#this is pretty realistic actually but it's so shitty coming from someone who is supposed to be a hero

[27spoons]

LIGHT UP FLOOR | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader

request: what abt natalie and the reader coming to parties to get loose (in all senses of the word iykwim) - and it kinda connects with "casual" by chappell roan in my head, idk; like a more sentimental, melodramatic version of it

i imagine it being a drunk sex fic, but i think you'd like to throw some weed into the mix. natalie pretending to be nonchalant, unbothered and "unfeeling" by reader's presence on the party which they said they weren't gonna attend, and ending up angstyliciously talking-beefing-fucking <3 (@/postmorteum)

wc: 7500

warnings: y/n usage, ambiguous ex-relationship w/nat, strap-on usage (referred to as cock/dick), alcohol consumption, implied drug use (nat), rough sex, toxic relationships, breathplay, spanking, hair-pulling, semi-public sex, (slight) exhibitionism, overstim, forced orgasm, (accidental) watersports, dacryphilia, subspace, aftercare, emotional damage (as is the usual when it's written by me), these idiots need emotional help, someone get them in touch with a good therapist,

a/n: oh lads. this is a fic. slightly ooc in the name of porn or w/e. anyways. wanted to play around a lil and explore some themes i wouldn't normally touch

ao3

Natalie doesn't know why she thought going out tonight would be a good idea. Truthfully, she never thinks it's a good idea to go out; she just… does it anyway. Sue her, a girl likes to have some fun now and then.

And you… you didn't plan to go out tonight, either. You had fully planned on spending it in your dorm, curled up with your cat (that you aren't technically supposed to have in a college dorm), and watching some B-Movies on your shitty CRT television you stole from your parents when you moved into shared housing.

But, now, here both of you are; opposite ends of some dingy club in Philly. You were dragged out here by friends, something about 'getting out and having some fun,' or whatever. Regardless, they ditched you within ten seconds of arrival. Now you sit at the bar while some generic house music plays, a drink in one hand and your head in the other.

You try to hype yourself up—have a little fun for once—but… shit. You find sitting at the bar and downing drink after drink is much more appetizing when compared to actually trying to hook up with some pretty face in a sweaty crowd.

Natalie isn't in a much better state, but you don't know that—you're too absorbed with the bottom of your glass.

If you were to look up right now, you'd see Natalie standing almost directly opposite you, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest as she surveys the dancefloor. She's wearing what she always wears when she goes clubbing—something equally as alt-rock as it fucking sexy, but she's not dressing up for anyone else.

Well, maybe one someone else. But what are the odds of that one 'someone else' being here? 

Pretty fucking high, apparently, if that's you sitting at the bar and staring into the bottom of your glass. What the fuck? Since when did you go clubbing in Philly? You were always someone who preferred heading into New York to do that shit!

Whatever the reason you're here, she clocks you before you see her. Not that she was looking for you, of course not. She wouldn't be caught dead admitting that. But her eyes catch your face anyway—the purse of your lips as you bring your drink to your mouth, the way your fingers tap idly against the glass, the way you look—

Sad.

She doesn't like that.

…or maybe she does. If you're still sad… maybe you still care. Maybe you still think about her. Maybe you still wish things had gone differently, just like she does, though she'll never fucking say it.

Natalie watches, waiting for you to look up from your drink, but you don't. It shouldn't sting, realistically. It's not like you would know she's here or looking at you. 

It stings anyway.

And, all of a sudden, she feels the need to prove something, though to whom she isn't quite sure.

So, Nat pushes off the wall and walks straight onto the dance floor. There's no difficulty in finding someone willing to dance with her; after all, who wouldn't? Nat knows she's something to look at, and she shows it.

Her outfit says it all: a black, vintage cropped band tee with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the faded stick and pokes that litter her arm. It's slashed at the hem and hangs just enough to reveal a sliver of her stomach when she moves. A ratty plaid miniskirt clings to her hips, frayed at the edges, just barely hiding the ripped fishnets underneath. Combat boots thud against the sticky floor, laced halfway and scuffed from nights just like this. Around her neck, layered silver chains catch the low light, one with a rifle bullet dangling from it. Her eyeliner is smudged to perfection, her eyes smoky, and the textbook example of the 'sloppy punk' makeup look she's coined as her own.

She doesn't have to try. That's the point. Natalie Scatorccio doesn't chase. She lures.

She catches the eye of a girl with her hair streaked a neon green and too much glitter on her cheeks. The girl grins. Natalie smirks back.

And then she's dancing, pressed close, moving like she doesn't know you're here.

She doesn't look at you. Not yet.

You look at her, though.

You aren't quite sure what caused you to look up from your glass at the exact perfect moment, but you do. And there, in all her glory, is Natalie Scatorccio. The same woman that you haven't seen in over two months because of some fucking bullshit—

That isn't relevant right now, regardless. What is relevant right now is the fact that Nat is doing the exact thing she does best: making you fucking pissed off, jealous, and turned on at the same time. A dichotomy you will never properly understand.

Despite yourself, you keep watching, and goddamn, does Natalie move. The deep bass from the music pumping through the speakers radiates up your legs and through your bones, a thrumming sensation pulsing through your mind. Further reminding you of all those nights you've spent in bathrooms of clubs with the titular blonde currently grinding on someone that isn't you.

It's all you can do to glance down into your glass once more, trying to ignore the way she's still dancing on someone who isn't you. She was the one who ended things—you have every right not to be over her yet! You have every right to be upset and jealous that she's currently dancing on someone the way she used to dance on you.

You know what? Fuck it.

You shoot back the remainder of your drink, stand up (swaying slightly), and push your way onto the light-up floor, its colour shifting to a neon green in time with the start of the next song.

Natalie's always had a sixth sense when it came to you. Her eyes flick up to meet yours almost the second you step on the dance floor, her mouth twitching into a smirk—not wide, not gloating, but sharp and knowing, like she’s already won. Her body doesn't stop moving: hips swaying, hands floating in the air, the subtle shift of her weight as her knee brushes lightly against the person she's dancing with. The way she moves is electric, fluid, and maddeningly deliberate—but still so careless, like she hasn't got a thought in the world except the beat of the music.

You take your time cutting through the crowd. It's far from easy—people spill drinks, stumble into your path, and laugh too loud (which is saying something, considering the music is already very loud). Your eyes don't leave hers. You know she sees you. You know she's watching you right back, even when she tilts her head like she's still focused on the person she's dancing with. She's toying with you, and God help you; it's working.

When you reach her, she doesn't stop moving, doesn't pull back from the stranger whose hands rest awkwardly at her waist. She tilts her head to the side, feigning surprise like she didn't know you'd be there.

"Hey," she grins, voice low and just loud enough to carry over the music. "Having fun?"

You scoff, voice sharp with bitterness. "Having fun? Fuck you."

Her grin sharpens, eyes narrowing in amusement. "Yeah, bet you'd like to." She leans slightly into the person behind her, a deliberate press of her shoulder. "As you can see… I'm a little busy right now. Maybe later?"

"No," you hiss out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the other person before you can think better of it. She stumbles slightly but doesn't resist, letting you guide her until her chest is flush against yours. "I'm talking to you."

Natalie doesn't flinch or pull back. Instead, she leans in, arms looping lazily around your neck like it's the most natural thing in the world. Her smirk lingers, teasing but not quite mean. "Well, that's one way to get my attention."

You scoff again, your hands finding her hips without hesitation, gripping tighter than you probably should. "Don't bullshit me. You knew what you were doing. I've had your attention since you started dancing."

Her laugh is low and smokey, her lips brushing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. "So you've been watching me, then?" She hums, her fingers threading through your hair with an easy, practiced motion. She tugs lightly, just hard enough to remind you exactly how well she knows you. "Guess I should be honoured. Didn't think you'd even glance in my direction again."

Your jaw tightens at her words. There's a flicker of something underneath the surface—not vulnerability, not exactly, but something close. You know her too well to miss it. She's not over it either.

"Yeah, well, trust me," you shoot back, running your fingers under the fabric of her shirt just to feel her bare skin under your palms again. "I didn't want to."

Her grin widens, sharp and unapologetic. "Yet here you are, huh?" She leans in closer, her lips grazing your pulse. Her voice drops, husky and low. "How've you been, y/n?"

Your jaw ticks at the teasing lilt that she speaks your name in, "I've been fucking fantastic, Natalie. How've you been?"

She hums in response, her kisses growing wetter and more deliberate as she moves down your jaw. "Great," she lies easily, her voice brushing against your skin like a whisper. "Thanks for asking, princess."

Neither of you believes the other's words, but truth hardly matters here—it never did.

Her hands tighten in your hair as your bodies move together, the rhythm between you growing hotter, more erratic. You can feel the heat of her skin, the way her breath hitches just slightly as you tug her hips closer. 

Her lips move back up to your ear, voice low and teasing. "Can I be honest?"

You pause, considering that. It's not like she's ever asked before.

"I doubt you know how to be," you shoot back, but your voice wavers as her teeth graze your skin.

She laughs, a warm puff of air against your neck. "I'm tired of pretending we're enjoying this conversation."

Then your lips are on hers—or maybe yours are on hers, it's difficult to tell who initiated it—brutal, uncoordinated, and reckless. Nat's lips part against yours, tasting of booze and weed and every fucking thing you missed and hated all at once. The world around you blurs, boiling down into nothing but the heat of her mouth and the weight of her body against yours.

Your hands continue to run up her sides and deeper under her shirt, thumbs slowly tracing the outlines of her ribs as your tongue presses against hers, battling for a dominance you both know is already yours.

Her nails scrape lightly against your scalp, sending a shiver down your spine that you're almost embarrassed by. Almost.

"Missed me, huh?"

"Don't flatter yourself," you shoot back, though your hands betray you, sliding lower to grip her waist firmly, pulling her even closer, though there's hardly anything left to close.

She laughs, and you feel it more than hear it. Her teeth graze your bottom lip, playful and just shy of rough. "You're full of shit, y'know that?"

"And you're full of yourself," you counter, tilting her head back slightly with a hand on her jaw. 

The kiss deepens, sloppier now, teeth and tongues clashing like neither of you can quite control the urgency. The warmth of her skin under your fingers and the press of her body against yours feels all too familiar, like slipping back into a bad habit you swore you'd kicked.

The song shifts once more, a pulsing rhythm slower and heavier than the one before. It's almost too perfect—like the DJ is playing music specifically to remind you just how much you're still hooked on her—an addict getting a hit of their drug of choice after a long period of abstinence.  Her hips press into yours, moving with the beat, and you're so caught up in her atmosphere that the surrounding dancers just seem to vanish.

"Y'know," she says suddenly, her lips leaving yours to brush against your ear, "mmm… my hips have missed your hips."

You exhale shakily, your voice edged with lingering pain. "Maybe your mouth should’ve admitted it sooner."

She leans her head back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed, a delicate sigh slipping past her lips. "Maybe yours should've stayed."

You pretend not to flinch at that. She pretends not to notice.

For a moment, that sexuality that had been burning between the two of you seems to simmer down to something… softer. That lingering pain and tension that had been sitting on your chest for the past few months… it all seems to fade to black, and the only thing you can remember is the warmth you two had shared. 

Your fingers tighten instinctively against her, digging into the soft flesh at the sudden rush of memories and endorphins that flood your veins. A sound—soft but unmistakably approving—spills from her lips at the action.

Her eyes meet yours. There's something else there—something raw and unsaid that you don't dare to name. Regardless, it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that infuriating smirk.

"We were always better at this than talking," she purrs, spinning around in your hold so her back is to your chest. Your hands instinctively move to her hips while hers reach back to tangle in your hair, encouraging your face into the back of her neck. 

You don't hesitate, lips brushing her nape. The skin there is warm, the faint scent of her dollar-store shampoo mingling with the cheap cologne, booze, and smoke that clings to her clothes. It's a heady combination, one that takes you back to nights you thought you'd buried—nights just like this one, with your sweaty bodies moving in sync.

Her fingers curl tighter in your hair as her hips roll back against you, perfectly timed with the bassline reverberating through the floor. Your hands drift lazily up her torso, cupping her breasts gently before moving back down to rest on her lower stomach, holding her against you..

Nat's head tilts back and rests against your shoulder, and her laughter dissolves in a soft, breathy sound that you feel more than hear. Her body practically melts into yours, her movements slowing just enough to draw attention to every subtle grind and shift of her hips. 

You feel her fingers trail down from your hair to your arm, wrapping around your wrist and guiding your hand lower, just beneath the hem of her skirt. The gesture catches you off-guard for a fraction of a second, but you willingly let your hand trail down the flat of her stomach.

"Careful, Nat," you murmur, the pad of your forefinger teasing the waistband of her panties. "We're still in public, hmm?"

She chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against you. "And? When'd you start caring about that?"

Her words are a dare, and you both know that. Unfortunately for you, you also both know she's right—neither of you has ever given a flying fuck about other eyes in the room. One could even say it makes things better.

You should stop. You should untangle yourself from her and find someone—literally anyone else—to dance with. You should do a million different things in this moment, but then she presses her hips back into you with just enough force to make you both gasp, and any thoughts you had about preserving your sanity go flying out the window.

"You're a fucking danger to society," you mutter, dipping your hand underneath her waistband and teasing lower. "A fucking menace."

"Mmm, and you love it," she quips, her smirk audible as your fingers run through her folds, the wetness already palpable. 

"Not as much as you do, apparently." You shoot back, pulling your hand out of her skirt before you can get thrown out of the (mediocre) nightclub you were in. 

She looks at you over her shoulder as if she can still read your mind. "We gettin' outta here?"

"Yeah?" You’re not even sure why you sound so uncertain—especially since you’re already dragging her toward the exit.

You lead her out into the brisk Philly night, the cool air sharp against your overheated skin. You're not thinking clearly—you're not thinking at all—when you pull her into the narrow alleyway beside the club, pressing her back against the rough brick wall.

"Good to see you never stopped being a romantic," Nat quips breathlessly as her arms come to circle your neck. "Missed the charm."

"Thought you'd appreciate the ambience," you move your lips to her neck, starting at the hollow of her throat before tracing up her jaw and to her mouth. "You always did like it dirty." And, well, it is dirty. You've positioned the two of you between a rotting stack of wooden pallets and a half-full dumpster. 

Nat doesn't seem to mind or care.

And, much to her dismay, she doesn't get the chance to fire a teasing quip back when you slot your lips against hers and kiss her like your life depends on it. You've fucked in far dirtier (and more life-threatening) places than a grungy back street in downtown Philly; plus, your tetanus shots are up to date. You and Nat made sure of that after the… incident that happened last summer in Atlantic City. 

She hitches up her right leg around your hip, using the leverage to tug you even closer to her as her fingers thread through your hair, angling your head so she can deepen the kiss. 

Nat's lips are chapped and cracked against yours, splintering open when you tug her bottom lip between your teeth. The metallic taste of blood pebbles upon your tongue, stirring up a moan that threatens to spill from your throat into her waiting mouth.

When her hips start grinding into yours with growing ferocity, she breaks the kiss with a gasp. "You're packing?" It's phrased as a question, but you know her well enough to understand it's a statement.

Of course she notices. She always does. 

"Yeah," your breath ghosts over her face, eyes boring into yours. "Planned on getting laid tonight. Just happened to be you." 

"Lucky me."

"Lucky's one word for it." Your hands slide down to her waist, pressing her harder against the wall. The rough brick scrapes faintly against her back, the friction mirrored in the scrape of your teeth along her neck.

She hisses in a breath, tilting her head to give you more access. "Fuck, you're insufferable."

"And you love it," you shoot back, echoing her earlier words. Your fingers slide beneath the hem of her skirt, the fabric bunching up as you inch closer to what you both want.

Her fingers tighten in your hair, angling your head back until your eyes meet. They're blown wide, pupils dark and wild—whether from lust or intoxication, you neither know nor care. "What're y'waiting for, then?"

You don't answer, not with words. Instead, you push her skirt up fully, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs to the cold night air. The actions feel familiar—almost second nature—when your fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and tug them down her thighs, the sight of her naked skin making your pulse palpitate. 

Truthfully, it's a sight you'd never thought you'd see again. You're ever-grateful that you were wrong.

"C'mon," you murmur, removing your hands from her body. "Bend over."

Nat smirks, "Why? Can't handle seeing my face, princess?" Her back arches as she bends over the wooden pallets, the curve of her body oh so inviting. "This what you had in mind?" she purrs, looking back at you from over her shoulder.

You step behind her, hands running down her sides to rest on her hips. Despite the teasing front she tries to put up, you see past it. "God, yeah," you murmur, grinding your hips into hers, letting her properly feel the strap you had tucked away. "Missed you more than I fucking hate you."

"Shit," she hisses, pressing her hips back into you. "Yeah? Prove it, then—fuck me like you mean it," she adds a moment later, though her voice wavers just enough to betray the ache beneath her bravado.

You steady her with one hand on her hip as the other hand moves to undo the buckle of your belt. The sound of it coming undone echoes against the concrete and brick. The tension between you two feels thick enough to cut with a knife. With a torturous amount of slowness, you unzip your jeans and reach inside, taking out the silicone toy. 

You spit onto your hand and bring it to the length jutting out from between your thighs, spreading the saliva across its ribbed surface. It’s cold to the touch at first, but warms quickly in your palm—slick and ready, almost like it's as desperate as you are to be inside of her again.

Her head falls forward, breath quickening as you push into her, watching her heat slowly consume every inch. Her knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the pallet, body trembling at the harsh intrusion without preparation, and still, she takes you like she always has.

"Fuck, don't I get a fucking warm-up?" she seethes, but the words lose any strength they had behind them when her voice melts into a low moan as her expression shifts—eyes heavy, mouth parted, brows just barely furrowed in that way you’ve only ever seen when she’s falling apart for you.

