#this will either be an easy fix or will seriously screw me over

[techmomma]

Oh! In addition to the charging station being down, my phone might be kaput!

Y'know what you need to find (and usually USE) other charging stations? A phone! With an online map! Because finding a new fucking charging station is a reverse russian roulette, where most of the chambers suck and only one out of so many won't kill you!

You know what you can't do when you're low on charge? Go driving around, wasting your charge trying to find a different station to charge at! Because if my car fully loses charge while I'm out on the road, then I gotta call a towtruck! Those ain't cheap!

The best analogy for gas cars is imagine you have a car that can hold about 10 miles of gas. It sucks, but so long as there's a gas station, it's fine. It's special gas that's about .10/gallon so who cares.

Your car needs a specific kind of nozzle to fill your tank. Not every gas station has your nozzle!

In theory, there's about 12 different gas stations every couple of miles. Great!

The reality is 11 of those 12 gas stations don't work. They're broken, they're shut down, they've been decomissioned, and sure, there is an app that can tell you, but has the station been updated in the app? No! So generally, you won't know which ones do and don't work, until you get there! (On your limited amount of gas, as a reminder.)

So, really, on your ten-mile tank, you have... like 2 gas stations that you can go to. Within 10 miles.

And for one of them, it means sitting in their parking lot for 2 hours.

Now the good news is you found a gas station within walking distance of your house. It's a 2-hour station, but since it's within walking distance, you can park your car, go home and hang out for 2 hours, and then go grab your car. Not ideal, but it works.

Today though, that gas station is down. You have no idea when it'll be back up. Maybe it'll be back up today! Maybe a week from now! Maybe the gas company will decide it doesn't care and will just leave it broken forever! Who knows~ But it's down and you've got about 2 or 3 miles in your gas tank left. Do you want to risk wasting those 2 or 3 miles you have left in your tank trying to find a station that works?

And all of these gas stations are moving to solely paying by phone. One of them might take card! Hope it's one that works!

So you need your phone to pay for gas. Your phone that is currently, probably dead and probably needs to be replaced.

So uh. Hey. If you have some money to spare. I might need some to buy a new phone. So. If you want to throw anything my way, I have a paypal. If you would like to toss some monies my way for the inevitable phone replacement I am going to have to make. And loss of income for today because I can't go to work today.

[couldyouimagine-that]

ANON FROM BEFORE THAT'S PART 2 OF "I'M SO SORRY" THE GABRIEL/LUCIFER FIGHT FIC SORRY I KNOW THAT WAS CONFUSING BUT THANKSS ILY BYE

I'm So Sorry, Pt. 2

It's here!! Anon I cannot believe how long this took me to write, but here we go! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, I hope you like this next part and it was worth the wait!

Genre; angst, a bit of hurt/comfort at the start, action, no real apology from Lucifer but did you expect one??

Word count; 2.3k

Warnings; mentions of canon typical violence, Lucifer's failed attempts at apologizing, arguing (largely happy ending though!)

Pairing; Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader, Gabriel (Supernatural) x Reader

Masterlist

-

Lucifer waited to talk to you until you were alone. Gabriel was still in the bunker somewhere, but you had made your way to the kitchen as an alternative to your room or the library. Thinking you were alone, you gasped sharply when you turned around to find Lucifer had materialized behind you. He had to have returned at some point during the night, likely whilst you were with Gabriel. The other archangel had no doubt sensed his brother’s presence, but you were glad he hadn’t told you. It had given you enough of a reprieve to recover from everything, though you noted that Gabriel hadn’t cared enough to check in on Lucifer either.

Your heart pounded and you breathed heavily for a moment while you regained your bearings. Lucifer raised his open hands in what was meant to be a calming gesture, wearing the half smile you had come to realise he only gave to you. He looked less certain of himself now, though. His posture reflected the same relaxed confidence as always, but he clearly wasn’t sure how you were going to react to him. Your mind turned that observation over for a moment – it meant he cared what you thought.

“Hey, easy now,” he murmured, conspicuously not moving any closer to you. ��Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

There were a series of comments you wanted to snap back with, each along the lines of that didn’t matter to you before, but you held your tongue. Unlike during your last conversation, the lack of humanity in the being you were speaking to was at the forefront of your mind. You also couldn’t ignore that he had bothered to seek you out at all. It didn’t excuse what he had done, but you suspected you were the only human to whom he had ever given that courtesy. Even if his presence did set your nerves alight with apprehension, you knew it was a courtesy you couldn’t appear to throw back in his face. You muttered something about it not mattering.

“See my brother fixed your arm,” he offered, trying for a broader smile that you couldn’t find the will to reciprocate. “Unless Cassie decided to drop by.”

“No, he didn’t.”

You swallowed, casting about for something else to say and coming up empty. You were sure that had come out harsher than you meant it to but you couldn’t find a way to soften it. An uncomfortable wave of heat rolled through you as the silence stretched. You thought rapidly with no success in constructing even a single sentence, but it seemed Lucifer wanted to disrupt the moment as much as you did.

“Look, can we go somewhere? Just for a minute. It’s so stuffy in here!” He the last part in a silly voice to try and make you laugh, but you were too worried about what going somewhere meant for it to have any effect. He cut you off before you could refuse him outright. “Not too far away, just outside somewhere. I’m not gonna – I won’t hurt you.” His pause said he knew his words would carry very little weight. You floundered for a reason not to go which didn’t involve outright admitting you were scared of him. He sighed heavily at your continued silence, eyes closing for just a moment. “Fine, stay here. I get it, alright? I screwed up. I didn’t mean to hurt you; I just needed some time to think. You happened to be in the way of that.”

“Is that seriously your apology?” You snarled out before you even knew what you were going to say. Lucifer simply blinked, for a moment as surprised as you were at yourself. Oh well, you thought, you were committed now. You steeled yourself and soldiered on. “You snapped my wrist like it was nothing and I had no idea what you were going to do next, or what would have happened if…” Lucifer scoffed disparagingly as you trailed off.

“If you hadn’t called in my little bro to save you?”

“Yes. Because without an archangel blade, I couldn’t save myself. I never thought you’d put me in a position where I needed one.”

You said the last part quietly, more as a thought you were voicing aloud, but that seemed to be what got Lucifer’s attention. Whatever he was going to snap out next died on his tongue, leaving him staring at you as your words churned in his mind.

“You thought I was gonna kill you.” You heard Gabriel’s voice in your head: he could’ve killed you – no, actually I’d say he was going to kill you. The memory played out before you like it was on a movie screen. The fury in Lucifer’s eyes, in his stance. The pure power rolling off him, channelled into searing angelic light so bright it threw his wings onto the wall behind him in shadow. The way his scream rang through your ears and how you failed again and again to draw breath. A phantom fear clawed at your chest. Maybe Gabriel was right.

“Were you not?” He drew his chin up as if he saw a challenge in your words, eyes flashing, but you didn’t give him time to speak. “Why would killing me matter to you? Sure, the Winchesters would give you hell for it, Gabriel might get a little upset. But really, what’s one more human after the thousands you’ve killed-”

“You’re not one more human you’re you,” he hissed, suddenly right in front of you instead of across the room. His gaze bore into yours like he was trying to will you to understand. “If you were, why in Dad’s name would I be here with you right now?” Yet again, you were left looking for something to say. Lucifer sighed heavily and stared past you for a moment, but the silence was quickly broken.

“Hey, Luci.” You both spun to see Gabriel leaning against the doorframe, trademark smirk firmly in place. “You recovered from last night?” Lucifer tilted his head and grinned in a way that was more a baring of teeth.

“Are you?” He asked slowly. You swallowed, watching them both carefully. Lucifer had lowered his voice, the question loosely masking a threat and likely a whole host of other things related to whatever happened between them whilst you were alone in the bunker. Your heart leapt into your throat when you realised the two archangels were between you and your only way out. Lucifer took a deceptively casual step forward as Gabriel turned his shoulders to face his brother head on. Not good. You took a deep breath and hoped desperately that you weren’t about to make a huge mistake.

“Enough!”

You ignored how much danger you were in and instead tried to act how you would if you were diffusing a fight between two humans. You put yourself firmly between them, one arm reached out in either direction as if you would have any chance at holding either one back. To say the pair were surprised would be an understatement. It did the job though – all eyes on you as they say. You were sure your hands were trembling visibly.

“Please just stop, both of you. This is exactly how I got hurt in the first place.” No one answered, so you sighed deeply and decided to do it yourself. “I get that you both have a very long and complicated history, to the point where I could probably never even understand it, let alone try to fix it. And I’m not trying to. But this is a small building with a lot of people in it and as long as you both stay here, we need to come up with some way for you to rub along that doesn’t involve constant fighting. It doesn’t have to be forgiveness – hell, if the only way you two can tolerate each other is by not speaking at all, that would be better than this.”

Lucifer stared back at you with all the defiance you would expect from him, but Gabriel dropped his gaze off to one side. He looked like he was going to apologise, but Lucifer laughed, loud and harsh and mocking, before he had the chance.

“You won’t listen to your own brother, but you’ll roll over for a human. Really Gabriel, I had no idea this was what you’d become.”

For some reason, that cut you deeper than anything else Lucifer had ever said or done to you. The ache in your chest was like losing a friend, though this was so far from that, and you found it took a moment for his words to really sink in.

“I thought I wasn’t just one more human to you,” you hissed quietly. You couldn’t get your voice to go any louder. Lucifer immediately went to defend himself, but you’d had enough. “Don’t bother,” you muttered, hurt and wanting nothing more than to leave the room and have time to think. Naturally, Lucifer refused to give you the chance.

His hand curled around your wrist like a vice and he hauled you back around to face him before you got anywhere near the door. The low, warning tone with which Gabriel said his brother’s name had little effect, nor did your efforts to snatch your hand back.

“I think you’re forgetting who you’re speaking to.” Lucifer's voice was unsettlingly quiet, making a chill run down your spine and almost triggering some primal fight or flight response in the old, animal part of your brain. But you got your breathing under control and stopped struggling - he could do you harm whether he was close to you or not, after all.

“Lucifer-”

What you could only describe as an earth-shattering boom drowned out whatever he had been going to say. Twin shouting followed, challenging and defensive even if you couldn't make out the words, and you tore from Lucifer's grip without another word.

Gabriel failed to catch you as you bolted past him and toward the bunker's library, snatching up an angel blade you had left on a small table on your way past. The sight that greeted for you was sadly commonplace, though how the being that was setting off the bunker's alarms had managed to take out Sam, Dean and Castiel in one hit was a mystery to you. You skidded to a halt, watching Castiel take a defensive glance between it and the Winchesters, though blood was running from his vessel's nose. Dean was closest to you and seemed to be gathering himself faster than Sam, so you went to him to find out what the hell was going on.

"It's a nephilim," he ground out, leaning on you heavily for support as he got back to his feet. "Damn powerful one too. Cas is doing his best, but..." A shared glance over at the angel told you how well he was doing.

"And it wants us dead," you confirmed, only to be shot down with a look that said why do you even need to ask. "Right." Three seconds ticked past as you thought rapidly and decided on a plan of action. “You get Sam, I’ll get our resident archangels.” Dean raised a brow at your certainty.

“You really think they’ll help?”

You just dropped him a wink – you knew what to say to get them on board.

Lucifer and Gabriel had all but strolled out of the kitchen to investigate the commotion. You ran up to them, only to almost get hit in the head by a piece of flying debris. It disappeared at the last minute with a snap of Lucifer’s fingers and you were almost annoyed that you didn’t have time to address it.

“I need your help.” The intensity of the both of them staring you down was almost enough to pin you to the spot, but you shook it off. “Come on, please. That thing is literally going to tear this place apart if we don’t stop it and you’re the only ones who can.”

