#there's just the best that you can hope for and it's not fair

[beanarie]

part 3 of buck takes a mental health break. things get kind of epistolary (ish) from here on out.

~

Los Olivos is... nice. Super nice. Buck has driven through a couple of times, but he's never stopped here. He squints at his phone, triple-checking the address, before he rings the bell.

The door opens, and it's like the sun came out. "Buckaroo!" Carla smiles big and wide. "You get in here right now." Her arms wrap around him as unabashedly as they always did. He gleans as much warmth and comfort as he can before she lets go to give him a once over. "Look at Mr. Universe! My goodness, so much more of you to love now. Come in, come in. I hope you're hungry. I've been cooking since late morning, but if you'd shown me a recent photo, I would've started yesterday."

He manages to put away most of the ribs she put in front of him, with her husband Elden polishing off the rest. After ignoring her protests and helping load the dishwasher, he takes in the photos taking up most of the wall space and several surfaces.

She chuckles at the one he stopped in front of. "That's from the wedding of, uh, you-know-who."

"It's a beautiful photo." Elden is wearing a suit a similar shade of blue to the one Buck wore to his and Abby's disastrous first date. If he closes his eyes, he can still hear Bobby's voice in his ear, giving last minute advice as he helped Buck with his tie.

That part of it was a good memory.

"You okay?" Carla asks.

Buck shakes himself, seeing a way out that's sure to be worth it if only to see her reaction. "Uh, hey. Do you remember how Abby had that ex that kind of smashed her heart into little pieces?"

"Oh, yeah. She was hung up to an embarrassing degree. Her mom used to talk about the guy, too. She loved him."

"I forgot about that," Buck says under his breath, suddenly thinking about Tommy hanging out with Abby's elderly mom, being mildly caustic at each other while playing scrabble or doing a puzzle.

"Why would you bring up whatshisn-?"

"Uh, Tommy."

She tilts her head, intrigued. "Good memory."

Later Buck is proud of himself for making sure she's sitting before he gives her the story. As it is she laughs so hard she almost falls off the couch.

"Your life, I swear," she says, wheezing. "I don't know why I'm even surprised."

Buck finds himself grinning along, wider than he has in a long time.

"You know, you lit up a little when you talked about him. You still like this guy?"

"Yeah," he says, only a little doubt in his mind. "I think so."

"He really thought you were in love with Eddie?" She has an incredible gobsmacked face. "Now, I adore that man, and the two of you would be pretty as hell." She winks and Buck snickers. "But he has a talent for making things hard, and you, Evan Buckley. You deserve something easy."

~

(Hen): Hey, Eddie told me what he said. Say the word, and Karen and I will get him ostracized from every parent group in the county.

(Buck): Don't do that.

(Buck): It affects Chris.

(Hen): Good point. We could do gyms. You have no idea how important gays are to that scene.

(Buck): I might not be Gay-gay but I have spent a little time in gyms. I know.

(Hen): Right, that's fair.

(Hen): You seemed like you were managing. I should've noticed you were making yourself smaller.

(Buck): Thanks, Hen.

(Hen): You're missed, just so you know. Not just during shifts. You'll always be one of ours, understand?

(Hen): Buck?

(Hen): Maybe you don't understand. That's on me. I'll do better in the future.

(Buck): I miss you, too. The lady who served me at this truck stop diner had glasses like yours.

(Hen): I hope you gave her a good compliment.

(Buck): Of course I did. And a big tip.

~

Oakland is next, Lucy doesn't have a spare room ("My partner's brother is staying with us for a while. He's a funny little shit. You'll probably be best friends.") but she does have a pullout couch, and when Buck lies at an angle, his feet don't dangle off the edge.

He and Lucy get just this side of absolutely trashed. When they've toasted to Cap's memory multiple times and the stories slow to a trickle, she grabs his phone. "I'm gonna find you a not-nice boy on grindr."

Buck sits back in his chair and gives a have at it gesture. He watches her, always so comfortable in her own skin. "When did you first, y'know, know?"

She doesn't hesitate for a second. "Eleven. Heather Edison. Sixth grade English. She read for Juliet in class and I wanted to be Romeo so bad."

"Who did you get instead?"

She makes a face. "Tybalt. Ugh."

"What's it like growing up knowing pretty much the whole time?"

"Well, I got a couple years on you. It was a lot of sussing people out and very carefully figuring out who was safe to share that part of myself with." She picks up her shoulders breezily. "Sometimes I was wrong. It happens."

"That sounds terrible. I'm sorry."

"Price of admission," she says. "Now, do you wanna stick with the Greek god aesthetic, or do you feel like broadening your horizons a little?"

Sheree, the girlfriend, brings him coffee the morning after.

"Do you miss it?" she asks. "The job? If you're anything like Lucy... She broke her wrist once and the whole time she couldn't be out there it was like she was locked in a glass case full of water."

The job is what killed him, Buck thinks idly. But even now, he recognizes that it's also what kept him going as long as he did. Buck sips at his coffee. "It's only been a few days," he says with a little teasing smile. "Right now it barely counts as time away."

~

(Eddie): Chris said it's my fault you left and then he stopped talking to me again

(Eddie): it's not really is it?

(Buck): I don't know what I'm supposed to say to that. It feels like no matter what I do it's wrong, so I'd rather not engage at all for a while.

His phone rings. Buck rejects the call, then pulls over and drinks half a water bottle.

(Buck): I know this was hard on you, but finding out after the fact was not worse than being there. It wasn't. Bobby's face that night will be with me on my deathbed. Maybe you'll always remember how Chris looked when you told him, but you get a lifetime of new memories to replace it with.

Buck plugs all that in from the notes app, then immediately has a thought.

(Buck): If you ever talk to me like that again I'll transfer for good.

Hands shaking, he turns off alerts from Eddie. Then he texts Chris a photo of himself and Carla at her house. The amount of exclamation points he gets in return chips away at the concrete block around his heart.

~

(Buck): Am I exhausting?

(Buck): Sorry. Hi how are you?

(Tommy): Too late, you already set the tone. Exhausting? You did tire me out on a regular basis

"Oh," Buck says to himself.

(Tommy): in the bedroom. But I'd never say you were exhausting, that's not how I think of you at all. I don't see how anyone could.

(Buck): Oh

(Tommy): Howie told me about your sabbatical. Where are you now?

(Buck): A couple hours outside Salt Lake City.

(Tommy): Exciting stuff. Don't let the mormons get you.

(Buck): Truck driver fell asleep and caused a pileup. That was pretty exciting.

(Tommy): Not for an old pro like you. Did you have to bust out your skills?

(Buck): For a bit. No fatalities, that was good. Mostly just concussions and whiplash.

(Tommy): Look at you, working on your vacation.

It's such a simple exchange, but the concrete block feels even weaker now. He remembers Bobby saying He's good for you, at a time that they later found out was him saying his goodbyes. That taints it, somewhat, but Buck can't get over that Bobby thought he'd be leaving Buck in a good place, with Tommy.

(Buck): Thank you, Tommy

(Tommy): For responding to your texts? It was a real hardship. I'll never get those 90 seconds back.

(Buck): For making me smile. You always do that.

(Tommy): You're pretty good at that yourself. Drive safe, Evan.

[froggiewrites]

Can u do a friends with benefits smut with Luffy? lots of creampie and different sex positions please if not I understand

I need to write more for Luffy, so thank you for giving me a chance to explore him a little more! I really hope you enjoy this one, it's on the shorter side but I still had a lot of fun with it 😊

That's What Friends Are For

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your Captain needs a little stress relief, and as his friend you're more than willing to help. Warnings: Fem!Reader, Smut, Friends With Benefits, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.2k

If anybody asked, you would say you were very close with your Captain. The terms other people apply to your relationship often differ: some say best friends, some say partners in crime, or a dozen other names that don’t quite encapsulate the entirety of your feelings for each other.

To be fair, you don’t quite know what to call your Captain either. Sure, he’s your best friend. He’s your guiding light, your North Star, your inspiration. But you don’t think those quite describe your relationship in its entirety. No one would expect your guiding light to grab you off of the deck and drag you into a closet, bend you over a crate, and have his way with you.

One hand grabs your ankle, dragging it up over his shoulder, while the other makes quick work of your shorts and panties, discarding them with ease. His own clothes are already gone, probably strewn down the hallway after he threw you over his shoulder. His hat is hanging off of a broomstick in the corner, and you can’t help but smile a little. He used to keep it on, but noticed quickly how much you love running your hands through his hair, tugging it to direct him where you want him. Now it always sits off to the side, close by but never blocking your access to his head.

“C’mon,” he whines, bringing your attention back to him. His hands are trying to pull your thighs apart further to grant himself better access, and he’s quickly growing impatient. He’s had a hard few days, with several rough battles that left you all beaten and bloodied. He needs some stress relief, and you both found that you’re the best release he has. “Why’re you making me wait?”

You barely manage to hold back a laugh, letting him maneuver you as he pleases. You squeal as he pushes you further up the crate, forcing you to brace yourself with your hands so you don’t hit the wall in front of you. “Luffy!”

He laughs, the sound so joyous you immediately forget to be annoyed. “Callin’ my name already?” Before you can scold him, he presses himself against you, immediately taking your breath away. He rubs himself against you a couple times, relishing in the feeling of his hardness against your folds, in the soft whimpering breaths and moans you can’t stop from slipping out of your mouth. “I’m barely doing anything,” he teases, rubbing deliberately against your clit, “and you’re already a mess.”

“I thought I told you not to tease me anymore,” you murmur, eyelids fluttering.

He laughs again, his hand running affectionately down your back. The other drops your ankle for a moment, and before you know it he’s lined himself up with your entrance and without a moment’s hesitation fully sheathes himself inside of you. You cry out, back arching and eyes closing. Your chest brushes against the wood beneath you, the rough sensation against your sensitive nipples just adding to the myriad of sensations overwhelming you. Luffy hardly gives you a moment to adjust before he’s pounding into you, taking what he needs from you and trusting you can handle it.

Every thrust of his hips is followed by a deliciously tortuous drag of his skin against yours, leaving a horrible feeling of emptiness immediately followed by the mind numbing pleasure of being completely filled. His pace is unrelenting, as he is in everything else. He never takes it easy on you, especially not when he’s as pent up as he is. On a normal day, he’d be whispering in your ears, laughter in his voice as he describes everything he’s going to do to you, but today he can hardly let out a sound beyond a moan or a whine. He says your name once or twice, immediately trailing off and letting his face fall into your neck. It’s there he decides to stay, nibbling on any exposed skin he can find: your pulse point, your neck, your jaw. At one point he nips at your cheek, causing you both to pause for a moment before falling into laughter.

He takes advantage of the pause in thrusts to flip you around, gathering you in his arms and pulling you impossibly closer. He captures your lips against his instantly, your laughter muffled against each other before losing yourself in the moment again. Your hands find his hair, running your fingers through it, catching on every tangle the wind has lovingly tied in it. He makes a small whine against your lips every time your fingers tug on the knots, and you can’t quite tell if they’re in complaint or pleasure.

His pace has gone from frantic to bruising as he pushes you against the wall, his body pressing against every inch of yours. You can feel the rough brush of his pubes against your skin, and the sharp drag of his teeth against your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting.

“You ready?” He asks quietly, a shine in his eye. He always checks in on you, though you don’t think he does it for your sake. He’s too good at reading people to need to hear you say it. You think he just likes hearing you so out of breath and desperate for him, as close to begging as he can get you. He’s too impatient for the real thing, unwilling to make either of you wait for gratification.

“Yes, please, Luffy!” You cry, louder than you should. Half of the damn ship probably just heard that, but Luffy doesn’t seem worried, simply grinning wider before pulling you back in for another kiss. Your teeth clack together, your noses bumping, but neither of you are bothered by the clumsiness. You’re too distracted by the rising tension in your muscles, the drag of your nails down Luffy’s back as you grow closer to the edge.

One of his hands wanders down, his rough fingertips rubbing small circles against your clit, the practiced motion quickly pushing you to your brink. You moan against his lips as your legs pull him closer, your muscles tightening around his shaft. It doesn’t take long for him to follow you, his hips finally stilling against yours as he pushes as deep as he physically can and shoots his warmth inside of you. You sit in silence for a moment, foreheads pressed together, both panting. You can’t seem to catch your breath, focused too deeply on the heat of his body and the feeling of fullness.

It’s with great reluctance he pulls away from you, setting you on the crate and pulling out, cum dripping down your thighs and onto the wood beneath you. He takes a moment to admire the sight, leaning down slightly for a better look. He huffs in quiet satisfaction before he gets up, a familiar relaxed grin on his face. All of his earlier tension is gone. “Thanks,” he says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can’t help but laugh. “Anytime, Luffy.”

There’s a gleam in his eye that makes you think he’ll take advantage of that promise if you let him.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @eggrollforyou

[twistedpink]

Im from another country and i don't know if i am requesting just in time or too late but i want to try!