"You don't need one. You never do when you're drunk." One of your hands moves to grip the back of her neck, pushing her face down against the pallets. Nat groans as the rough, dry wood digs into her cheek, but provides no further protest to the action. She's always liked you a little rougher.

It's when you start moving your hips that Nat stops her faux fighting, a pleased sound spilling from her lips. "Fuck, yes," she mumbles out, meeting your thrusts every time you snap your hips forward. Your movements are harsh—driving into her roughly and removing yourself almost entirely before plunging right back in and doing it all over again, switching between speeds as you go.

God, Nat would never admit it to anyone, but she fucking missed this. Missed you fucking into her like you had a point to make. Like it didn't matter who saw. She missed the way your cock stretched her out so perfectly every time—like it was moulded specifically for the shape of her pussy. It was everything she had been craving and looking for in partners since you but had yet to receive.

So, she allows herself to go along for the ride, letting you use her how you see fit. If this were any other encounter, you'd probably feel bad about how punishing and unrelenting your thrusts were. Right now? Right now, you can't find it in you to care. After everything she put you through, maybe this is the only way you know how to touch her anymore.

Your nails dig into the flesh of her hip as you drive into her, the smack of skin against skin echoing in the narrow alleyway. The cool night air bites at your exposed flesh, a stark contrast to the burning heat where your bodies connect. Each thrust draws a quiet, gasping moan from her lips, further muffled by the wooden pallets pressing into her cheek.

"God, Nat," you growl, free hand sliding up her back, nails raking lightly over her spine. "Look at you. Fucking perfect."

She tilts her head back just enough for you to catch the curve of her lips—a smirk, of course. Even like this, she still can't resist being a tease. "Don't stop," she murmurs, voice shaky but still holding that infuriating edge.

"Didn't plan to."

You lean over her, chest brushing against the curve of her back as you press her down even further. The angle shifts, and the new depth drags a sharp cry from her throat. She claws at the edge of the pallets, nails scraping against the splintering wood as her body writhes beneath yours.

You adjust your stance further, one hand moving back to her hip while the other gathers her hair into a makeshift ponytail. The strands are slightly damp from the club's heat and exertion of the moment, sticking to your fingers as you twist your hand into its length. With a sharp tug, you yank her head back, exposing the column of her throat, skin flushed and slick beneath your grip. Her back arches deeper with the tug, a cruel smile stretching across your lips at the sight.

"Fuck," Nat hisses, voice breaking into a gasp that's half surprise, half desperate need. Her eyes squeeze shut as she instinctively pushes back against you, meeting each thrust with a renewed fervour.

You chuckle darkly, tightening your grip on her hair and pulling harder, the motion eliciting a strangled moan from her throat. "You trying to get us caught?" Your free hand slides up from her hip to wrap loosely around her neck, palm flat against her windpipe.

She goes still for a moment, her body taut beneath yours as your fingers press lightly into the sides of her throat. You can feel the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your fingertips, a tangible reminder of the control you have over her right now.

"Harder," she whispers, the word barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding.

You don't need to be told twice. Your grip on her neck tightens just enough to make her gasp for air, lips parting, breath thinning, eyes glazed. It's intoxicating, the way she submits so willingly, just like she always has.

Nat tries to speak—she really does—but all that results is a weak, strangled sound that you feel vibrate down into your hand from where it's pressed over her throat. 

The sound goes straight to your lower gut, forcing a low groan from your mouth at the way she still lets herself fall into pieces for you. You ease up on her neck just enough for her to catch her breath, not because you're feeling generous, but because you want to hear her again—want to feel the way her voice trembles when she breaks.

"There she is," you murmur, breath hot against her ear. "Still know how to be a good fucking girl when you want to be." 

You feel the shiver rake down her spine at your breath against her ear, and her whole body twitches. Her legs spread further, and her face flushes with the kind of raw, dizzy submission she always tried to pretend she didn't like. 

You give her a moment. Just long enough to catch her breath (although your hips never cease in their relentless assault, so you really don't give her a lot of opportunity to breathe properly), and then—your palm connects with the round of her ass.

She gasps, loud and shocked, but her hips jerk back toward you instead of away.

"There it is," you mutter, hand settling back over the area you'd hit in a strange form of apology. "Knew you'd still come when called."

Natalie makes a sound like a sob dressed up as a moan—muffled by the pallet, cracked in the middle. You don't slow down. If anything, you give her less now. Less mercy. Less rhythm. Less time to think.

Because she never needed gentleness.

Not when it came from you.

Not after what she did.

When your hand rears back and connects with her again, it's hard enough for the sound to echo off the brick, but not hard enough to hurt. Just to remind her she's still yours, even if only like this. 

A pathetic sort of whine slips through her teeth, but there's no protest at your roughness—just her ass pressing back harder into your hips. You know Nat well enough to know she wants the pain—it makes things easier than just dealing with the emotional aspect of it all. She doesn't have to think when another sharp crack echoes against the objects surrounding you, all she has to do is close her eyes and feel you inside of her.

God, it feels good.

Just like it feels good for you to watch the way her skin reddens where you strike it, or the way she grips the wood underneath her so hard you worry she'll limp away with wooden splinters lodged in her calloused fingers. 

You're so deep inside her now, it's a miracle she's still holding herself upright. She'd be a mess on the pavement if not for the pallets underneath her. Every thrust punches another fractured sound from her throat—moans, gasps, half-formed curses, maybe your name—but it's the way she clings to the pallet that tells you just how close she is. You've seen the signs before and learned to memorise them: the trembling in her thighs. The twitch in her back. The frantic, instinctive way her hips keep trying to meet yours. The way she doesn't even realise she's begging. 

You let a sardonic smirk cross your face as you lean down again, lips pressed to her ear. "Gonna come already, Natalie?"

She whimpers—high and broken—and it's the most honest sound you've dragged out of her all night. 

"Of course you are," you sneer gently, snapping your hips harder into hers. "Always did like being used, didn't you?"

Her entire body tenses under you, and she's gone. Her teeth dig into her hand to muffle the sharp, guttural cry that rips itself from her throat. She shudders, her muscles seizing and convulsing as she crashes into her first orgasm with brutal force. 

"Shit," you laugh darkly, never once ceasing your drives into her. "Still so easy, huh? Bet no one else makes you come like this."

Nat swears she can taste copper as her teeth dig into her hand, biting down until the pain flares bright under the skin. She can't find it in herself to dispute your claim, not when she can feel the ridges of your cock dragging against her fluttering walls, nudging that spot inside of her that has her seeing stars.

When she finally manages to speak, you can't make out the garbled words she spits into her trembling fingers, but you don't need to hear them. You already know what they are; some variation of her telling you to go fuck yourself.

With a sudden abruptness, you pull out of her spasming pussy and slap your dick against her sensitive cunt a few times, watching her twitch and wiggle away from the actions. 

"C'mon. Flip over."

Nat makes some weak, pathetic whining sound before realising she still has a voice she can use, and moves her hand from her mouth. "Fuck… fuck off. Give me a minute. I just—"

You don't let her finish. You don't want to hear it unless it's begging. 

With strength surprising even you, you flip her over before she can even breathe properly. One hand continues to stroke the length between your legs slowly, the other running up her torso before your thumb comes to rest under her chin, fingers resting loosely over her hammering pulse.

Her bleached hair fans messily against the pallet, cheeks flushed, lashes sticky with sweat and God-knows-what. Her eyes are glassy—half-lidded, half-lost—and the second they meet yours, you feel something like grief claw at your throat.

You chose to ignore it.

She doesn't speak as her pulse bounds against the tips of your fingers, just lifts her hips in a silent ask. You don't give her what she wants—not yet. Instead, you just look down at her with faint pressure against her windpipe. 

Nat doesn't want to admit it, but she still recognizes that look.

Her hand tentatively moves between her own legs, shaky and uncertain.

"C'mon," you murmur, voice low. "Show me how much you missed me."

She squeezes her eyes shut, ashamed of how fast her body responds. Her fingers slide through her wet, puffy folds, circling her clit. Pleasure shoots up her spine, and her whole body trembles—brows knitting, lips parting into that perfect little 'o' you’ve missed.

"Yeah… just like that. Such a good girl. You miss having my cock ruining you?"

She whimpers. And, much to your surprise, she nods her head—no bratty comment or easy quip, almost like she's finally submitting herself to you fully. 

"Words, Natalie." You lightly squeeze her throat at the command to prove a point. "Say it. Tell me."

"Missed it," she whines reluctantly, eyes still squeezed shut as her fingers start to find a comfortable rhythm. "Missed you inside of me—" 

You smirk down at her, thumb pressing harder into her jaw. "Open your eyes. C'mon, lemme see that pretty colour—ah, there we go. You can be such a good girl when you want to." 

She nods frantically, green eyes blown wild with lust, meeting yours in the claustrophobic darkness that surrounds you. Dark mascara streaks down her cheeks, and it's a damn good look on her.

You watch her like a goddamn animal—eyes glued to the way her fingers circle faster now, how her breath catches every time your name slips from her mouth without thought.

"Touching yourself just to make me proud, huh?" you murmur, hand still wrapped around the toy between your thighs, stroking it like it's a part of you. "Look at you. Such a fucking mess."

Nat nods again, frantic and desperate, the heel of her palm grinding down against her clit as her thighs begin to twitch. 

You press your body back between her legs, guiding the tip against her soaked entrance, splitting her labia and rubbing against her slit. Her hand slips away immediately—instinctively—as if her body knows exactly who it belongs to when it counts.

"Did I tell you to stop touching yourself?" you ask harshly, the hand on her throat moving back to grip her left thigh and pull her towards you. Nat's leg wraps around your hip like it's still second nature to her, and she shakes her head as her hand moves back to where it was.

"Y'didn't…" she says meekly, the overstimulation starting to get to her. "'m sorry…"

The grin that cracks your face at her whimpered apology could only be considered feral. "Mm, apology accepted, pretty girl."

You nudge the head inside her—barely—and pull back, teasing again, and again, until Nat whines and tugs you closer with the leg she has around your hip. 

You click your tongue and slap her thigh. "When did you think I gave you control, Natalie?" It's a rhetorical question, and you both know it. She doesn't opt for a verbal response; instead, she just shakes her head in place of an apology. 

You'll take it. 

For now, anyway.

You keep rubbing the tip against her, collecting her slick and coating the length with a sardonic grin.

That's another look that Nat has seen before. 

You want her to beg.

Any other day, any other time of the week, she'd be more annoying about it. She'd make you earn her compliance, but she's already so far gone for you; the idea of being a brat doesn't even occur to her.

"Please," she whines out, fingers failing to find the rhythm they had previously found before she pulled back. "God, please. Just…" She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, clearly battling with the words she's going to say next, but she says them anyway. "Fuck, I'm yours. Goddammit, I'm yours. Just—please—!" 

Well. 

Who are you to say no to that? She begs just like she used to.

You thrust into her in one slow, claiming stroke, bottoming out and staying there. Letting her feel every inch of your cock inside her sensitive cunt. She instinctively clenches down around you, pulsing like she's trying to draw you in deeper.

God, a part of her wishes you wore a bigger one. She wants to feel you in her goddamn throat—but maybe that's just the liquor talking. 

The hand that had a death grip on her thigh moves to press over her lower gut, and fuck, Nat feels full. She knows she was just wishing you wore a bigger strap, but she feels full, and it feels good. It's a sensation she hasn't felt before, but it isn't necessarily a bad one. Just a lot of pressure that's adding to the rampant pleasure. 

You don't give her a warning when you pull back until just the tip remains, then start to pound into her with reckless abandon. 

She feels dizzy. Drunk on you. Drunker than the last shot she took. No substance ever hit like this. No, there isn't a single pill out there that could ever come close to touching this rush. 

Your hand presses harder into her lower belly, fingers splayed like you're trying to cover as much skin as possible. Nat whimpers—it's all she can manage—and her legs twitch again as another wave of pleasure hits her.

The pressure's unbearable now.

Not just the pressure from your cock, but from the ache building behind her pubic bone. The kind of full that doesn't feel like just sex anymore. It's deeper than that. Heavier.

Worse.

She doesn't want to admit it, but she knows what she is. And like most things in her life, she’d rather not face it head-on. So, she doesn't think about the fact she's had shot after shot at the bar and never went to the bathroom. Doesn't think about the fact she pre-gamed before coming out. Doesn't think about the fact that she's had even more to drink because of the goddamn cottonmouth that comes with railing rackets off a porcelain basin.

Nat squeezes her eyes shut rather than telling you to stop or pushing you back, because she doesn't want that. She tries to breathe through it. She can't come like this.

And you don't stop. Your thrusts are brutal, steady, and almost cruel in their rhythm. And your hand—your fucking hand—is still pressing down over her gut like you know. Like it isn't just about the external stimulation anymore.

"You feel full, baby?" you murmur, voice low and sweet and horrible. "Feels like you're about to break for me."

"Don't—" she chokes out, voice barely coherent, but it's too late.

Her body jerks. Her thighs lock around your waist, like she's trying to hold it all in. Like she could hold it all in. Her stomach twists. Her muscles fail.

And then it happens.

The warm rush overtakes her in an instant—wet and unrelenting, gushing against your thighs and the inside of hers. A sob bubbles from her chest, and she can no longer bear to look at you, thrashing her head to the side as she tries—and fails—not to come again.

No, it would be impossible not to. She was already so close, and with the urine being pushed from her bladder, your hand is pressing directly over where your cock is hammering into her. 

You feel the warmth spread across your thighs and seep into the fabric of your pants, and for a second, all you can do is laugh. "Oh, Nat… really?" But your voice isn't mocking. It's indulgent. Like you knew it was coming. Like you wanted it to.

Nat's eye makeup runs down her face in rivers now as pathetic sounds rip from her throat, but you don't stop. No, not once. You don't even slow down as you push her through the waves of her second orgasm. You don't stop when her hand falls from her clit to grip the edge of the pallets.

You don't stop.

"You can cry about it later," you hiss, bringing your hand back to her throat and applying just enough pressure on her windpipe to help her further slip into that fuzziness that's been floating around her head since the first time she came.

"Fuck, such a good little piss-soaked bitch for me, aren't you?" Your thumb presses under her jaw, turning her back to face you again, your pace never ceasing. "All you did was just make it easier for me to fuck you, you realise that?" You laugh sardonically, applying pressure to her carotid now. "All you did was give me more lube. Not that we didn't have enough already, but…"

"Please—" Nat begs, but she doesn't know exactly what for. "Please, please, God, please—!"

"Oh, gonna give me another one, baby? Even after all that?" Your voice is a low, brutal coo, and Natalie hates that she nods immediately, another broken sob escaping her mouth in the form of a "please," which seems to be the only word she can bring herself to say right now. 

She doesn't want to come again, but she's going to. Even if it feels like every thrust of your hips is the equivalent of a wildfire running through her veins. She can't help it—it's like you still remember exactly what buttons to push to force her over the edge. 

Her thighs are shaking. She doesn't even bother keeping them around your waist anymore. Before they can fall limp, your hands are there—gripping her, pulling her back into each thrust like there was even a sliver of a chance she would try to pull away right now.

Sobs catch in her throat, cut short every time your hips slam back into her. She feels it blooming in her stomach again—too soon, too much, too hot—her skin prickles, flushed and slick and far too sensitive. Every inch of her body feels lit up, wired and overworked, raw nerves singing with every movement.

Your cock slams into her, again and again and again, and the sound of it—the obscene squelching sounds that seem endless—bounce off the alley walls like your own private symphony.

Nat's breath hitches, a stuttering inhale that never quite becomes an exhale, and she whines, long and high and fucking mortifying. Her body arches up into you involuntarily, back bowed and muscles tensed like she's ready to snap at any second.

"Yeah, that's it," you murmur, the sound barely audible over the repetitive collisions of your bodies. "Let me have it."

And then she snaps.

Her body convulses violently beneath yours, a ragged cry tearing itself from her lungs as her orgasm rips through her like a wave of static. She's gushing around you, all slick and salt and noise, a tremor rattling straight up her spine as every part of her feels like it's shattering into a million little pieces.

Her grip on the pallets falls slack. Her mouth opens in a silent scream. Her cunt clamps down so hard you can feel it, and have to bite back a moan of your own. She comes like a house being torn apart by a tornado, and it's only then that you finally—finally—cease your relentless assault on her well-used and overly sensitive pussy.

It feels like eons between her final climax and when you finally pull out of her, but Nat doesn't mind the wait. Not when she's floating in this hazy space she's only been in a handful of times before—which, ironically, have all been with you, but that's a problem for sober Nat.

And you, well, you don't know what you're gonna do when you're sober. But that can be dealt with when you are sober.

For now, you drunkenly tuck yourself back into your pants—grateful that today was the day you chose to wear a dark colour, God forbid you be seen walking around with a giant piss stain on the front of them—and pull a tissue from your pocket, attempting to clean her up.

You're careful. Just like you used to be. You take your time cleaning her up, mindful of her oversensitivity and her state. You may be a drunk asshole right now, but you aren't a complete asshole. 

Her breathing is still shaky. Her mascara's bled halfway down her cheeks. She doesn't flinch when your fingers brush between her legs again. She just exhales, seemingly… grateful.

You don't say anything as you wipe her down. You don't have to. You're safe. You always have been.

By the time you get her clothes back in place and help her up, Natalie's just coming out of that fog that has clouded her mind. 

You murmur something about a payphone. She nods without question. She clings to you just like she used to after you'd pushed her into subspace. 

While you wait for the cab on the sidewalk, she leans her head on your shoulder. You hold her hand.