So what if you batted your eyelashes a little?

Gabriel sprang into action immediately, but Lucifer followed close behind. He wasn’t going to let his brother steal the limelight. A second Gabriel appeared behind the nephilim, just out of reach, to distract it, whilst the real Gabriel and Lucifer worked in tandem to kill it. They fought together seamlessly, never once getting in each other’s way. You found yourself almost entranced. You had wondered more than once if there was so much animosity between the brothers because they had once been closer than they were willing to admit.

In seconds, the fight was over. Gabriel started hauling Cas to his feet and fixing both his and the Winchesters’ injuries. Lucifer passed a hand over a light gash on his shoulder, using a little grave to heal it. but he was walking over to you. You raised an eyebrow in question as he stopped right in front of you then leaned down to talk into your ear, quietly enough that no one else would hear.

“You don’t need me to tell you you’re not just one more human, not for a second time.” He clicked his tongue when you failed to come up with an answer quickly enough. “Can you at least find it within your cold, bitter soul to forgive me?” He sighed dramatically, stepping back far enough to drop his torso into half of what you would have considered a mock bow, had you not caught sight of Gabriel’s eyes almost popping out of his skull. You would have liked to remain stubborn about the whole thing. Hell, you still weren’t happy. But this was the literal devil and you knew you were not going to get a proper apology.

“I – yeah. I guess.”

Lucifer’s grin said that was good enough.

[melpomenismask]

Revati, The Messiah.

I’m going to give you a look from the outside in, because I get what you guys feel about Revati naks. We are also watching ourselves in real time. We are aware of how strange it all is, ourselves, our lives, the world around us. But when you already know how things will go, are not confused by the basic existential concept of cause and effect, what the hell are we supposed to do with this big, long, messy trap everyone else calls life? When you can understand everything you see—given you can see yourself—how do you even life a life without knowing every step you take is not your own, but a part of a dance that starts from the womb and ends when you never come back?

Oh, and, everyone thinks you’re either the second coming of christ, or that other guy who shows up when it’s time to get a bit more silly.

Welcome to the Revati conundrum. We hate it here too. That’s why we’re laughing through it. You just don’t get the joke. You think all this stuff matters still. Sorry to see it. Let me know when you’re ready to chill out.

I am a Revati sun AMK in the 12th house and it is time for me to cook 🤓. I love being a Revati. We are everything and nothing. We are simultaneously in and out of the loop. We are the loop. We are the bridge between “reality” and the true order of things. And then there’s all this other stuff. …Yay…so..cool…

Revatis are fundamentally esoteric. We are magical and zany, and we only have to open our eyes to use it. This is no easy task, of course, but it is the only one that matters. Everything else is just noise. But, the noise is fun. Sure. Until everyone takes it far too seriously like that’s all there is to being a person. Then you judge us. Then we’re suddenly crazy, bizzare, unhinged, dangerous. We’re just bearded kids playing in this big, weirdly realistic sandbox. We’re not thinking of you. That’s our power and our flaw. We’re not thinking of you, we’re thinking of everything. If you can grasp that axiom, you will decode us very easily. We love and care deeply—so deeply we have to laugh at how awful everything is. How cruel and selfish and heartless everyone seems, and how it could be fixed if we just followed the obvious guiding signs.

But that’s the thing. They’re not very obvious, are they?

Well then, maybe I should tell everyone what they are!

People think what you’re saying is crazy, and there’s no proof. Maybe we are crazy?

Oh.

Maybe I am crazy.

Maybe I can make it fun.

Revatis usually get no mind nor sympathy when we are young. We are too different and confusing to even try to work with, and we understand things most don’t, but we aren’t sure either, so when no one else gets it, what else can we do other than laugh at the confusion of it all. Because maybe then you’ll let us hang around. Join in.

Right?

Crazy, Crazy Revati!

We literally don’t know what we’re doing. That’s another thing. They sound like the same, but they aren’t. Is that already too confusing? Boo hoo, welcome to Revati. As a Revati, I was born into the world with the sense that there was something bigger than what was around me going on, but with no proof and no sense of where to find it. So I just screwed around instead, and then I found out everyone hates fun Revati. And, I didn’t get any less ignorant than before, but I sure did walk all over everyone in the process!

It’s fair to not be pleased.

Fun Revati is weird. Fun Revati is laughing at jokes that are definitely at your expense. Fun Revati does not care if you feel bad, because it’s not about you, it’s about how you and everything are just so hilarious. Imagine waking up everyday walking over two left feet in “reality”, but with a bunch of mysterious spiritual gifts and esoteric knowledge that is oddly making things work out for us. Most people do not understand Revati while carrying its energy, so understand they are likely confused too, but trying to find the sense of things. It’s when they don’t want to admit they are wrong or have harmed others that the problems start. We look for rules, but the only rules we ultimately get is to have fun. Make the world brighter, happier. Laugh at yourself. Laugh at the world. Enjoy the world, you learn more when you explore. Try not to hurt people in the process. And be sure to smile. Smile, because everything is so sad. Smile, because everyone is so sad and lost. But we know where to go. We’re being led.

…Well, kinda.

Mostly?

I feel like there’s someone else better qualified than me to give you wisdom. I’m just Crazy Revati, remember?

Why are you all looking at me all of the sudden?

Revati, The Wise One.

I find it interesting how the planets resonate as motivations for nakshatra behavior. For my own analysis, I like to point out that mercury is a small, fast planet. We are on the outskirts because we are light years ahead of everyone around us without trying, it’s just what we were given. The downside of that power is that we are light years ahead of everyone without trying. Mercury is smart. It knows it’s smart because no one can keep up. But it is so small and everyone picks on it for being so smart. So it gets bitter. Jealous. Resentful. Hurt. Scared.

Stronger.

Mercury never has to stop. That is our curse. We are constantly moving and making things happen. But what is actually worth making happen. Why are you moving so much? What the hell is going on?

Revati stops.

Revati listens.

Revati, with time and support (and patience) understands.

We are all born children, and we all enter the world as if it is an blank canvas as for our own lives. For most other planets this becomes clearly not the case, but Mercury is too fast. Reality can’t even keep up with us. We’re so smart. We’re so clever and brilliant. We’re on top of the world. We deserve it. We should take everything for ourselves. No one ever considered us, so we should take everything we can get. It ours. It’s owed. We deserve to take the world, and we can. It’s justice, not greed. Don’t you know what I’ve been through?

Hello, Jyestha. Dodging therapy sessions, I see.

When you master the game of life, when you can conquer the world like you can wag your pinky, then it’s not that important anymore, is it? Unfortunately Jyesthas don’t figure that out until they destroy all they build, but Revatis slow down sooner. We are still in conflict. We’re so fast we start slowing down. Nothing is ever in perfect order. Nothing is ever “clear”. But that is the clarity.

Everything is as it should be.

That is the truth Revati natives live by. We follow the flow of existence as beat we can. We try to help the world get in tune with it too, hence our humanitarian and nerdy streaks. We want to find a way to make everyone understand, because we can feel how much the ignorance hurts. We see it hurting innocents who only committed the crime of having bad luck, we see it fueling those that are the root of the cause. We try to laugh. But it’s not a laughing matter. And at a certain point, it’s just not funny anymore, and we have to slow down to fall in tune with how out of order yet in order everything is for our own sanity and sensitive hearts.

Still, we are ever misunderstood.

If we are not jesters or fools, we are gods. Messianic. Heroes. We don’t think of ourselves that way if we’re well-adjusted. That’s the opposite of the Revati way. There is no pride, no ego, no leaders, no hierarchy. There is simply Being. We focus too much as Revati as a mere fish, but fish are a part of the whole. You forget, the ocean is one big soul. You forget the ocean of existence, of all things. After you conquer reality, the only thing left is to understand it. And to reach true knowledge, you must leave yourself behind.

Ironically, it is by doing this that Revati natives finally get what they always wanted. To be able to help, to be able to understand, to know what they’re doing. We are tour guides—inexperienced, but just give us minute—to this whole funny game called life. It is at this point Mercury finally slows down and can join in with everyone else; share what it has learned and gathered from all that running instead of keeping it for ourselves.

(Seriously, Jyestha. Therapy. It’s painful to watch you guys make messes. Literally get over yourself and your problems will “magically” disappear. With love, it’s genuinely stupid behavior if you’re so smart. Get over it all and watch the light come in. Obviously not all of you, but the ones who got personally offended. Doesn’t it ever get boring, the same old victim mentality?)

When Revatis finally come into themselves, we are finally able to help everyone else smile about life too, because we know where to find hope, where to find love, where to find certainty (spoiler: there is none). We think it’s obvious until we finally slow down and open ourselves up to our bigger, slower friends. Mercury is clever, but not exactly smart. That’s a whole other ballgame. But it is wise once it finds its way to stop running, and just start riding the waves, because it can show everyone else how to do it too.

As long as you don’t turn us away, that is.

The “ocean” of life is big and wide, unfamiliar, unpredictable, and Revatis are born native to it. We are moved by the waves. We connect with our friends while we wiggle our little fish butts all over the sea, trying to learn as much as we can. When you are one with the sea, you no longer have to fight it to get what you want, where you need to go. It’s not easy for us either.

But we see you. We see how much more lost you are. It surprises us, but we are soft people. We see you, and we want to help. And when we are done, we can finally join the ocean in its grand design, and leave the need to smile behind. It seems harmless, I know. There are worse things to cling to. But when you have all heart and no clarity, when one thing hurts, everything hurts. And we can truly feel everything. We can find joy in it. Even gratitude. Even power. Even freedom.

But we no longer need joy when we are at peace.

That’s what this is all about in the end.

I think.

Maybe.

From a friend. :)

[techtired]