I want to request headcanons of leona,malleus and vil with a s/o that is like cinderella! very kind and humble and dosen't have the best family life but tries her best! Maybe at some moment her family tries to sabotage their relationship(probably destroying s/o dress for a gala at nrc) but the guys wont budge of wanting to be with s/o.

I hope this request dosen't go against your rules and have a nice day!

CUTEEE!!! @bju3c0re

Leona’s getting punked- he has to be; to preserve his comprehension of the universe, there’s no reason for you to be THIS NICE. It’s almost maddening how much he loathes you- your ironed uniform, effortlessly annoying selflessness, the world ending smile that makes his guts swim with butterflies. It’s gross to be this in love. But he can’t help it :(,, And god KNOWS he’s tried, but with every argument and attempt at distance, you’re so understanding- sometimes even CHALLENGING his motivations because you know him that well. All in all, he’d be your sword and shield any day <3

Malleus LOVES YOU. So much so he wants to be you, and let you be him, and for you to be one- yeah, he’s a touch unhinged <3 But it’s VERY obviously out of love. Despite being on the relatively opposite side of the “lonely princess” scale, there’s no doubt that Malleus just gets you more than anyone else can,, You get your fair share of ‘protection’ against the ‘dangers of NRC’ (standing menacingly behind you to ward off harmless freshmen), but he’s scarily willing to propose in an attempt to ward your family off of hazing. I’d get ready for a wedding sooner rather than later. Ready the mice!! <3

Vil can’t help being the littlest, smidgest, itty-bittiest,, Jealous of his favourite (gn) princess, at least in the beginning- you’re just so effortlessly graceful and kind, he can’t help BUT to be reminded of Neige, but you’re different. Not in a bad way, (never in a bad way) you’re your own person- and regardless of your naïveté and *cough* Anti negativity field *cough* you’re intelligent, and opinionated, and beautiful!! So he has no issue being your fairy godmother in exchange for matching outfits and a goodnight kiss <3

[motorsportbarbie13]

One New Voicemail (Charles' Version)

your relationship with charles as told through voicemails

(i can't believe how well these are doing! i'm so glad you guys like these!! this one is specifically for @lestapiastrisgirl <3 hopefully this helps my charles girlies cope with cha being knocked out of q2 as i put this together...2k words)

First Date 

“I cannot believe I hit your neighbors car tonight.” Charles’ cheeks flame with embarrassment. He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.

“That’s one hell of a first date story we’ll be able to tell our grandkids.”

Pause. Charles suddenly realizes he might have just made this voicemail awkward. His eyes close, cheeks heating again. Why does he lose all sense of decorum and control around you?

He presses on. 

“I took you out, swept you off your feet…” Another pause, as if he’s replaying the entire evening in his head, checking to make sure his perception of the evening matched the reality. “I hope…”

He clears his throat. Moving on. 

“And then BAM! Straight into a parked car. I am stupid.” It’s the same tone as that famous radio message and you are crying laughing.  

“The FIA going to take away my super license next time. Please don’t tell Ferrari. I’ll never live this down.” Charles shakes his head, eyes rolling at the memory of the crunching sound his Ferrari made and the laughter that spilled out of you after the incident. 

“I hope my inability to park hasn’t scared you away. I swear I’m usually smoother…” 

‘Usually’ being the key word there. 

Until he was less than a foot away from you in his car, your perfume so intoxicating that he’ll never get off of his mind.

“You just make me so nervous.” The vulnerability in his voice makes your heart squeeze. 

“I was looking at you, listening to you laugh at my stupid jokes when I should have been watching where I was going.” Had he known you’d be wearing that little black dress and sky high heels, he would’ve hired a driver for the night. 

“In my defense, you are so pretty when you laugh and parallel parking is hard.” 

God, he hoped he hadn’t screwed this up. He already can’t stop thinking about you. 

“Can I make it up to you with a second date? Please?” 

And maybe a third. And fourth. And fifth?

Click. 

First Kiss 

“Mon dieu…” Charles sighs into the phone, lovesick and drunk on you. 

“First I hit your neighbors car and then the poor woman catches us making out on the stoop.” He scrubs his hand over his face. He’s going to have to pay for you to move apartments, he’s so embarrassed. Charles will never be able to face your silver-haired neighbor ever again. 

“She stood there for a long time though…which is weird.” 

He chuckles finally, picturing the way she had stood there for several moments, glaring at you two, hands on her hips. 

“I don’t think she likes me. Which, fair I guess.” 

Charles been so lost in the fact that he’d finally worked up the courage to kiss you that he hadn’t heard the door creak open. Or the way your neighbor cleared her throat. Loudly. Six times. 

“In my defense, that was the best first kiss turned first make out session I’ve ever had.” 

Charles was ruined after that kiss. The way you had touched him, drug your fingernails across the back of his neck, up into his hair. Tugged a little bit. 

A groan rumbles in the back of his throat as he turns the key to his newly-repaired Ferrari. 

“If I promise not to try to make out with you in front of your neighbor, can we do it again?” 

Something tugs deep in his gut at the thought of seeing you again. “I have to go to Maranello tomorrow for testing but I’ll be back Wednesday.” 

That was in two days time. Two days too long. 

For the both of you. 

“Please apologize to your neighbor again. I swear I’ll keep my hands to myself next time.” 

A pause. You can picture the grin sliding across his face.

“At least until we get inside.” 

Click.  

He Questions Everything

“I can’t do this anymore.” The anguish in his voice has your stomach twisting when you listen to the message. 

It was late where you were. Or early. He didn’t know. He was in Las Vegas, you were in Monaco. Too many miles and too much heartache. 

“I’ve given that team my entire heart. My youth. My best years and this is what they do? They can’t even listen to my suggestions. Can’t help but blunder themselves into P10 when I should’ve been on the podium.” 

He’s rambling now. You’re his safe space though. The only one who won’t call him petty or ungrateful. Won’t judge or call him out. You see the pain his team causes him. The way he gives them everything and then some and still is expected to give more. 

The line goes quiet for several moments. You think maybe he hung up, but the message keeps going. 

Silence stretches but it’s full of everything he can’t bring himself to say. 

“Red Bull’s been sniffing around, with Max retiring. Merc too, with George on his way to Cadillac.” He hadn’t told you this. Hadn’t told anyone outside of his manager. Charles was almost afraid to talk about it, even with you. 

Because if he said it out loud, it meant he was considering leaving his home. 

“Ferrari has…well, they’ve given me everything but…” 

A sigh so deep and full of everything he can’t put words to. It feels disloyal to even think the things that have been turning over in his mind since he took the checkered flag hours ago.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” 

The sound of a suitcase zippering. 

“I’m coming home. Can we spend the next two weeks somewhere warm so I can just stare at you in a bikini and forget the hell that this team puts me through?” 

The thud of his suitcase echos. 

“Please?” 

Click. 

A Surprise

“Before I tell you what I just did, I would like to remind you that I love you more than life, mon ange.” 

You had frozen mid-step in the hallway of the apartment listening to that opening line. 

“It’s really a funny story, to be honest. I think you’ll laugh.” At least that’s what Charles was banking on.

“It all started when Joris and I went to see an old friend of his after the gym today. He needed to get something for the car he’s been working on and this guy had the part.” 

This story was suspiciously twisty and curvy, even for your boyfriend.

“So we get there and there are puppies EVERYWHERE.” 

At that very moment, a little yip comes across the line and Charles groans. 

“Leo!” He scolds. 

Oh, great. He’s already named him. This was not going to end well. 

“Leo!” He repeats. “Now you’ve gone and spoiled the surprise.” 

Leo yips again, louder this time. Like he’s just discovered he can make that kind of noise. 

“Surprise!” Charles says weakly. 

“He was the runt of the litter. He’s blonde. Like you!” 

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Charles knows he’s in trouble. 

“I mean…” 

Leo barks. Charles tuts. 

“I’ll be home in ten. You’re going to love him, I promise!” 

He hoped. 

Click. 

He Feels Left Out

“What on earth were you texting Maman today, amore?” Charles grumbles into the phone. 

“She was giggling like a school girl anytime she looked at her phone.” He slots the key into the front door. 

The lock clicks. 

Leo barks. 

You’re in Paris for work, missing your boys. 

“And then she refused to tell me what you were talking about.” 

It’s so cute when your boyfriend gets jealous of your relationship with his mother. It was innocent though. You had sent her a meme making fun of Charles’ most recent parking accident on the streets of Monaco. 

Charles was just so easy to tease. 

“All she would say was that she was talking to you and that you were having a very funny conversation.” 

A pause. The jingle of Leo’s leash. 

You can practically feel the pout on his face. 

“Probably at my expense, no?” 

The elevator to your flat dings and Leo barks again. It’s about time for his nightly walk but you can tell Charles is still grumpy by the way he won’t let this go.

“What were you two talking about?” He whines. 

If FOMO had a spokesperson, it was Charles LeClerc. 

“You two are so mean to me.” He pouts. 

“I love you. Call me later.”

Click. 

Grocery Store Fumble

“Amore, we have a problem.” You can tell Charles is desperately trying not to panic. 

“Why are there so many tube shaped green vegetables at this market?” 

He stands in the middle of the produce section of your tiny grocery store. You were a few blocks away, in the middle of cooking dinner. 

“Whoever thought it was a good idea to put the cucumbers next to the zucchinis has a sick sense of humor.” He grouses. 

Theres a rustle of plastic as he opens the produce bag. You had just asked for one zucchini and now Charles was spiraling. 

“The sign says ‘Cucumbers and Zucchinis! Buy 2 get 2 free!” He’s panicking. “What kind of sick joke is this?”

Dinner rests squarely on his shoulders and right now, it’s not looking so good. 

“Does it matter?” He asks like he’s expecting an answer. Like he’s not talking to your voicemail. 

“Can you use a cucumber instead?” Deep breath. “What if I get this wrong?” 

He picks up two green vegetables, one long and skinny, wrapped in plastic and another shorter, thicker, a deeper green. His eyes scan the deserted store. No one was around to help. 

He was on his own. 

“How different can they be? They’re both green. Both long and skinny. Although this one is a little…thicker.” 

The giggle that starts low in his throat has you rolling your eyes when you listen to the message a few hours later. 

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.” 

A frustrated sigh morphs into a groan. 

“You know what? I make professional athlete money. I’ll buy all the green vegetables so that way I don’t get yelled at for being stupid. Again.” 

He’s so dramatic.

Another bag rustles open. 

“I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

Click. 

A Song For You

Soft strains of music float across the line. Charles doesn’t speak. Doesn’t actually realize he’s accidentally called you. He’s at his piano, lost in the piece he’s working on while you’re away on a trip. He’s missing you fiercely and coping the only way he knows how: music. 

The song meanders on for several moments. Soft. Careful. You can feel the adoration he’s pouring into every note, even through the muffled sounds of his phone being tucked away in his pocket. 

He doesn’t know he’s giving you the best gift. 

The music dies and it’s quiet. 

“Do you like it, Leo?” Charles rasps, his voice unsteady. 

Leo doesn’t answer, just lifts his head to look at your boyfriend. 

“Do you think she’ll like it?” He sounds…nervous. 

Charles rarely gets nervous. 

Except when it comes to you. 

“I’ve been working on it for ages now and it’s finally coming together. Finally feels like it’s a reflection of how I feel when I look at her.” 

A heavy pause. He still doesn’t realize the phone is recording his confession to Leo.

“I’m going to marry your mama one day.” He tells the dog. 

“I’m going to marry her and this is the song that’s going to play when she walks down the aisle towards me.” 

A few notes drift across the line again. Delicate. Like he’s piecing together a puzzle. 

“She is everything, Leo.” 

His voice his reverent, like he’s planning on getting down on his knees and worshipping you the next time he sees you. 

“Your mama has the prettiest eyes, doesn’t she? The prettiest smile? And when she laughs. God, when she laughs it’s like the sun finally peaking out from behind a days worth of storm clouds. Bright. Warm. Everything.” 

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “And she turns me into a total sap apparently.” 

A sigh. 

“I miss her.” 

You’ve only been gone for 24 hours. 

“Do you miss her? I miss her, Leo. I know she’ll be home soon but…” 

A pause as he reaches for his phone to call you. Chuckles when he sees he already has. 

“Hello, amore. I guess you heard all of that, oui? Come back to Leo and I. We miss you. I have something I want to play for you.” 

Another pause. 

“I love you.” 

Click. 

[cloudedangels]

A TEST OF CONTROL (18+)

2.3k words. PART 1/? not for minors! shoo! Pt 2 -> here

After being stood up three times, MC decides Caleb won’t earn her forgiveness without enduring some playful punishment. What starts as teasing quickly becomes a torturous test of Caleb’s self-control as she takes charge, drawing out every ounce of his restraint.