You already know she'll be gone by the morning.

a/n: do u guys know how crazy it is that i went from writing a fic where reader literally kms'd to writing this. wild. anyways. stream melodrama

[multiheadcanons]

MERC’S DREAM DATES. HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

scout: he has dreamed about a picnic date since he was young. he understands that realistically, they’re not practical. if you go when the weather’s too hot, you have to deal with the bugs, but if you go in the winter, it’s freezing outside. but still, there are days he walks outside and thinks “man… today would be a good day for a picnic.” he just thinks about having a picnic with a various assortment of little sandwiches, and some wine with someone he really likes. it’s just a nice thought for him.

soldier: he doesn’t dream about dates. any time spent together exclusively is a date. anything you both enjoy doing is a good time. hell, you could join him on the battlefield and he’ll be so happy to see you that it’ll be a great time for him regardless. soldier is a big quality time guy. and he will take quantity over quality. if you go shopping with him and him alone at the grocery store that’s a date to him. did you like it? he did.

pyro: pyro has grand dreams. pyro would like to wake up to a note saying to get dressed and look pretty by 10:30. pyro will put on the newest flame retardant suit they have and their newest gloves. maybe put a hat on. they’ll step outside at 10:25 and a car, driven by you, will be waiting. you’ll start at the zoo. they’ll try not to set it on fire. they love the animals. they will chat excitedly about the animals for as long as you let them, well into lunch at a window seat in a sunny cafe. at this point, if pyro isn’t called away for work, and you’re not having to hightail them back to the base, then they might ask for a pit stop at a park, or a botanical garden before you take them home, and you’ll kiss their hand as they leave. they like to be home before nightfall, because they like to be able to think about it all day and try to get it off their mind to sleep.

demo: demo loves the jazz clubs, so if he wants to take you anywhere where he’s fairly certain you’ll both have a good time he’s taking you to the jazz club. the only time he’ll actually pay for drinks there. intimate conversation in dim lighting, the dulcet tones of the horn with the dull burn of the liquor… it’s smooth, it’s refined, and it’s a surefire way to wrap him around your finger.

heavy: another guy who thinks that you two spending time together without anyone disrupting it is a date. his favorites are the ones where you sit together and read and don’t say anything. get close to him! lean against him while you read, he’ll get a little flustered, but it’ll warm his heart, truly. if he’s really confident he’ll pull you closer himself. give your shoulder a little rub, and go back to his book. it’s just a moment that he feels at peace. just him, you, and a book. it’s lovely. he wouldn’t mind doing this again.

engineer: engie never gets to go out and actually do the weird specific things that he enjoys himself. just get in the car and ask where he wants to go, he’ll just start taking you places. a sandwich shop he hasn’t been to in years, a very specific hardware store that got a new shipment of bolts in that are supposed to be ionized specifically so that the heat that comes from intense manual radiation doesn’t melt it down, a stop at a shitty dive bar in an alley that is by all means not transverseable, but he’s happy to give you a boost over the fence. he might get a little too toasty to get you back over the fence, but he’ll figure it out if you can’t. you’re not gonna get left behind! and everywhere he goes, everyone knows his name. can’t make it more than twenty feet without someone stopping him for a quick chat.

medic: bring a bottle of wine and a body part generator and let him go crazy. he’s gonna spin a wheel and then you’re gonna get on that table and he’s gonna start cutting until he finds something interesting he wants to pull out of you. and he’ll chat the entire time. there’s something about him bringing a blood stained wine glass, or a wine stained blood glass depending on how long you’ve been on the table, to his lips and watching him wipe off some kind of red liquid from his mouth that’s quite cute, particularly if he’s been nice and let you have a few sips here and there. once he’s about three glasses in you might want to get him out of your cavities, though. from there he’s drunk and he’s just digging around. there’s not even a scalpel in his hand, he’s just literally rearranging your organs to see if there’s a better way to fit it all inside. spoiler alert, there isn’t, you are not the first patient he’s tried this on.

sniper: snipes doesn’t want a date. snipes wants a honeymoon. he wants to be flown out somewhere, anywhere that is not the americas, and he wants to go wander until he feels less lost in strange lands. he would consider an episode of naked and afraid proposal worthy. being under the sun all day, and the stars all night. it’s where he feels comfortable. and to be out there with someone else is always nice. even if he has to carry you through it sometimes. he still enjoys it. enjoys hunting for two. he likes feeling that level of responsibility on his shoulders sometimes. not all the time, he’d be even happier if you weren’t too bad at butchering. the only thing he likes more than the feeling of sole responsibility is the feeling of shared responsibility for survival. you might be exhausted by the end of it, but he will never look better.

spy: spy’s dream date is you both laying in bed. spy doesn’t really allow himself to laze a day away. he always will find something to do. so the idea of him being told no, stay in bed and relax today, there’s nothing he’s absolutely needed for, he gets incredibly tickled. bored, but thoroughly satisfied. the day is filled with idle chatter and bedside cigarettes and the fickle dreams of sunlight bathed sleep. it’s not an exciting time by any means, but it’s one of the best times he can think of. just a day of peace and serenity in the years of chaos to come.

[iamsoconfusedallofthetime]

Eternally grateful that I grew up WITHOUT ai so that I could, y'know, actually learn how to do shit.

Like- drawing?

Middle school me was on those Naruto art tutorials like no other. I used my good thin tip Prisma markers that my brother stole for me up on shitty Deidara and Urushihara drawings on the back of my English assignments, and pissed off my teachers cause I never paid attention. And now I can draw pretty fucking decently, both in an anime style and a somewhat realistic one.

Writing? Wattpad fanfiction both traumatized me (Citrus Scale will always stay in the back of my mind no matter how much I try to lock it up) and showed me- not exactly how to write but what kind of writing I enjoyed reading and what styles to copy until I formed my own. Like how to break up scenes and how to write dialogue and how to keep a character in character. I couldn't always do that last one well the first time but I learned to recognize when the characters i was writing would never fucking do that.

And now, other than my lack of self discipline, I'm pretty good at writing. At least I know where I struggle. I still need to remember that I don't always have to perfect the first draft and that sometimes first drafts can just be first drafts, but I'm doing well.

So damn grateful that I can write my own fucking essays and draw my own art and use my damn braincells to actually come up with something on my own instead of relying on a fuckass robot to predict pixels based on probability and smash stolen artwork together.

"Not everyone is privileged-" Art was never something being gatekept from you. The tutorials I used in middle school and a million other new ones are perfectly available to you. Poor artists have always found a way. Disabled artists have always found a way. Busy artists have always found a way. Don't type a prompt into a machine and call it "art" like you put an ounce of effort into it.

My cringe ass middle school sketchbooks and half written fanfiction has more value than something you didn't even bother to make yourself.

"I'm not that creative. I can't come up with a story or characters" dawg I was using fucking GACHA LIFE to make character designs! The first one was basic as shit! It was just a ginger fox woman with a black hoodie and ripped jeans on cause that's what I thought was cool! And that was ok, that was just where I was starting! You will grow! You will learn! Just put in some fucking effort and have some damn patience!

"my fandom is small and I want more fic/art to consume" MAKE IT THEN. No one wants something made by a machine. Most people have writing requests! Wait for them to open and request something! Or learn to write it yourself.

There are writing prompts that you can use to practice. No one is expecting you to become Mary Shelly overnight. Use them.

There are hundreds of "Let's make an OC" videos you can use. No one is expecting you to recreate the Mona Lisa next week. Use them.

Actually - here a quick tutorial on fleshing out ideas:

Throw out any fear if being cringe. Today's cringe is tomorrows skill

Start with something or someone small. Let's take, idk, a jacket?

What does the jacket look like? What does it do. In this step it usually helps if you decide on a genre. Is it fantasy? Sci-fi? Let's go with fantasy.

Fantasy jacket. Cool. Does this jacket do anything? Or does it belong to someone? Let's say the jacket itself does something.

The jacket can be cursed or blessed or have some type of spell on it. Maybe whoever wears it can't be hurt.

If whoever wears the jacket can't be hurt, then what happens when you take it off? Does it just remove protection or does all the damage you were supposed to have obtained while wearing it manifest all at once? AKS YOURSELF QUESTIONS!

Think about how it was made. Who made the jacket? Was it always cursed? What kind of world does it belong to that made it's existence necessary in the first place? Was it made as a gift for a prince or by an old mad wizard? Think.

Make a story. Maybe the jacket was intended as a gift and has been passed down a bloodline as a double edged sword; something that let this family win wars and topple nations, but seals their fates if they take it off. Maybe it was something shared among orphans in a slump and protects them. Maybe your story follows the current wearer of the jacket and the consequences it brings. Maybe your story is from the perspective of the jacket itself.

The world is your oyster. Think about something. Expand on it. Then write it. Draw it. Make a comic and post it or keep it tucked away in your notes app.

Don't give up after your first attempts turn out like shit. You're not gonna learn in a day, and there's nothing wrong with that.

Just create something! Go make a friend to bounce ideas off of if you have to!

Here's some art tutorials I like that you can use:

How to draw poses: https://youtu.be/4SHnOJGRmJw?si=cvjNGVt8Xs-YCSsd

How to draw character interaction

https://youtu.be/_XxjaH2dXR4?si=v17DjAeEKNBGxE_i

Drawing perspective:

https://youtu.be/g9ge4XBNRwA?si=QsC4rDfmARVYNVfx

Urban object sketches:

https://youtu.be/SDQEaJY291A?si=ID6jA_NCSMmkhIJe

Urban sketching (buildings more so)

https://youtu.be/yocInfqlYqw?si=krSQyWU8vLonwYL9

Drawing clothes and folds:

https://youtu.be/a1O1OQglA7w?si=oaqUusLMQPauI6ro

Find your art style:

https://youtu.be/hM_Mme3yvss?si=Tpt-ReJ4HMLFHfdH

Colors theory:

https://youtu.be/pAK0cvVQr_4?si=BI_zjp8RwgfIQhsP

There are hundreds of tutorials online. Find them and use them.

[beloved-diary]

My girlfriend is very sweet. An i really do like them but i know im fucking up the relationship my just my fears afrom my last relationship. To be fair i think its expected of me. Personally if course that would happen. Is it fair, no. Is it a realistic thing people who suffered from an abusicr relationship? Yes. ,(its very odd calling it abusive btw. I was aware to an extent. But its weird having someone whose in the system/close to my ex call it that. I really appreciate it. It feels very validating.) Sometimes i feel punished for being wary, which is something they also feel an i get.

Not that i think their my ex, just that this stuff has been pretty fucking ruined for me. Regardless dating her or someone else definitely this would of been an issue. Which is smth i feel like is slightly overlooked. Not that i blame them. I think it's understandable an im just trying to comfort them about it. I made them cry when they talked about it an i wanted to fucking kms. I feel sorry on making my partner cry about such a thing.

Though i do think wanting to hold back financially an doing??? Service?( unsure of the word rn) is not something that is bad to ask. When i said that it got a fairly bad respond an it makes me just feel a bit shitty. An question intentions. An i know shes not using me. But i also dont understand why it had such a bad response. I need to rebuild my savings. I need to not do as much as i did kn the last relationship. At least in the beginning of ours. I really want it to be mutusl. Not because rheir my ex, because im just setting myseld up for disaster if i do.

She told me before to prove im serious about her an not going to break up with her after 3 weeks an mentioned my situation with M as a reason. I'm not gonna cry to much about it. I do plan too. But i feel majorly miss understood about that. I love M an i kniw he does too. But sometimes its just a bit to much hearint how he loves my ex an how my ex is a good person, even when i tapk about it. Its glazed over, veey much ignored. Not that i blame him. Just that i don't think its insane of me to think that. Maybe our circumstances our different. But i dont think i should be punished for holding everyone to a standard of friends an having respect for me an others. Especially about my situation. They have been understanding regardless. But i hate the lack of ??? Understanding an processing sometimes. For most of mt relationship with all kf them my feelings an my struggling has been overlooked. Because well i suppose us first mentallily which i get. But im human an it really hurts regardless. Im your partner, im your friend, im your besfriend. But i feel a nagging feeling that despite them actually loving me I'm just lower on the tier. Their love for him ir suppose loyalty will always come first. Which sucks. But i suppose i really walkeed into that. I unfortunately do not have that built into me as much an i wish i did. An im also jealous that hes able ti have such people in his life. An they saw this. The whole time. My gf says he's abusive, that i was abused. Yet its only something hes doing something about it NOW. It feels like now that they like me romancally they care enough. Which really fuckinh hurts an confuses me. An its been a thing of telling me to be quiet about it. Which i get. But it's a bit insenstivd. Be the bigger person. He's just a kid. I'm hurt, very so. I think theirs consequences an i don't like the sheltering.

An thats not just them. Its everyone. Unsure why the people closes to me are content with this. Is he jusr more likable? Which im sure is D's reasoning too lol. It's nothing new at this point. Do you think I'm actually abused? Or are these words to just appease me? You say thinks but actions don't line up. I really hope things are different. But she's mentioned breaking up an it just feels hopeless.

I'm gonna fuck up .y dream girl with my issuas but. I don't think its a lot to ask for.

[poorlilpubby]

Okay get ready. Spoilers obvi.

So disappointed. Heres what pissed me off the most. When Gabby asked "is it a terrorist attack" okay wow the first thing to come to a kids mind is terrorism, and we all know its not domestic. Thanks western media for demonizing other cultures

This is just a societal problem ig. Well if im continuing on the track of not rlly the movies fault is how people treat victims/people with mental illness.

Almost every single new character was a shitty fucking person. Terrifier 2 the characters were kinda douchy, but they weren't complete assholes. For example the mom. She treated her kids pretty shittily. But you can still empathize with her. The parents here? So fucking bland. And treat sienna like a demon

This entire movie was like the 2nd movie but worse in basically every regard. Like oooo art is making his way to sienna 🙄 like sienna knows art is coming but come onnnn genuinely no tension. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE IT KEPT CUTTING BACK AND FORTH with hardly any connection!!! Felt like a shitty anthology movie.

Another similarity, the fucking kills. Idk if its supposed to be a reference to the first movie but like cmon another splitting the body in half? Ohhh scaryyy its with a guy this time.

Art pissing on Santas lap, we saw him like shit before like is this supposed to be just for humor? I saw it coming from a mile away with the christmas theme and santa.

I feel really bad for gabbys actor bc ik people will treat her like shit. The character gabby was so fucking annoying. YES I KNOW SHES A KID. A kid that has absolutely no sense of respect but understands terrorism and ughhhhh. Anyway, no hate to the actress but mmm character isnt the best.

HERE'S WHAT PISSES ME OFF THE MOST ABOUT HER CHARACTER. She has almost absolutely no fucking role in the movie. Her only, tiny tiny bit of need to be in the movie is towards the end. WHICH IS JUST THE SAME ACTIONS JOHNATHONHAD. EXCEPT JOHNATHON HAD DEPTH TO HIS CHARACTER AND ACTUALLY DID STUFF LAST MOVIE. Holy shit his character in the last movie was so good bc they mentioned slightly how young guys are indoctrinated into really fucked up conservative viewpoints!!! AND THEY FUCKING THREW AWAY HIS CHARACTER IN THIS FILM.

WHERE THE FUCK WAS JOHNATHON. FUCKING NOWHERE WHYYYYY. I was promised that his role would be bigger in this film. FUCKING LIES.

Instead he was replaced with gabby, and not even to further the plot, it was the exact same thing. They introduced the most bland characters to kill them off and leave us where? Not any further than the previous movie.

Like, the last movie introduced sienna with her friends and family. Great world building. But they introduced a neice out of fucking nowhere?? "She missed you so much" I HAD NO IDEA WHO THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT. I genuinely thought "did Johnathan transition or smth" bc that felt more reasonable than a random neice.

THE FUCKING TINY LITTLE ONES LINERS SUCKKED. Gabbys "you know im nosy" was literally just Johnathan's like "we're family" but so soulless. THEIR CONNECTION WAS SUPER FUCKING WEAKKK. Johnathan and siennas relationship felt so much better, stronger, more genuine, realistic whatever. It made so much more sense. Siblings that argue but still love each other regardless. AND IT WAS THROWN AWAY IN THIS MOVIE. For what? For sienna to be like "oh gabby ur so so precious" ugh

And now their relationship is so strained in this movie? I mean that can be expected but it was really just saddening. AND OH MY FUCKING GOD JOHNATHON GOT AN OFFSCREEN KILL? I KNEW THAT SKULL WASNT GABBYS BUT THE FACT THAT IT WAS JOHNATHONS WAS SO HEARTBREAKING. i kept thinking "please please Jonathan come through and kick art's ass" BUT NO. Gabby fucking hit him in the back once? What fucking everrrrr.

Im so tired of the "little girl doesnt get hurt trope" because why? This is a fucking sadistic demon we're talking about. Absolutely no one is spared. And just because someone is a little girl doesnt mean they're more deserving of life than someone else? Like, sorry its just, so many other people didnt deserve any of their treatment. But no one will care if they die bc they're not "innocent" little girls. This is a whole nother issue that i dont wanna get into rn.

Ik the beginning scene was a cold open but like...none of that related to the main story. Ik terrifier movies suck with plot but that was stupid. THEY PUT SO MUCH EMPHASIS ON THE LETTER WITH "ART WILL FOLLOW YOU ANYWHERE SIENNA AND KILL EVERYONE IMPORTANT TO YOU" but art killed ummm the most random people?

The family in the beginning was killed for the trailer but no other reason. The mall kills i get, bc he was close to sienna and yknow he kills along the way.

Back to the bar scene, again no real reason however i will say i enjoyed it. The two girls on santas lap was a good reference to the first movie. The drunk girls doing something stupid. THATS A GOOD REFERENCE. omg and art was so cute when he saw santa and was like "santa!! 🥺"

Otherwise, bar scene kinda ehhhhh. I lowkey love when art uses a gun tho. Ik some people hated when he used a gun but i love it. He's like so pissed off he doesn't give a fuck about being super sadistic anymore.