Top 5 Best 3 Point Slinger for Camera in 2024 

A photographer can use three significant methods to support their camera: a tripod, monopod, or beanbag. Though each has benefits and drawbacks, the one you choose will mostly depend on your tastes and the kind of photography you do. Landscape photographers may favor tripods with 3-point slingers for long exposure for camera stability. Conversely, sports and wildlife photographers sometimes favor monopods because they are quick to set up and easy to carry. Lastly, many photographers enjoy beanbags since they provide more freedom than either tripods or monopods and may be utilized in various circumstances. Assuming you take pictures, you most likely know about the "3 point slinger." This gadget helps your camera stay steady throughout a shot. It hooks your camera and has three ground-touch places to maintain your camera level and stability. Though they come in various shapes and sizes, all 3-point slingers help prevent camera shaking during picture capturing. If you take photography seriously, you should have a 3-point slinger among your essentials. Trust me; the change in the quality of your images will be remarkable! What Is A 3-Point Slinger For Cameras? More than merely a strap, a three-point slinger for cameras is an ergonomic fix meant to transfer the camera's weight over the body equally. This layout guarantees you never miss a photo by lowering strain and improving the access to your camera. Three-point slingers are a revelation for photographers who spend much time with their cameras, unlike conventional straps, which are sometimes uncomfortable and heavy. Top 05: We Tested All Those 3 Point Slinger for Camera A consistent and comfortable camera sling will make all the difference in getting the ideal shot when photographing or videographing. Choosing the correct one can be taxing, given the abundance of possibilities on the market. We have tested and looked over various 3-point slingers for cameras to simplify the choice. These slingers provide a distinctive and cozy approach to carrying your camera and maintaining its simple access while on the road. To assist you in choosing the sling that best fits your needs, our review will go over the features, advantages, and drawbacks of every one. So let's start the review and identify which three-point slinger most distinguishes from the others! Peak Design SL-BK-3 Slide Camera Sling The Peak Design SL-BK-3 Slide camera sling is perfect whether you choose long lenses or have a full-frame camera. After trying various straps, this one jumps out for its simplicity of adjustment, removal, and flexibility, enabling rapid changes to catch the ideal moment. It notably uses two short pull adjusters to enable a quick length modification technology, allowing you to change the length as necessary. It's flexible enough to carry two cameras and move between indoor and outdoor filming. There are three possible ways to utilize the strap: cross-body, around the neck, and on the shoulder. For every situation, it provides a quick-release and comfortable choice. Altura Camera Sling Another item providing a zipped compartment in the shoulder pad is the Altura 3-point slinger. Though small, you could squeeze some extra batteries in there. Its large rubber-backed plate lets it be fastened to the tripod screw. For peace of mind, there is also a safety strap. There is a decent range of tweaks here. One missing from the Altura is a locking carabiner to fasten the camera. USA GEAR TrueSHOT Camera Strap Designed to distribute the weight of your camera equally for extended use, the USA Gear TrueSHOT Camera Strap is a flexible and comfortable 3-point sling. Created from premium neoprene, it feels soft and cushioned. Waka Adjustable Camera Shoulder Sling A slight price nudge up adds even more elegance. The Waka camera strap features a tiny storage compartment in the wide cushioned shoulder strap. It is big enough for a spare memory card or lens cleaning cloth. The changeable straps link to a camera plate. The plate screws next to the tripod mount. It does, however, feature a tripod screw socket of its own. To use your tripod, there is no need to remove the sling or its mount. You even could leave your quick-release plate on. The Waka boasts a security strap as well. The clip that fastens the belt to the camera is not a locking carabiner on the downside. Foto&Tech DSLR Adjustable Padded Shoulder Sling Strap Not surprisingly, the Foto&Tech 3 point slinger is Claiming a 660 pounds (300 kg) rating, it will be robust enough for your camera. The safety strap locks with a carabiner made of locking material. This is a comforting aspect. The camera attachment is a basic screw-in eyelet on the downside. You, therefore, have to take it off to utilize a tripod. And the strap fast hooks to it. Not one locking carabiner exists here. Though there is no pocket, there is a pen clip. The correct photographer could find value in the Foto&Tech sling. Generally speaking, though, I believe this doesn't really measure up. Things To Remember While Buying 3 Point Slinger for Camera A 3-point slinger for your camera will help stop it from swinging about when not in use. This comes from adding the underarm strap. The slinger is ideal for sports since it is far safer than a basic camera strap. The slinger's extended length lets you set the camera behind your back, even when unused. Once more, it is perfect for athletic pursuits. Many bikers find a 3-point slinger to be quite helpful. Of course, your camera is always within easy reach, even with all the additional security. This implies you should not waste time wondering when to grab a rapid shot. Conclusion Though every 3-point slinger for the camera on this website is excellent, our preferred is the BlackRapid Sport Camera Sling. Many reviews state that carrying hefty cameras is comfortable, precisely what a well-crafted strap should accomplish. FAQs How Would One Wear a Three-Point Slinger? The strap of a three-point slinger spans your shoulder. This looks rather like a conventional shoulder camera strap. But beneath your arm will be an extra security strap called the underarm strap. How would one attach a camera to the three-point slinger? You fasten the camera somewhat in the same manner that you would a tripod. On the bottom of your camera will be a 1/4" - 20 screw hole. The bolt in the three-point slinger will screw straight into that. How Different Are Three-Point Slingers From Standard Camera Straps? When you are not using your camera, they help to keep it free from obstruction and are far more secure. Read the full article

[purplemoonabove]

Thank GOD I’m not the only one on this issue.

Like, seriously? So caught up with the future reunion you don’t even focus on the reality weighting at their shoulders? If Crowley didn’t forgive God, how Aziraphale any different from Her?

Because they are friends?

Because they shared 6000 years of history together?

Because Aziraphale loves him the same way.

Are you even aware that the rejection is an infinite times worse than Crowley’s fall because of how close they are? The moment Crowley attempts to speak of his feelings again after so long, he gets immediately shut down. By Heaven. Again. And everyone believes that “their love will make that pain go away the moment they see each other again”…

…

The amount of angst I am BEGGING Neil to do for season 3.

On Aziraphale for his own actions. And to the people, thinking forgiveness is an easy concept to grasp in a second chance.

My god, Crowley just doesn’t get a break, doesn’t he? His actions speak louder than words – but that’s because he spent his entire existence as a demon hiding how he actually feels in worries of a repeat in history, whether from Heaven or Hell. He has done so many things for Aziraphale while shutting down the idea of sharing emotions, not realizing how much he was in love with him until someone tells him truthfully from a human that is fully aware of empathy, and not as a mockery from supernatural beings who clearly don’t. He takes the brave step in telling Aziraphale in expressing his feelings for the first time in centuries, showing how much he trusts the angel in understanding how he feels due to how mindful Aziraphale can be.

Only for Heaven to kick him off to a second fall. And Aziraphale was the cause of it without even realizing it.

We know they have feelings for each other. They don’t; everyone else can see it but them, humans seeing it better than Heaven or Hell. But their communications in expressing feelings are so shut down, it is literally impossible for them to express without worry of either side screwing them more than usual.

This is not a fanfiction story brought to life on a streaming site. It’s a story with real feelings and complications in a best friends-to-lovers relationship.

This is the example of their lives mixed with ours! It’s not easy and it never should be so damn easy! The feelings and actions are real to them as they are to us! Forgiveness is hard, especially when going through a terrible heartbreak – more than once!

I respect people’s own thoughts and choices, but the fact that so many people wants to focus on an easy fix-up than to go through the long angst waiting line that eventually reaches to the end towards respected and well-communicated happiness is really beginning to bug me. I would be on the fix-up more if I was younger, not an adult with my mind open as my eyes. It doesn’t help when seeing fanart, and the style is too cute to be annoyed over… I got fanfiction for that, and they satisfy me on what I hope for in the upcoming season: Aziraphale realizing the consequences of his actions and how Crowley needs to treat himself better on speaking his own thoughts out and setting boundaries as mentioned in the reblogged post.

Literally, Crowley has done SO MUCH since the beginning of time — Man makes a star factory and it doesn’t even get justice when its planned to be shut down in a number of years. Not. Cool. He did so many things that not only helped humans, but also Aziraphale. Disregard the friendship, and Aziraphale holds more debt to return to Crowley.

Did everyone forget Crowley froze time ON SATAN, HIS BOSS, for the angel?!

And Crowley is the one that should forgive Aziraphale so easily?!

Like, WHAT THE FREAKING HELL?!!

Okay, my point is that people need to wake up in this story. This is not a fanfiction where every bit of pain can be easily healed by love. Life doesn’t work that way, and thank God Neil isn’t following that direction in this story regardless the main leads being human-shaped creatures.

Their lack of communication has them screw up each other. However, it can also lead to a point where Aziraphale can finally realize his actions leads to consequences he cannot keep hidden or have Crowley fix willingly for him – especially on this matter. As well for Crowley to finally give himself self-respect, not follow the angel anymore, and set boundaries to give himself a moment to breathe and live to make himself happy for once. We still got that whole “Second Coming” business to deal with, but that’s up to the plot as it handles that and the main pair and everyone else that will be a part of this finishing storyline.

Seriously. I want these two together again, but I rather deal with massive moments of angst than to skip the line and head straight towards the happy ending without a sense of empathy expressed to have the closure done properly

"crowley would immediately forgive him"

"crowley will just immediately take him back"

"crowley would never be angry at him. he will just go on like before"

you—you do know that's bad right? you DO know all of those are bad. right???

any options that do not involve crowley actually getting to express his emotions in a healthy way and set boundaries with aziraphale are not. good. they're deeply unhealthy and if they want to get somewhere they need to STOP doing that kinda shit. it's how they ended up where they did in the first place.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing viii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 1, 964

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“I can’t believe this!” Jeonghan puffs while he drops his belongings loudly onto the table in the study lounge, causing a few other students to turn and glare.

“Would it kill you to be quiet?” Jungkook grumbles, picking at the edge of the paper of his textbook, eyes never straying away from the content of the page.

“No. I will not be quiet because I thought football bros were bros for life!” Jeonghan whines.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “You know that’s kind of concerning when you put it that way.”

Jeonghan simply waves the other boy off before he leans forward as if he has something important he has to say. Jungkook knew him well enough to know that it would either waste Jungkook’s precious study time or be something so out of the ordinary that he can’t help but be intrigued.

Jungkook shrugged and takes the chance, anyway.

“Namjoon bailed.” He deadpans. “Again!”

Jungkook stiffens ever so slightly but feigns disinterest with a noncommittal hum.

“Really.”

Jeonghan nods his head, or shook his head—it was hard to tell because he was all over the place and he seemed more displeased than anything.

“I never thought we’d lose our own captain to a girl.” He sniffs.

Jungkook sighs, already done with the conversation because somehow no one can ever mention Namjoon without mentioning you now, apparently because the two of you were hanging out much more frequently. He’s bitter. And he’s confused—because he’s attempted patching things up with you but you only would ever reply to him with curt responses than the enthusiastic ones you used to flatter him with.

JK: hey. there’s a new cafe outside of campus. U wanna go?

Smarty Pants 🐰: Im busy. Next time? :)

JK: are u free tonight?

JK: im heading to the library later. wanna meet up for some ramen first? On me!!!

Smarty Pants 🐰: sorry jungkook, meeting w administrators for pastoral care matters

Smarty Pants 🐰: Do you need help with the content?

JK: oh… it’s fine, just wanted to hang out with you. We haven’t done that in a while

JK: jimin said u finally have some free time next week? Let’s catch up! i’ll treat u to some banana bread :D

Smarty Pants 🐰: i have plans with joon. which day were you thinking?

JK: Anytime. When are you meeting hyung?

Smarty Pants 🐰: we kind of have plans every day, here and there. could I get back to you?

And that was it. The blow that Jungkook knew he deserved but couldn’t deal with. You had tried your best to avoid any personal interaction with Jungkook and he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

“They’re kind of perfect for each other, don’t you think?” Jeonghan interrupts Jungkook’s sour mood when he recalls all his failed attempts at trying to meet with you personally.

Jungkook blinks then furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Joon and your friend _____.” He knocks on the table. “Bunch of nerds together.” He adds with a snicker.

Jungkook stiffens, hands clutching his textbook tighter.

“You say that like there’s something wrong with being a nerd.” He says slowly.

“There isn’t. Really.” Jeonghan defends. “It’s just so … fitting. Captain of the football team who’s lowkey a softie and an art nerd with the overachiever on campus. Their IQ’s combined are probably in the 300 range.”

Jungkook scowls.

“Haven’t you heard of the phrase ‘opposites attract’?” Jungkook asks sourly.

Jeonghan scoffs. “Yeah. Like you actually believe in that cliche phrase. Come on—we all know you’re likely to end up with someone who’s more like you than different.”

The insinuation doesn’t sit well with Jungkook, but he can’t chew Jeonghan out for it anyway. He didn’t know the nature of your friendship with him, nor was he aware of the history the two of you shared.

“Never say never.” Jungkook shrugs.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before taking out his laptop and settling into a comfortable position.

“I think he’s going to ask her to be his girlfriend soon.” He says off-handedly as if he assumed Jungkook gave a shit.

He did, and his heart drops to his stomach.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls out when he spots you slip past him at the foyer outside the humanities building.

You twirl around at the sound of your name being called, and your eyes widen when you spot Jungkook walking towards you with furrowed brows.

“J-Jungkook?”