(Self-Indulgent and heavily inspired by 2-3 of Caleb’s lines in the cafe)

cw/tags: f!MC(reader), slow burn, unresolved sexual tension, dom!mc, sub!caleb, pilot!caleb, established relationship, teasing, punishment kink, edging, light power play, breath, withheld pleasure, delayed gratification, soft dom/sub, emotional tension, begging, dirty talk, gravity evol, fluff and smut, romantic smut, pining, touch, reward/punishment, kisses all over, oral tease, tension relief, switch dynamics, intimacy, NSFW, dominant/submissive, dubcon (mild), restraint, light pain play (scratching), suggestive language, mature themes, power imbalance, sensory teasing

MC is getting very, very annoyed with Caleb. He's canceled spending time with her twice with “emergency business” for the fleet. And even though when things like this happened before, Caleb tried his best to make it up to her, this time she figured she wouldn't be pleased until he received what she deems as a fair punishment. She sits on her couch, arms folded, waiting and waiting.  ‘I can't believe he canceled two days in a row and still has the nerve to be late today!!’

She flips through channels before hearing light boots and the sound of dangling keys. Then a soft rhythm of knocks follows. 

“It's open.”

She hears the soft click of the door but doesn't get up from the couch. Instead, she turns away and pouts, her head resting on the armrest. The footsteps come closer until Caleb is in front of her face, squatting down to eye level. 

“Hi, pipsqueak. Are you mad at me?” His big pretty eyes look like a sad puppy's.

“Guess.” She pokes him in the forehead with her finger, frustrated at how fast she wants to forgive him. “I was excited to see you. Two days ago, yesterday, this morning…” She scowls.

Caleb tries to hide a smirk at how bratty she's acting, knowing this show she puts on is a necessary and very cute step towards quick and easy forgiveness.

“I'm sorry, cutie,  you know I hate making you wait. The fleet—”

She pushes a finger to his lips before he can finish. “Shh. It's done anyways, no use explaining it again. But… I still haven't come up with a proper way to punish you.” She sits up properly on the couch and turns off the TV, the motion turning her away from him. But not before seeing his somewhat surprised expression.

He comes to sit next to her on the couch and suddenly her head is being turned to him. “Punish me however you like, I'm all yours, pips” She glares at the use of his gravity evol and shoves him onto his back as soon as he lets go of her face. 

“However I want, hm?” She hums.

Caleb lets out a soft “oof” as he lands on his back, laughing under his breath. His arm flops over his forehead like he's fainted. “Ah, Cruel Mistress, striking a defenseless man,” he groans dramatically.

MC narrows her eyes. “You don't look very sorry.”

He peeks at her through his fingers. “Maybe I'm just waiting to see what my punishment is.”

She climbs over him slowly, straddling his hips, and he swallows a bit too obviously. Her hands rest on his chest, steady, firm.

“You made me wait,” she says, low. “You got my hopes up. And you know how I get when I'm disappointed.”

He nods quickly. “You get pouty.”

“And a little mean,” she adds with a smirk, “Don’t you dare forget that.”

“Dangerous combination.” His voice is breathy now, no more teasing. “What are you going to do to me, pipsqueak?”

She leans in close, brushing her nose along his jaw. “You’ll find out. But not all at once. You’ll get it in doses… like I got my disappointment.”

His breath gets a bit heavy. There's no hiding the rises and falls of his chest as he searches for ways of maintaining control of himself. He doesn't touch her, his arms slack at his sides, his right arm hanging off the side of the couch. 

MC looks him in the eyes now, her face centimeters from him, and something dubious lights her expression. She holds his face in her two hands, their breath still mingling softly as Caleb searches her face for her next move, holding himself completely still. Her hips press into his abdomen, her arms across his chest,  her head tilted as she moves his chin down to look at her. “I know what I will do.”

He swallows again his Adam's apple bobbing. “Yeah? What is it, then?” His voice is a bit husky and low, she can almost hear the restraint. 

“Your self-control test is in order, I think.” She whispers into his ear, the action making him shiver beneath her. 

“My self-control test?” He says softly, eyes darting across her face for any sign of not meaning what she said. “Then do you want me to pass with flying colors... or fail miserably?”

She hums, low and thoughtful, the sound skimming along the shell of his ear. “That depends…”

Her fingers trail from his jawline down to the collar of his shirt, brushing barely-there touches that make him twitch under her. Her hips shift just a little, barely, but enough to remind him who’s in control.

“On?” he asks, and it’s a little breathless, a little desperate.

She meets his eyes again, her expression unreadable for a beat. Then, with a wicked little smile:

“On how entertaining your struggle is.”

He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh caught in a groan. “Oh, I see. You want a show.”

MC nods, mock-innocent. “I waited three days. Seems fair I get some entertainment.”

“Then I hope you enjoy watching a man fall apart, your highness,” he mutters, trying to keep still even as her hands dip just under the hem of his shirt, palms warm against his skin.

She pauses, enjoying the tension curling tight between them. “You’re not allowed to move unless I say so,” she adds, brushing her lips against his cheek – but not quite kissing him. “And no evol. If I even feel a tug of gravity...”

“I won’t,” he promises instantly. “No evol. No hands. No movement. Just...” Torture.

She chuckles, finally settling her weight more firmly on his hips. “Exactly.”

His hands clench at his sides, his breathing uneven, and she can feel the tight coil of restraint beneath her like a drawn string.

“I should be mad at you more often,” she muses aloud. “You’re kind of cute like this.”

He closes his eyes with a strained smile breathing softly out his nose in an ironic chuckle. “Glad I can be of service.”

“Good,” she whispers, and leans in again. “Because I’ve just barely gotten started.”

His eyes flicker open at that, dark with anticipation and lust. She sees it all –  how tightly he's wound, how badly he wants to move, touch her, flip them over. And she also sees how hard he's trying not to. Her hands, splayed open, find their way slowly up his torso as she moves her hips, straddling him lower. He bites his lips, eyebrows knitted, breath catching as she can feel through their pants exactly how much he's holding back.

“Take your shirt off, Caleb.”

He doesn’t move. Not at first.

His eyes search hers, questioning, hopeful, desperate for permission, because technically, that would mean breaking the rules. And she's made those rules very clear.

So she just raises an eyebrow. “Huh? You need help understanding basic commands now, Pilot?”

That’s all it takes.

Caleb sits up slightly, just enough to reach behind his neck and pull the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, jaw tight the entire time. She watches the shift in his shoulders, the flex of restraint even in something so simple. He drops the shirt to the floor beside the couch without taking his eyes off her.

“Much better,  good boy.” She drags her palms across his now heaving chest, letting her nails trace faintly, enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth. She's always loved his muscles, and as they flex with tightly bound desire she drinks him in with her gaze and careful touch.  

“Remind me to never upset you again…” he groans, laying back down as she pushes him gently. 

“You won't forget, I'm sure.” She smirks at him, truly enjoying him being so helpless.

“Please, can I fail just a little, pipsqueak?” He begs huskily, almost making her weak enough to forget her plan, but it's not enough.

“No way. Pass this with flying colors like you have everything else, my sweet Valedictorian. Perfect marks. Be a good boy.”

He nearly whimpers and she revels in it. 

“You’re taking this seriously,” she whispers, letting a finger trace the edge of his ribcage, “I appreciate the effort.”

“I’m trying so hard,” he grits, voice tight, strained, barely holding onto control. “You have no idea.”

“Oh but I do.” She grins devilishly at that, leaning in and planting a kiss to his throat. 

He trembles beneath her. His muscles are tense, breathing shallow– but he doesn't move. Doesn't grab, and he doesn't flip her over like she can tell he's dying to. His pulse thumps erratically against her lips.

“Three days,” she mutters softly, breath hot against his throat. “Do you know what that does to a girl?”

“I’m learning,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut like he can’t take looking at her anymore without breaking her so called “rules”.

She leans in again, lips at the shell of his ear. “And if I decide I don’t want to let you pass this test?”

He grunts – wound up, helpless, so full of wanting it cuts through the air like static. “Then I’ll fail spectacularly,” he whispers, “but only if you make me. I'm already on the edge of it.”

She giggles softly, unable to contain how that pleases her. Her hands delicately grace his throat, resting there as she kisses just below his ear, then his jaw, the corner of his lips.  She slides her hands down his trembling body like reading scripture in braille as she kisses his throat (twice), his chest, his ribs… 

When her hands rest they are on either side of his waist, thumbs brushing up and down his stomach. His fists clench as she kisses his sternum, just above his belt, darting her tongue out for a millisecond. He twitches his hands, and in his pants. 

“I'm one move away from failing, MC," his voice is a husky groan as his head is thrown back, hands balled into shaking fists. "Is this a punishment... or...?”

“…Or?” she echoes, voice low, breath warm against his skin. She doesn’t lift her head. She just hovers there, lips parted just above the line of his belt, her fingers now resting unbearably light over his hip bones. The control in her touch is both maddening and deliberate. Calculated.

“...Do you want to keep going?” Caleb’s voice is gruff, harsh with self-control and want. “If you keep going, I won't be… able… to let you off the hook. Even if you claim you're doing… it on a whim…” He's breathless, frustrated, his knuckles turning white with gripped restraint. 

Her reply is syrupy and as sweet as it is torturous. “Shh… Are you forgetting” Another kiss to his sternum... “Who” A kiss to the cool metal of his buckle. “Is in charge?” Her breath hovers below his belt, her mouth centimeters away from his clothed arousal.

“Please…” Caleb chokes out,  desperately hanging by a tight thread of control. 

She lifts her head at this, allowing the word to linger in the air for just a moment before responding with a sweetened smile and a whispering voice. “You sound so desperate, Caleb… I like this… the sound of you begging for me… Music to my ears.”

He groans and it's deep and guttural, pained pleasure wrapped in reverence. His eyes flutter open, just enough to meet hers through the haze of desire and restraint.

“That’s because I am desperate,” he grits, voice shaking. “For you.”

Her lips curl into something between a smirk and a smile, satisfaction, maybe. Or mercy, laced with a promise she hasn’t decided to grant yet.

“You’re doing so well,” she whispers, almost mockingly tender as her fingers dip just under the waistband of his pants, but don’t venture further. Her touch is light, barely there, a spark without flame. “And you’ve been so obedient.”

His hips twitch, bucking just slightly beneath her, involuntary, restrained.

“I told you,” he breathes, “I’ll do anything. Just… please.”

She hums again, eyes half-lidded. “Mmm… you almost sound like you're sorry.”

“I am sorry,” he groans. “I’m so sorry.”

That does it.

She sits up slowly, eyes locked with his, hands dragging up his sides as she speaks.

“Good. Because only good boys get what they want.” A beat. “And you’ve been so good for me.”

He barely has time to exhale before she leans in again, this time with intent.

And then, all at once, she kisses him hard, pushing him flat against the couch again as the dam of tension finally, finally snaps. His hands rise, cautiously at first, then urgently, moving to grip her waist, as he grounds himself in the fact that yes, finally, the test is over.

She moves to unbutton his pants and undo his belt,  pulling it out of his pants and tossing it to the floor with a clank. Suddenly, Caleb's evol is hovering her above him, suspending her in air until he flips their positions. 

He's lifted up above her his hands and buff arms on either side of her head. “I might… fuck” he kisses her collarbone while moving one arm to take off her shirt. She lifts her arms as he pulls it up and off her, and the fabric joins his on the floor.

“You might what?” She asks him, her voice cracking with anticipation.

He bites her neck, drawing a mangled moan from her at last. He's breathing like an animal and already damp with sweat. “I might have… run out… of self control.” 

“You earned it… do your worst– and don’t make me wait for it.” She mutters, gripping him tightly. Knowing that with him, she always gets what she wants. One way or another.

[dvrk-moon]

EVERY LETTER I DIDN’T SEND - LEE HEESEUNG

— synopsis: you did everything for him, even if he wouldn’t acknowledge you anymore.

— word count: 3.4k

— warnings: cursing, PAY ATTENTION TO DATES IN LETTERS PLEASE they are important!!!

— genre: angst, 2000s au, long distance, one-sided relationship, heeseung x fem!reader, newfound celebrity!heeseung

— playlist: ripples - beabadoobee, a summer song - chad & jeremy, waiting room - phoebe bridgers

— a/n: enjoy this lil thang i wrote in 2 days. tried something new with the formatting so i hope u guys enjoy :)

— taglist: @asteriscoverde @ikeupop @ainlvshs @feymine @jaeyunlovebot @cherrjaqke @rikiiimeow @hearts2heartsenthusiast @ch4c0nnenh4 @wensurr

i. BEEN BUSY

1-30-2004

dear Heeseung,

it’s y/n again

It’s been a couple months since you’ve last responded, but I know you’re busy with your music work so i understand hahaha

just missing you extra today. I had one of my professors today assign a project that had to do with trees and it reminded me of that tree in my backyard that we carved our initials on

The tree actually fell down sometime last month. not sure if you read my last few letters but i think i mentioned that in there

write me back if you get the chance :)

Love, y/n

You crumbled up the paper and threw it, leaving it to the mountain of unsent letters that collected under your bed.

It had been four months since you’d last even heard from Heeseung. The last letter he’d sent you was short yet burned in your mind:

Dear Y/N

Hey it’s heeseung :) miss you too

I’ve been Busy recording some stuff but I’ll keep in touch

See you soon

Heeseung

That was the last thing he’d said to you in months.