Okay im talking about it now. Vicky. The very beginning i was like hmmm idk how i feel about this, maybe she'll grow on me. SPEAKING OF BEGINNING HIII CHRIS JERICHOOO 🥰🥰

But slowly her character kept getting worse and worse. Was she supposed to be that um...eccentric? Its not that eccentric is bad its just not clicking in this film?

Then. The worst plot point. The thing that made me actually roll my eyes in the theater. When art used her as a vessel and basically whatever she was saying was what art was saying. ART. IS. SUPPOSED. TO. BE. SILENT. Idc if the clown is still silent. NEVER EVER WAS HE MEANT TO TALK. FUCK. SO FUCKING ANNOYING. And its not like the words were impactful. They could've easily been expressed (at least the idea) without words!!!

And what happened to the little girl? Like literally what? Okay weird. She complimented arts character much more than vicky tho

FINALLY. HERE'S WHAT I LIKED.

The actors were wonderful. Even if I didnt like the characters, they sold it. The shitty blonde girl mia, her actress is amazing bc oh my god ik girls like that. She did great. RETURNING ACTORS SO AMAZING. DAVID HOWARD THORTON BEING AMAZING AS ALWAYS.

Lauren lavera as sienna? Oh that emotion was gooodddddd. The thrashing was so perfectly good, not like a fish or anything.

ELLIOT FULLAM AS JOHNATHON. HE'S SUCH A COOL GUY. Little punk people!!! Omg and that one reference "Johnathan doesnt like metal anymore" oh if only you knew the guy. Omg and like, elliot is such a chill guy. So when he started trashing the dorm? I was so impressed it felt really passionate.

Gore was uhhh average. Soundtrack was good. Umm it luckily didnt run on too long. That was my biggest gripe with the last movie, it was way too long.

Ugh this movie was supposed to be the revenge!! NONE OF THAT HAPPENED. BECAUSE ART CAME BACK TO LIFE AT THE END. This is just the trend, the third movie is always the worst.

So um ig I'll rate this move a 4/10...i probably have more to say but whatever

I think I might be the only one in this theater!! I can't wait to see my baby Art the Clown 🥰🥰 I hope it'll be good, I avoided every single spoiler this time

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. Leto being the literal Goddess of Motherhood and yet being a villain is pretty on the nose as to why LO constantly shits on every good mother figure like her and Demeter, unless they can be used to to give Hades man-pain over.

2. so much of the fashion in LO is like ... anti drip. there are occasional good outfits but most of the time its the same generic white dresses or black suits and thats it, or its some weird dated fashion from the 80s or 60s. these are supposed to be powerful gods with all the riches in the world yet none of them have heard of patterns, color, or even basic accessories.

3. I think RS is genuinely convinced she's "making the Gods Realistic™️" when it's like? The Greek Gods? The pantheon that's been well known for being complicated beings with very human flaws since 900 BC? They're in need for some random Kiwi woman who is more knowledgable on 90s anime to "fix" mythology and make it "realistic"? RS making Hera a cheater, making them have divine racism/classism, making Apollo a r//pist, Persephone worthless w/o Hades etc etc only breaks the myths!

4. LO stans are genuinely such awful and obnoxious people. They argue that LO is a retelling so 'of course it's not going to be faithful to the myth!'  and when people, especially Greeks, say it's disrespecting their culture and gods, the stans get upset?? That their uwu shitty story is getting critiqued? By the people who it's profiting off of???

I literally saw someone reply to this point with 'then those people (greeks) can just choose not to read LO!' followed up with, and I kid you not, 'there's also bible fanfiction, just saying 🤷🏻‍♀️' like as if that somehow absolves LO and it's whole plot and characters.

Some also say that multiple other series based off of the Greek mythology don't get as much flak for being a retelling (like Percy Jackson and Hades game) and like idk what to tell y'all except these other series also get equally critiqued, as everything does, but the fact that it doesn't get as hugely lambasted as LO does means they're not half as offensive as it is. (it's also already been mentioned multiple times too that PJO's author tries his best to learn from his mistakes in the series)

I basically just hate how LO stans will defend RS and her story and think our valid concerns and critiques are just mindless attacks on her.

Casual LO fans are cool though, this isn't aimed at you guys cause I know some of y'all come here and actually like to discuss/talk about the series, flaws and all.

5. -le me, watching witchtok on yt

-the video is "best of witchtok part 5" uploaded by "your witchy cousin", around the 7 minute mark

-witch with persephone as her patron, talking about how persephone is not to be messed with because she's a terrifying Goddess if needed be. proceeds to say "this is not lore olympus, people"

-me, putting my phone aside and crying in my room

i hate lore olympus so much it's unreal 

6. Rachel also clearly doesn't know mythology because how can Hecate be such a major character in this and yet has zero connection to Apollo or Artemis, who in mythology is her full blooded cousins? Apollo even had epithets making him as similar to Hecate (with some versions seeming to imply Hecate and Apollo were lovers, but w/e) and Hecate and Artemis both being maiden moon goddesses who were also divine midwives. How can she claim to be so well researched when these connections are missing?

7. Minthe isn't a nice character, but I find it so disturbing how RS, the fans, and even WT love just making fun of her trauma and watching her suffer for?? Reasons?? If anyone said Persephone was overreacting to how Demeter overprotects her, they'd say you're condoning abuse and an awful person, but it's a marketing tactic to mock Minthe for being cheated on, manipulated and used by Hades, and laughing that she's been phsyically crippled and left as a plant for the rest of her life. Like WTF?

8. Ok, so, wait, Persephone the 'Dread Queen" is perfectly fine to threaten and cripple nymphs and kill humans for her lack of control of her anger issues, but she shoots down the idea to punish her literal R//PIST? is this supposed to be some 'she's the bigger person here" thing? so random humans are supposed to die, but an actual sexual abuser is supposed to just get a slap on the wrist at best? why cant she be allowed to be angry and want revenge on him for that?  i dont understand.

9. IDK what you lot mean LO isn't good rep. I, as an NB person, am delighted the only NB rep in LO is the same person who made sure Hades can't have kids. I will happily take pride in the fact my own kin made sure that capitalist slave owner can never have his one dream realized.  Thank you for this, Rachel.

-----FP Spoilers/Mention-----

10. FP Spoilers Chapter 187: I can't stand how Hera shows not even a hint of remorse about having gone behind Demeter's back like she did. She's Demeter's sister for god's sake, she must have known how horrified Demeter was about Persephone potentially getting taken advantage of for her powers. Which, as we see in this very episode, was a very reasonable fear to have. And yet Hera still put Persephone into a prime positon to get groomed by Hades, helped cover up her disappearance and never challenged either Zeus or Hades about their treatment of her niece beyond some token scolding that gets brushed aside as easy as that. Demeter deserves a better sister.

[aerltarg]

Maybe this is a stupid question, buuuuut:

I just can't imagine a world that Rhaegar comes back from the Trident, wins the war and becomes king. No, I'm not a anti Rhaegar, matter of fact I like him very much, I'm just can imagine how would Lya, little Jon, this whole affair, would settle in the capital. The norm that fics (at least those I read) tend to follow is to make Rhaegar:

1. A douche, paranoid and destiny-obessed king.

2. Completely incompetent, aloof monarch, that deep down has a heart of gold, but can't really be understood.

I mean, isn't he supposed to be a scholar since he was a kid? What's are your thoughts about it?

oh, yeah, i can totally understand this! it's is the whole point in canon actually, "the wrong man came back from the trident". you would expect a hero win against his antagonist and have a happy ending w his lady love but it doesn't happen. instead the subversion happens to them with rhaegar being killed by robert who becomes obviously a shitty king and lyanna dying after him. they were never supposed to have happy ending, they were created as tragic and doomed and dead from the beginning for the whole plot to start, jon to have his parentage mystery and dany to take the passed baton as the last dragon, prophesied savoir and the heir who has to carry entire house on her back now.

as for the realistic rhaegar wins aus that's the difficult question. tbh we just don't know enough abt their situation, plans and wishes. you see, e.g. in agot we can be right in ned's head and see his motivations, what he was thinking abt, what he was planning, what he was hoping to do. but if his story was told the way rhaegar's was i bet he would have his own crowd of haters and ~intellectuals~ jumping out every two seconds w their "hot takes" how actually all hints abt what rlly happened (ned being a good man w his own sense of honour, justice and experiences affecting him and the deal w cersei's children) doesn't matter and he was an ambitious prick, planned to grasp the power by being joffrey's regent and make his daughter sansa queen. (you can actually insert there any bullshit and still don't reach the level of stupidity of such "hot takes" this fandom loves so much lmao). also he would be blamed to the hell and beyond for being too stupid and not foreseeing the future and actions of other ppl bc ofc after everything happened it's so easy to say what was so obvious to notice. also they would say that the deaths of his men and horrible fates of his kids are 100% his fault and even straight up say he killed them lmao. i can rant abt it for hours so yeah. this is a situation w too many unknown variables bc it depends too much on actions of too many characters we don't know enough abt. the only thing it's possible to tell for sure is the fact that there couldn't be any perfect solutions since things got too complicated at this point.

such fics as you've mentioned tho are just a part of this dumb fanon where rhaegar is "too prophecy obsessed"/"incapable of love"/shrodinger's rhaegar both smart and stupid at the same time/whatever/all of this combined lmfao. the man was notably intelligent from the early age as you've absolutely rightly mentioned, his guesses abt himself being tptwp have nothing to do w egocentrism as some parts of the fandom would want us all to believe unless he wouldn't be so reasonable abt it and later on, after so many years, wouldn't have changed his mind and thought his son could be tptwp.

and literally fuck all antis that think you shouldn't consider prophecies that hold real power in this fantasy world lol. you know, aegon the conqueror was said to be motivated (or at least partly) to unify westeros by the prophecy and still got the treatment of perfect/maximum close to perfect figure of a leader everyone should look up to from the narrative and grrm. prophecy obsessed much, huh? i don't even talk abt all these parallels between him and rhaegar grrm put there not for bitches to ignore them completely! and i will never get tired of reminding that dismissing prophecies is UNWISE for targaryens of all people. the house whose story is built on the dream of young daenys and her father aenar that listened to her despite common sense (or what local "anti magic"/"anti prophecies" clowns consider to be common sense). targs would be as dead as the rest of dragonlords if not for daenys the dreamer. who else in the world has as many reasons to take prophecies seriously as them?

yet antis out there act as if rhaegar is one dimensional weirdo whose every character trait is abt mf ~prophecy obsession~. like how can they miss one of the main points so badly?? the game of thrones distracts ppl from the real danger beyond the wall, yk, the one rhaegar was aware of and meant to deal with. there wouldn't be such a problem if he became king and had as many years of head start before ice zombies apocalypse as ignorant bobby b did. rhaegar had to die just for westeros to sink in shit and our main heroes to save everyone to make this story more epic LMAO

so yeah, too many ppl portray rhaegar as this one dimensional robotic creature without any knowledge of what feelings are idk even for what reason. it seems these ppl can't read for real bc rhaegar was not only intelligent af as well as dutiful ("it seems i must be a warrior" but "he loved his harp more than his lance") but also. ugh emotional?? my boy had constant emo sessions w brooding at ruins of summerhall, sleeping out there beneath the stars all alone and writing songs that made all women cry. does it sound as someone who "isn't capable of love" lol? folks act as if he was completely heartless from the day he was born (bc he didnt play w other kids ig??) but in reality their emotional range is less than the one of a spoon in comparison to rhaegar's lol. i'm not even gonna address the horrible attitude of demonizing him for his implied depression, vile clowns never listen to themselves when they talk abt targaryens and their "madness".

tldr; these fics are mostly lame af and suck at characterization if they're making rhaegar like that lol. anyway his character isn't abt being a good or a bad king, it's abt being a would-be-king for characters in books and readers in reality to sigh over his tragic aura and pretty aesthetic abt how it could've been. however, grrm clearly doesn't write rhaegar as evil or incapable as some parts of the fandom would want to try to persuade others. realistically speaking in the scenario where he wins there couldn't be any perfect decisions but it's a territory of speculations on thin air and lit nothing more since canon doesn't provide us with enough information to rlly theorize anything instead of building biased headcanons some ppl call "analysis".

but remember what barristan said about rhaegar while practically watching him all his life, from a literal baby to the man grown:

“I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded.” (ASOS, Daenerys I)

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.” (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

[dontcallmecarrie]

Downward Descending

the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and every villain is the hero of his own story. 

Justin Hammer didn’t consider himself a good man. 

Kind? Yes. But not good.

aka thanks, commenter, I blame the plot twist my brain came up with on you because I had zero inspiration for this AU up until I saw your comment

probably won’t make sense if you didn’t read part one to this mess and heads up, the protagonist becomes a villain here. Under the cut because it ran away on me, again.

.

Above all things, Justin Hammer was a realist. 

Kind of hard not to be, considering; between their [fading] memories of another world, and the life they’d been stuck with this round as the heir of Hammer Industries, they’d never really had a chance to get their head in the clouds.

Other people could dream of a better future, and he really did wish them all the best— but in the meantime, he had work to do.

.

Justin didn’t understand these people. 

Sometimes, he wondered if he ever would.

.

Justin didn’t think much of his family: oh, sure, they were loaded, but...well, for obvious reasons, he didn’t think very highly of some— okay, most— of their parenting choices.

Look, some people just aren’t meant to be parents, okay? But at least they try and give a damn.

These guys didn’t even bother.

Not when their heir turned out to be a normal kid instead of a once-in-a-generation child prodigy and genius [no hard feelings, though, Stark]. 

Eh. Whatever. 

Might’ve been for the best, actually; at least it was him and not some other poor kid who got stuck with dealing with all the crushing expectations and comparisons to a frankly impossible ideal, and at least they didn’t try to pull any of that shit with his little sister because if they had then...he wasn’t sure what he would’ve done, but it would not have been pretty.

[they were an older sibling twice over. some things were etched into their soul.]

.

It wasn’t like Justin had set out to quasi-adopt just about everyone remotely his age, okay? It just sort of...happened. 

Okay, look, it’s not his fault everyone his generation looks like a kid to him, they’re all brats and for some reason, all their parents came in different flavors of shitty because their IQs were sky-high but their collective emotional intelligence wouldn’t have filled a teaspoon so looks like it was up to him to step up.

Look, it made perfect sense at the time!

.

Sometimes, it’s funny how Justin is the most mature person in the room. Other times, it’s just pathetic.

Especially when it’s two grown men half a second from duking it out while in public, like they weren’t supposed to be setting an example for their kids.

Justin couldn’t help his dark look at the spectacle, even as he ushered Stark and Pym to the buffet tables on the other side of the room, all the while trying to keep the conversation light. He didn’t really have the time for hobbies, not with all the private tutors his parents kept foisting on him, but it was still nice to hear what other people his age got up to. 

...unless said kid was Stark, in which case they all got regaled with an overenthusiastic spiel on something that went way over Justin’s head but hey, he’d had plenty of practice nodding along to Steph’s chatter so this was nothing.

.

Looking back, it’s kind of sad how something as simple as giving half a damn was enough for Stark to consider them lifelong friends.

Even sadder, because Justin hadn’t even realized it at the time; he’s just been his usual self.

But apparently, that was enough for some people, was significant enough to be remembered even decades later— long after Justin himself had forgotten all about the encounter.

.

There weren’t a lot of things Justin put actual effort in. 

Emotionally, that is; he was not afraid from hard work, never had been, but there was a world of difference between brushing up on engineering terms and being there for someone. 

Not like his mother, who’d apparently thought giving birth to him and his sister was enough involvement in his life, and proceeded to spend all her time in the Bahamas whenever she had the chance. Not for his father, who constantly tried to make him into something he was not, and finding him wanting [when he wasn’t being a sexist piece of shit who regularly cheated on his wife, anyway, but that was a whole other mess entirely].

But maybe that’s why he tried to be kind, why he tried to be there for the people around him.

...oh, and apparently he’d been known for giving good advice in boarding school to anyone who asked. Which was weird, but whatever. At least he’d helped?

.

Justin tried to be a good older sibling. Really, he did, trying to be as supportive as he could be of Steph as he could.

Sometimes, though, that landed him in some...interesting situations.

Such as her infamous ‘fashion design’ phase, which lasted for five very memorable months, during which he wore even her most dubious of creations without complaint even though he really, really couldn’t pull off that particular shade of orange. 

There were probably pictures still floating around, actually, but he was in no particular hurry to dig them up.

Not that he was ashamed, because he’d like to think he pulled off some of those combinations remarkably well, but... well, if it were anyone other than his sister asking, he probably wouldn’t have done it.

Goodness knew how long it’d taken for some of the other guys at boarding school to look him in the eye afterwards. 

.

Several decades in, and Justin Hammer had yet to express interest in anyone.

Oh, he was perfectly polite and charming to everyone; courteous and charismatic, but...well.

'Gentleman’, some called him; ‘in the closet’, dismissed others with a scoff.

The truth was somewhere in between: Justin couldn’t help but see everyone his age or younger as kids, and between that, his natural older sibling instincts, and his own personal issues with his body that came and went, well...

At least Stark was always a good distraction, nobody paid attention to him when the guy was around. 

.

Justin worked at his company long before he became its CEO. 

It was a bit awkward at first, because everyone seemed to be uncomfortable with the idea of the boss’ kid looking over their shoulders, but once they saw he did good work and pulled his weight [and didn’t regularly make tasteless jokes about kitchens or whatever bullshit his old man was up to these days], things picked up the pace.

He bounced between departments a bit because he wanted to get a better feel for the company, and it was during his brief foray in the marketing department that he came across something that gave him pause.

Now, he knew Hammer Industries followed federal guidelines on who they did and didn’t sell to, officially, but...there were a few grey areas sometimes. 