Why you sounded so scared to see him, he wasn’t sure. But he knows that he’s frustrated because it’s the first time he’s seen you after the game where you and Namjoon left to hang out at the exhibition, despite his desperate attempts at calling you out to hang out with him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Jungkook frowns, cutting straight to the chase.

You splutter for a response, and you realise that you’re basically gaping at him when you clutch your folders tighter to your chest.

“I’ve been busy, Jungkook. I told you this.” You softly remind him.

Jungkook scoffs, and he feels his mean bone grow; feeling the need to correct you because you were smart—and both of you knew that your excuse was lame.

“Really?” He says dryly. “Too busy to hang out with me but not with Namjoon?” He can’t help how bitter he sounds, especially when he’s heard from the rest of the football members; including Jimin and Taehyung that you were spending a suspicious amount of time with the captain.

You furrow your brows at him when Jungkook stares you down, waiting for a response.

“That doesn’t change the fact I was busy.” You huff.

Jungkook frowns at you, clutching his backpack tighter with his hand as he notices the way you avoid his eyes by dropping them to the ground.

“Why are you being like this?” Jungkook accuses, tone already on the offensive.

You gape up at the boy, brows scrunched in displeasure.

“Me? I’m not being anything. I told you that I was busy and we would rain check, didn’t I?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek, frustration pooling in his stomach. “Somehow you’re only busy whenever I want to hang out, right?” He scoffs sarcastically. “I thought we were good.”

You stiffen, knuckles turning white when you grip your belongings harder.

“We are.” You say curtly.

“No, we’re not.” Jungkook retorts. “If we were then you wouldn’t need to find shitty excuses to get out of hanging out with me.”

You open your mouth, then close it. You feel yourself grow more exasperated with Jungkook the more he can’t realise the fact that you were still finding a way to navigate the throes of your relationship with him.

“They were not shitty excuses.” You snap. “Listen, we can meet tomorrow for coffee if you really—”

“That’s not what this is about!” Jungkook exasperates, breathing out in a huff.

You purse your lips. “Then what is it, Jungkook? You came up to me and started accusing me of lying to you because I couldn’t meet up at the times you proposed.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw when he notices the way your voice gets increasingly sterner when you talk to him. It only reminds him of the way you used to chastise him when he was younger when he’d do something that was ‘immature’ but standard for a teenaged boy.

“I apologised!” He cries. “I’m sorry I was a dick before this but I’m really trying to fix things between us but you’re—”

“I’m what, Jungkook?” You interject with a frown. “I’m doing my best at healing?” You add softly. “An apology won’t erase what happened.”

Jungkook feels himself deflate, especially at the way your eyes dart away when he attempts to look into them.

“I know it won’t but I just want things to go back to normal.” He sighs.

You screw your eyes shut, finding the words to say before you look at him with such sad eyes that he nearly pulls you close just to comfort you so that he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact that it was his fault.

“It’s not that easy.” You whisper, gripping at the hem of your sleeves. “It may be for you but it’s not the same for me.”

Jungkook releases a sigh so loud that your eyes widen, as he attempts to think of something better to say—to offer.

“I really am sorry.” He lamely apologises, his voice sounding a lot like a scolded child.

“I know.” You nod. “But you don’t know how it feels to have …” You swallow. “Whatever. We’re good. I just need time, Jungkook.”

Jungkook furrows his brows when you turn away to stalk off, but he grabs at your elbow to turn your body to face him. Your eyes briefly make contact with the way he’s gently holding onto you before they tilt up to meet his confused gaze.

“How it feels to have what?” He pries.

You sigh, shaking off his grip. “Look. It doesn’t matter. I’m being sensitive.” You deprecate immediately.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the spite in your tone, especially when you say it so firmly and seriously when you dismiss him.

“I want to fix this—us.” He pleads desperately. “Why can’t you just be honest with me?”

As if his words set you off, your eyes snap up and blaze with the pent up fury and anger you’ve been suppressing the entire time.

“Me? Be honest with you?” You scoff. “Real fucking funny. Because when I was honest with you, you turned it on me and took advantage of my vulnerability.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “What—?”

“You want honest?” You fume. “Fine. I’ll give you honest but you better listen closely this time because I won’t be repeating myself again.” You poke into his chest, even if it’s fierce and stern, he feels the heartache pouring through. “You were my best friend, Jungkook. You were and are someone important to me and you fucked me over because you knew I couldn’t say no to you. You knew how I felt and you took advantage of that fact just so you could get what you wanted and go.”

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, confused at the information you were throwing at him.

“How you felt—?”

You cut him off again with a huff. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know. Why else did you think I did all the shit you wanted?”

“I-I don’t understand.” Jungkook stutters, head caught in a loop when you glare at him harder.

“You knew every bit of insecurity that I had and you weaponised that against me just so you could keep me close.” You say softly. “You knew, either way, I would’ve stayed because I’ve always been there, Jungkook.”

“You’re confusing me.” He deadpans, grabbing onto your shoulders so you were forced to stare at him.

He notices the glistening of your eyes as he feels his heart constrict when he realises you’re trying your best to keep your tears at bay.

“Well, you did it first so it’s only fair.” You sniffle. “You can act like shits fine because you weren’t the one who was attached. I was. So just let me have this time to myself to figure things out because I can’t even be around you without being sad, Jungkook.” You whimper.

He calls for your name but you're already furiously rubbing at your eyes as you curse under your breath as you spin on your heels to hurry away.

Jungkook gapes at you as he attempts to process what you just said, but before he can get another word in—you're leaving him to feel the weight of your words in the footsteps that draw further and further away.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts:

Epilogue:

--/--

6 Months Later

“Stop- Katsuki, stop it!” You huff a frustrated sigh, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Why can’t you just sit still?”

“Because this is takin’ too goddamn long! Waste of fuckin’ minutes.”

“Well this is important to me, so you’re gonna sit back and shut up and-“ You nearly scream when he shifts again, almost dislodging the measuring tape you’d wrapped around his wrist. “Sit still! Jesus, angry man, it’ll literally take two seconds if you just stop fighting me!”

He grumbles, something low and petulant under his breath, but then falls back against the couch fully. Bakugou finally relents, hand going slack in your hold as he shuts his eyes.

You were gonna kill him, no seriously, you were gonna murder him. He was being so difficult, way more difficult than usual, and you had a sneaking suspiscion it was because he was tired- because, as you’d quickly found out, from only a few months of dating, Katsuki was an absolute toddler about sleep. You’d come to understand that him being tired led to him being cranky, and him being cranky led to him being so goddamn annoying and combative that it made you want to tear your hair out.

He was lucky you loved him so much- not that you told him that yet.

You’d known you loved him for months now, could feel it the way your body heated if you thought of him, the way your blood sang if you so much as heard his name. It was a full body sensation for you- the way you loved him. There was just no escaping it; no escaping the way he’d carved himself a spot in every single part of you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, didn’t even want to try- but you couldn’t tell him so.

Every time you’d tried you were tongue-tied and stuttering and red in the face. The words were thick in your mouth, clogging up the back of your throat. You just couldn’t figure out how to say them; no matter how many times you’d tried. 

You flip his arm over, measuring the space between his thumb and his wrist. You’re trying to be delicate and gentle, but truthfully you really just wanted to get this done quickly.

With the deadline for your last college project quickly approaching, you’d spent the last few weeks doing nothing but devoting all your time and losing sleep over it. It seemed like no matter what support item you’d devised, it didn’t seem perfect- didn’t seem inspired enough to turn in for your final grade. So you dedicated yourself to watching clips and looked at hero rankings and pretty much sacrificed your social life entirely, just to stew over it. It took watching Bakugou’s own hero highlights with him to snap you out of your funk. You wanted to smack yourself; he’d been in front of you the entire time! Of course, it had to be an item for him. So you got to building and designing with renewed spirit.

Katsuki was an amazing fighter, you knew this, and his prowess in battle and raw power alone was quite literally unmatched by almost every opponent- but, the only thing holding him back was that he didn’t do so well with civilians. Try as he might, Bakugou’s loud, flashy, quirk just didn’t paint him as particularly friendly, and his brash personality didn’t help either. And, since you’d long ago given up trying to soften his character, but maybe you could help with his quirk. You figured that was pretty much your degree right?

So, for the past month or so, you’d been secretly working on a gauntlet attachment for him. You’d designed it to quiet his explosions, similar to a silencer on a gun, in hopes that civilians would stop reporting hearing loss after being saved by your very loud boyfriend. Truthfully, you knew it wouldn’t fix all his problems, but maybe then his ratings would go up a tiny bit. And, you figured, if you then just built the prototype you designed, then it could serve as a birthday present for him too. Two birds with one stone, right?

If only it was that simple.

It wasn’t. You were a perfectionist and you’d been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears for weeks now, but it still didn’t feel like enough. It felt like you were running out of time. Even now, while actively taking measurements for said project, you felt uneasy spending time with Bakugou. 

“You done yet, woman?” He peeks an eye open.

“Almost.” You grab your phone, typing the measurements into your notes. “See how easy and quick this went when you stopped being annoying?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so fuckin’ annoying if you’d just tell me what you’re makin’ already.”

“Nope. Already talked about this, Katsu,” You let go of his hand. “It’s a surprise! You don’t wanna spoil your birthday surprise, do you?”

You’re joking, smiling widely at him and fluttering your eyelashes. He doesn’t look very amused. Katsuki just squints at you for a moment before poking your side.

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. You’re being annoying. Stop it.”

“Fine. Well I guess since you don’t want it, maybe I just won’t give it to you then.” You tease, moving to leave the couch. “Maybe I just won’t give you any of the gifts I was planning to.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, huffs like he is very inconvienced, and grabs your wrist. He pulls until you’re falling into him, crashing into his chest and settling on his lap.

“I didn’t fuckin’ say that, idiot.” He grumbles, hands falling around your sides. “Stop putting shitty words in my mouth already.”

“I can’t. Pretty sure that’s my job actually.” You laugh, bracing your hands on his chest as you straighten. “Besides, you say like 3 words and all of them are swears, angry man. Someone’s gotta be the talker out of the two of us.”

“It shouldn’t be you. You’re better quiet.” His words were cold, but he was rubbing warm circles into your lower back. “Fuckin’ silent.”

“Wow- we sure are cranky tonight, huh, angry man? Is it bedtime for baby, already?”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, I’m pretty funny.” You laugh, brushing the the wild hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. “But seriously though, if you’re tired, I don’t have to stay. I don’t mind, I can leave if you just want to sleep.”

He screws his face up at that, comically offended and dramatic as he drops his face into your shoulder. Katsuki’s arms wrap around your sides, pulling you close until you’re flush against his chest. He tightens his grip and doesn’t seem like he plans to let go any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, angry man, I get it. I won’t leave right now- but I can’t stay for too long.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“That project, remember? I’m nearly done.” 

He huffs again, arms curling tighter around you. You’re a little confused- truthfully, he usually is more physical than verbal, especially when he’s tired, but he’s never this physically affectionate. His voice is a near snarl when he speaks again.

“I fuckin’ hate that stupid as shit assignment.” 

 “Yeah, well, you hate pretty much everything; so I can’t say I’m exactly suprised, Katsuki.”

“No. Seriously.” He gruffs, fingers twitching at your sides. Katsuki takes a deep breath, biting out his next words quickly. “Haven’t seen you in fuckin’ days.”

“Aww-”

“Say another goddamn word and I’ll take it back, woman. Try me.” 

“Okay. I won’t.” You giggle. “But I really am serious, I can’t stay over tonight. Got work to do still.”

“That’s stupid.” Bakugou says and then he’s squeezing you once again, keeping you trapped tight against his chest. “You’re being stupid.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You snort, looking up at him. His mouth is pressed into a tense grimace, so you try patting his cheek playfully. “You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

He doesn’t seem to like your joke. Not at all.