When you’d first started adjusting to Heeseung moving, you’d promised to write to each other every week if possible. He was your best friend after all, losing contact wouldn’t be that easy. That’s at least what you’d thought when this all started over a year ago.

As time progressed, Heeseung would get more and more busy. Whether it was recording, busking, performing, or whatever; sometimes Heeseung wouldn’t write back to you in the expected timely manner. But it was fine, you’d write your letter updating him anyways, and he would respond when he could.

First, the letters were sent weekly.

For the first few months, you’d received and sent a letter every week to keep in touch with your best friend.

As he got more busy, though, you’d have to adjust. Before you knew it, the letters came only twice a month.

It would have to do, because he was your best friend. You were glad he even still had time to talk.

Even if he didn’t write back on time, you’d still send him your weekly letter, asking him about his life and updating him on yours. The big problem arose in the past eight months.

You’d gotten only one letter each month for the first four of the eight months. Ever since four months ago, you’d not heard from him at all. Not one peep.

It sucked, because you knew deep in the back of your mind that he had the time to write to you. You’d unintentionally made the habit of stalking his celebrity blog website, noting how he spent time every day talking with fans, yet you’d not received a letter in months.

Rolling your eyes, you opened your desk drawer and pulled out the last letter you’d received.

The letter had no date. Every time you were agonizing on how he hadn’t written to you, you’d pretend that you’d just received this letter in the mail from him.

You were sick of playing pretend for fifteen weeks straight now.

ii. POSTCARD

2-04-2004

Dear heeseung

hi it’s me again

I really don’t know why i keep writing you these damn letters. I haven’t heard back from you in months and I haven’t even sent you anything since December

these letters make me feel a little better I guess, just knowing in my mind I can pretend you’re writing back hah

I’m sorry I haven’t sent you stuff as usual. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to keep giving you attention when you won’t even send me anything. Even a postcard would be nice

I know you have the time to write to me too so don’t think I haven’t seen your fan blog

i do miss you. I wish you would miss me too

Love, y/n

You pulled out the box of unsent letters and shoved the paper right into it.

iii. I SHOULD HATE YOU

2-07-2004

Dear heeseung

I think i hate you!

I really don’t. i just don’t understand you

How is it so easy for you to pretend we weren’t best friends for all those years?? I get that now you’re mingling with Hollywood people but damn

i hope you’re enjoying this life you built. Clearly you’re happy enough to where you don’t even need a best friend anymore. I hope Hollywood gives you everything i can’t

I really should hate you right now

Talk to you never, from y/n

P.S. MTV can suck my dick

You finished writing the letter and put it to the side. Your box of unsent letters was now getting quite full, so you had organized them into neat piles based on the month you wrote them in.

The last letter you’d actually sent to him was written sometime before December 10th, because that was the first unsent letter date you’d found. Each pile of unsent mail had at least five letters, save for February, as you’d only written him twice since the beginning of the month.

January was the worst of it all. You’d written thirteen different letters to him. Amongst the thirteen was January 22nd, the day you’d discovered his fan blog:

01-22-2004

Dear heeseung

Fuck you seriously dude!

Are you fucking kidding me I just found your stupid ass fan blog where you feed into these fangirls parasocial relationships with you you’re weird for that

also how the fuck do you not have time to respond to ANY of the letters I sent you but you spend an hour on your blog talking to fans daily

Get your fucking priorities straight you’re seriously a joke

From y/n

The heartbreak and betrayal you’d felt the day of January 22nd was not something you’d like to relive. Writing the letter had made you feel better about how angry you were, but it still didn’t change the fact that Heeseung simply didn’t prioritize you anymore.

You put the letters to the side while fighting off tears. Instead, you grabbed the last letter he sent you. The words he promised you in the letter burned in your mind, making you grip the paper harder than you intended:

I’ll keep in touch

See you soon

What an empty promise. You wanted to write “fuck you” on the paper and send it right back to him, but it wasn’t like he’d see that one either.

You shuffled through all the letters he’d sent you before you found the one that meant the most: the first one.

10-15-2002

Dear y/n,

Guess who just turned 19 in Los Angeles!!! It sucks that I can’t spend this birthday with you so I decided I should write to you instead to make it feel like you’re here with me

This past week and a half has been so amazing. I got to tour a few recording studios and met an amazing producer who wants to help me. I have this manager too! They’re talking about me maybe dropping “lee heeseung” and going by the stage name “Evan” instead. Not sure how I feel about it but im sure they might know more than me hahaha

The whole time they were talking about that I could only think about how much you’d make fun of me :P

I miss you like crazy already! If possible I’ll try to fly home soon :) Hope to see you soon

Love, heeseung

(Aka soon to be Evan)

You smiled bittersweetly at the letter with tears in the corners of your eyes before blinking them away and putting down the letter.

So much for “seeing you soon”.

iv. MORE THAN ANYTHING

2-11-2004

Dear heeseung

Writing to you again because I don’t know why. I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself

Maybe it’s because I can’t accept the reality that I have where you’re not my best friend anymore. Crazy how that happens, right?

I’ve been rereading a lot of these letters lately, especially yours

You’ve always been good with your words, it’s no wonder you’re making music of them now. I wish you would send me something. Anything. Maybe not even a letter

I think what I want from you the most right now is to punch you, then hug you, then maybe punch you again for good measure

you deserve a good beating for what you’ve done to our relationship. I miss my best friend heeseung

Love, y/n

P.s. I don’t know why I still say i love you because i hate you more than anything now

A tear dropped from your eye to the paper, falling right on the words “love, y/n”.

v. THE LANDLINE

2-25-2004

Dear y/n

Hey. It’s heeseung

I know I haven’t written to you in forever. I’m really sorry. I bet you’re really mad at me now and i get it and i would be mad at me too

I’ve just been so busy with the recent tour announcement and stuff and just haven’t had the time to send stuff

My mom told me that your mom said you’re doing good in school. I’m really proud of you and i know you’ll do great things in life. I always knew that

I’d like to meet you in person soon, if possible. I feel like a horrible friend and I’d be lying if i said it wasn’t entirely my fault

I’ll be home on the first two weeks of March, if you wanna meet then. I have a lot to talk about with you

Please get back to me asap.

Love, Heeseung

P.s. i am sorry

You held the letter with shaking hands, nearly ripping it into a million pieces. You crumpled it up into a ball, throwing at the ground and proceeding to stomp on it. You then decided to run to your bed to scream and cry into a pillow for the time being.

He wrote back after almost five months. After leaving you in the dark, basically abandoning you and your friendship, he finally responded.

You wanted to rip that letter apart as many times as it felt Heeseung had ripped apart your heart over the past few months. You wanted to pretend you didn’t see the letter, to ignore him, and continue on with your life. Honestly, you wanted to ignore the letter so you could keep on writing your hateful and depressing letters to him that you would never send.

He would be home for two weeks. You, of course, knew where his house was. You’d been a million times. The letter, although dated to have been written and sent on February 25th, was nearly a week and a half old now. Heeseung would be going back to L.A. in the next few days.

A part of you wanted to go to his house right that second, to talk to him. Let him know every single thing that you’d been holding back for the past two months; show him every unearthed emotion.

The other (and more dominant) part of you wanted to not even give him the satisfaction of seeing your face. You wanted to ignore him, just like he’d ignored you for four months.

Unfortunately, you knew you needed to be the bigger person. If anything, you’d give him an earful and feel better about yourself after.

Walking out of the bedroom in your apartment, you headed over to the landline phone, dialing the number to Heeseung’s house. You hoped his mother would answer; you needed some time to collect yourself before you spoke directly to him.

You dialed his household number just as you’d remembered it: (444)337-3864. You waited for someone to pick up.

On the third ring, Heeseung’s voice resonated through the phone clearly:

“Hello?”

vi. A FOOL, I GUESS

9-13-2003

Dear y/n

Shit has been getting crazy lately but i hope you can understand

I’m sorry for missing your last few letters i just now have gotten to reading them. Good to hear school is going good!

Cant believe next month will be a year in L.A. hahaha shits crazy

Anyway hope to hear from you soon

Miss ya love ya, from Heeseung

You stared at the paper before tucking it away in your purse again. It was the second-to-last letter you’d received. You weren’t sure why you’d felt the need to bring it with you to meet with Heeseung, but you did.

You had been waiting for him to arrive. Unintentionally, you’d arrived at the park ten minutes earlier than you’d agreed upon with him. So, you decided to wait in the comfort of your car before he showed up.

As if on cue, a familiar car (Heeseung’s mom’s car) pulled up next to you. You looked over to see Heeseung sending you an awkward smile. You quickly left your car and waited for him to do the same.

Damn, you were good at waiting for him.

The two of you quickly found a rhythm with your steps, waiting for the other to break the silence as you walked awkwardly together.

“So,” Heeseung said, biting the bullet and breaking the silence, “how’s school been?”

“Good.” You replied curtly, not sure what he wanted you to say. His mom (whom you still talked to) had told him your school was fine anyways.

“Good,” he replied, awkwardly, “that’s good. Um… just finished recording my new album recently. They’re thinking of calling it ‘The Essence of Evan’.”

“That’s cool,” you said.

“Anything new in your life?” Heeseung tried again, peeking over at you.

You kept your eyes trained on the ground, “Not really. Same old Massachusetts life.”

“Yeah,” he stiffly laughed, “sounds about right. I kinda miss it.”

You raised your eyebrows, frowning and not looking at him. Under your breath, you sarcastically replied, “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What was that?” Heeseung turned his head.

“It doesn’t seem like you miss it, Heeseung.”

Heeseung furrowed his eyebrows, “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” you said, finally looking at him, “maybe because you abandoned everything for Los Angeles.”

“I did not abandon everything for Los Angeles.”

“You abandoned me,” you raised your voice, tears brimming in your eyes, “you abandoned me, Heeseung! What about that?”

“I did not abandon you,” he said, “I’m right here.”

“Right,” you laughed bitterly, “after almost five months of radio silence.”

“I-” Heeseung was at a loss for words. You were right; he didn’t say anything to you for four months straight. That was, in a sense, abandoning you and your friendship.

He stopped walking completely:

“I’m sorry.”

The apology escaped his mouth as if it was a reflex. Unfortunately, hearing it didn’t feel as rewarding as you thought it was going to.

You felt a tear escape your eye as you slowed your pace, “I waited for your response every day, Heeseung. I wrote to you even when you didn’t respond for months. You abandoned me.”

“Y/N,” he said, “I said I’m sorry.”

You turned to look at him, “I waited like an idiot because I thought you would write to me.”

“I did!” He replied, “You know I got busy. I explained it all in my last letter. I wanted to apologize in person because I was a bad friend.”

“Okay,” you said, “well, thanks for the apology.”

Heeseung walked to you, “Do you forgive me?”

Instead of answering his question, you asked your own:

“Did you receive all the letters I sent you?”

Heeseung avoided your gaze, so you asked him again.

“Did you read them, Heeseung?”

He sighed, “Yes.”

You felt the tears resurface as you turned away from him, nodding your head in disbelief.

“So you knew how bad I was hurting from it,” you said, “and you didn’t respond?”

“That’s not it,” Heeseung reasoned, “I’m telling you, I just don’t have the time to write back.”

“But you had time to read all of them…” you trailed off, “How many did I send you? At least eight?”

“Ten.”

Your heart broke further in its chest and a tear ran down your cheek.

“C’mon, Y/N,” he said, “you know I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

“No,” you refused, “Heeseung wouldn’t have done this to hurt me. But you’re not my Heeseung anymore. You’re ‘Evan’ now.”

“Stop,” he replied, “stop that.”

You offered no response and instead opted to find a bench to sit on. All the emotions were making it difficult for you to stand. How could he do this to you?

Heeseung sat on the opposite side of the bench, also not saying anything.

After a couple minutes, he broke the silence again:

“Why did you keep writing to me? After I didn’t respond? Why did you never give up on me?”

You breathed in a shaky breath and wiped the tear from your cheek, “I don’t know… I’m a fool, I guess.”

Heeseung scooted closer to you and hesitantly laid a hand on your back, caressing slowly, “I don’t think you’re a fool.”

You said nothing else for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s presence for a bit. Two hurt people sitting on a park bench in the first week of March, letting the sounds of nature speak for them.

“You know,” you spoke quietly, “I loved you for a long time. Maybe that’s why I didn’t give up on you.”

Heeseung’s hand stopped moving.

You stood up from the park bench, walking back to your car. The tears flowed freely now, drawing some attention from nearby park-goers.

You didn’t look back at him.

vii. HOLLYWOOD THING

8-23-2004

Dear y/n,

I know you’re probably throwing these away at this point, but I’m writing to you again

I miss you so much. Celebrity life isn’t the same knowing I can’t hear back from you. Sure, telling you I recorded some shit is fun but I wanna hear from your life

I’ve tried calling your landline a few times but obviously you haven’t answered. Sometimes I call just to hear the voicemail thing you have set up ha

I think I realized something recently : I don’t want to do life without you. You’re truly the treasure in my life and I agonize over the fact that I ruined something so good

I know you won’t send anything back because I haven’t heard from you since I saw you in person but sometimes I wonder:

What if I had stopped you from walking away? Would things be any different?

