

He used his extensive acting experience to put on a wig and a jacket, that wily Wonder Man!

(Also Tigra is hanging upside down outside the window so its a good thing that Shroud and NotSimon are drawing all the attention)

Simon hoists one of the Galeno Boys and tells him they want to see the boss so the Blank comes out from the back room.

Its a testament to Simon’s INCREDIBLE ACTING TALENT that “he doesn’t look any more surprised than the rest of the crowd” according to Tigra.

The Blank justifies having the Shroud’s people beaten by saying that he had to establish credentials to consolidate all of the West Coast mobs so Shroud tells Simon to rough him up.

I like Simon’s like BOING here.

‘Sick ‘im!’ BOING, hah.

Also, the Blank has been smoking on and off throughout this whole issue but like. How does the force field work if he can just stick things into it? I mean, obviously, its permeable to air since he can breathe and... oh I think I just explained it. Dammit.

The boing stalls out midair leaving Simon hanging there.

Obviously its Graviton. No surprise to the audience. But very alarming to the characters who must think the Blank suddenly has more powers.

Off-panel Graviton hits Shroud with Wonder Man, knocking off the wig which wasn’t even secured in place. Dammit Simon, I thought you were an actor!

The Blank recognizes him as Wonder Man so the cat out of the bag, Tigra jumps through the window and onto the Blank’s back.

Graviton finally shows himself, exasperated with how much hand-holding the Blank needs to do basic things like fight several surprise superheroes.

Wonder Man: “Tigra! Get back! That’s Graviton! He’s one of the most dangerous men the Avengers ever fought!”

Graviton: “Nice of you to acknowledge that, Wonder Man!”

See, all he wanted was some acknowledgement. And to crush Wonder Man under a localized gravity field.

The Shroud tries to obscure the room under the idea that Graviton can’t fight what he can’t see. But the guy just grabs everything in the room and spins it around.

Then he pins Tigra, Shroud, and the Blank to the wall. The Blank because he managed to get captured off-panel.

Wonder Man KRUNKs up from the floor and tries to grab Graviton, alarming him that Wonder Man is fighting through the effects of so much gravity, having to block him with a “column of gravitic energy.”

The Blank complains about being stuck to the wall when he’s supposed to be Graviton’s partner.

Graviton: “Wrong, Blank! Very wrong! At beast, you were a go-between, a figurehead in my plans to organize California’s criminal element!”

The Blank: “D-did you say... ‘were?’"

And then he yeets Blank, Tigra, and Shroud out the window and into the ocean.

That certainly is a way to deal with some party crashers.

Meanwhile, the barbecue is going on without Tigra and Wonder Man.

Imagine being dunked into the ocean instead of eating Hawkeye’s steaks.

Hmm. I like that apron but I can’t help but feel that a modern comic would have a hilarious apron extremely specific to Hawkeye. Something in the genre of Quentin Quire’s shirts.

I also like Rhodey realizing that he’s not going to be able to eat any of this barbecue through his mask and deliberating revealing his identity to his teammates SPECIFICALLY to eat a steak.

Priorities.

Mockingbird points out that Tigra and Wonder Man are late and she can’t reach them on the radio but Hawkeye dismisses her concerns since they’re both so capable.

Meanwhile, Graviton dunks Wonder Man into the pool and holds him underwater so he can watch him slowly drown.

He’s also acquired some sexy swimsuit ladies from somewhere. This is LA so I guess they just spontaneously generated.

How will our heroes get out of their various water-based predicaments??

I assume swimming will be involved.

Next issue is last issue of the limited series and for the West Coast Avengers for a while.

And since the West Coast Avengers show up in Avengers #250 with the limited series wrapped up, expect me to schedule posting the posts in that way too.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because I know the recipe to Hawkeye’s secret steak recipe and I’ll tell you if you follow. Here’s a hint: take meat, set it on fire for a while. Also like and reblog and I’ll tell you how many potatoes Captain America’s potato salad contains.