“I’m kidding. I’m not going anywhere.” You console. “I’m only picking on you, you know, so don’t be so sensitive, angry man. You insult me all the time.”

“When the fuck did I insult ya?”

“Katsuki-“ You utter in disbelief, your hand moving to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You literally just called me stupid!  And you said you liked me better silent! Like 2 minutes ago!”

He shrugs, and you can feel his face heat against your neck, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re awfully lucky I like you so much.” You sigh. “Because otherwise I’d have to kick your teeth in every time you opened your mouth.”

“Like you could even get that close to me, shitty woman.”

“Strong words for a man currently making a home in my collarbone, Katsuki.”

“That’s-I- You know what,” He starts, extending an arm and pushing against your shoulders to create distance. “Say shit like that again and I swear to god I’ll...”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll- I’ll fuckin-“ He stutters, face red and fists clenched. “I’ll-“

You think he looks adorable- all huffy and red and embarrassed where he sits. Katsuki’s eyebrows are pinched together in that competitive crease you’d come to know so well, his mouth curled around a familiar snarl. You were sure it must’ve looked terrfying to anyone else- but you weren’t just anyone else. You were his soulmate and you knew exactly how to get him to calm down.

You caught his face in both of your hands, crossing the distance until your lips met his. Bakugou tried to set the pace, because he always tried at first, armed with bruising pressure and dominance and uncoordinated aggression. You weren’t new here though- you had a lot more tricks of your sleeve than he did.

You ran a hand up his spine, your nails just barely catching on to the fabric of shirt, trailing the back of his neck until they landed in his hair. He damn near melted into you at that, and he pretty much dissolved when your other hand ran under the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna what now?” You asked, pulling away slowly. You’re breathless and blushing yourself but that never stopped you before. “C’mon, Katsuki, tell me. What you were gonna do?”

“I-huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” You giggled. Unable to help yourself, you pecked his lips again. “You seemed so determined though!”

He’s still dazed- red and embarrassed as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. You can’t stop the victorious smirk that rolls across your face.

“You’re an evil fucking woman.” He finally says, breathless. “Shitty too.”

“Mhm, I know.”

“Shouldn’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it. ‘S not a compliment, idiot.”

“I know.” You pat his chest, pushing away from him until you’re standing on your own. “Now, c’mon, up. Sleep time, right?”

You see the look on his face, and it almost kills you to crush it.

“No, that doesn’t mean I’m staying, angry man. I’ll take a nap with you and then I’m going home.” You offer your hand out to him. “Sound good?”

"Whatever.” He doesn’t seem all that pleased and he bats your hand away lightly, standing on his own. He starts down the hallway towards his bedroom with stomping steps and you follow. “You better actually go to sleep though- ya got ugly fuckin’ bags under your eyes, woman.”

You stop in your tracks, a wheeze escaping you. It didn’t matter how many conversations you’d had with him, how many times he’d accidentally insulted you with his blunt words, it still surprised you every time. And maybe it was your tired state, all the sleep lost over the past few weeks finally piling up, but his words hurt a little this time- hit a nerve and made you angry. 

“Alright, well, on that note. Maybe I will go home!” You huff, thumping a fist against his back. “That was so mean! What the hell, angry man! I’m literally busting my ass right now and that’s what you have to say to me? That I’m ugly to you? That’s fucking rude! I didn’t- I’m leaving. I don’t even have enough time for this anyway and I-”

He spins around quickly, pressing you into the wall as he grabs your arm. You can’t hit him anymore, not with the sturdy grip he has on your wrist, but the look on Katsuki’s face really makes you want to. He looks insulted, tired, but mostly just annoyed by your reaction. You swear you could kill him that moment, but then he’s gathering you into his chest and you’re melting against him. He’s still your soulmate- no matter how angry he makes you.

“N-not like that. Idiot. Not ugly.” He mumbles against your hair, voice tight and shy. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing furiously. “I meant- I- you’re not fuckin’ sleeping. I can see it. So you have to sleep.”

“I-what?”

“I’m not fucking stupid. You’re tired- it’s obvious. Have been for weeks.”

“You noticed?”

“Course I fuckin’ did.” He shifts on feet anxiously, swaying you a bit in your arms. “See your stupid face all the time- I can tell that shit about you.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” You pull back a bit in surprise, trying catch his eyes. He won’t let you, eyes zeroed on the wall, just behind your head. His face is a violent shade of red. You roll your eyes fondly, gently guiding him to look at you with your hands on his burning cheeks. “I shouldn’t have flipped, but that still wasn’t very nice. You really should’ve just said what you meant the first time around, but it’s fine. I understand. School’s just been tough with final assignments and stuff, you know? I’m alright though- just a little tired. Like you said.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem pleased with your answer, his eyebrows creasing as he grumbles something under his breath.

“What? Couldn’t hear you, angry man.”

“I said-” He starts strong, nearly confident until his tone quickly falls off. Then he’s mumbling again and crushing you to his chest so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. 

“W-what are you trying to say?”

“God, you always make me say such embarrassing shit!” He growls, voice loud next to your ear. “I said- I said- you’re doing too much, idiot! You haven’t been around much and it’s fuckin’ makin’ me mad and worryin’ me and all that stupid, disgusting, annoying, shit! So just give yourself a fuckin’ break, already!” 

You’re pressed close to Katsuki, and when you press you hand flat against his chest, you can feel his heart racing wildly under your fingertips. He must’ve been upset about this for a while, you realize- to be expending this much energy, when usually he’d be dead on his feet at this time of night. You feel a little guilty for it, but more than anything you’re gooey and warm all over. 

“I-I’m sorry. For worrying you.” You soothe, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest. “And I know you tell me not to apologize to you, but I mean it this time. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll take better care of myself. I promise.” 

“Good. I-”

“Hmm?”

“N-nothing.” He stutters, flushing violently all of the sudden. He spins on his heels quickly, dragging you down the hallway and into his bedroom. “You have to stay now.”

“No- I can’t. I told you.”

“And I fuckin’ told you to chill the hell out and take a break.” He barks, digging through his dresser and throwing a pair of sweats at you. “Stop being fuckin’ difficult. You’re staying.” 

Truly, you want to fight him. Your brain is running wildly, a million different ideas and worries battering around inside your skull- but he’s right. You are tired. Have been tired for weeks now. If you went home now, you knew you’d just talk yourself into working some more. So maybe a tiny, tiny little break wouldn’t hurt, right? Just something small. A single night.

“Fine. But I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

You knew you made the right decision when he smiles at you; a small, tiny, pleased, little thing that just barely curls the edges of his mouth. It seems like it’d be hardly noticeable, but you’d been dreaming of that smile for months now. He very rarely graced you with it, very rarely shared something so delicate and uncharacteristically soft but it winded you every time. 

Katsuki fell asleep almost immediately after pulling your down into bed with him. He’d barely curled around you, hardly even let his head hit the pillow before beginning to snore. That smile stayed though. He kept it even as his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened. 

That same overwhelming warmth you’d been feeling for weeks overtook you again- that same blistering, endless affection rendering your limbs shaky and your breaths unsteady as you stared at him. 

I love him. You realized. More than anything.

--/--

As it turns out, letting Bakugou drag you into some much needed rest is exactly what you needed. 

The next morning you’d left his place, mind refreshed and completely reinvigorated to once again start working on the gauntlet attachment. You’d love to say it was just the sleep that fixed you up- but you knew the truth. It was him- him and increasingly strange ways of showing affection.

Settling down into your desk chair, you pulled the schematics you’d drawn up once more. There wasn’t much left to build, only a few more parts you’d need to fabricate with your quirk, and then you’d be ready to put it all together.

Using past records of his costumes, and studying various clips of him in his current costume, you’d finally felt certain that you’d gotten it right. It was a pain conducting the research, especially because you’d had to contact the support companies personally, but in the end you were happy you did it. You wanted this to be a possible improvement for him, but you also wanted it to fit in with his current arsenal. It was a risk for sure, giving your prototype as a gift, and you’d be totally crushed if decided to not use it, but you’d take the chance. 

Bakugou had only mentioned the problem a single time in the past, and even then it was a passing comment, but you couldn’t seem to let it go.

I’m sick of kid’s always fuckin’ cryin’ when I save them. My explosions aren’t that fuckin’ scary, are they? 

He’d said it in the middle of a rant, his eyes pressed tightly together as he paced angrily, but something about his tone struck you. When he said it, he didn’t sound angry. Bakugou sounded upset and frustrated and almost hopeless. You knew it bothered him more than he let on, and from then you wanted to help him- but you couldn’t imagine stripping him of his quirk. 

It, his explosions, were important to him. They were his power and his pride and they helped him save people. He was so, so proud of them, and it broke your heart to think that they were the only thing left holding him back. So, you figured, what if he kept the force but lost the sound? Kid’s normally liked bright lights a lot more than loud sounds, after all.

Grunting with effort, you began fabricating gears and wires and screws between your hands. It took hours and nearly all of your energy, but you’d finally done it. You had everything you needed to finish his gift. 

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of construction, and deadlines, and sleeplessness but by the time his birthday rolled around, you were ready. Your schematics had been turned in and approved by your professors, you’d passed your final project, and you were finally finished building the prototype. Everything was going great- but you knew why you were really happy.

The last few weeks had been packed for you, and you’d hardly had time for anybody. You felt guilty about it, of course, and you only felt worse when you only heard Bakugou’s voice over the phone each night, but there was no helping it.

Or, at least, there wasn’t- but it wasn’t crunch time anymore. You’d suddenly found yourself with an wealth of free-time, and you knew exactly who you were gonna spend it on.

--/--

Using the key he’d given you, you slipped into the apartment, closing the door quietly. It was difficult in the dark, stumbling slightly with the gifts and cake currently held in your hands, but you’d managed it. Everything had gone smoothly on the way there, you’d just put the cake safely in the fridge, and now you could wake your soulmate up to the best birthday of his life.

What shame he had to go and ruin it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You jumped, heart seizing in your chest. 

“Jesus- fuck.” You yelled in the dark. You blindly felt your way out of the kitchen and into the living room, towards the sound of his voice. “Bakugou! What the fuck, man?”

“What the- no! Me! I should be the one fuckin’ saying that!” His voice was raised, and you couldn’t see his fists but you knew they were probably clenched tightly into fists. “Almost blew you up, idiot! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh my god.” You huffed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes. “I was going to wake you up! Surprise you! Because it’s your birthday and it’s- wait, what the fuck are you even doing up? It’s like 6:30 AM, on a Saturday!”  

“What the hell are you even on about? I’m always fuckin’ awake right now!”

“Yeah! On a work day! When you’re working!” You can’t help but be frustrated; you wanted to be cute and sweet and Bakugou had ruined it entirely. As he so often did. “But you’re not even working today! It’s your day off! And I know you sleep in on those, so why?”

“Couldn’t fuckin’ slee-”

“What do you mean?” You interrupt, finally flipping the light switch and flooding the room with light. “Swear to god you’re dead to the world the second you hit the pillow! Literally happens every time I stay over. You’re out by 8:30! Why is today of all days the day you choose not to sleep?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to your outburst, and that’s when you finally look at him. It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d last visited, and he didn’t look like you remembered him. It wasn’t anything super obvious at first, but upon closer inspection you could see the deep bags under his eyes, and the pale, lifelessness of his skin. He was telling the truth; apparently, he really hadn’t be able to sleep- and it didn’t start just last night either.