I also think about what you said often. About loving me for a long time and stuff. Did you mean that?? Because if I think about it, I’m pretty sure I loved you too. I wish I wouldn’t have been such an idiot about it though because now I lost you

You were never the fool between us. It’s always been me. I wish I could go back in time and forget this whole Hollywood thing

I miss you I miss normal life I miss Massachusetts I just wish I could change everything

I know I’m late to being filled with regret but that doesn’t change a thing

I miss you so much

Love, Heeseung

viii. LAST PAPER

11-02-2004

Dear heeseung,

I already know I’m not sending this to you so it doesn’t matter what I write

good news is that this is my last paper in this stupid fucking notebook so I won’t even have the chance to send you anything even if I wanted to . Which I don’t and I won’t send you anything

Just to let you know I have read all the things you sent me and it feels bittersweet that the roles are reversed now but whatever. Your letters make good fire fuel

I’ve saved a few though. I have a boyfriend of a few months now and he and I like to read them so he can realize how lucky he was to have you had fumbled me :)

His name is Jay and he hates your music btw.

also please stop filling my voicemail box because I keep having to delete everything and it drives me nuts

After I finish writing this then I’ll never have to think about you again.!!!

Weirdly enough i had to move some of my stuff to my moms for storage and I lost all those letters I wrote you about a year ago so maybe that’s a sign that the part of my life involving you is over

maybe that’s a good thing

From y/n

You stared at the paper for some time before crumpling it up and throwing it right into the trash.

[sweetverine]

hi! can i request a logan x reader angst, where him and reader are together but hes still like really close to jean, him and reader would argue alot and one day after a big arguement the next day logan cant find reader anywhere (make it heavy angst with a happy ending, a girl needs her daily dose of angst😔)

you, always | logan howlett.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, pet names (baby & princess)

a/n : hi :3 i hope i've done justice to your request 😭 it was fun to write!!! as always english isn't my first language so if anything's wrong please let me know! also, i had trilogy!lo in mind. I really wanted to write something for trilogy Logan this week and this came up!!!

It wasn't the first time Logan had done this. Saying something and then not following through on it at all.

You didn't want to seem insecure around him, but… and at the time you first noticed it, You felt insecure about her. You couldn't help but feel threatened, leading you to have a conversation with him, who understood the situation—given his past affair with her— and assured you he has no feelings towards her. You didn't doubt his word at first, no, of course not. But now, he seemed to do it on purpose. Why did he seem to be getting closer and closer to her?

What's so funny about her? Why did he need to spend so much time with her? What made her so special? Is it her hair or her powers? Ororo used to listen to these questions too much these last week's. You really didn't understand.

Oh, Another thing that became frequent, bad mood on both sides and being annoyed by the sightless thing.

in bed when Logan decided to show up, it was late, and you were waiting for him. You looked up, meeting his regretful gaze, already knowing your next words before they came out of your mouth, he closed the bedroom door as he threw off his jacket, he was sweating and agitated.

“where were you?” Your question echoes around the room.

“I was training with Jean.” Logan answered, walking to the bed, towards you.

Your face changed, a serious expression taking over your features. It was impossible to hide it, after having discussed it so many times. Today you had seen them together all day, at lunch, laughing with each other, helping with the dishes, and now working out together? Today Logan only spent the morning with you, these situations made your heart ache.

you felt left out, Logan is spending way more time than he should with her.

“How did it go?” your voice, sharp, returning your gaze to the book.

He noticed your sudden seriousness and ran a hand over his face, wiping away the sweat and drying it on his jeans.

“Don't even start.” Logan looked at you, also with a serious face.

“I didn't say anything, Logan” you lift your gaze from your book, a slightly annoyed tone as you speak.

“You're already like this, can you tell me what's wrong? You've been like this lately.” at this, you looked at Logan with a complete frown.

“What did you say? What do you mean, what's wrong with me? I don't know. Could you tell Jean to just read my mind? I mean, these days you two seem like the best of friends.” you were too angry, watching as his face began to turn into one of annoyance.

Logan ran a hand down his face, frustrated, and sat at the edge of the bed.

“I don’t get why we keep going in circles every time you see her near me.”

His voice sounded tired—drained even—but not angry. Not yet.

“Because it’s not just ‘seeing her near you’, Logan. It’s watching you two laugh, whisper, share things—like the world disappears when she’s around.”

Your voice trembled at the end. Not with rage, but that kind of sadness that sinks heavy in your chest.

He looked at you, hurt. “I don’t look at her like I used to.”

“Then look at me!” The words burst out before you could stop them.

“Look at me the way you look at her. With ease. Like it’s natural.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, bitterly. “When was the last time you talked to me like that? When was the last time you laughed with me like that? When was the last time you chose me without me having to remind you that I’m even here?”

“I’m here now.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, wiping at your eyes, “after spending the entire day with her.” Your voice cracked.

“I don’t even know if you love me… or if you’re only with me because she never wanted you.”

The words hit him like a slap, you saw his shoulders tensed, and he stood up suddenly like you’d physically struck him.

“Don’t say that.” His voice was low, gravelly with restrained anger.

“Don’t say that because you have no idea how hard it is for me to be here… to try. I am trying. I’ve left so much behind, I’ve given everything I could to build something real with you, but it’s never enough, is it?”

“Do you want to know why?” Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t look away.

“Because I don’t want to compete with her, Logan. I shouldn’t have to compete for the man I love.”

Silence reigned in the room. He headed to the bathroom, slamming the door, you closed the book and you turned off the nightlight. you buried your face in your pillow, letting your tears spill in peace, The sadness was heavy in your chest, and you weren't able to fight it with anything but crying. just letting it go.

You continued like this until sleep took care of you, Dreams began to appear and the hours continued to pass, Logan slept next to you, without hugging you as he always did, No arms around your waist. No warmth pressed against your back. Just the cold space between two people who loved each other too much to stop fighting.

Even when the sun illuminated the bed, your great sadness persisted, embraced in your chest, not wanting to let you go yet. You had to clear your mind, you ignored Logan's snoring and changed your clothes into something more suitable, washed your face and escaped from the room without making much noise.

The forest air really refreshes your mind, and it always does in a wonderful way. Walking through the trees and stepping on the earth is truly healing. Your thoughts wandered to Logan and Jean, In the intimacy of your friendship, You wonder if she will always have his heart, did he really give his to you as you gave it to him? with trust? full of love?

Tears return to your swollen eyes, spilling out again. You felt ridiculous next to her; she was so... different from you. But she had Scott, right? Why would she want your Logan? She's happy with Scott, right? thoughts took over you.

You walked toward a specific rock, hugging your knees and resting your head on your forearms. Closing your eyes, you listened to the sounds of the trees, the leaves rustling against each other, the breeze blowing through your hair and clothes. Your mind in silence, truly resting from the situation, forgetting for a few minutes and breathing fresh air.

You are calmer now. You felt the sadness lifting off of you, slowly getting lost in the trees and the singing birds. you thought more lucidly.

And without realizing it, it got later and later, you walked slowly back to the mansion, enjoying the forest once again. You should go there more often, you thought to yourself as you opened the door, finding Logan, with a worried face, bouncing his knee over and over again.

“Where the fuck were you?” Logan took you by the shoulders and then touched your face, analyzing you and even wrinkling his nose, smelling your clothes.

“needed to clear my head.” you said, weirded out about this attitude.

“I was looking for you all morning, you didn't have your phone. I looked for you everywhere." His eyes searched yours, You could feel how relieved he was, you never thought you would see him so worried.

“sorry—I didn't mean to cause a scene.” You started, lowering your head.

“I'm sorry.” You could clearly hear those words coming out of his mouth. His gaze was still fixed on you.

“I acted like a dick yesterday, i know i’ve been messing this up. I know I’ve been careless. But I never meant to make you feel like you come second to anyone, especially not to Jean. I swear to you, there’s nothing there anymore. I just... I didn’t think. I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you.” You could see his vulnerability, how real he was with you, how his hands unconsciously squeezed your shoulders.

You were speechless, your hands touching his chest, throwing yourself into his arms, letting them surround you. Your heart beat right along with his. “I felt... too jealous. the thought that that... you were really with me because she... didn't want you, you know..”

Logan hugged you tightly but at your words, he frowned.

“Fuck baby, No. Never.” He whispered, Really confused, why would you think that? He would never use his girl.

“I wanted to feel truly chosen.” your hands clinging into him.

“There were never any other options, princess. It was always you.”

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 27) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Chapter 27

It’s bizarre to be so close to All Might. He’s the object of so much of Tomura’s hatred, and you’ve laid your fair share of blame on him, too – the Number One hero, the strongest and the fastest, able to save everyone except the person who matters most to you. But that’s not who he is anymore. Right now he looks so thin and fragile that even your hatred could break him in half.

The words leave your mouth in a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“Present Mic left you in the interrogation room to teach you a lesson. He was not authorized to do so. When we came to retrieve you, you were unconscious.” All Might coughs into a handkerchief. “There is an unusual amount of strain on your heart.”

You don’t want anyone thinking about that. “Is this some kind of good cop, bad cop thing?”

“No,” All Might says. All Might’s not a good liar. “If you choose to view it that way, perhaps. Your relationship with Present Mic is adversarial. I have hope that you can help me with something else.”

“With what?”

“You said something to Present Mic before he terminated the interview,” All Might says instead of answering you. “You appeared to take the blame for Shigaraki Tomura’s ascent as a villain. I’m interested in why you said that.”

You clam up. All Might doesn’t look worried. “You were unconscious for quite some time,” he says. “It gave me the opportunity to compile some research I’d been conducting. You see, it didn’t strike me as an accident that the first town Shigaraki destroyed when the war began was your hometown. The destruction was telegraphed enough in advance that most of the residents were able to evacuate, and I took the opportunity to interview them, to see if any of them could tell me something about you. The picture that emerged was similar to the one that emerged when I spoke to your friends, family, and coworkers, with one important difference. Nearly everyone in your hometown who spoke of you spoke another name in conjunction with yours.”

He sets a tablet down on the bed in front of you and presses play on a video. The woman speaking looks vaguely familiar to you. You don’t know why until you hear her voice, and realize with a jolt that she’s your preschool teacher.

“Oh, she and that Shimura boy were always together. You couldn’t separate them,” she’s saying. “I never saw a pair of students as close as those two.”

So it was obvious from the beginning, what you and Tenko were to each other. Someone prompts the interviewee from off-screen. “What was he like?” your teacher repeats. “A little emotional, but the sweetest boy you’ve ever seen. It was terrible, what happened to him.”

She keeps talking, you think, but All Might swipes to another video. This one is from a neighbor on your same block. “I saw them walk home together from school every day. They lived across the street from each other.”

All Might swipes again. Your kindergarten teacher, now. “— worst case of puppy love I ever saw. Kids are all or nothing at that age, but things weren’t the best for either of them at home. They probably felt like it was them against the world. If what happened had happened to her instead of him, he’d have gone just as insane as she did.”

“We’ll return to that in a moment,” All Might says. He lifts the tablet out of your lap. “There are no official records of the fate that befell the Shimura family, and the memories of those who lived on the street are clouded. They do remember, however, how you reacted to what you found in the Shimuras’ home, and that allowed me to piece together a likely course of events. Everything points to Shimura Tenko’s quirk awakening unexpectedly, and the surprise combined with a child’s lack of control led to his family becoming casualties.”

He consults his folder. “The neighbors reported shouting from inside the house earlier that afternoon, and some stated that they could hear a child crying in the yard. Late-breaking quirks are known to activate in states of heightened emotion. It seemed likely to me that Tenko did not intend to kill his family members — and the reports from those who knew you both do not describe a child with an innate desire to harm others. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

You catch yourself nodding. “To me, this answers two of the questions that have been plaguing us with regard to a psychological profile of you,” All Might says. “How you first encountered Shigaraki, and why you would choose to side with him. And it bears out a theory that I have held for some time — that it is possible, in fact, necessary, to save Shigaraki Tomura.”

Your eyes well up before you can stop them. Your breathing hitches, and no matter how hard you dig your nails into your palms, it doesn’t help. You flip your left hand, sink your nails into the back of it, and pull hard, trying to ground yourself, but All Might snatches your hands away. “Please don’t hurt yourself,” he says anxiously. “You are not in trouble. You are among friends. I understand that this is likely the first time anyone has expressed the idea to you that Shigaraki can or should be saved —”

“Stop saying that!” Your voice cracks, shatters. “You don’t want to save him. You want to kill him, just like everyone else! I’m not going to help you hurt him! I don’t want anyone to hurt him ever again.”