Normally, it wasn’t something he’d have blinked at, but he recognized the names on this particular proposal.

“Von Doom? Latveria? Geez, Victor, what’ve you been up to?”

.

Once upon a time, there had been a boy who appreciated silence when studying during a time when most children his age were anything but.

So when another brat showed up, he hadn’t exactly been happy about it at first. 

But they were quiet, and seemed to prefer to keep their nose in their book, and so they’d come to a wordless agreement to share the space. 

For over three years, they studied together and shared exasperated looks when the other brats got loud, and so it was that a friendship was born.

It wasn’t until they stopped showing up one day that Justin learned that there was turmoil in that student’s country that’d forced them to go back, and only then that he learned his silent studymate’s name.

.

An unusual childhood friendship wasn’t much to go off of.

But it was something.

And knowing what he did about Victor, and the pull his country had in the international sphere... it was a risky gamble, but he was fairly certain he could pull it off.

So Justin quietly but firmly took that particular proposal from the ‘reject’ pile, and took it to his father to look over.

He was still fairly new at this, but he knew how to play the game. It was a risky gamble, but if this panned out, they’d have a significantly stronger foothold in places their rivals couldn’t even dream.

Worst comes to worse, well... everyone was so focused on what was going down in Yugoslavia, it wasn’t like they’d particularly care if a few shipments went missing, now, would they?

It wasn’t pretty, but then, Justin wouldn’t get anywhere in the world if he was afraid of getting his hands dirty.

.

Latveria’s reputation as an unstable country ended when the scion of one of their most eminent families went and united its people, kicking out all of the outside factions vying for territory as he did.

Then he promptly turned around and revitalized its economy, infrastructure, and gods knows what else because seemingly overnight, Latveria turned into one of the richest countries on the planet. 

Sitting back in his chair, Justin smiled as he put down the newspaper.

“Huh. Sounds like someone’s been busy.”

.

He got a very slick cell phone via courier, not long after that. 

That, and a slip of paper with a simple ‘Thanks’ in Victor’s signature scrawl.

.

Years passed.

Years passed, and shit went down, but no matter what hurdles life threw his way, Justin powered through them nonetheless.

Like when his little sister had a kid and their parents freaked out because she wasn’t married, and then freaked out even more when little Timmy turned out to be on the spectrum and Justin wasn’t remotely surprised when she cut all contact with them after that.

Goodness knew he’d have done the same long ago, after all the shit they’d pulled over the years.

He was just happy she chose to keep him in her life, and that Timmy seemed to really like him as an uncle. 

.

Stark was a bona fide hero, was talking about privatizing world peace. 

Justin wished him the best of luck.

But...well, he hadn’t been the one to propose their rivalry, but if Stark wasn’t in the industry to compete against, then... oh, bother.

Looks like he’d have to change up his plans.

.

Stark was acting weird. Well, weirder, he’d never really been able to understand him in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” Justin asked as he pulled him to the side. Sure, it was probably rude to ignore the gala’s host, but he did not like the look in Stark’s eyes, no matter how bright his smile was.

“Hey, Justin! How’ve you been? Long time no see, but—”

“You’re not okay.” He said, making sure his tone brooked no argument because he knew Stark, had known him since they were kids and he was not okay.

It was like a switch flipped: Stark’s smile vanished, and he reached out towards him for a moment before he sighed and were those tears in his eyes? “Yeah, you could say that.”

.

The government wanted to take Stark’s super-fancy suit, and...this, he could work with. Somehow.

Damn it, he’d need to tweak some of his plans even more...

.

For a few seconds, Stark looked very betrayed when he caught sight of him in the courtroom. 

Then his face went blank in the way Justin had long known to be his ‘I am screaming internally but I refuse to let the cameras see’ look, and he felt bad for him even as he submitted his own findings to their audience.

To be honest, they were a long ways off from developing anything close to what Stark already had in hand, but it never hurt to be prepared for the future. If one man could do it, what was to stop another?

They were all lucky Stark was a good man who didn’t abuse his power.

Justin was no hero, but if lightning were to strike twice...better him than a potential threat.

Besides— Stark needed competition if he didn’t want to stagnate. Who knows? Hopefully, they’d be able to push each other to greater heights.

.

Ivan Vanko was a dangerous man. Just as brilliant as Stark, but with an edge that could only have been gained from a hard life.

Dealing with him would be like playing with fire, Justin just knew it.

[Like knew like, after all.]

But he knew people, knew how to work them, and considering that little display at the race track?

He could work with this.

.

It takes a handful of phone calls to put out all the fires from the past few days. 

Perk of being a well-known and respected figure in the defense industry, Justin supposed; Stark’d once mentioned his contact list was classified six ways to Sunday, so really, having a few senators on speed-dial was nothing. 

He had to do some extra sweet-talking to calm down some of the generals, and may or may not have made mention to some of his older contracts to get Stern to ease up, but whatever.

.

Why he was invited to Stark’s birthday celebration, he didn’t know. 

But he brought a bottle of apple cider and champagne anyway, because why the hell not.

.

This party was really, really not his style.

So when he was pulled aside by the man of the hour, he raised an eyebrow when he noticed he was out of his suit and— wait.

Justin whipped back to where the piece of equipment that had been the source of all this mess was dancing on the table, while Tony was in a rumpled suit not three feet from him.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

.

Stark looked like shit. 

...and was apparently dying, because he’d passed up Justin’s offer at a toast, even though it had been an inside joke for almost as long as they could remember.

Also, he’d looked stricken when Justin had tried to joke about it, that was another pretty big clue.

They weren’t normally one for hugs, but this time they didn’t hesitate to offer— and so felt very very awkward when the closest thing they had to a childhood frenemy proceeded to break down in their arms.

Justin’s older sibling instincts flared to life and they tried to murmur reassurances the best they could, but.

Wasn’t like there was much they could say, now, could they?

Stark was dying, and there was nothing they could do about it. 

Something inside Justin was screaming, and the part of him that wasn’t trying to be there for someone absently wondered why...then he noticed what he was saying, and kicked himself for not paying attention earlier.

“—ever give up, I’m here, know you are not alone—”

Geez. Talk about sappy, normally they only got like this around their sister or nephew.

But whatever it was they’d said, it apparently helped. 

Or something, because Stark was honest-to-goodness crying but after a few minutes, started to calm down and pull himself together.

“I’m so, so sorry about this—” Stark started, and Justin cut in.

“Don’t be, looks like you needed it.” And he clearly had; already he looked a lot better than before.

“I...should get back to the party, shouldn’t I?” Ah, looks like Justin wasn’t the only one feeling awkward now.

“It’s gone on for a while, and you look pretty tired. You sure you don’t want to wrap it up instead?”

���...yeah, that’s... probably a good idea. See you around, Justin. Hopefully.”

“See you later, Stark.” 

.

Stark apparently invented a new element in his basement. 

He knew this, because Stark called him up to say he wasn’t dying anymore. 

Once he hung up, he felt torn between immense relief, and exasperation that he’d need to rewrite his plans again.

.

...aaand kinda ran out of steam again. Long story short, yes, this is the AU where Justin Hammer maybe sort of becomes the Lex Luthor of the universe and may or may not end up accidentally creating a League of Evil of sorts because he’s frenemies with Tony and Victor von Doom ends up having a similar dynamic with some grad student and Ivan has some really good ideas and loves sticking it to the man. 

Said club only grows when the Avengers Initiative forms, and Loki escapes custody and joins for the sole purpose of pranking Thor and giving Fury a headache and Justin may or may not end up getting a crush somewhere along the way.

No, I’m not sure how we got here either.

[honey-milk-depresso]

Azul and Lumi (3am calls)

@beth-bethar00​ Beth asked something about why Azul was calling Lumi at 3am-

And it gave me an inspiration of an interaction, one between Azul and Lumi.

(400+ followers event series)

Genre: Headcanon + Snipet / oneshot

Lumi de Angelos

After finding out Aepper had a hacking partner, Azul asked for her phone number.

Aepper was a little skeptical, Azul simply said he wants to work with her and promised to pay her as well.

Aepper had to ask Lumi for permission, which Lumi granted, so long Azul didn’t share the contact.

At first, Lumi thought it was straightforward. Just hack and stuff, add in a little scam horror side effects for Azul and she gets paid.

That wasn’t the case.

“The f*ck, Azul-”

“Lumi, language.”

Lumi left eye twitched. “You want me to watch my language when you called me up at 3am??? ARE YOU SERIOUS-”

“Listen, Lumi. YOU LITERALLY SPAMMED MY CLIENT WITH A BUNCH OF SHREK MEMES-”

“YOU SAID MAKE THEM FEAR-”

“THAT’S BESIDES THE POINT! I want you to make it more of a realistic scam, so they ACTUALLY will be PANICKING TO ME.”

“Well damn, Azul. Haven’t your mom told you be thankful for what you’re given?” Lumi spat.

“Well, be thankful I’m paying you.”

“The price is much handsome than you, yes. But at what cost?”

“Oh my sevens...”

This. This is just one of the common things that would happen when Azul and Lumi were having their daily 3 am talks.

The only people who knows of Lumi hacking clients were between herself and Azul and Aeppermint, because Aepper had to know what was going on. An protective ‘brother’ he is.

“Lumi. I get it. Both of us are tired.”

“Then go to bed like how I was 10 minutes ago. You and I have to attend the educational children’s confinement camp known as school. Ringing up at 3am to hack 10 more clients is a crime against the humanity of hackers out there.”

Azul sighed in exasperation. He’s got to go through the same shit every 3 am, isn’t it?

Azul and Lumi constantly bicker about such, complaining both have lots to do, and that if they could just do what they were suppose to do and leave them alone respectively, all will be fine.

None is the case.

At all.

Sometimes, during these calls,

an occasional empathy is shown by both parties.

“*sniffs* stupid, goddamn, bitch..”

“Is it me?” Azul ask monotonous. It’s been quite long since he’s been calling Lumi to hack, and she sounded like she was crying on the other line.

“Not you, dumbass, you just called..” Lumi muttered, another sniff could be heard.

“This dumbass in school... he broke my f*cking droid. And it was precious shit, man...” Lumi cursed, but knew there was nothing she could do about it. She spent months working on the droid, only to be broken the next day when she flew it to school.

Azul sighed. “I’m sorry hear that.”

“I don’t want your damn pity...just get to work, which client you want me to scare..” she moped.

“Lumi, listen. I’m not pitying you for the sake of getting you back to work. You maybe shitty, but you’re....someone I somewhat care for. Your still my client and partner, I won’t deny that.”

Lumi stayed silent for a while, typing could be heard on her side.

“..whatever...”

“Okay, anyways-”

The sound of slurping could be heard.

“W-what is that??”

“Me. I’m eating breakfast known as curry instant noodles.”

Just by hearing it, Azul wanted to puke. “That’s disgusting?! And unhealthy??”

“You eat unhealthy shit, too-”

“Yeah, but, it’s not actual garbage!”

“HEY! RESPECT CUP NOODLES-”

“With instant curry?? GROSS???”

Azul groaned. “Look, Lumi. I suggest you eat healthier. I eat healthier stuff, too you know. Eating junk food MODERATELY-”

“I’m not you, honor student! I don’t have much on me. I need to pay for rent.”

“You live by yourself?”

“Yeah.”

Azul winced. He never expected Lumi to live with nobody. Throughout his life, Azul was pretty obscure, but he was never truly alone. He got the company of his mother, and his two best friends, Jade and Floyd.

Azul heard from Aepper he’s only ever met Lumi via online, and that his previous master used to take care of her rent and essential items. Now that they’re gone, Lumi has to take care of herself, without the help of Aepper. Selling things online, hacking for companies and organizations much bigger and corperate than Monstro Lounge, and on top of all that, tackle her own studies.

Lumi may be a genius, schoolwork is basically baby work to her, but she’s clearly abandoned her own health and wellbeing.

“...You said you like grilled squid?”

“Yeah...why..?”

“Send me an address or something. I’ll send it over to you everyday.”

“...I want my payment with GIRO-”

“Yes, it still will be in GIRO, this is extra.”

“You know even if you gave me proper food and a fruit basket, nothing good’s gonna come out of this, right?”

Azul sighed. “Lumi, I just want you to take care of yourself,” he said, tone softening.

“...”

“I don’t care what your answer is. You give me your address. I know Aepper knows, cuz you trust him so much, so if you don’t give it to me, at least Aepper would. I’m sure he wants you to take care of yourself, too.”

Lumi sniffed.

“..It’s.......................”

Azul smiled softly.

“There you go.”

Now Azul sent her PROPER food everyday. Delivery!

Lumi won’t admit it, but she’s super grateful for Azul’s delivering of food to her apartment.

Lumi’s got some deja vu, though.

Azul’s gestures reminding her of XXXXXXXXX.

So there are times,

where Lumi and Azul can get along.

[moonlayl]

One of the most wildest takes i’ve ever come across after joining fandom, was that the loved ones of a problematic fav are actually the ‘bad guys’ or the ones in the wrong for having ‘negative’ reactions to the crimes committed by the fav. 

Fans’ ability to do insane mental gymnastics to make out the villainous characters into the only possible victims and every other character is suddenly the bad guy, is awful, and so frustrating. (And this is coming from someone who DOES love villains/antagonists/characters who end up doing awful things)

Let’s look at the Umbrella Academy for example. Vanya, literally slits her sister’s throat after losing control of her powers, and then leaves her for dead. She doesn’t call an ambulance or call for any type of help. Just...leaves her there to die. If it weren’t for the brothers who happened to be searching for them, Allison would’ve died. And, the brothers find out that Vanya’s out of control powers, that almost killed Allison, and actually ended up hurting other people, will be the reason the whole fucking world is destroyed within DAYS. I’m not saying Luthor was necessarily RIGHT, to lock up Vanya, but also the amount of hatred this character got for doing so, even though it was a pretty logical action to take, was baffling. From what Luthor knew, Vanya was going to kill everyone in like a day. From the information he had, locking her in that vault would make her unable to use her powers. That’s what they thought. He had a pretty normal reaction given the circumstances. Let’s see,  lock up Vanya, who almost killed Allison, is supposed to destroy the world, and might accidentally kill us all, in a vault where she can’t use her powers, or risk everyone, including 7 billion people, dying. I GET that Vanya didn’t have bad intentions. I GET, that her horrible childhood played a huge part in how things turned out, and that her inability to control her abilities aren’t her fault. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s completely shitty to expect people she hurt to just roll with it and be loving angels. Like, was Luthor supposed to go “hey, Allison’s in there, dying, and she likely won’t be able to speak for a long time, and you left her for dead, also you might destroy the whole world tomorrow, but that’s okay because i love you and i’m here for you”???? How is THAT realistic? Yeah, him not locking her up probably wouldn’t have caused her to lose further control, but he had no way of knowing, and it’s really unfair to expect people who were hurt to easily forgive and accept the person responsible for that hurt. Are some people capable of putting that aside, and comforting those who hurt them? Yes, definitely. But it’s unfair to expect it of them, and being reasonably upset/angry isn’t some sort of moral failing. 

Another popular example is ROTS. Anakin (who is one of my fav characters) LITERALLY helped slaughter all the Jedi, and stood by as order 66 was executed. He joined the Sith, and he murdered INNOCENT children, dude strangled his own pregnant wife, but yeah sure, Obi-Wan leaving him burning after giving Anakin multiple warnings to stop fighting is the bad guy. Obi-Wan, who lost EVERYTHING in the span of a few hours, his home, his family, and was betrayed by the closest person to him, is the bad guy for not helping Anakin in the end. It’s “Screw Obi-Wan for adding more pain to poor Anakin’s life”. That’s the tragedy, right? Instead of you know “Anakin lost everything he tried so desperately to save because of his own choices, without realizing it before it was too late”. Like, I’m not saying Anakin is an awful character that shouldn’t be liked. I get that shit happens to people to make them hurt others. But it’s ridiculous to blame every single person in the world and not the person who made the ultimate mistakes. Did Obi-Wan and the jedi contribute to Anakin’s fall in the end? Yes, but without realizing it, and it was never their intention. They couldn’t have known. And Anakin made his own choice in the end. 

Also, let’s look at SPN. Jack, destined to destroy the whole world, accidentally kills many innocent people, and kills Mary, but Dean wanting to lock him up where he can’t hurt anyone, and not willing to call him family after Jack killed his mom, is suddenly the bad, abusive guy??? Even after being told by Chuck, someone they thought was good, that Jack needed to be die for the world to be safe, Dean is still the bad guy for wanting to do what’s safest for everyone, and wanting to avenge his mom since apparently know one else sees her as a victim of Jack? And it’s worse, because the fandom actually blames Mary for being killed. 

A fourth example. In Agents of Shield, Fitz knocks out Daisy, restrains her, and then literally cuts into her neck to retrieve her powers that she didn’t want. he violates her and continues to work as she screams and begs him to stop. He hurts her and betrays her trust completely. He risks permanently paralysing her from the neck down, AND he also threatens an injured Elena, and programs a robot to shoot Mack, yet Daisy being angry and locking him in a cell, after he literally tortured her and acted like a hydra agent, makes her a hardass unlikable bitch?? Mack, who got shot by a man he considered a friend, telling Fitz he’s fucked up, is the bad guy? Really? Mack and Daisy are the awful ones in that scenario, and not Fitz, the man who hurt them both and traumatized them? And it’s worse, because Fitz’ justification afterwards is “Daisy wouldn’t have agreed”. He didn’t even ask. And he continued to defend his actions, and tried to guilt trip her by bringing up past issues that weren’t actually comparable at all. 

Why are certain characters expected to be all understanding and forgiving, and expected to just accept those who hurt them with no hard feelings, and hated for not doing so? Why aren’t those characters allowed to have human reactions, but when the faves constantly hurt others, suddenly a character’s background and trauma can excuse it??? It’s so frustrating interacting with fandom like that. 