“Hey. Katsuki,” Your irritation from earlier faded. Suddenly filled with concern, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hands. Bakugou tried to turn away, but you didn’t let him. “What’s up, huh? You alright?”

“Fine.”

“No. You’re not. You look tired. Are you sick?”

“No.” He mumbled, his hands falling on your waist as you stood in front of him. “I’m fine. Workin’ a lot or whatever. I’m fuckin’ fine.”

You nod, eyebrows rising in surprise as he suddenly pulls you in. He presses his face into your stomach, arms around your sides as he shuts his eyes. There it is again- that unusual physicality. This strange behavior had stopped for a while recently, but now it seemed to be back in full-force.

“Do you wanna try sleeping again?” You ask after a beat. “I’ve got birthday stuff for you, but we can do always do it later. We’ve got the whole day, right?”

“What- you plannin’ to actually be here or some shit?” He grumbles, with a lot more intentional bite than you’re used to hearing from him. “I’m surprised. Didn’t know an idiot like you still had the fuckin’ brain cells to remember.” 

You’re shocked, rendered completely still and stiff in his hold. Was he- was he mad at you? 

“What?” You try to push away from him, to get a look at his face, but he doesn’t let you. Bakugou’s arms only tighten and you’re left even more confused. “Are you upset with me? Are you tired? What’s wrong?”

“You really fuckin’ piss me off.”

“What?” 

He only growls under his breath, voice raspy and deep. “Whatever. You don’t fuckin’ get it. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“No- but I-” You stutter, feeling out of place. Katsuki sounded so frustrated and angry and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “If you’re upset with me we need to talk about it. What happened? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, only knocks your feet out from under you and stands with you in his arms. You’re dumbfounded. He has never, not ever, carried you anywhere. He’s never even made an attempted to lift you! Something was seriously off with him today- and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was. 

Katsuki was mad at you. You knew that, he’d said it himself. But then why was he carrying you down the hall to his bedroom? Why wasn’t he kicking you out?

He kicks open the door, pushing it shut loudly behind him. He looks pissed when you look up at him, his eyebrow’s creased together in an agitated line, but even so, Katsuki sets you down on the bed gently. You’re hardly able to catch your breath when he’s climbing in on the other side, pulling you close and lying practically on top of you.

“What? I- Katsuki?” You asked desperately, brain reeling. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand?”

“I’m fuckin’ tired, woman. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t! Not when you’re upset like this- seriously, what’s wrong?”

“You. You’re what’s fuckin’ wrong!”

“What?”

“God, you’re so fucking dense!” He growls, angry voice vibrating against the skin of your neck. “Fuckin’ showin’ up in the mornin’ like nothin’s wrong? Been avoiding me for weeks now!” 

“What- no! We literally called last night! What are you talking about?”

“We called for 2 fuckin’ minutes before you fell asleep! And you-” His voice drops suddenly, and then he’s pressing even closer to you, starting up once again. “You piss me the hell off, you know! Sayin’ shit about how you’re gonna do better and then leavin’ for weeks? Not talkin’ to me? What the fuck is that? And then you sneak in here and scare the shit out of me! And you’re running your stupid fucking mouth about the whole day when you’re not even gonna be her-”

Oh. Oh.

He was mad because you’d been busy; because the last time you’d seen him, Bakugou had told he was worried about you, and you blew him off. The last time you’d seen him, you’d promised that you’d take better care of yourself and then you didn’t. All you did was continue working yourself to death, and while you didn’t regret it for even a second, you hadn’t kept him in the loop. You’d barely even managed to call him each night, and even then you’d fall asleep half-way through every conversation.

“Have you been worried this whole time?” You asked quietly.

Bakugou takes a deep, shaky breath, and you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your neck. 

“You were worried.” You whisper. “Weren’t you?”

He nods minutely.

“I-I didn’t realize. I told you- but I didn’t realize. I was so focused on school, so busy, I’m so sorry.” You press a kiss into his hair, your heart sinking when his shoulders tremble. “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t fuckin’- I didn’t-”

“I know. I said it. I’m saying it. I’m sorry, Katsu. I missed you.” You sigh, tightening your arms around him. “Is that why you’re not sleeping well?”

Bakugou is silent but he tenses, going completely rigid under your hands. Your stomach drops.

“It’s-I’m good. Really, this time. Everything’s done. I’m completely finished and everything is gonna go back to normal.” You cradle his face, making him look into your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We’re good.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

Bakugou shakes your hold, tucking his head until you can’t see his eyes anymore. You can hardly see any of his features, but you see the wobbly line of his mouth. Can feel the shaking of his fingers. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. Barely there.

“Didn’t mean it, last time, when I said your eyebags were ugly. You’re not ugly.”

You blink, hardly able to recall the conversation. Wasn’t that the last time you had visited? Weeks ago? Why was he still thinking about it?

Bakugou huffs again, apparently frustrated by your silence.

“So I’m s-sorry. For insulting you. So now you don’t have to disappear again.” 

Your eyes widened.

“You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

You remember how upset he’d been when you’d made the joke- how his shoulder’s dropped and his eyebrows caved and his mouth smoothed out into a thin line. Was that really the last time you’d visited? Did he think you were mad at him this whole time? 

 Guilt flooded you, awful and thick and viscous as it tore through your stomach. You had to make him understand. You just had to.

“No. I- Katsuki. Look at me. Look at me.” You insist until he’s looking at you. His eyes are the dullest you’ve ever seen them- more vulnerable than ever before. “I didn’t- I was just busy, I promise! Not upset. I didn’t mean to ice you out like that. It’s fine! I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki growls, grasping for your hand and hiding his face behind it. “I didn’t- I’m sick of stupid angry shit I say ruinin’ stuff for me. So don’t just fuckin’ say it’s fine if it’s not.” 

“It is. I promise. We’re good.” You soothe, caressing his burning cheeks with your knuckle. “That was a bad joke, okay- I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I knew it was gonna make you worry so much. I promise I was just busy these last few weeks. Nothing you say is ever gonna get rid of me, alright? Not even if you tried! Because I love you and I-”

“You what?” 

You freeze, shifting uncomfortably as your cheeks heated up. This was not how you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him like you meant it, not just tacked onto the back of a bunch of other statements. He’d heard though, and no matter what you wanted, you couldn’t run from it.

“You what?” He asks again.

“I-I love you. Katsuki, I love you.”

Bakugou jolts, nearly jumps out of his skin and then he’s digging his face into your neck. He’s hot, his skin nearly burning, and there’s a strangled, clipped noise leaving his mouth. You’re filled with so much adoration in that moment that it nearly chokes you, but it’s freeing too, because you’ve said it. Finally. After waiting your entire life for him, after knowing him for so many months, after loving him for so long, he knew.

“I love you.” You repeated again, giggling breathlessly. “I love you, you dummy.” 

He finally lifts his head, expression so full of awe and disbelief and childlike confusion. It’s just like the first time you’d really kissed him; like he couldn’t figure out why you loved him. It was like those first few days all over again and you couldn’t help it. You loved him so much.

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium. 

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving. 

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending. 

You pull away, panting for breath. He follows, resting on his forearms and dropping his forehead to yours. 

“I-I- I love you. Too. Idiot woman.” 

You laugh under him, cackling loudly as you turn to press a kiss into his forearms. Of course he’d said it like that. It’s tough love or not at all with Bakugou Katsuki- and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop laughing!” He orders, face screwed up uncomfortably. “You’re always fuckin’ laughing at me! You fuckin’ witch! Stop it! It’s- I’m not- I take it back! I don’t- stop makin’ fun of me, shitty wom-”

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Oh my fucking god! You laugh at me and then you go thinkin’ your just gonna interrupt me while I’m yellin’ at you? No fuckin’ way! I’m not gonna allow that shit in my own fuckin’ house and I-”

“Katsuki.” 

“Jesus christ! What?”

“I love you.” 

He freezes entirely, collasping his entire weight directly on top of you. He’s so hot it’s like his skin is burning. You wrap your arms around him with a happy giggle, burrowing your own blushing face into his hair. 

“I love you.” You whisper, slow and earnest against the shell of his ear. “I really, really, really love you, angry man.” 

He startles again, jumps in your arms and only seems to run hotter. He groans something strangled and defeated, until he’s sinking into you again, pressing you against the mattress.

“S-s-stop fuckin’ saying it. You’re doing it on fuckin’ purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“You fuckin’ know, you witch woman.”

“No, I really, really, dont.” You say indulgently, laughing as you drop kisses into his hair. “Care to share?”

“No. Fuck no. I’m fuckin’ done sharing. Forever.” 

You rolls your eyes, once again enduring his very familiar dramatics. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Katsuki. I was just happy to hear it- that you love me too.”

“Well, remember it, because I’m never fuckin’ saying it again.”

“Not even if I say it to you?”

“Especially not fucking then.” 

“You’re so difficult sometimes, I swear. You’re really lucky I love you so much.” You say softly, before scratching idly at the back of his head. “Now, c’mon. Get off me. I didn’t forget- you need to go to sleep.” 

“I’m sleeping here.”

“No you’re not, you man-child. You’re gonna crush me.” 

“Good.” 

“No, not good. You wanna celebrate your birthday with a murder charge?”

“Yes.”

“Katsuki.” You laugh, pressing against his chest. “Seriously. Up. You’re supposed to use those muscles to save people not kill them.”

He just groans loudly, flopping backwards gracelessly. Katsuki is pulling the blanket up and shutting his eyes, and you think everything is finally okay. Until he clears his throat. Until keeps clearing his throat.

“Oh my god,” You huff, opening your eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

“Say it again, idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know what I’m asking you.”

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks red. You thought he was adorable- just the cutest man in all of Japan. You knew what he was asking, of course you did, and if he hadn’t been so upset earlier you would’ve made him work a lot harder for it. As it stood now though, you just scooted closer to him; shifting until you were right next to his blushing face and sharing the same pillow.

“I love you.” You say, running a gentle thumb over his heated cheek. “Now go to sleep, okay?”

You can see the smile he’s fighting, the way his lip twitches and he raises a hand to cover it. Then he’s pulling you close and digging his head into the pillow.

All is quiet, and finally, finally, he gets some sleep.

—/—

Katsuki, on a good day, was an absolute beast to wake up- on a day off however? The man was damn near impossible to stir. 

You were squatted next to the bed, trying to pull the pillow out from under his head as he held it in his grip. It was absolutely unfair- even at his groggiest your soulmate had the strength of a one man army. It was seriously pissing you off. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” You’re grabbing at his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away from the pillow but he’s not budging. Katsuki’s got his eyes shut tight, and he’s dutifully ignoring your every word. “I’m serious! It’s noon! Get up already!”

He finally peaks one eye open, just barely enough to see your irritated expression. Katsuki huffs, rips his pillow away from you completely, and flops on his other side. His back was to you, and normally you’d be thrilled about the free chance to drool over the planes of muscle- but this wasn’t a normal occasion. It was his birthday and you’d already made him breakfast and he was refusing to get up and eat it. 

“Bakugou Katsuki, I swear to god, if you’re not up in two seconds, I’m not gonna kiss you for a fucking week!” 

This does seem to illicit a response from him, because then he’s flipping back over, mouth pulled into a snarl.

“You think I care? You starved me out for fuckin’ weeks already!”

You want to roll your eyes. You thought he was being awfully dramatic and you knew you really shouldn’t stand for it- but he wasn’t technically wrong. However inadvertently, you had been neglecting him, and maybe it was time to treat him instead. Just this once. 

“Oh my god, you silly man, come here.” You relent, climbing onto the bed and hovering over him. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just asked.” 

“I-didn’t! When the fuck did I say that because I-”

You pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. It was a trick you’d learned early on, but damn if it wasn’t still useful. You pulled away right when he started to get handsy.