Your heart rate is escalating. All Might is gesturing anxiously, trying to calm you down, but you talk over him, struggling to catch your breath. “You want to know why I made the bullets? That’s why! So the next time one of you tries, I can take away the only thing any of you care about! I’m not stupid. I know what you want to do! If you want to kill him, you’ll have to kill me, too!”

You regret the words the instant they leave your mouth. It’s a clue, the biggest one you’ve ever left, but All Might doesn’t react even slightly. He keeps your hands separated so you can’t scratch and speaks calmly. “Do you believe his current state is your fault because you couldn’t save him when you were children? If my research is correct, you tried harder than anyone else. While there’s no record of his disappearance, there’s a lengthy record of your efforts to find him in the form of police reports, school incident responses, and medical records. Your efforts didn’t cease until you were placed on a not insignificant dose of risperidone.”

That’s an antipsychotic. Your parents put you on an antipsychotic so you would stop looking for Tenko — and as if that wasn’t enough, they wiped your memory, too. Fury begins to bubble up within you. All Might keeps talking. “You were a child. It was not your job to rescue him. It was my job, and I failed him,” he says. Your chest goes tight. “I’m tired of failing him. I believe he can be saved, and so do you. Will you help me do it?”

“Why do you need me?” Your voice is hoarse. You can’t be fooled. You need to be careful. “I’m not a hero. I’m nobody.”

All Might shakes his head. “You know Shigaraki better than anyone else,” he says. He rises from his chair. “Get some rest, and think about what we’ve discussed. In spite of what some of my colleagues may have said, it’s not too late — for either of you.”

All Might is tricking you, or trying to trick you. You’re almost certain of it. There’s no reason why a hero would conclude that you could be saved, let alone that Tenko could, and there’s no way they’d ever ask you to help them save him. You’re a villain. There’s nothing redeemable about you at all in the eyes of heroes. You deserve to rot in Tartarus forever. Why is letting you die a step too far? Society’s made their decision about you; that’s why you’re here. You aren’t worth saving.

Except Midoriya Izuku saved you, didn’t he? And All Might took the time to learn about Tenko’s past through you, to see that he hasn’t always been the way he is now. Should you have spoken up more, explained how much of the boy you knew is still present within the person he is now? Maybe. As long as they aren’t trying to trick you. As long as it isn’t all a ploy by the heroes to learn as much as they can about Tenko. To make him easier for them to kill.

You don’t know what the right thing to do is. How is it that it was easier for you to choose to step into your role as Tenko’s sidekick than it is for you to try to save him? Was it because it was just you, because the only people you had to trust to do it were the same people you’ve always trusted — yourself, and your best friend?

But you’ve learned to trust other people, too. You trusted Kurogiri to protect Tenko along with you. You trusted Kazuo to tell you the truth, even when you didn’t want to hear it. You trusted Mitsuko and Ryuhei to help you, not to sell you out. You trusted the League, some of them more than others, into wanting some of the same things that you want. You even trusted a few members of the Meta Liberation Army, by the end. Trusting people hasn’t been a mistake. Yet.

Your heart is racing again. You can’t tell if it’s because something’s happening to Tenko or because your own anxiety is driving it onward, but you press your hand against your chest and try to take deep breaths. All Might left the call button on the bed. You can press it if something goes wrong. In the mean time, you need to calm down. And by the time someone else comes to talk to you, you need to have made a decision.

All Might comes to talk to you the next day, but he’s not alone. You don’t know who he brought, but they want to talk to you by themselves first, and All Might asks if that’s okay with you, like you have any kind of choice in the matter. You say yes. Of course you’re going to say yes. All Might leaves, and someone else slips in through the door. Someone you recognize. “Midoriya.”

Midoriya Izuku’s gaze is flat as he looks at you. “It’s Deku.”

“I’m not calling you useless,” you say.

“What I call myself is my business,” Midoriya says. “That’s my hero name. You’re a villain.”

“I still don’t call people useless,” you say. “Does using your real name feel like that much of an insult to you?”

Midoriya’s eyes flash, and in them, you see the echo of an anger you recognize, a moment before he forces it down. You recognize that, too. “You took away Kacchan’s quirk,” he says. “Why did you do that?”

“So he wouldn’t blast me in the face,” you say. Midoriya’s expression twists. “I was supposed to let him hurt me?”

“You were trying to take away Aizawa-sensei’s quirk, too. Why?” Midoriya asks. His voice pitches upwards, cracks, and you remember all at once — he’s just a kid. “You know what it’s like to be quirkless. How could you do that to someone?”

“Because I don’t think that being quirkless is the worst thing that can happen to someone,” you say. “It’s not even close to the worst thing that’s happened to me.”

Midoriya looks like he thinks you’re out of your mind. Like he can’t imagine why any quirkless person wouldn’t hate every second of their life. An impulse boils up within you, an impulse to twist the knife, but you crush it. You’re a villain, sure. You’re not that kind of villain. “Do you have other questions for me?”

“Why did you decide to be a villain?”

That one pulls you up short. “You can’t save people unless you understand them,” Midoriya says. He looks tired. Way too tired for a fifteen-year-old. His hands are laced with surgical scars. “I don’t understand Tenko. I’ve tried, and I can’t. But you do, so maybe if I understand you — and you understand him — maybe I can make him stop.”

Your stomach clenches, and it’s not just because you’ve heard someone else use Tenko’s real name. “You want to kill him.”

“No!” Midoriya visibly recoils from the idea. “I want this to stop. I want my friends to stop getting hurt. I want people to be able to go home, if there’s anything left of home. I just want this to be over fast, and killing Tenko won’t end it. Just like letting you die wouldn’t have.”

He looks at you, holds your gaze. “I want to make it stop, but there’s a right way to do it and a wrong way, and I want to do it the right way. So tell me why you became a villain.”

You want to tell him, but you also feel like this is above his grade level. Midoriya looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “I know you guys are in love. I heard it.”

That strikes you as weird. “What do you mean, you heard it?”

“In One For All.”

You sit there with that for a second. “Tell me about what happened after I fell. Then I’ll tell you why I’m a villain.”

After you fell, Midoriya caught you. As soon as you were on the ground, heroes took you away, hid you from Tenko. Not that Tenko had a chance to look for you. He was taking critical hit after critical hit while the heroes tried to overwhelm Super-Regeneration and kill him, and according to Midoriya, something was wrong with him. “It didn’t make sense,” he says. “Based on what he’s able to do now, he should have crushed us. But it was like he was fighting himself.”

Your heart sinks. “We knew he’d gotten a bunch of quirks, and we knew one of them was probably All For One,” Midoriya continues. “I knew he wanted One For All, so I left the battlefield, hoping he’d chase me, and he did. When he tried to take it from me, we wound up in the world of One For All.”

“The world of One For All?”

“Where the vestiges of the past wielders live,” Midoriya says. You don’t know what to say to that. “Tenko was there, but it wasn’t just him. There was something else in there, like a shadow, and it was talking to him. Telling him you were dead and nothing mattered anymore.”

That breaks through the cloud of despair your failure’s left you suspended in. “I’m not dead.”

“I tried to say, but I can’t talk in that world yet,” Midoriya says. That makes as much sense to you as everything else Midoriya’s said so far, which is to say it doesn’t make any sense at all. “The shadow looked like it was Tenko’s, but it wasn’t him. It it kept trying to move without him. And then it moved him. Like he was a puppet or something. I was right there, but they weren’t fighting me anymore. They were fighting each other.”

Your chest goes tight, shortening your breath again. “Everybody had caught up to us by then,” Midoriya explains. “When I woke up, I knew it wasn’t Tenko fighting. I could see the shadow — Tomura. And I guess Tomura didn’t like how the fight was going, so he withdrew, and the rest of the army went with him. If he hadn’t —”

“It would have been the end of hero society,” All Might says from the door. “The end of Japan as we know it. We couldn’t defeat him. And since then —”

“We know which one of them is in control when a battle happens,” Midoriya breaks in. “You can tell when it’s Tomura because he’ll — hurt himself — while he’s fighting. We think it’s to stay in control of Tenko’s body, but we’re not sure. When it’s Tenko, he fights different. He destroyed the city where UA was, but we’d thought he was headed somewhere else, so the evacuations were still going on when they got there. The whole city fell apart from Decay, but none of the refugees died from it. He destroyed everything but them.”

“In short,” All Might says, “The alternate personality – Tomura – cares nothing for life. Tenko appears to.”

Of course he does. Tenko’s killed people — a lot of people — but he doesn’t kill indiscriminately. Thousands died in Deika City, but Tenko was defending himself, defending the League, defending you. The deaths of the Creature Rejection Clan were on Spinner’s behalf, the murder of Overhaul’s minion one piece of revenge for Magne. Tenko doesn’t take joy in killing people. Even when you played games as children, he just wanted to win. He never wanted the villain to die. All Might leaves the doorway and comes closer. “We need to know how the alternate self came to possess Tenko’s body. And if there’s any way to help Tenko regain control.”

“It’s really important,” Midoriya says earnestly. “If there’s anything that — um, are you crying?”

It’s kind of a dumb question. You’re absolutely crying — head in your hands, headache already building, struggling to breathe while your eyes stream and your nose runs. You know what’s happening here. “Tenko and Tomura are the same person,” you say. “The shadow is All For One.”

There’s a split second where Midoriya and All Might simply stare at you. Then they both start talking, talking over each other, trying to get you to explain. But there’s nothing to explain. It’s all so simple. You thought you’d saved Tenko by swapping out All For One, but it didn’t work. Some part of All For One escaped, or snuck through, or something — or maybe it’s your fault again, because All For One came back after you let yourself get captured and almost killed. Either way, you screwed up royally. You lost your best friend, again, and this time the only person who could have stopped it is the same person to blame. You.

It takes a while for you to calm down enough to speak, to remind yourself that it’s not over until both of you are dead, that as long as you’re both alive there’s a chance. Midoriya and All Might want to help Tenko. All Might seems to want to help you, too. You’re locked up here, unable to reach him, but the two of them could. And that means you need to tell them what they need to know to save your best friend.

It takes explaining. A lot of explaining. Neither of them are getting the details, but they pick up enough of the big picture to understand what you tried to do. Mostly. “All For One is still in prison. How could Tenko have been given the original quirk?”

“All For One has a copy, so the doctor could give the original to Tomura. They had extra copies of it, too. And a Nomu that could make copies of things,” you say. Midoriya scribbles something in a notebook. “I swapped the original for a copy.”

“Could the doctor have swapped it back for the original without your knowledge?” All Might asks. You shake your head. “How do you know?”

“I destroyed it.”

All Might coughs. “What?”

“You destroyed All For One,” Midoriya repeats. “How?”

“The quirk factor is in his hands. His palms. They had them on a slide. I tested them to make sure they weren’t copies and then I cut them up.” You’re not sure why they’re looking at you like that. They asked. “It was the only way I could think of.”

All Might nods briskly, but he still looks supremely creeped out. “Since you made the switch, and you were present during the entire process, what is your best guess as to what happened?”

“I think –” You can’t burst into tears again. You dig your nails into the back of your hand. “The imprint of Sensei’s personality was still there. It couldn’t take over unless Tomura let his guard down. Now it won’t go away, but it doesn’t have full control over him. Tomura is still there.”

“What if we cancel his quirks?” Midoriya asks. “That would get rid of All For One, and we’d win.”

“It won’t be so easy. Remember, his speed and strength were sharply increased even when Eraserhead canceled his quirks,” All Might cautions. “We’d be better off if we could simply target All For One. You said it’s in his hands?”

“If we can’t land a good hit on him, there’s no way we’d be able to cut both his hands off,” Midoriya says. You feel like you’re going to be sick. "Besides, he’s got that regeneration quirk now. If we cut them off they could grow back just like they were.”

“He had the quirk for several weeks before the attack,” All Might says, “and the takeover occurred at a moment when Tenko was vulnerable. What would it take for him to regain control on his own?”

You think you have an answer. You don’t want to say it. It’ll sound really self-serving, and you don’t need to, not when Midoriya’s in the process of getting there on his own. “We’ve noticed that Tenko’s more likely to be in control when members of the League are present. Which might be why All For One’s been sending them away when he’s not. As of the attack in Yokohama the only member of the League who’s still with Tenko is Spinner. All the others have been sent elsewhere, or — um —”

He glances at you, guilty and uncomfortable, and somehow you know what he’s trying not to say. “Was someone hurt?”

“Giran was killed,” All Might says. He looks like he feels bad. You feel worse. “By Endeavor, in the battle for Kyoto. Compress was badly injured during an ambush of Shiketsu High. It’s unclear if he’ll survive.”

You swallow hard. “What about Toga?”

“The PLF fighters we’ve captured indicated that Toga’s gone underground. We’re not sure why, or where she is currently. If we could contact her —”

“Twice has gone missing, too,” Midoriya interrupts. “Nobody’s seen him since the battle at your headquarters.”

“And Dabi?”

“We don’t know,” All Might says. “All For One may have sent him on a mission, or may have had him killed. He hasn’t been seen since Kyoto.”