And it’s even worse when the characters that ARE capable of that level of understanding and forgiveness, are treated like the only good characters, even though usually the problematic favs that they forgive do nothing except continue to hurt them and are undeserving of that forgiveness. 

[generallybarzy]

hey there, stranger. i

SERIES MASTERLIST

summary: when you mention being lonely, Rebecca Seidenberg sets you- their babysitter- up on a blind date with Mat Barzal.

an: hi, i’ve been mia for a few days now due to some stuff, you all know what happened, but anyway here’s something to make my absence better! i know there might be some details that don’t make sense irl but just roll with it please I love the strangers to lovers trope so much. 

word count: 1.6k

Okay, you were lonely.

Ever since moving to New York for your first year of college, endless amounts of studying and work and more little jobs on the side to make ends meet living in the big city had taken up most of your spare time, leaving few opportunities for dating. Even when you did go on dates, they rarely lasted long enough to be called relationships, and not once have you had a serious relationship. This was your 20s, you were supposed to be out there living your life, weren’t you? Stupidly falling in love and getting your heart broken and learning along the way. But instead, you were busy trying to focus on that degree, leaving any hope of a love life behind.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with focusing on your degree, it was a degree you'd been looking forward to getting and you had been lucky enough to get accepted to your dream school, but it would be nice to have a significant other you could hold at the end of the day. Right? None of your many, many dates ended well, though, and though you were still young and didn't need to worry, you were lonely and felt late to the party as all your friends were falling in and out of love. It may have been dumb, but you were beginning to believe you’d never find the right guy.

And that’s where Rebecca Seidenberg stepped in to help.

She was a friend of your mom's and aunt's, and, though you didn't know her personally when you first moved out, word had spread through your family and to family friends, and she reached out to let you know that if you ever needed help in the big city, she would be there. She had been practically a mother figure to you since last year when you moved to New York all alone at 19 years old. She and her hockey player husband lived on Long Island with their children, just a quick commute from your city campus, and apparently, your mom had been in constant contact with her since your big move, checking in and asking someone to watch out for her little girl. You got a call one day asking if you needed any extra cash because, according to your mom, you were good with kids, and the two could use a babysitter for the night.

So, while you resided in a dorm room in the city and worked on campus between classes, you spent a lot of your Friday nights and weekends out on Long Island babysitting for the Seidenbergs when they went out on date nights.

They all quickly came to love you, especially the children, and you found it worth it to spend your weekends with them rather than out on any shitty dates or getting drunk at some stupid, dangerous frat party like a lot of college students. You loved their family, you loved all the genuine love, and could only hope that one day you'd have a relationship with that much love in it. You didn't like to admit how much you wanted a boyfriend, maybe it had something to do with your own insecurity, but you didn't want to think you needed a man. Maybe it had something to do with your fears, too. You didn’t want to get messed up again. You didn't need a man, but how great would it be to have someone there at the end of the day to curl into and rant to and love? It would be amazing. Okay, maybe you were a hopeless romantic. But you’d never admit it.

But about a month ago, as Rebecca was talking to you about a date Dennis was taking her on next week, you were feeling particularly romantic and hopeless. Your second year in college had just started up again, and you had returned to New York from your hometown to settle back into your lonely dorm room. All your friends were either meeting up with their partners after spending the summer apart, or dealing with the loneliness of having to be separate from them for the upcoming year, but you had nobody like that, and just let it slip.

"I wish I could find a guy who loves me like that." You lamented after commenting on how the Seids looked at each other with absolute heart eyes. "It's starting to feel like I'm just destined to be alone."

"What?" She looked at you incredulously, laughing a little as if she couldn't believe you hadn't found anyone. "You're still young, you have plenty of time!"

"Yeah, realistically I know, but I've been on so many dates, and none of them are ever successful.” You groaned, maybe a little dramatically as you thought back to all the dates you’d had since moving out of your parent’s house last year and coming to New York. “And all my friends have, like, solid relationships, or are at least messing around, and I can’t even do that. I feel so far behind.”

“There’s no timeline on love.” She spoke wisely, like the motherly figure you’d been missing. “You’re not falling behind. Anyway, the chances of you meeting the love of your life this young are pretty slim.”

“I know, and I’m not looking for the love of my life. Just… someone, you know?” You thought for a moment, just of having someone to smile with, to hug and to kiss after a hard day. You hadn’t had a true boyfriend since your last year of high school, and that hadn’t ended well. You had fallen hard for the wrongest person in the world, and he had done nothing but hurt you for months. It had definitely messed you up a bit, but you wanted nothing more than to forget about that whole ordeal and come out of your shell again, to love again. “I don't know if I'm being too picky or my standards are too high or something, but I just attract the wrong types of guys."

"Hmm." She gave it thought for a moment, and you knew she was going to work some of her motherly magic. "Well, what are you looking for?"

"I don't know. Just someone who's genuine? Someone who's really passionate and has a big heart. And funny, the guys I date always have the blandest humor and it makes dates so awkward and I'd have to force laughter. Someone who actually cares. I don't think that's too much to ask for, is it?"

"It's definitely not." She laughed for a moment. "I actually know someone who fits in those categories really well."

"Really?"

"If you'll let me, I think I could get him to go on a date with you."

"No, no way, blind dates aren't my thing."

"What's your thing? Dating apps?" You laughed at the playful chirp, but unfortunately, it was true. "Come on, I know it'll go well, even if you don't end up together. He's a great guy!"

"Alright, fine!" You laughed a bit, at both how excited she was and how excited you were to meet this guy she spoke so highly of. "It better be worth it."

"Trust me, you'll love him."

And that's how you ended up here, sitting all alone in the corner of a little coffee shop in Brooklyn, fiddling with the strings coming loose at the sleeves of your oversized sweater. It had been getting chillier out in the past few October weeks, and even though it was cozy and warm inside, you kept your sweater on for comfort, so you had something to fidget with and calm your nerves.

You were so nervous, you were overthinking everything you were doing. Were you dressed okay? Jean, a cute turtleneck with a loose sweater thrown over top, a cute little necklace- too casual? Not casual enough? Was your hair a wreck? You’d thrown it up in a cute bun but had it become a wreck since you walked here through the breeze? Your makeup was simple, but had it covered up the fact that you’d been breaking out due to the stress of your recent surge in classwork? You had already ordered a drink but immediately rethought it. Was it rude to order before he showed up?

As much as you trusted Mrs. Seidenberg, you couldn’t help the nagging feeling that this date would go horribly. He would be here any minute, you were sure of it. You could feel it.

And you were right.

The door to the coffee shop rattled open and in stepped a man who quickly drew your attention away from everybody else. In dark jeans, a tee, and a nice-looking black bomber jacket, he didn’t really stand out, but there was something about him- his aura, the way he held himself, that made him so appealing. That immediately drew your eyes to him. He had dark hair that looked soft to the touch and made you want to run your fingers through it, and his brows were furrowed above searching eyes as he looked around the room, making you think that maybe he was looking for someone. Maybe he was looking for you. Maybe it wasn't too much to hope that this man was your blind date. And the moment his eyes fell on you- the only person sitting all alone in this cafe- your eyes locked. Only then did you realize you’d been staring. His eyebrows quirked up a little bit and you saw a little smile start to pull at the corners of his lips. As he approached your table, you realized your prayers were answered.

He moved in long strides, almost gracefully towards you, and you were so mesmerized with how he approached you that you almost missed his beautiful voice when he spoke to you.

"(Y/N)?"

Breathless, you smiled. "Hey there, stranger."

[ais-n]

How would have cedrick responded to learning about what vivienne had done to boyd by putting him up for the position at the agency, giving him a promotion, and selling him to cyclone? Would he have been angry, or thought that she was trying to protect him in her own way? How would he have reacted to seeing Boyd after the Aleixo mission, or at the end of fade after his eye was removed, at times where it was really obvious the affect physically and mentally that the lifetsyle had on boyd? Would he chose a side in the Beaulieu's feuds, or would he play both sides to try to make both of his loved ones happy? How would Boyd feel about his reaction? Would Boyd want Cedrick to be mad at Vivienne? What would Boyd want from his father if he came back to life in fade, what kind of relationship would he want?

**ICOS SPOILERS - JUST FYI :)**

I'm putting the whole reply behind a cut because I ended up rambling a bit - also I have a (shittily written and very short) excerpt from Julian Files that feels kind of relevant to this line of questioning, so that's easier to throw behind a cut too.

I'm pretty sure Ced would've been pissed at her for the Cyclone stuff. He would understand her reasons for it, and would know that in her own fucked up way she was kind of trying to help - but he also would have been pissed at her for how much Boyd was hurt in the process. He was very loving/protective of Boyd, and also pretty optimistic/hopeful in general, so he would've thought there surely could have been a safer and less traumatic way to help Boyd in the short run without fucking him up further in the long run.

(As for the rest of the things you mentioned of joining the Agency and the promotion, I don't know for sure but I think he might have understood that stuff more - because there's enough of Viv in Boyd for him to get that sometimes when they shut down emotionally, certain life changes or certain shifts in perspective help them find a reason to open up again, albeit slowly. And even if he wouldn't have wanted Boyd to be in a dangerous situation, he would have wanted Boyd to be as prepared IN that dangerous situation as possible, so at least with a promotion he learned more skills to protect himself and others. Also, Ced wanted to help others, so he would understand at least that part of the job is trying to help in some form, even though it's far from a perfect way of doing so.)

There's actually part of a scene I wrote in Julian Files that I never finished because I don't love how the preceding scenes go, and the scene in question is a direct result of them. But in the general part of that plot, Cedrick was out of town for work and Viv was supposed to be watching Boyd who was like 6 or something at the time. But Viv, being Viv, was being neglectful of him and Ced didn't know. He knew that Viv wasn't the most caring of mothers but they'd had conversations about how to make sure Boyd was safe when Ced wasn't around.

In this particular case, some shit happens with a person who kind of stalked Boyd showing up at the home when Boyd's alone, he and a buddy break in to steal shit, Boyd gets hurt in the process, Viv gets home after the fact, Boyd accidentally breaks pretty much the one thing Viv had from her parents (a horse figurine thing), and she gets pissed and yells at Boyd that she would have preferred to have lost him than to lose this thing. So Boyd runs off to Lou's and stays with him for a bit. At some point days later, Ced is finally able to get home - he tried to come home right away when he learned what happened, but he wasn't able to, so he was freaking out the entire time just beside himself worried about Boyd. He had some basic info and knew Boyd was alive and seemingly okay but was still terrified.

I kind of hate the way this is written, as well as the chapters that precede this, but this might be the only scene I can remember writing so far where it got to explore Cedrick freaking the fuck out worried about Boyd and being upset with Vivienne not protecting him. There were some previous scenes written ages ago but this is the most recent one, and probably would be closest in context to the context you're asking about.

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

UNEDITED SHITTY SCENE EXCERPT:

The door slammed open, making Boyd jump and his heart race. He’d barely turned around when heavy footsteps came at him. His father nearly bowled him over, grabbing him in a tight embrace with shaking hands holding the back of his head and crossing over his shoulders.

“Boyd, Boyd, I heard—They said—Are you okay?”

Boyd could hear and feel his father’s heartbeat crashing around in his chest. He felt instantly safer with the warm and strong hands holding him tightly and, strangely, his father’s rushed and panicked words, barely gaining breath between them.

Heavy kisses rained down all over Boyd’s hair on the top of his head, and his father’s uneven breath gusted out near his temple.

“I couldn’t get back any sooner—I tried, dear God I tried because fuck I was so scared and—shit, no, don’t say those words, they’re bad words, Daddy’s just really worried and—and, Boyd, are you okay? Are you okay? You didn’t tell me yet if you’re—”

Cedrick pushed Boyd out by the shoulders, his eyes intensely focused and scouring every inch he could see of his son. He ran his hands all over Boyd, and when Boyd accidentally winced and shied away from the pain, Cedrick instantly pulled up Boyd’s shirt.

He froze at the sight of the dark bruises and cut on Boyd’s pale skin.

“Viv—Viv—Vivienne!” Cedrick shouted, panicked.

Boyd’s mother came and stood behind his father, her face expressionless and posture straight. But Boyd saw the coldness in her eyes, and tried to pull away from his dad. He couldn’t, though; his dad gripped him carefully but firmly with one hand, the other beginning to shake with the shirt in his hold.

Cedrick twisted around to face Vivienne, his voice rising louder.

“Where the hell were you? You told me you’d be home with him! You told me—”

Vivienne’s stare only became more remote. Cedrick’s hand tightened so hard on Boyd it almost hurt. He let Boyd’s shirt fall back down.

“Don’t even fucking try that look on me. You know I can read you like a fucking book. You promised me, Vivienne, and you… He could have been killed, he could have—What would we have done? What would—what would I have done?”

Vivienne didn’t answer.

“Vivienne! You need to goddamn answer me! Where were you? Why don’t you ever care—”

“She helped!”

Boyd’s outburst made Cedrick snap his attention back to his son. Boyd trembled in his father’s hold, terrified because his parents rarely argued like this and it was his fault, he knew it was his fault because he let them know about Troy. He never should have told anyone. He never should have hurt that horse and he never should have told the police the truth.

It was just like Mr. Cole said. Everything was coming true.

“What?” Boyd’s father sounded a lot less scary when he addressed Boyd. Now he was tense but gentle, just like his hand running along Boyd’s shoulder. “Boyd, it’s okay—”

“She was here,” Boyd insisted. It was a lie but he didn’t care, he made it as convincing as he’d ever done in his life. “She was here but then she had to go get something, and Troy must have been watching and then he came in when she was gone but then she came back and the police got him so it’s okay now. You don’t have to yell. You don’t have to be mad.”

He tried to ignore the way his eyes grew wet with tears, and twisted the hem of his shirt in his hands.

--------

I never finished the scene so that's all I have.

Without writing the actual scenes out you're talking about, I don't know for sure - it always seems like I think characters will do one thing and then they do another unexpectedly. But I'd generally guess it would be something along the above vibe, maybe? Except with Boyd being less timid.

Ced sort of would have been in the middle but he also wouldn't excuse certain things. He would have understood that Viv does some shit because she's fucked up, and he loves her so he understands that her choices are sometimes fucked, but that also doesn't mean he'll excuse it and tell Boyd he has no reason to be upset about things he has every right to be upset about. He probably would have ended up being a little bit of a mediator, but less so in the way of trying to smooth things over and making everyone happy, and probably more so in the way of trying to make sure every side felt heard, but more importantly that they understood if they did shitty actions that they were shitty (in this case, that would be directed toward Vivienne), and that they figure out a way for these things not to happen again, while being realistic about knowing how everyone is.

As for what Boyd would have wanted, he probably wouldn't have wanted Ced to hate Viv - he would have just wanted everything to be figured out in a way where no one had to be hurt, and they could just get along, and he would feel valued. He would have loved to just have any sort of relationship with his dad, but Ced being Ced, the relationship would have been a largely happy/supportive one, with Ced being a doofy loving dad - but also someone who will always stand firm if he thinks Boyd, Vivienne, he himself, anyone, is doing something wrong or etc and needs to be called out on it.

If Ced were there in Fade, I think more than anything, Boyd would have just wanted to be able to go up to him, hug him, and be able to cry in his arms, and feel like it was okay and he wasn't being weak for wanting to break down. He would have just wanted to hear his dad say that Boyd was doing ok, that he was trying hard and that was important, and that he had value as a person and that Ced didn't judge him or hate him or wasn't disappointed in him because of anything Boyd had said or done or etc in his life since Ced left. All of which is what Ced would have wanted to do/say too. Well, and then Ced would have for sure wanted to say how proud he was of Boyd, which I don't know if Boyd would have thought to hope to hear in Fade but idk, maybe he would have hoped for that too.

They probably would've just had fun hanging around at times doing whatever. I could see the two having fun digging into different topics or theories or mysteries or whatnot to figure them out.

Also, Ced would have liked Hsin, and would have accepted him as a son in law, just FYI. He already met Hsin when Hsin was like 14 and tried to help him then, so if it later turned out those two got together, he would've understood. Honestly, Boyd/Hsin have a lot of Ced/Viv vibes in some ways, and Ced would've been able to see that, so he would totally get why Boyd and Hsin love each other so much. Except Boyd/Hsin were more volatile because they eventually actually talked their shit out more than Ced/Viv properly did, or really honestly got a chance to do - so in many ways, Boyd/Hsin's volatility was in part because they were ultimately able to be more brutally honest with themselves and each other.

Hopefully that all makes sense.

[burnedbyshoto]

Nervous

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: cursing, smut, first time sex, kinda as realistic as it can get, fluff

word count: 1,434

a/n: this is for @angeliclyaslut I hope you enjoy thisssss it was pretty fun to make, sorry its not exactly what you asked for, its supposed to be a drabble but I see bakugou and im likke nhhhh no self control but I knew I couldnt go too far D;

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Are you nervous?” Bakugou asked as he took in your trembling form.

“Not even the slightest bit, asshole,” you spat as your bottom lip trembled.

You were nervous, so fucking nervous it wasn’t even funny.

“If you’re going to be a fucking bitch about it, I’ll leave, shitty woman,” Bakugou snaps as he glares down at your nearly naked body.

The world turns dark as you close your eyes tightly. Bakugou is above you, completely naked, condom on his cock which was quite bigger than anything you would expect from a man, and his fingers looping around your panties. It’s the last thing that needed to be removed so that both of you could finally have sex.

Sex, what an entirely strange and yet familiar concept. You were familiar with porn, you knew how girls arched their backs and screamed in an off-key song like pleasure. You knew how men jackhammered into these females as if it was a fleshlight and not some actual human being. You were also familiar with erotica, written porn where everything just seemed to fantastical. You knew about how cocks always seemed to fit perfectly within vaginas, of how orgasms always occurred. You remember reading about how it felt like you were on top of a cloud to feel like you were crashing into the earth as you came.