“No. Bad.” You say, batting his hands away from slipping under your shirt. “I didn’t just waste all that time trying to get you out of bed just to be pulled in. Now, c’mon, you have breakfast to eat and presents to open- it’s your big day, birthday boy.”

“Fuckin’ exactly. Let me do what I want.”

“No, because if I let you do what you wanted you’d sleep all day and only wake  to go blow something up.”

“Sounds like fucking bliss.”

“Alright, well then I guess you’re gonna have to experience nirvana all by yourself because I’m going to eat.” You pat his chest, climbing off the bed and standing straight. 

Bakugou grumbles under his breath, but then the blankets are rustling and he’s rising to follow you out the door. He tears into the breakfast you’d made him, shoveling eggs and bacon and pancakes down his throat at an almost inhuman pace. You would cringe, but you’d seen this scene already many times before. 

“You ready for presents, now?” You ask, putting the dishes in the sink.

“Sure. ‘m not a fuckin’ kid though, you didn’t have t-”

“I wanted to. Seriously. So be quiet and be a little selfish for once. Please.” 

He nods tightly, following you into the living room. He’s settling on the couch, once again rubbing at his eyes when you bring the gifts over. There’s three of them in total and he chooses to open the smallest one first.

“Fuck- this a new watch?”

“Yep.” You nod. “To replace the one you blew up last month.”

“When the- how the hell did you-”

“I have my ways. Now, seriously, promise me you’re gonna be careful with this one.”

“Okay.”

“Katsuki, that’s not a promise.”

“I’m not gonna just fuckin-”

“Say it.”

“No! Why the hell should I have to fuckin’ say shit just because you were spyin’ on me, you freak!”

“Katsuki.” You glare him down. “Promise me.”

“Jesus fuck, woman. Fine. I promise I won’t blast this one to pieces, alright?” He rolls his eyes. “Ya all happy and cheery now?”

“Very.” You smile brightly, moving to grab the second gift and place it in his hands. “Here’s the next one, open it.”

You watched him set the watch aside carefully, before taking the second gift. He might’ve been grumbling, but he couldn’t completely hide the smile trying to stretch across his face. You were glad you made the effort- he deserved every good thing and more.

“This is a jar.” He says flatly, looking down at the unwrapped gift. “What the hell?”

“It’s a swear jar. You know, for practicing how not to offend everyone within a .2 mile radius.” You deapan, taking the excess wrapping paper from him to throw it out. “You gotta work on it, Katsu- news has to censor you so much that your public appearances sound like EDM music.” 

“I’m gonna blow this up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You laugh. Then you lean towards him, sidling up close and lowering your voice as you run thumb across his jaw. “And, hey, if you figure out how to make it through the week without filling it up, I’ll give you something really, really nice as a reward.”

“Reward?” He’s asks, quickly putting down the jar. You know the look in his eyes, and you’re not surprised when his hands wander to your waist. “’s empty now, right? Think I fuckin’ deserve it. Huh, sunshine?”

“Nope. Sorry, Katsu.” You smile sweetly, dodging as he leans in for a kiss. “It’s saturday- week doesn’t start until tomorrow!” 

He groans, loudly, falling boneless against the couch and tugging you with him.

“You make me want to blow my fuckin’ self up. You know that, you shitty woman?” 

“Aw, thanks. Now, cheer up- you’ve still got one left to open.” You say, patting his grimacing face.

You shake his hold, just barely avoiding when he tries to pull you back as you grab the last present. This box is a little different from the last two, you’d spent extra time trying to make sure it was wrapped nicely and you’d even tied a ribbon around it. You hoped he’d like the gauntlet attachment- you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your disappointment if he didn’t.

“Yeah, so this next one,” You start, placing the box in his hand delicately. “I made it for you myself. Designed it too.”

He pulls the ribbon on the box, tearing away the paper. It’s like time stops for a moment, rolling nerves arresting you and choking your breath. You’re nervous and you feel like shaking and you so desperately want him to like the gift. Want him understand just how much work you’d put in for him and just how easily you’d do it all over again.

“Yeah so it’s an attachment for your grenade gauntlets, right?” You start, right when he’s pulling the device from the box and holding it in his hands. “I was thinking- wouldn’t it be nice if you could quiet your explosions sometimes? You know, for when you’re saving civilians and kids and stuff so they’re not so scared. Basically it works kind of similar to a suppressor on a gun, dispersing and slowing down the blast just a little to muffle the sound, but it’s just a little more high-tech and way more powerful- to match your quirk. Obviously. And it’s adjustable so, if, for whatever reason, you needed to wear it outside of your costume, you can collapse it slip it on like a bracelet and-”

Bakugou is silent. He’s almost frozen as he stares down at the gift, only twisting the gift around in his hands to get a better look. His eyebrows crease, and your stomach drops.

“No- it’s- please don’t get mad! It’s not supposed to offend you or anything! I-I know you don’t need my help to save people, you can do it all on your own, I know that.” You rub your arm anxiously, eyes averted to the floor. “I’m just trying to help- you know, because you always talk about your ratings going up, and I’m sure you could totally do it on your own, I know you could, but I just wanted to help you cause that’s what I do, support, and I can’t help you out on the field and I-”

Pop.

Pop pop pop pop pop

When you finally look up at him, you’re blinded by the smile on his face. It’s bright, and beaming, and brilliant as he fires off explosions. You can see the light dancing on his hands, the force of combustion shooting his arm back, but it’s quiet. It sounds like pop rocks and bacon grease and popcorn instead of cracking thunder and collapsing buildings and then he’s laughing- he’s laughing something full and joyful as he stands, holding his hands up right next to his ears and setting off more explosions.

“You hear this shit?” He yells, that wide smile dazzling you all over again. “Fuckin’ works!”

The nerves disappeared, the tension seeping from your body entirely as he grinned at you. It was worth it. Entirely worth it- you’d give anything, start all over and do it all again from the start just to see that smile. 

“You wanna hear?” He asks suddenly, nearing you with his hands raised. “Listen!”

“No! No- I’m- I’m good, Katsuki.” You laugh, batting his hands away from your head. “I can hear it just fine from here, no need to singe my hair.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“I know.” You smile up at him, poking his broad chest. “So you like it? Right? Because it’s just a prototype, first draft, you know, so if there’s anything you want to change about it, let me know. Or if you just don’t want it I-”

“I’m fuckin’ keepin’ it.”

“Huh?”

“I’m keepin’ it. It’s cool as shit.” He smiles down at you, eyes crinkled at the edges. “Besides, stealth, right? Could blow a fucker up in the next room and you wouldn’t even know it!”

“But I- I made them for you to save people? Like to help them?”

“And they could be used to blow shit up more effectively too. Win fucking win.” Katsuki pulls you in suddenly, arms falling familiarly around your waist. “Good shit, sunshine. Thanks.” 

“Of course.” You sigh, looking down at your feet. “That’s what I was doing- when I was gone. Designing it for my project grade and then building it for you. Sorry I got so carried away, I didn’t realize I was gone so long, you know?” 

“You’re still stupid for it, but it’s fine. Fuckin’ get it.” He grumbles. “You’re done now or whatever, right?”

“With school? Yeah I mean, I’ve still got graduation and stuff but otherwise I’m pretty much-

“Move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“God, you always make me fuckin’ say it again!” He flusters, voice loud and raspy. “I said- move in! Here! You’re fuckin’ disappearin’ all the goddamn time to wherever the fuck and I’m sick of it!”

“Y-you want me to move in? 

“That’s what I just fuckin’ said! Idiot!” He thunders, face a violent red when you look up at him. “And I’m not gonna fuckin’ say it again so you either have to say yes or no because I-”

“Yes. Obviously. Of course I’ll move in!” You say, warmth filling your chest as you throw your arms around his neck. “I love you, of course I will!” 

You see the smile he can’t contain- one so dazzling and arresting, as he looks at you. One exactly similar to the brilliant one from earlier. You couldn’t believe that sentiment made you emotional- the thought that you made him just as happy as explosions did, of all things. But it did make you emotional. It really, really, did.

“What’re you- stop cryin’.” He says suddenly, calloused fingers catching your tears. “Why’re you cryin’? I didn’t even say anythin’ rude this time!” 

“No, it’s not that.” You sniffle, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’m just happy. Really, really happy. I love you, you angry fucking man.”

Katsuki leans in for another kiss, and you don’t dodge it this time. You meet him in the middle and melt into him just as much as he melts into you. You can feel his hand under your chin, the other on your back, and you don’t think you’ve ever been warmer than in that moment.

You’d been waiting your entire life for him. For all of this. You were warm and loved and so very, very happy that it nearly knocked you off your feet. 

Or it would’ve- but when your knees weakened he just held you closer, righting you without missing a beat. You suddenly loved him for that, and for everything else too. You loved him for all that he was and his angry words and his subtle gestures. He was sizzling gunpowder and sharp steel and seared ashes, but he was the softest landing you’d ever known too. There was no hitting the ground with him, and he’d never let you fall alone. 

You’d know Katsuki was forever since the day your tattoo appeared, but it didn’t truly sink in until you’d learned to love him. Until you’d known him. Now you knew him like the back of your hand; you saw his face behind your eyelids, heard his voice in your dreams, and thought about his touch every waking moment. He was your other-half, as scary and loud and intense as he was, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

He pulls away suddenly, and when you glance up at him he’s staring right at you. 

“I love you.”

Your breath catches. You thought you were thrilled to hear the words last night- but it was nothing in comparison to now. Bakugou was finally looking at you, catching your gaze and holding eye-contact and his voice was soft like you’d never heard it before. His tone was bare, no anger or attitude or bite- just him and three little words that took your breath away.

In that moment, Katsuki is the only person in the entire world. There was no one else and no other conclusion, and of course you ended up here. He was the only ending you’d ever surrender to. The only finality that could ever possibly taste so sweet. 

And suddenly, all at once, you loved him all over again. 

//-//

i- sob. plS this was so much fun to write and im gonna miss it sm !! 

once again, thank u to everyone who liked and commented and reblogged any part of this! this is the first ever multi-chapter fanfic i’ve ever written , and i really really was nervous about my characterization and writing and stuff, but you all made me feel so welcome here.  i appreciate it sm. way more than any of you know.

anyways, thank u once again for reading lovelies and i hope u all stay safe. i love y’all. <333

[morganaspendragonss]

fic request because i am d e s p e r a t e : tarlos carlos whump with supportive gabriel reyes ??? if you’re down to write him that is. i love ur work n ur whump n i think u would write a p good gabe. 🥰

holly’s august extravaganza day 1: against all odds (we're still here)

i'm always down to write gabriel! thanks for the prompt trick, i hope you like it!

ao3 | 2k | car accidents, whump, major character injury, angst with a happy ending

“I told you we should have brought the car.”

Carlos scowls over at TK, shifting one of the many bags he’s carrying higher on his arm. It cuts painfully into his skin, his good mood from earlier long since soured. The knowledge that TK is, of course, right isn’t exactly helping matters.

“In my defence,” he starts, for probably the fifth or sixth time, “when we texted your dad to see if he wanted us to pick up anything from the store, I wasn’t expecting a full list.”

“We could have told him no.”

“TK, he’s your dad and we are literally crashing his home right now. I’m not gonna tell him no.”

TK opens his mouth, presumably to retort with a comment about how his dad loves Carlos and loves having them around. Both of which are things Carlos knows perfectly well, thanks, but he’s still not interested in testing it by refusing to get Owen’s kale chips or that specific brand of shampoo which took half an hour—and two stores—to track down.