The League is scattered, or dead. All For One wants Tomura to feel hopeless, to feel alone. Tomura can’t fight back against him because All For One’s taking away the things he fought for. If you can give him a reason to fight back again — “I think we have to,” Midoriya is saying to All Might. All Might nods. Then they both look at you. “What do you think?”

You think you missed something. “What?”

“If the problem is that All For One is taking away Tenko’s friends, we need to give them back,” Midoriya says. “And since you’re his oldest friend — and the only we have who isn’t, like, dying — we need to give him you.”

Your heart leaps into your throat, lodging there painfully. He can’t mean it. He can’t be thinking of letting you go. “Hiding you was an error,” All Might says. “If our theory is correct, your perceived loss cemented All For One’s control. If we are able to return you to Tenko’s side, and if you are able to help Tenko reassert control, then perhaps we can bring this to an end.”

“You mean — negotiate?” You want more than anything for them to let you go, but you can’t lie to them. “Even if he’s himself, there’s no guarantee he’ll do that.”

“No, but there is a chance. Which is more than we’ll have from All For One.”

You can’t argue with that. “It shouldn’t just be her,” Midoriya says quietly. “He needs all his friends. As many of them as we can get.”

Your heart is beginning to race. You recognize the feeling of your body speeding up to try to match Tenko’s needs and force yourself to take deep breaths, to lie still. The less energy you burn yourself, the more you’ll have to send. You wonder where he is. What’s happening to him. If he’s injured because of a fight with the heroes or if it’s because of something All For One has done to try to maintain control of him. He’s alone there. All For One’s gotten rid of everyone except Spinner — Spinner, who you were able to warn months ago that something might go wrong with the quirk transfer. Spinner, who definitely knows Tomura well enough to know when Tomura’s not in control. The plans All Might and Midoriya are making are a vague buzz in your ear. You need to let them know that it’s Spinner they have to get a message to, Spinner who will help them get you back to Tenko. You open your mouth to speak, but your chest feels tight, and spots fill your vision. Before you can say a word of warning, everything goes black.

<- Chapter 26

taglist: @frog-fans-unite @enyaaa2222 @tannyr98 @atspiss @baking-ghoul @boogiemansbitch @handumb @agente707 @warxhammer @shikiblessed @cheeseonatower @koohiii @xeveryxstarfallx @stardustdreamersisi @lacrimae-lotos @aslutforfictionalmen @evilcookie5 @issaortiz @lvtuss @f3r4lfr0gg3r @shigarakislaughter @deadhands69

[wonderful-rp-resources]

Sacred romantic moments

Please specify the muse for multimuse blogs.

“ don’t go. stay. “

“ but you’re here, so stay. “

“ i don’t want to be alone tonight. “

“ just come over. “

“ let’s be alone together. “

“ i didn’t know where else to go. “

“ i don’t want us to be apart anymore. ever. “

“ i wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t important. “

“ you can talk to me about anything. you know that, right? “

“ just… be honest with me, do you hate me? “

“ i could never hate you. not really. “

“ you’re my friend, but… sometimes i wish you were more than that. “

“ we’re not just friends. you know that. “

“ i think i’m falling in love with you. “

“ can i hold your hand? “

“ yeah, you’re in love with me. “

“ just hold me. “

“ things would be so much easier if we were honest with each other. “

“ why can’t you be honest with me? with yourself? “

“ maybe you could stay? just for tonight? “

“ it’s dark outside, and it’s raining. my arms are much safer. “

“ you can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep lying to yourself. “

“ i can’t keep lying to myself, or to you. it’s not fair on either of us. “

“ i think you should kiss me. “

“ kiss me like you mean it. “

“ just kiss me. “

“ you shouldn’t kiss me right now. “

“ look me in the eyes and tell me you love me. “

“ you can’t lie to me, you know. “

“ you know me better than anyone. you always have. “

“ you’re pretty amazing. you know that, right? “

“ you’re just… you’re extraordinary. “

“ you’re good to me, you know. really good. “

“ you’ve made me the happiest i’ve ever been. “

“ i don’t know what i would have done if you weren’t here. “

“ our love can conquer anything. “

“ and for many generations to come, our love story will live on. “

“ i want you to marry me. “

“ if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, i’d say yes. “ “ what about today? “

“ marry me, name. marry me and make me the luckiest [x] in the world. “

“ your kiss could mend a broken heart. “

“ are you going to kiss me again, or do i have to do it myself? “

“ i could cry, that’s how much i love you. “

“ you’re worthy of my love. “

“ truth is that i’m so damn in love with you that i don’t know what to do with myself. “

“ maybe tonight, it’s you and me. “

“ i don’t know what the future holds. all i know is that i hope you’re in it. “

“ could you promise me one thing? “

“ promise me that we’ll be together, no matter what. “

“ it’s you and me, forever. no matter what. “

“ i didn’t want to tell you until i was sure, but… i’m pregnant. “

“ we’re going to be family! “

“ this baby, it’s the best thing that could ever have happened to us. “

“ i can’t believe this, we’re going to be parents! “

“ dance with me? “

“ may i have this dance? “

“ you’re my whole world, you know. “

“ don’t speak, just… kiss me. “

“ you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to that. “

“ i’ve been wanting to tell you for so long… “

“ so… is this like, a thing now? “

“ i always miss you, even when you’re next to me. “

” i miss you. i miss you so much it hurts. ”

” i don’t want you to miss me. it’s tearing me apart. ”

“ you make me happier. “

“ i love waking up next to you. “

“ my favorite thing is falling asleep next to you. “

“ come cuddle with me. “

“ this is torture, isn’t it? “ “ not in the slightest. “

“ do you love me? “

“ could this be something more? “

“ move in with me. “

“ do you think we should move in together? you spend all your time here anyway. “

“ are you serious? i’ve had a crush on you for as long as i can remember. “

“ i know you’re in love with me. “

“ you’re really cute, you know. “

“ you’re so damn attractive. you know that right? “

“ if anybody were to kiss me, i would want that person to be you. “

“ and right now, i think you should kiss me. “

[vamplvs]

Could you possibly write something angsty for John Walker where maybe a mission or something goes wrong and he ends up taking out his frustration on reader but apologizes and makes up for it when he notices reader pulling away, I love your writing so much!! Hope you have a good day! 💕

ROUGH NIGHT?

INCLUDES -> john walker x gn!reader WARNINGS -> john is kind of a bitch (predictably) and the reader is kind of a bitch back (which is deserved), hurt/comfort, mentions of blood, injury, and death (missions, yk?), reader is anxious as HELL about john, very vague mentions of sex but nothing explicit WORD COUNT -> 2.8k NOTES -> ugh anon this is EXACTLY the kind of shit i love writing. hurt/comfort is where it's at and this is just so unbearably john-coded in the best way. like yeah! you get it <3 fair warning, this ran away from me REALLY quick. it was supposed to be a short blurb (mostly aftermath and comfort tbh), and then i got carried away. also you can rly see my love-hate relationship w john in this one LMAO. he's my wife but i wanna get into a fist fight with him too, yk?

the tower is always quiet without the team, and bob's presence doesn't do much to keep things lively as he's already a pretty quiet person. they've been gone for nearly two weeks—double the time john told you the mission would take. they're usually radio silent for the duration of their missions, but when a mission takes so long, it's impossible not to worry.

and just as impossible not to wish that john could be safe within the walls of the tower, in your arms at night, or making you dinner.

you spend those weeks with bob going back and forth between checking on him, organizing and reorganizing every corner of your room, and drowning yourself in books and tv—not that it works. john lingers in your mind, images of the worst case scenario dancing in your mind like a taunt. maybe he comes back just fine, or maybe it's in a box. for all you know, he's trapped somewhere between two psychopaths trying to torture him. or maybe the team just can't agree on a course of action.

the silence from them is deafening, only drowned out by the racing of your own heart.

but when they finally come back from some extended mission that john hadn't told you the details of, the usual racket of the tower doesn't return with them. they march pitifully into the floor of the tower that's been dedicated to the living and common spaces. yelena is clutching her side and leaning against bucky for support, whose metal arm is spasming. ava, of course, vanishes immediately upon arrival. in the brief second you lock eyes with her before she disappears for who knows how long, she shoots you a cryptically sympathetic look for someone who looks like they've been through the ringer. alexei limps along, more defeated than you've ever seen him. but john is nowhere to be seen.

"hey, where is he?" you pipe up from where you're sitting on the couch, worry creasing your brow. your book is long forgotten by your side. instead, your eyes keep looking over the group, taking in their injuries and oh, god-

"with the jet," bucky responds, voice worn thin with exhaustion and hint of pain. you watch them leave, alexei's limp worrying you most of all. if he's in bad condition, what does that mean for john?

you bolt upright from the couch, heading off to the jet with a mission of your own. the bleak lighting of these parts of the tower create an endless maze for you to follow. your quick steps echo in the empty hallways—the construction that has been ongoing for the past several months leaving vast parts of the building almost entirely bare.

office rooms, labs, training grounds. all of them are vacant, like the people and equipment meant to be filling them have been stolen from under your nose. even the other living spaces in the tower—entire sections of floors that were once dedicated to an individual team member—are devoid of life. it leaves the building, one that was such an integral symbol of hope and protection, feeling cold.

and it does nothing to help the anxiety that claws at your throat.

by the time you get to the hangar, your pulse is pounding in your ears with enough force that you're sure it's echoing too. you hurtle through the doors of the hangar, desperation coloring every hurried step.

your pace slows when you see him: a lone figure in a wide, vacant room.

john is sitting on a crate by the side of the jet. his helmet in his hands and the shield tossed to the ground. it lies against the ground, discarded and deserted. his suit is covered in dust, debris, and what you think might be blood. with his head down, you can't quite see his face.

"john?" his name is barely above a whisper, and yet it still bounces off each wall. "are you okay?"

john tenses, his hands twitching around the helmet. it takes him a beat too long to respond, and the silence gives you a moment to see him properly. his beard has grown since you last saw him, no longer the neatly trimmed scruff he usually maintains. the bags under his eyes have gotten deeper, too, and there's this haunted look in his eye when he looks up from his helmet. gone is the bright blue you've grown to love. "i'm fine."

"how did the mission go?"

he huffs and stands up abruptly, helmet falling by his side. it rolls away from him, staring at you blankly with its empty sockets. "it was fine." john shoulders past you, his every step pounding against the floor. he hardly looks you in the eye as he leaves.

there's a limp in the way he walks, a favoring of one foot that is more than enough evidence to the contrary—as if you needed anything more.

when bucky finds you later in the kitchen, you're sitting at the table just staring blankly at your laptop. a cruel, steady cursor stares back at you, ever-blinking. bucky works quietly by the stove, apparently unbothered by you until he hands you a lightly steaming mug of hot chocolate—in the very mug john gave you before he left for this mission.

"is he okay?" you ask, staring down at the mug's delicate, flowery pattern.

bucky shrugs. "he's been in the gym for a while." he sits down across from you, running a hand through his hair. "the punching bags are taking a beating, according to ava."

"more than one?"

"apparently." bucky takes a sip from his own mug. in any other situation, the care with which he drinks his hot chocolate would have been endlessly funny. a tiny, delicate mug in the metal hand of a super soldier.

you hum. it's not unusual for john to train after a mission. he takes pride in his skill, after all, drawing all kinds of satisfaction from landing grueling hits against an enemy—and even a place for hits to land, a shield, when needed. but punching bags aren't his go-to, they never have been, especially not to the point of going through several bags. john spars when he wants a fight, but this... this has your worry washing over you in waves once again.

your eyes follow the intertwining swoops of the flowers decorating the mug.

"look, it was rough for us, especially walker," bucky rolls his shoulders back with a sigh. "give him some time, alright? he'll come around." you can't be sure if bucky is trying to convince you or himself. either way, he stays with you. he tells you about the bad intel, about the informant that john had been too rough with, about the regrets that john brought home from the mission. "he'll be okay." and you can only hope that's true.

you don't see john again until hours have passed at that kitchen table with bucky.

when you finally walk into your shared bedroom, you can smell his shampoo lingering in the air even from the doorway. he faces away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting his chin on his hand. and now that he's finally clean of the dirt that he brought home with him from the mission, you can see the bruises littering his back. they range from red to purple to nearly black, and your eyes are glued to them. you're sure that the ones on his chest and stomach must be worse.

"bucky told me what happened," you start, trying to keep your voice gentle. "i- i'm sorry that-"

john whips around, standing from the bed with a stiffness you've only seen in him during the aftermath of the void. his eyes blaze with hurt, backed by a fire built on kerosene and failure. "we aren't talking about this." his hands shake by his sides, knuckles raw and bleeding. bucky's story about the informant swims through your minds sluggishly, lingering. did he punch the scabs back open on the punching bags, or are those new?

"i just wanted to help-" you step forward with your hands out to him in a placating gesture, like he's some kind of wild animal. and with the withering look he gives you, he may as well be.