Sure, you had masturbated before, but it had always just been with your fingers. Your fingers had memorized the quickest way to getting yourself to cum through clit and nipple stimulation only. The electricity that slammed through you from your head to your toes was a feeling you very much liked, but you also knew that everyone always claimed the first time was an experience all on its own.

Females rarely came through heterosexual sex, so you would need to ensure you came if you were like the majority of women who would never come based on penetration alone. You memorized the essential items you needed to bring after reading countless forums and sex tip magazines.

Condoms, towels, wipes, and lube.

After twenty-three failed attempts of getting Bakugou to realize that you wanted more than just a heated makeout session, fifteen failed attempts of actually getting nude, and now three times of being blue balled by your nerves right before he penetrated you. Finally you were ready. You wanted to have sex with Bakugou, you wanted to look back years from now and not be mad about who you gave it away to. Even if Bakugou wasn’t the one for you, you were more than happy to give him your virginity. But knowing that he’s had sex before made you even more nervous about potentially fucking up.

Did you have this?

“I’m sorry,” you pant as you adjust below him again. “I get--”

“--snippy when you’re nervous,” Bakugou huffs as he rolls his eyes. “I know, I know, baby girl.”

“I really hope I don’t bleed,” you ramble as your sweaty hands once against fist the towel under your ass. “Or at the very least if I do bleed, I hope it’s a one and done sorta thing.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes so hard you’re sure that he’s contemplating rolling over and dealing with his hard-on by himself.

“Listen, this lube has been applied on four times already and I’m getting sick of rubbing it back onto me, it’s way too cold,” Bakugou sighs as his fingers trail down the length of your naked leg. You’re leg twitches at his touch, you want him to fuck you, but your nerves were convoluting your thought process it seems. “If you’re not ready, y/n, that’s not an issue. I don’t want you to feel like you have to have sex when you’re not ready. Having sex isn’t a pivotal thing in a relationship, I won’t fucking die like some dumbass like Kaminari.”

“He’s not even here, why are you roasting him,” you groan as you cover your face. Bakugou doesn’t seem to care much as he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the exposed area of your neck. His lips are slightly chapped and they scruff against your skin as he drags his lips against your skin. The kisses are hot and they make your head spin as you let out a moan, your hands move from your face to tangle in his spikey locks, you feel as he lifts up your hips and slowly your panties are removed. As he continues his slow conquest up your neck, your breathing increases as heat explodes within your sex. 

You want him.

His mouth meets yours and they tangle in a passionate embrace. Your head tilts to the side at the same time his does, the kiss increasing in passion as your teeth knock against each other as both your nerves and horny nature makes you much sloppier than you normally are. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you moan loudly as the wet muscle dances against yours, taunting you, challenging you. Your heart hammers as you feel the tip of his cock tease your entrance and you whimper loudly as he stills.

“Are you ready?” Bakugou whispers as you heave.

“Y-Yes,” you breathe locking eyes with his vermillion ones. They’re warm, a deeper red than normal, and they swam with warmth and love for you. “I’m ready for you.”

Bakugou nods as one of his hands grab under your thigh, the other grabbing his lube soaked cock, and he positioned himself by your entrance.

“I’m going to go slow, okay? You better fucking tell me if it hurts you,” Bakugou murmurs as he presses the head into you.

The unfamiliar mass of just the head of his cock makes you gasp, centimeter by centimeter he pushed into you, and your fingers latch onto his biceps as you grip onto his tightly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hiss as he stretches you out. Bakugou is panting too at the feeling of your tight walls clenching against him, they’re unable to relax against his cock. It’s not until the head of his cock hits the wall of your cervix does he stop, and even then he’s not completely in you.

Your breathing is harsh and you feel like you’re sweating as you look down at the now joined body. The feeling of him completely in you makes your head spin, the pressure in your lower belly could be from just Bakugou within you or from your slowly growing orgasm, you had no idea.

“Shit… good thing w-we brought lube,” Bakugou pants as he slowly moves your leg up and onto his waist.

It’s a good move, but it’s too quick as a sharp pleasure pained fire shoots through you as you slam your forehead against his shoulder.

“Don’t m-move,” you snap as you try to calm your head. This was too much for you, you felt like every nerve was firing all at once on your inner wall and yet no orgasm had reached you yet.

“Sorry…”

It takes a few moments, but sure enough, you manage to raise your leg to his waist and both of you moan at the new level of penetration and the way it made your walls clench around him. “Move,” you command and Bakugou falls onto his forearms as he nods.

“I am,” he says as his hips push away from you and move back in.

It’s the first step but the new feeling makes your mind reel and walls clamp around him as you squeak.

“Baby girl, if you can’t keep it together I’m going to come before I can really fuck you right,” Bakugou hisses in warning into your ear and strangely enough you bark in laughter.

“If you come before me, I will fight,” you moan as you give a tentative move of your hips. It fills your body with unknown pleasure as you sigh wistfully into his ear. If this is what sex felt like everyone, no wonder why everyone was obsessed with it.

“You can’t blame me, you feel so fucking good,” Bakugou grunts as his thrusting picks up in speed. Your eyes close as you tug at his hair, your head lulling to the side as you mewl softly at the way your body moves with his thrusting. Again, you swiveled your hips along with his as it heightened the penetration sensations as Bakugou lets out a string of curses.

After all the night had only begun but there was much to learn as someone who had never had sex before, and well, not even Bakugou was perfect at everything.

[piabu]

BAKUGO KKATSUKI (x blind reader)

Getting into UA and becoming a hero, is every young kids dream. And for some its more realistic than it is for others. You always thought that your chance was slim, but when the letter came saying you got in to class 1-B, you were more than estatic. When it comes to stealth and combat your quirk comes in extremely handy. Using echo-location you can "see" many things others can't. Your ears are more sensitive to movement and noise, giving you an advantage, even though you are blind.

Being blind you had to have an aid in classes with you to be your eyes during lessons, but during training, you quirk was better than haveing 20/20 vision. UA was very accomotading to you and your aid. And for the most part everyone was nice. Monoma wasn't your biggest fan and often got on your nerves however.

Today as you entered the school someone bumped into you. You figured it was just Monoma picking on you again tho.

"Hey, watch it extra." the person grumbled. Not Mo.. The voice is somewhat familiar though.

"My appologies." You bowed facing what you thought was the boy. He stood beside you and clicked his tounge.

"Whatever." You heard footsteps and figured he was leaving. Quickly you activated your quirk to see his retreating form and some other students in the hall. His hair was spikey and his shoulders were slightly hunched. You tilted your head studying him.

A hand on your shoulder startled you. You turned your head in the direction of the hand. "Oh hey Erushī." you greeted your aid. "Did you happen to see who I bumped into?"

"Oh yeah, the angry blonde boy. Thats Bakugo Katsuki from class 1-A." Erushī explains. You think back to the some of the "horror stories" you have heard of the explosive teen.

"I see." You laugh at the irony of your statement. "What color is his hair?" Eru links her arm through yours.

"Blonde. Why?"

"Just forming a mental image." You shrug as the two of you enter the classroom.

(Timeskip to lunch)

Erushī walks you to the lunchroom and you sit with your usual table group. You think back to your encounter this morning and use your quirk to scan the lunchroom for Bakugo. You see his figure sitting at a table with some other students you assume are from his class.

"Earth to y/n!" Kendo says as she taps your shoulder. "You okay there?"

"Oh yeah. I'm fine." You flash a small smile to your friends, and close your eyes losing yourself in your mental images. They continue their conversation as you eat.

----

"Hey Bakubro!" Kirishima greets him, and scoots over for his friend to sit down. "You've been quiet today."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean!"

"Ah, theres the Bakugo we know." the redhead jokes.

Bakugo rolls his eyes and lifts his head to see you enter the cafeteria and sit at a table with you classmates. Mina notices him staring and follows his gaze.

"Her name is F/n L/n/." Pretty right! She is in class 1-B."

"Shut up Pinky. I didnt fucking ask." The blonde grumbles and focuses on his food.  Mina shrugs.

"I saw you looking, and thought you might wanna know."

"Well you thought wrong." He snaps. A smile creeps onto The pink girl's face and she winks at Kirishima, then guestures to Baku with a nod of her head.

Kiri gets the hint and his eye widen. Sero and Kaminari look between the three of them in confusion. Sero shrugs giving Kami a confused look. And the yellow head returns the look.

"Anyways, so aparently we are training with class 1-B after lunch." Sero says, breaking the silence that befell upon the group.

"Really! Cool!" Mina pipes up.

Katsuki steals a quick glance at you before getting sucked into the conversation by his friends.

(Time skip to sparring)

"Students will be paired up with someone not from their class to train with. Is that understtod?" Eraserhead explains the rest of the rules for training and Mic announces the partners. You were up against a girl named Hagakure. Her quirk was invisibility. You smiled at the perfection of the situation. Someone who is invisible to most, is not to you. You raise your hand.

"Yes y/n?" Aizawa calls on you.

"Could I perhaps have another partner. Hagakure's quirk is invisibility, but I can see her clear as day." you explain. A few heads turn as not many of the A students know of your quirk, but the hero agrees and pairs you up with Bakugo, and giving his partner to the invisible girl.

You all go get changed into your costumes and meet on the training grounds and get ready to spar. Your costume is quite simple. A pair of black leggings with thigh holsters for a few blades to fit. Your (color) top is cropped, sleveless and skin-tight. The lack of sleves allows for straps on your biceps to hold throwing stars. The outfit is pulled together with combat boots and a black blindfold over your eyes for dramtic effect.

"Whats with the blindfold extra? DO YOU UNDERESTAMATE MY POWER THAT MUCH?" Sparks fly from katsuki's palms as he accuses you.

"No, sorry. Its part of my costume. I dont doubt your abilities, Actually I admire how strong you are." You beam at the blonde. A blush tints his cheeks and he is thankful for the bindfld covering your eyes. "Shall we start?" you ask.

He grumbles a response and the two of you fly into action. You immediately activate your quirk and see his figure and take in his costume. Gauntlets. Avoid his hands at all costs. Katsuki moves to launch a blast your way and you move to the side, dodging it effectively. You use this advantage to get closer and land a punch to his shoulder. He spins on you and his elbow makes contact with your stomach. You cough as the wind is knocked out of you and quickly regain your composure. The thing with Bakugo is that he is a loud fighter. So you really wouldn't need your quirk much to fight him anyways. You see, or rather hear, his attacks before they happen.

"Why do you keep dodging? STOP HOLDING BACK DAMNIT!" You laugh quietly and take your blindfold off, wrapping it around your hand.

You decide to humor him and give in to his request. Katsuki is able to land a few hits on you, but for the most part he just tries to avoid your blades. Baku jumps and a blast comes your way and you duck down and slip under and between his legs. You unwravel the blindfold and wrap it around one of his ankles slamming him down onto the ground. You tie it around his other leg, imobilising him on his stomach.

Bakugo puts his palms on either side of him but you grab them and pin them behind his back with one hand, the other holding a blade to his wrists.

"Congratulations y/n." Present Mic says to you. You nod and get off your partner untieing him.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? YOU DIDN'T EVEN USE YOUR QUIRK! I TOLD YOU NOT TO HOLD BACK!" Katsuki explodes and his hand grabs your throat. His palms are warm and you can feel the slight sting of a burn.

"Y/N!" Erushī yells as she rushes up to you. Bakugo lets you go.

"Who the fuck are you?" he snarls.

"I am her AID." Eru says firmly. "L/n is blind." You cough and rub your throat and the two of them look at you.

"Im fine Erushī. And yes Bakugo, i did use my quirk. I may be blind, in a literal sense, but I can still see." He looks at you blankly, then to the girl beside you.

"My quirk is echo-location. I use sounds to see, and you my friend are very loud." You laugh and link arms with your aid. "Good fight." You bow and walk back to the changerooms.

----

'She is blind. That explains why she bowed in the wrong direction this morning, and the blindfold.' Katsuki thinks to himself. 'So she doesn't know what I look like. She probably doesn't even know what she looks like. She can't see facial expressions.'

Part of Bakugo was saddened by that. You were quite a good looking girl. But you would never know it. His thoughts drift to all the things you can and can't do. No wonder the other girl was always with you.

Kirishima clapped Bakugo on the back, pulling him from his thoughts. "Hey bro. How was it?"

Bakugo rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed "tch," remembering that you pinned him. He shrugs Kiri away and heads to change.

"You should ask her out." the readhead says nonchelantly.

"That's none of your buisness Shitty Hair."

(Time skip)

You sat at home listening to music, when your phone buzzed.

"You have a text from and unknown number: Oi its Bakugo, I got your number from your friend." The automated voice on your phone read the text out loud.

"Text back: Hello there. Smiley face." you say to your phone. "Please name the contact Bakugo."

"Incoming call from: Bakugo."  You press on the screen to answer the call and hold it to your ear.

"Hello."

"Hi, meet me at the park near the school." Wow he is forward.

"Uhh.. sure i guess."

"10 minutes."

The line goes dead before you can respond and you turn your phone off. That might have been the shortest call ever. You go downstairs and ask your parent to drop you off. 10 minutes later you are sitting on a swing waiting for Bakugo.

"Can you see me?" Bakugo's voice startles you slightly.

"Sort of. I can see the outline of your figure. You have spikey hair." You say. He hums in agreement. You see/hear him move closer and he takes your hand in his, they are surpizingly soft.

"Can you see yourself?" he asks somewhat quieter.

"No, only from what i can feel.." You face him and your empty eyes stare at him.

"Your eyes are (e/c)." he says. "And your hair is (h/c). Your cheeks are pink."

"I know all that. Ive been told." You laugh dryly. "Can we sit on the grass?" Bakugo hums, and brings you out of the sand. He sits down and you sit next to him, bodies touching.

"Why do you keep your eyes open if you cant see?" he asks.

"I guess just to seem a little more normal. Does it bother you?" you explain.

"No. I like your eyes." You smile to yourself. The boy beside you is completly different from the one you were sparring with at school, and yet its the same person.

"I like this soft side of you Bakugo." you say.

'Its only for you.' he thinks. You feel his hand drop yours and move to your cheek. He turns your head to face him.

"Can you see me?" he asks again. You nod your head. His facial features are more visible to you but still fuzzy.

"What color are your eyes?" you ask.

"Red."

"May I touch you?" He doesnt answer, so you clarify. "Your face i mean."

"Yes."

Your hands come up to his cheeks and you take in all his facial features with your hands. Touching people allows you to have a better sense of what the person looks like and you add this to your mental image of the boy.

Katsuki grabs your wrists stilling your movements and brings your hands back down to your lap.

"Now i can see you." you say.

He stares at you for a brief moment and closes your eyes gently. His hand rests back on your cheek.

"Good." is all he says before his lips are on yours.

[solastia]

Shadow Of You | 2

Pairing: Seokjin x Jungkook

Summary: Alpha Seokjin is sixteen when his best friend’s baby brother is born. When he finally gets to visit and meet the new baby Jungkook, he’s dismayed to discover the infant is his true mate. Or: Seokjin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Long Wait For His Mate.

Seokjin bounded down the stairs of his family’s entirely too large house with his backpack slung off one shoulder. His hair was still damp as he’d rushed through getting ready and his clothes were thrown on without a thought. He hadn’t even had enough time to finish up his homework this morning like he’d been hoping.

“Where do you think you’re going without breakfast?”

He grinned sheepishly at the old housekeeper as he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

“Sorry, Yeona. I’m going to be late as it is.”

She sighs and offers up an apple she had in her apron, obviously having expected such an answer.

“At least eat this. It should tide you over until your first break. And stop staying up so late. You look thin and ragged. Do I have to move in to make you behave?”

Seokjin chuckles, having heard the same threat since he was a young boy.

“But Yeona, I have to study well so I become a doctor someday and can steal you away!”

“Oh, off with you. Have a good day. I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight, alright?”

He cheekily saluted her and munched on the apple as he rushed to his car, finishing the fruit in just a few bites and throwing the core in a random bush for the gardener to find later. His poor stomach wasn’t happy with just a few bites of fruit, but hopefully, it would hold off until he had a chance to sneak off the grounds and get himself a real meal.

His phone was already rumbling with a barrage of messages, probably from Hoseok complaining that he’d had to walk to school since he’d never showed. He felt bad, but he’d hadn’t even been sure he was going to go to school today since he was just coming off of the most horrible rut in his life - never mind that it had only been his second.

After the life-changing visit to the Min household, Seokjin had rushed home, expecting to shut himself in his room to think about things. However, his body had decided to take matters into its own hands and he’d been horrified to feel himself going into his second rut - three months too early.

For once he’d been thrilled about the fact that Yeona had the weekends off and that his parents were at an event in Jeju. While it probably would have been safer to have someone around to check on him, he was glad he hadn’t had to explain why he was in so much agony. Why he refused to touch himself - instead curling up and sobbing as his body wracked with pain.

As someone who actually paid attention during his science classes due to his future career, he knew that it was simply his body's way of preparing itself since he’d found his mate. And since there was no mate around to sate him, his body increased its demands and he’d been forced to deal with high fevers, horrible cramping, and vomiting. He probably would have been able to reduce the severity with a couple rounds with his own hand, but it felt horribly wrong considering what had triggered it in the first place.

Jin drives with the radio off for once, the silence forcing him to finally think about his situation. And the honest to God truth was that he had no idea what to do. He’d never heard of anything like this happening before. He didn’t even know how to start looking for the information he needed.  

When he was being realistic he’d always thought he’d never even find his true mate. It was becoming a rare thing for anyone these days. He’d pictured his life looking pretty much exactly like his fathers - marry someone his parents picked and work at the hospital until he was forced to retire. If he was lucky like them, he’d at least become friends with his mate and maybe pop out a pup before they start a life of celibacy (hopefully. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if his parents had others).

Now...what kind of life could he have, always being drawn to something he couldn’t have? Now that he’d scented his true mate, had skin to skin contact as he’d held him in his arms, his body was going to be thoroughly fucked.

The horrible ruts were just going to get worse for at least a couple of years before his body would finally accept the loss. His scent was going to spike enough that he’d probably have to start showering several times a day and practically smother himself in scent masking products.

Worst of all, if he decided to just move on with his life and let his parents assign him a mate, no bite would ever take. He could marry and produce pups just fine, but he’d never be able to officially mate anyone else in the traditional sense. That would be a big deal-breaker for a lot of people.

Even in this modern world, the wolf and their instincts were still held in high regard. Being married without being mated would be looked at as taboo by his family and their circle, right up there with him mating a beta or becoming a janitor.

Jin sighed as he pulled into the school’s parking lot and finds Yoongi standing there with his arms crossed, giving him no chance of escaping unless he drove off and skipped school entirely.

Jin was many things, but a total coward he was not.

He grabbed his bag and slid out of the car, pasting a grin in his face that he hoped would pass for authentic even under the shrewd eyes of Min Yoongi.

“My darling Yoongichi, were you waiting for me? Chivalry isn’t dead!” he says dramatically, heading straight for the school building and ignoring Yoongi’s grumbles as he tries to catch up to him.

“Don’t give me that. I’ve been trying to call you all weekend. What’s going on?”

Jin shrugs, going for nonchalance, even as that subtle fragrance clinging to his friend began to call to him. “I guess all the stress from school got to me. Went into rut early.”

“Really?” Yoongi clucks in sympathy. “That sucks. Wait...weren’t your parents gone? You spent your rut alone?”

Jin waves away his worry. “I was fine. Some mild cramping. Five packets of beef jerky and a few rounds with myself and my Kumi Koda poster and I’m good to go.”

“You’re gross,” Yoongi groans as he pushes past him to open the door to their first class, which happened to be together.

He was incredibly happy to slide into his first period for once, as that teacher was notorious for not allowing talking and making everyone turn in their phones before class. For now, he was free from any more questions and could simply focus on his shitty schoolwork in peace.

Until lunch, that was.

And when it came around, the nerves roiled in his gut but he sat in his usual spot anyway. He watched his friends quietly as they all settled in like a pack of hyenas on a sugar rush. Yoongi settles into the spot right across from him and Jin nearly groans because that scent is still on him. Understandable, considering. Was he ever going to be able to eat strawberries again without thinking about how fucked up his life was?

“What about you, hyung?”

He snapped to attention when Hoseok jabs him with his elbow. “What?”

“We are heading over to shoot hoops at the park then have dinner at Yoongi’s.”

“Oh, ah,” he stammers, scratching the back of his head as he searches for a way out. “I was going to work on my biology project. Really big deal. At least forty percent of my grade, you know?”

“You can do it there,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “Ma has been asking about you, and you know if you make her wait much longer she’ll kidnap you.”

And that was the heart of his dilemma because the Min household was basically his real home, and he longed to be there. Ached for the feeling of belonging and acceptance that the family gave him. But he also knew that all of it would fly away if they learned the truth.

“Besides,” Yoongi continues after swallowing his food (the only one of his friends that actually bothers to do that by the way), “She’s been really worried since last time. She said she had a feeling she knew what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell me. Like having a rut is something to be embarrassed about,” Yoongi scoffs.

Jin’s nerves went wild. Did she know? Mama Min knew? He supposed she had been closer to him at the time so she would have seen his eyes, and he had growled at her but...shit. He was so fucked. She only wanted him to come by so she could warn the destined pervert away from her son.

But...he supposed he should go. Just one last time. One last moment to soak in as much of that feeling of home as he could get before he was banished. And now that the initial imprinting and rut had passed, he’d even be able to look at him without losing his mind. So maybe he’d take the chance to apologize to Jungkook too because he was going to grow up longing for something he couldn’t understand and unable to bond properly all because fate had chosen poorly for him.

He sighed and pushed around the food on his plate. “I’ll go.”

“Great, hyung. Ma will be happy and stop blowing up my phone.” Yoongi smiled gummily at him.

That seemed to be the end of it, as they all went back to eating and talking over each other about video games. Listening to them made Jin feel ancient, despite the fact that just last week he had nothing better to talk about than video games himself.

The rest of the day went by much too quickly. All of his teachers seemed to be in great moods and willing to cut classes early or assign easy work, so there wasn’t much to keep Jin’s mind occupied. He declined to play basketball with the others afterward because he felt the overwhelming urge to go home and get prepared to go to the Min’s.

It wasn’t until he noticed that he was wearing Burberry from head to toe and had spent twenty minutes styling his hair that he realized he’d been primping for his mate. For an infant that would be more likely to vomit or piss on the outfit than admire the cut or pattern. He scoffed aloud, practically hating his wolf at that moment.

“Get used to disappointment, you bastard,” he muttered wryly.

Still the wolf wouldn’t settle. Jin drove with gritted teeth, wondering what his instincts were screaming at him to do now. It wasn’t until he passed a shopping center and he nearly crashed into someone trying to control his arm from turning the wheel that he understood. Shopping? Why the fuck did he want to go shopping?

The urge grew until stopping abruptly, letting Jin’s mind clear.

Oh! The bastard wanted to bring a courting gift. Not in this lifetime, buddy.

He breathed with mingled relief and wariness when he finally pulled into his usual spot at the Min household. He saw all the scooters and skateboards laying in the lawn that meant his friends were already here.

He gulped and climbed out of his car, walking towards the door with an odd sense of deja vu. It was just a few days ago where he made this same journey that changed his life forever.

He stared at the door, suddenly wondering what to do. Normally, he barged in like he had the right to...but did he any more?

The choice was taken from him when Yoongi flings the door open and scowls at him like he’d just grown three heads.

“Why the hell are you just standing there, weirdo? Come in already.”

“Yoongi, be nice!” Came the familiar command from the living room.

“Yes, Ma,” Yoongi grumbled as he closed the door behind Jin and waited for him to take his shoes off.

They walked together towards the living room as Jin tried to control his racing heart. He was so nervous but his wolf finally seemed content with that strawberries and cream scent filling his nose like a balm.

The moment they walked into the living room, Mama Min pierced him with a meaningful look. Then she turned and handed Jungkook to Hoseok.

“Take him into Yoongi’s room and you guys hang out in there for a bit. I just want to check on Jin without you guys hearing a bunch of embarrassing questions.”

They all chuckled, having dealt with the same concern after one of their own cycles. Jin eyed the bundle in Hoseok’s arms warily, both wanting to run from it and to protect it from Hoseok's too loose grip.

“Seokjin,” Mama Min said softly, bringing his attention back to her.

She was...crying? Was she going to kick him out right away then?

She held out her arms and thickened her scent, the comfort and reassurance she was exuding exactly what he’d needed.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

He keened and ran towards her arms, letting her pull him close. She rocked him as he finally cried for the first time since it happened. He could feel the wet droplets as she joined him.

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she crooned, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t do anything. I won’t do anything! I promise!” he cried hysterically, desperate to keep her from ever looking at him with disgust. “I can stay away from him, I will.”

“Oh, darling boy. I know you would never do anything you shouldn’t. I’m just sorry it’s like this,” she said softly, cradling his cheeks to make him look up at her. “I always knew that you were meant to be a part of this family, but this seems like such a high price to pay for it. I wish I could have had him sooner for you.”

“What do I do now?” he asked softly, sniffling.

She sighed and pet his cheek. “I don’t really know, Jinnie. I’ve never heard of this before. I suppose your parents don’t even know about this yet?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re not even home right now.”

Her eyebrow raised in shock. “But...Kim Seokjin! Did you just have a rut all alone in that mausoleum of a house?”

“Uh, yes? Yeona is off weekends and my parents were out of town so I had no choice. BUT! I didn’t do anything! I swear! I just slept a lot and I swear I didn’t think anything bad.”

He clutched at her as he swore, and her eyes softened even as they filled with more tears.

“Hush, sweet thing. This is an...odd and difficult situation, but I like to think I know you well enough to know you’re trying your best. I’m not going to automatically think you’re feeling...things...for an infant. If anything, your alpha should just be feeling super protective of him, and judging by the way you growled at me last time, I think it’s safe to say you are.”

He cleared his throat with embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

She waved it away. “It’s alright. You can’t help it.”

The conversation lulled to silence after a few moments, with him simply enjoying the way she was petting his hair.

“Mama Min?” he finally asked softly.

“Yes?”

“Should I...um...do you want me to stop coming by now?”

She sighed and tilted his chin up to face her.

“No. You are always welcome here, sweetheart. Always. I trust that not only will you be able to control yourself, but that I will be able to be a fair judge of whatever is going on.”

She waited until he nodded in acknowledgment. “However, if at any time it becomes too hard for you to be here, know that we understand and will love you no matter what you decide. If you think it’s better to stay away, that’s fine. I’ll still expect you to write, call, send a pigeon. Whatever. We won’t be upset if you decide to find a mate your own age and move on with your life. You deserve to. No one will judge you for not waiting for eighteen years for a mate. That’s unrealistic and unfair.”

He nods and looks down. “Does Yoongi know? He’ll be pissed.”

“Not yet. I’ll tell him tonight after you all leave. I think he’ll take it better one on one. But you know him. He’ll take the night to process it and then he’ll be angry at you for two days because you thought he’d get mad at you, not because of the situation.”

That much was true, he supposed.

“Alright,” she said with gusto, pecking him one last time on the head. “Go round the hooligans. Dinner will be done in a moment.”

He jumped up, feeling lighter than he had in days. His life still royally sucked, but at least for the time being he still had his home.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked the moment he flung open the bedroom door.

They were all gathered in a little circle in front of Yoongi’s bed, with Hoseok sitting on top of it. He was bouncing and singing something entirely inappropriate for a child.

“Yeah. It’s cool. Dinner’s almost done.”

“Finally!” Namjoon huffed, his stomach rumbling loudly to agree.

“Here!” Hoseok huffed and shoved the bundle towards him. Jin accepted it without thinking.

He looked down and locked eyes again with the creature that had so changed his life. His wolf quieted almost instantly, finally content to be in the general vicinity of its mate. The others shuffled out of the room and he barely noticed, so enthralled he was by the eyes blinking up at him. The baby was so quiet. Aren’t they supposed to be loud?

And...he supposed as far as infants went he was decent looking. Didn’t look like a potato like some infants he’d seen. His eyes were larger than the rest of the Min’s, and his nose seemed a bit longer. Maybe it was just a baby thing and he had to grow into himself.

All he knew was that he was very glad that all he scented was strawberries and pup, and it just made him protective. He didn’t feel any crazy urges or have bad thoughts - he simply wanted to make sure this pup was safe and happy.

Huh , he could live with that.

“Well, how’d I do?”

He looked up to find Mama Min watching him from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling softly.

“He’s only seven weeks old and already makes Yoongi look like a gremlin,” he scoffed playfully, standing up.

She laughs and holds out her arms. “He is a pretty one. Yoongi’s not so bad either when he sleeps more than four hours and showers.”

He hesitates, his wolf unwilling to release the pup now that he had it. But no, he was more than instincts. He thrust Jungkook towards her and pretended that his wolf wasn't howling against the loss.

Who else would he be safer with than his own mother, you bastard? He growled to himself.

When they gathered for dinner it was the usual chaos. Everyone was screaming and talking over each other, tons of laughter and teasing. Amazing food and even better friends.

Maybe I can keep this, he thought to himself. He smiled hopefully as he observed everyone he cared about sitting around him. Maybe things don’t have to change too much. Jungkook will just be another friend. Eventually. When he learns to talk that is. I can keep on with the plan.

Nothing will change.

[spookygrantaire]

Of Heroes and Thieves

Part 2!

I forgot to add warnings, which, just swearing, really.  Shitty accents and French. I should be writing this on my writing blog @jax-writes​ but I started it here, and here shall I finish it. But follow me over there. Eventually I’ll add this to my works on AO3 as well. 

It was her phone ringing that woke her up a few days later. She really, truly meant to stay for all of thirty seconds. It was supposed to be a ride. But they’d all (mostly Clint) convinced her to stay for a week. She was liking it here too much, truth be told. They were all so kind, and truly weren’t judgmental of her life as a thief. “We all have something dark in our pasts,” Natasha had told her. “Some things we don’t talk about except in therapy, and some we just don’t talk about at all. Either way, you’re not alone here, but frankly, you’re the most open one about it.” She didn’t see a need not to be open about everything here though. They all knew who she worked for, who her family was. And who was now after her. 

“Hello?” she answered, voice drowsy, not looking at the caller ID. 

“Chere, yo’ need to get back home,” a voice smooth as velvet responded on the other end. 

She swallowed and sat up. “Am I on trial?”

A pause. “Two days. I already know they talked down de Rippers. Yo’ won’ be turned inta de Assassins.” She could feel his eyeroll. 

“How did that happen?”

A deep sigh. “We’re moving up de wedding date in exchange fo’ yo’ to be dealt with by us only.”

“Oh, Remy,” she commiserated. He loved Belladonna, but she knew he wasn’t ready for a life with her. “I’m sorry.” 

“Chere, I t’ink. I t’ink yo’ might be gettin’ excommunicated.” His voice was sad, and she knew it was the better option to happen to her, but she still felt the shock and grief roll through her body. She could probably handle not being sent on jobs anymore; she could take it up anywhere since she already had a reputation built. But never being allowed back home again? Not to see her sister? She choked on a sob that woke up the man in bed next to her. 

“Babe?” he pulled her close, not understanding what was happening, but still knowing he was needed. 

She took a deep breath. “Two days from now? Do you know what time?” 

“Jus’ whenever you can get here. Yo’ in New York, oui? Yo’ drive, an’ it’ take yo’ twen’y hours give ‘r take.”

“Oui. I’ll head out in a bit. The heads up is just so I get goodbyes, isn’t it?”

A long pause. “We see yo’ when yo’ get here, Chere. Yo’ can bring someone wit’ yo’ inta de city, mais dey can’ come near de home. Pere said since yo’ famille.”

She nodded before saying her goodbye and disconnecting the call. Tears rolled down her face as she looked at Clint. “Will you go with me?”

“Anywhere, any time.”

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

An hour later, the team was gathered around to say goodbye. “You know for sure it's just an excommunication, and not worse?” Peter asked.

She shook her head. “But I doubt they’d have let me bring Clint if it was a death sentence.” With that, she slung her bag over her shoulder and looked at Clint. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Clint nodded. “You sure you don’t want to take a jet?”

She shook her head once more, as she began heading toward the door. “No, I need the drive to calm myself some. We ain’t taking any back roads though. I don’t trust Marius Boudreaux to not send anyone after me. He just wouldn’t on the highways since it’s too many witnesses.”

“Would he really risk it? Going against your side?” Clint asked, turning to wave at the team once more before the pair exited. 

She shrugged. “I suppose, realistically no, what with the two Guilds trying to form an alliance. They’re moving up Remy and Belle’s wedding date because of this. I expect it’ll be next week at the latest. More than likely this weekend. Wonder how Julien is gonna take that,” she cringed as she moved to the driver’s side of the SUV. Clint sighed and handed her the keys before moving to get in on the passenger side. “You pick the tunes?” she offered. 

“Deal.” And with that, they left the compound, a long drive ahead of them. 

It was eighteen hours later, and they were finally in the state. They’d taken turns driving so they could take turns sleeping. When they were just outside the state they took a bit of a break to stretch their legs and have a little picnic at a park they found. “We’re not gonna be able to stay the night in the city after the trial, and I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I’d love to show you around. But what I’m saying I guess is we’ll need to leave the state before we can get a motel and sleep off some of this trip.”

“That’s fine, babe. You can show me a couple things on the way at least. And grab all the pictures you can. And I was thinking.”

“Hmm?” she looked up from her chips, meeting his eyes. 

“After we call the team to update them--we have to or they’re gonna fly down here and fight everyone--we could do a sort of road trip.”

“A road trip?” she smiled. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use a vacation. We could see the sights between here and the compound. Maybe peek at the Smokey Mountains. I hear North Carolina is nice this time of year.”

“I know a spot in Asheville,” she shrugged. “Sure. I’m in. I won’t even steal anything on the way,” she crossed her heart. 

Clint chuckled. “Don’t lie, babe. It’s habitual for you right now. It’ll take a long time to get out of your system if it ever does. That’s fine, well not fine, but I understand. I’m here for you. And I’ve been there.”

“You a secret professional thief for a huge crime syndicate too?” she smirked.

“It was a carnival, but close enough,” he smirked. 

At that, her eyes widened and she choked on her drink. “Seriously?” she coughed. “That was not in your file.”

“Fury erased it when I joined up. Just in case.”

“Huh. You’re full of surprises, Clint Barton,” she said before standing. Let’s go. We’ll make it to the city by ten and you can roam the Quarter while I. Say goodbye, I guess. It’s one big party down there, so have a drink or four for me. Don’t meet any girls I won’t think are pretty.”

He laughed. “I’m a one woman man, babe. You’re pretty stuck with me, I’d say.”

“Yeah?” she glanced at him as she slid behind the wheel once more. “Not like we’ve actually talked about it. You still don’t know a lot about me. I still don’t know a lot about you.”

“That’s why it’s the getting to know each other phase, babe. But I’ve been hooked since day one. Good luck getting rid of me.”

She smiled and kissed him before they set off. There was still that feeling of dread in her stomach, but he was doing a good job of making her feel a little lighter. She just hoped her sentence was what she thought it was; she didn’t want to break Clint’s heart.