"yeah, and you never really can, can you?" he laughs bitterly, and his hands twitch again. footsteps pound on the floor, and suddenly, he's close enough to touch, close enough that you feel the adrenaline and shame still pumping through him, "i mean seriously, you sit here in the damn tower, and you hover. you always fucking hover." his voice just gets louder and louder, until you're sure anyone on this floor of the tower can hear him.

"because i care about you, john," you make a strong effort to keep your voice steady, fighting back the thickness wedging itself into your throat with everything in you.

"well, maybe that was your first mistake." his face is inches away from yours when he says it, with nothing but vitriol and venom backing his words.

your eyes burn. "john-"

"just-" he steps back, running a hand over his face, "i just need a fucking break, okay?" as soon as he turns his back to you again, you're out of the room. you swear the slam of the door behind you shakes the entire tower. and if you hear him calling after you, you certainly don't respond.

for the next few days, you avoid john. you spend nights with yelena or bob—thank god for that air mattress you found stashed in a closet months ago. and during the day, you only go back to your room when you know john is going to be out. if it's a break he wants, then it's a break he's going to get.

"he's a brash idiot," yelena tells you when it's her turn to host the movie nights you've been doing with her and bob.

bob, of course, is quick to intercept, "he definitely didn't mean it. right?" he defers to yelena, waiting for her to agree with him. not that she does, but you can appreciate the effort.

john's eyes follow you unwillingly when you're in the same room. they focus on every small movement—the way your eyebrows furrow when you're confused about something alexei says, the dip of you're mouth when you try not to laugh at bucky rolling his eyes at something ava says, the way your hands fidget with the end of your sleeves or your pen when you catch him looking. he feels like a mad man, itching to be by your side as bad as he is. and he can feel yelena laughing silently at him from across the room.

all the while, your heart aches. a break, he said, whatever that means. a break where he stares wistfully at you, eyes heavy with something that you could call sorrow if he hadn't been the one to call for a break.

it isn't until a full four days have passed that he finally works up the courage to apologize to you. it's ironic how he can face the scum of the earth, who do everything in their power to kill him, and yet he starts sweating when he remembers what he said to you. and when he remembers how you took it.

he finds you sitting by one of the windows of the emptier floors, a book in your hand—one of bob's recommendations. this room seems to be some kind of office space, though it's hard to tell with the minimal furniture that's been put in. he lingers in the doorway, taking a moment to watch you sitting peacefully. you don't have your guard up, and god, he misses seeing you like this.

he knocks gently on the doorframe, and you watch him approach with wary eyes. that same guard he was so grateful to see you without returns in full force.

"bob said i could find you here," his voice is hesitant despite how squared his shoulders are, despite how high he holds his head.

you huff. "can't quite keep quiet can he?" the pages of the book flutter when you put it down, the only sound in the room.

silence stretches between the two of you, and john has to look away from your accusing gaze.

"i'm sorry," he starts, shaky and unsure, "you didn't deserve that."

"i know." he winces at the certainty in your statement.

"the mission, it-" john finally looks you in the eyes again, taking a deep breath, "i'm so worried about you, all the time. it just-" his words trail off, like he's still trying to finish the thought. all that planning, and he still can't find a good way to put it all to words.

"yeah."

"i don't want you to get hurt." he flexes one of his hands. the wounds have long scabbed over but are still bruised badly.

"i'll be okay." you shrug, and he almost believes you.

"you can't know that-"

"i'm okay now, aren't i?"

his lips twist into a pitiful half-smile, and you can't help but give him the same look in return.

"when i-" his shoulders fall, "look, i didn't mean-" he curses under his breath, and that nearly gets a smile out of you. "i need a break from this," john gestures vaguely around the room, to the rest of the tower, "not- never from us. i fucked up bad, and i know that."

"okay." every response from you is clipped, tearing his poor attempt at a brave facade to shreds.

"i don't know why-" you give him an icy look that shuts that train of though down immediately. curse you for knowing him so well. "i shouldn't have said it, not like that."

john's heart races in the quiet moments that stretch between you two.

in the blink of an eye, your arms are wrapped around him. he lets out a shaky breath and pulls you close to him. his hands grab for your clothes like he's trying to prove you're really here.

"i'm sorry," he mutters into your shoulder.

"it's okay," you reply gently, threading fingers through his hair.

"you're so perfect, and so- just so close to all of this, and i have nightmares about you getting-" he takes a harsh, shuddering breath, "i don't know what i'd do."

"i know, baby."

you missed him for those days. you missed his hand in yours, you missed his gravely voice in the mornings, you missed his pain in the ass self-assurance. and it's good, so good, to have him back.

you wake the next morning without john in your bed, and if that isn't a rude awakening, you don't know what is. the sheets next to you are cold, and you almost trick yourself into believing that last night was a dream until john walks in with a cup of coffee in that same flowery mug and a tray stacked high with food.

"john?" your voice is still rough from sleep, cracking around the syllable.

"i made you breakfast, baby." with little ceremony, he places the tray of food and the coffee on the bedside table. he does it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, like there's nothing else he would rather be doing.

"huh?" your mind is still struggling to catch up. it's too early, and the bed is, quite frankly, far too cold without him.

"i'm making it up to you," he kisses your forehead, and his hand lingers on your cheek for a beat longer than it strictly needs to.

"thought you made it up to me last night," you stretch your legs beneath the blankets, trying to work out some of the soreness. he chuckles at that, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way they do when he laughs.

"oh, that worked, huh?" john sits carefully on the edge of the bed, running a hand over your arm.

"mmm, maybe."

"does breakfast in the bed sweeten the deal?" there's a twinge of uneasiness in his tone matched with a gentle squeeze of your arm.

"only if you get back in bed with me." he smiles at you, all warm and tender.

"i think i can do that."

john finds his way under the blankets with you. his hands are soft when they wrap around you, and warmth bleeds back into the sheets steadily.

"you really should eat that before it gets cold," he mumbles against your neck.

"okay, okay." it's hard not to laugh at where john has situated himself. he's firmly attached to your side, only letting up when you reach for the food. even then, his hold on you shifts just enough to let you move, never quite relenting.

[merge-conflict]

heretic pride calls to me and i'd love to hear more about it pls and ty :3c

Yesss, thank you! I already talked about it here, but don't worry there is more...

This is definitely a turning point for the entire fic, for a number of reasons:

This is Valentine's final POV chapter. It's just Johnny Silverhand show after this

After the events of the parade she breaks with Goro for the first time since they've agreed to be partners

This is where they face an Arasaka and remember their romance is a tragedy

The damage from the relic has affected V enough so that when she IS back in control she's very obviously decaying

And a snippet from my "outline":

And then has a real bad attack. A Real Bad One. Disoriented, in pain. She sticks around too long and Oda comes. She can barely get up. They talk, argue a bit, he slams her head against a wall and that’s when things get Ugly with her. She patches him through to Goro, who by that time has found Hanako. They bicker, Oda threatens to kill V and Goro immediately gets nasty, and Oda backs down although he’s not happy about it. That’s when V starts getting patchy, and Johnny is musing for longer paragraphs, and V doesn’t realize she’s blanking out. Johnny’s not in control, but neither is V. Goro immediately knows something is wrong– since Hanako is at least listening (she could tell Oda to be hostile but does not. she’s curious about V. she’s noticed the relic (it hurts)) he does crouch next to her and try to help. But she doesn’t want to look at him. She uses him to hold herself up– it’s the best she can manage but everything is falling apart and she won’t look at him. MAKING EYE CONTACT WITH HANAKO AND DRAWING HER FULL ATTENTION. just like saburo with goro. (know a sucker when you see one)

[renabe4life]

Fair Game Week 2025 Day 3 - Duty/Honour | Coffee

Last minute addition to my lineup for the week, and it's art for @whatacartouchebag Bunnings AU! Check out the post for that here! :D

Boy howdy this fic still has me in absolute stitches. Poor Cloves is a huge lovable mess and he's getting called out on it left and right, courtesy of one uncle and niece combo alskdfh

So uh surprise, Cart! Hope you know it is all your fault I spent yesterday in some kind of trance working on this alskdfhdf :D

[halfbaked00q]

office work CC culture is so funny to me. sometimes the person you email just CCs a random person or several random people in with no explanation, and you never find out who these people are or why they needed to be included in. They never say anything. Do they even read these emails? maybe it just clogs up their inbox

Also funny is ppl who care about the nebulous hierarchy of importance or power as represented by listing order in CC. OBJECTIVELY funny thing to get worked up about; and yet, some people do

I can't decide if Q should have no opinions on this, or sets of Highly Nuanced And Specific Opinions about it.

Maybe it's both-- *he* doesn't care, BUT he knows exactly who DOES, and absolutely weaponizes it when he deems necessary.

for example

"Dear Quartermaster,

Thanks for taking care of xyz! Just as a gentle reminder, emails should be listed in the CC field in order of importance of the receiver's role in the project.

Best regards,

Janet Walker"

"Dear Ms. Walker,

Thank you for the very valuable contribution on this highly significant project. However the receivers list was correctly configured. If you have concerns about the division of duties within the project feel free to discuss this with your supervisor offline.

Have a good evening,

Q"

Like. it's gotta be fun, right? to be able to snark so openly but plausibly deniably. It's, like, recreational. Like if you're gonna PVP *him* about it oh boy you better be ready to catch rocks.

[realtapiocafan]

the one thing that’s giving me hope is that unlike lou al golden has made it very clear that actually playing the young guys and developing them is the priority (and he’s really good at developing!!) so im choosing to be cautiously optimistic just off that alone 🙂‍↕️

there is hope!

shemar has upside! he has a first round grade by most analysts for a reason! i feel like most twitter users were crashing out and acting like he was just standing around the field lol, when that's not the case. the critique isn't that he can't pass rush -he can, he had almost 40 pressures last year! the criticism is that he can't finish. he can get to the qb -he just can't bring the qb down. which is a problem ofc (a major one in fact), but there's a foundation there and it's very, very possible to develop those pressures into sacks. it's not insane to think that he can't be a very good player for us.

and maybe most importantly (something that the growler podcast pointed out), shemar had consistent pressures in every game. this wasn't him feeding off the college version of the raiders and the browns (no offense to trey, he was fucking excellent, don't get me wrong -but he did get some of those sacks beating up on bad teams) (please don't kill me for this take, i say wincing). anyways! shemar (at least in college) has proven that he can get consistent pressure on the quarterback, no matter the team. for whatever reason (the texas a&m defense is WEIRD man), it didn't result in sacks. can we teach him how to turn those pressures into sacks? well, almost 40 pressures is a hell of a way to start.

but to develop him into someone who can sack, i agree that shemar HAS to play, preferably start. and myles! throw both of them into the deep end. we need to see whether shemar's capable of turning some of those pressures into actual sacks and well, EVERYTHING that myles is capable of.

like, i know we need to start winning in september and playing rookies a bunch isn't exactly conductive to success, BUTTT the eagles last year played their rookies a bunch in the beginning of the year. and they struggled. at one point, they were 2-2. but when they got to the playoffs, the rookies were already experienced. they knew what to do. i don't think the eagles win without their rookies stepping up, and the rookies only stepped up, because they were played so much earlier in the year. so to even come close to what the eagles have managed to do -pay their offense, draft their defense- we got to play our rookies early and take the gamble that it'll pay off in december/january like it did for the eagles. hopefully (🤞) al will do that.

and also considering the other available options at seventeen: it was basically either shemar, harmon, campbell, emmanwori, or starks. me personally, i'm pretty sure something about campbell and harmon's medicals scared them off (maybe harmon's missed tackles too). considering how they double-dipped at lb, it's pretty clear that they saw lb as a huge need and it makes it even more startling that they really must've not been confident campbell could be healthy enough. and idl is obviously a need (STILL a need actually), so the decision to pass on harmon doesn't make much sense to me unless the bengals either were wary of his medicals or tackling. or just believed more in shemar, that's also a possibility. and for the safeties, it was always unlikely we were going to take them, unless all three of those guys were gone. MY POINT HERE (sorry i got sidetracked rambling): the upside of shemar is that, barring unfortunate events (knocking on wood here), shemar will be on the field for the bengals. availability is the best ability and all that.

and finally, if i may interject a Hot Take here (been listening to so many podcasts recently lol, it's kinda rubbing off on me): we don't /need/ shemar to reach his ceiling - as many have said, this is basically our sam hubbard replacement. everyone says this guy has an insanely high ceiling, but i don't think the team even needs him to reach that. we just need him to be better than 2024 sam. that's all the team's asking. and we shouldn't expect a great defense, because we're not getting one, but as long as he's better than 2024 sam (which no offense to sam, but it's a pretty low bar), shemar isn't a bad pick.

[fisheito]

You know who you remind me of? Helga Pataki.

Please tell me you (or somebody else) gets the reference 😂

anon u turned my world to static with that namedrop

on the list of things i did NOT expect to happen ,because hUH??: someone dragging [hey arnold] into my tiny nuca inbox

[midnightwind]

why is everyone so pissy at me after the Fade!! the Inquisitor just physically fought through hell and all I hear is whining afterwards