Whatever TK was about to say is abandoned when one of his own bags slips out of his grasp and falls to the ground with a depressing thud. It bursts open—because why wouldn’t it—and spills their purchases across the sidewalk. The only solace is that nothing breaks, but that’s where the good news begins and ends; Carlos’s eyes track a can as it rolls down the street and into the gutter, landing in a puddle of dirty water. TK looks forlornly between the dropped bag and those still balanced on his arms, then heaves a long-suffering sigh and crouches awkwardly, easing the other bags down as carefully as he can manage.

“Call an Uber,” he grumbles. “We are not walking home like this.”

On that point, they’re in agreement. Carlos spares himself a moment of idle amusement at TK’s predicament before beginning the arduous task of extracting his phone from his pocket without dropping any of his own shopping.

He’ll hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

*

Oh my god!

Someone call 911!

Are they even alive?

Just hold on, son, you’re going to be just fine.

*

Beeping.

Carlos frowns, slowly blinking his heavy eyelids open. It takes a minute to register his surroundings for what they are—a hospital room—and a further minute to notice the presence at his side. It’s his father, looking exhausted, turning his cowboy hat in his hands as he stares at the floor.

“Dad?” he croaks, wincing at the soreness in his throat. “What happened?”

His father’s head jerks up, his eyes going wide as he sees Carlos awake. “Mijo. It’s good to see you awake.”

“Dad, why am I here? What happened?”

He sighs, reaching out to pat Carlos’s arm. “There was an accident,” he explains. “A drunk driver lost control of his car and mounted the curb right where you boys were standing. He was speeding, so he hit you pretty hard. Your foot was crushed under a wheel, you have a fractured wrist, and you bumped your head when you fell so you probably have a concussion. The doctors say you should heal just fine, though, gracias a Dios.”

Carlos lifts his head to look down at his body, only just registering the casts on his arm and foot. There’s a dull ache radiating through his entire body and his head is pounding in time with his heartbeat, but he’s alive and he’ll heal. He should be happy about that, but the only thing occupying his mind is his dad’s silence on TK.

“What about TK?” he asks, part of him dreading the answer. “I remember him pushing me; is he okay?”

“He’s…” His dad hesitates, sending a cold slither of fear down Carlos’s spine. “Alive.”

Carlos stares, the beginnings of panic stealing his breath. “What does that mean?”

His father blows out a long breath. “It means you were right,” he says, meeting Carlos’s eyes. “He did push you, so he took the brunt of the hit. He suffered a serious open pelvic fracture and broken ribs, which punctured his lung. Last I heard, they managed to fix him up and they’re not expecting any further complications, but we won’t know for sure until he wakes up.”

“He hasn’t woken up?”

“Not yet. He will, you’ll see.”

“I want to see him.”

And Carlos knows what the answer will be to that—a resounding no. He also knows that he won’t be able to argue; his father is incredibly stubborn, and when he digs his heels in, there’s no moving him. But he needs to at least try—he’s not going to stop worrying about TK until he sees him, and probably not for a long time after that.

His dad sighs and fixes him with a firm look. “Carlitos, you and I both know that’s out of the question,” he says. “You’ve only just woken up, you need to give yourself time to heal before exerting your body even more. Besides, he’s in good hands and Owen is with him, so we’ll know as soon as there’s any change.”

“Joder, Papá, I know all that,” Carlos cries, frustrated, barely able to refrain from throwing his head back on the pillow. “I just hate that he’s here, hurt, and I can’t even see him.”

“Lo sé,” His dad smiles gently, something that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but really only gets on Carlos’s nerves. “Escúchame, hijo. Descansa. Cúrate. Then you can focus on TK.”

It’s easier said than done and his father knows it, but Carlos has no choice. The conversation is effectively put to an end by his dad reaching over and pressing the call button next to the bed. A nurse comes in and quickly sets about checking his vitals and asking enough questions to make Carlos’s head spin. His probable concussion becomes definite, but otherwise he’s in good shape, all things considered.

He can’t help but wish he weren’t.

*

Two days later, Carlos is deemed fit to be discharged, providing he has someone to help him and providing he agrees to rest and not do anything even close to strenuous. TK is also awake now but, according to Owen, he’ll be kept in the hospital for at least another week. The break to his pelvis was bad, so he’ll need a wheelchair for a while even after discharge, and his refusal to take strong painkillers means his recovery is going to be long and painful.

Carlos is itching to see him. It’s been torture cooped up in his room without knowing how TK was doing—there’s only so much relief messages passed through their fathers can bring. It had only been his father’s stern and steady presence that had kept him in that bed when he felt like he was losing his mind with worry.

But now, finally, he’s being wheeled into TK’s room and helped onto the chair next to the bed. Owen stands off to the side, watching the two of them with a mixture of affection and sadness in his gaze, and his dad hovers behind him, but Carlos only has eyes for TK.

He looks incredibly tired, but he attempts a smile when he rolls his head to look at Carlos, extending his hand out across the distance between them.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos says softly, taking TK’s hand in his good one. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Not sure if I’ve been worse. I think this might just beat getting shot to that title.”

“That’s not funny.���

TK just hums, his eyes drifting closed for a second. “Maybe not.”

“Why did you push me?”

TK’s eyes fly open at the question, confusion overtaking his expression as he stares at Carlos. He moves as if to sit upright before groaning in pain, his face screwing up. Carlos reaches out for him, but he’s beaten to it by his father, who places a reassuring hand on TK’s shoulder.

“Take it easy, son,” he says gently. “Don’t move too much.”

“I hate this,” TK mutters, his body relaxing bit by bit. His gaze is still clouded when he looks back over at Carlos, but he manages a soft smile all the same. “I pushed you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. The car would have hit me either way; I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to get you out of the way in time.”

Carlos blinks at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sorry?” he asks, disbelief colouring his tone. “Ty, you’re in the hospital, seriously injured, because you chose to save me instead of yourself. Why would you do that?”

“You know why.”

Carlos does; of course he does, but it’s not enough to assuage the guilt still bubbling in his stomach at the sight of TK in the bed.

TK sighs, squeezing his hand. “You would have done the same for me,” he points out. “We both know you would have, so don’t you dare ask me to apologise for my choices.”

“I know. I won’t.” Carlos closes his eyes, deflating a little. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”

“And I hate seeing you hurt, so maybe you can do us both a favour and go home. I’ll be fine.”

Carlos must need his hearing tested, because there’s no way TK just said that. There’s no way his boyfriend told him to leave right after calling him out for hypocrisy. Except apparently he did, because he’s trying to disentangle their hands, and Carlos is not having that.

He grips onto TK even tighter and glares at him. “TK, if you think I’m leaving you here—”

“Carlos,” TK interrupts quietly. “I get it. But, babe, you need to rest and heal, and you can’t do either of those things sitting here.”

“Watch me.”

“No.” TK shifts his gaze over Carlos’s shoulder, a slight smirk playing at his lips. “Mr Reyes, can you make sure he rests?”

His dad laughs, leaning over to pat TK’s shoulder. “Of course. I’m sure once his mother sees him, she won’t let him out of her sight for a week anyway.”

TK grins. “Good to know.” He yawns and resettles himself slightly in the bed, his eyes fluttering shut. “Carlos, if you’re still here when I next open my eyes, I’m not kissing you for a month.”

“You shouldn’t make threats you know you can’t follow through with.”

“Don’t make me make it two.”

Despite himself, Carlos laughs. He leans over and presses a lingering kiss to TK’s temple, then stands as well as he’s able, leaning on his dad for support. “Alright, I’m going. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

TK already sounds half-asleep when he mumbles, “Love you too,” back, and Carlos can’t even be embarrassed by how ridiculously smitten he must look, even though he’s in front of both their fathers.

He allows his dad to move him back to the wheelchair and says a quick goodbye to Owen, keeping his eyes on TK for as long as he can. Just as they reach the door, he catches TK’s eyes opening to slivers, obviously checking to see if Carlos is actually leaving. Carlos shakes his head at him, causing TK to flush at the knowledge he’s been caught. His eyes slam shut again, his tongue poking out childishly, and Carlos laughs, a lightness settling in his heart even as TK’s room disappears from view.

It’s going to be a long few months for the both of them, but they have family behind them to help them get through it.

And they have each other. Which, given everything, Carlos thinks is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

[patchofsunlight]

Warmth | Zuko x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Avatar!Reader AU | Zuko has made many mistakes and holds uncountable regrets, but maybe Y/N can still love him back. Spoiler: she does.

REQUEST (by anon): “Could you do a zuko with maybe a f! avatar? Him falling in love with her like how they joked in ember island play. And him being tormented when she 'dies' in cross roads and them having some tender moment of confessing either in the western temple or ember island? maybe the play has the kiss and he confesses idk”

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

WARNINGS: Y/N is the Avatar, so Aang doesn’t exist. kissing, there might be swear words but I don’t really remember, bad editing. lots of mutual pining and some angst. I don’t know if I did this request justice but I really tried?

OBSERVATIONS: there’s a bit of Sokka x Reader bc I’m a weak woman but in the end he’s the main Zuko and Y/N shipper. not having Aang seriously hurt me. I wrote most of the Zuko sad rant in the beginning listening to Words Fail by Ben Platt and I think it would be interesting if you guys listened to that while reading? idk

I hope you all like it!!! feedback is always appreciated, so keep that in mind and thank you very much for reading!!

There was a hole inside his chest that Zuko simply couldn’t get rid of. It hurt him to his core, bringing pained sobs to the edge of his throat and slowly dismantling his soul.

He always thought getting rid of Y/N would quench his anger, rebuild his honor and complete his destiny. Now, his father accepted him again, Mai was his girlfriend, and Azula treated him like a true brother, in her own deranged ways. The Fire Nation considered him a hero, the man who killed the Avatar.

Then why did it trouble him so much? Why did he wake up every night in a cold sweat, with tears stinging his eyes? Why did he have the same nightmare over and over where he was the one responsible for her death, hitting her with lightning and watching as the light inside her disappeared, leaving behind only her idle body and Katara’s desperate cries? Why couldn’t he be satisfied? He had fulfilled his fate. He had done what he was meant to do, sided with his people, and fought against his greatest enemy. Why wasn’t he happy? Why couldn’t he ever be happy?

Back in Ba Sing Se, he saw her at the Jasmine Dragon more than once. He couldn’t believe his eyes when she first entered the teashop, and he was pretty sure she had recognized him, but Y/N managed to send a polite smile in his direction and sit down, greeting “Mushi” with joy. When Zuko served her tea, she asked him what his name was as if she didn’t know. She didn’t confront nor attack him — she simply let him live his new life and went on living hers. It felt like she had washed off his sins, erased the bloodstains he carried in his soul and hands. Y/N freed him of his past and he had thrown it all away.

It was the right thing to do, he had told himself day after day after day. Except it wasn’t, and now Iroh refused to talk to him and the Avatar was probably dead and, in the case she wasn’t, she would never forgive him. She wouldn’t let him be free of himself again and he would never get redemption for his mistakes.

He wished he could go back in time and fight alongside Y/N in that crystal cave, wished he could live up to the trust Katara offered him before they were saved, wished he could have stopped Azula from throwing that lightning bolt. He wished he could do things in the right way, yet he couldn’t. Zuko tried so hard to regain his so-called honor and to bring his father pride but his only real achievement was engulfing himself in guilt and regret, being aware that powerful and forgiving Y/N could be dead because of his lack of dignity and character — this couldn’t be honor. Violence, betrayal, death, and hurt couldn’t be honor, and he wasn’t sure he wanted his father’s pride if it meant feeling like this, like he was no good, like he was not worthy of love or praise or admiration.

Zuko had spent a great part of his life hating himself, but nothing compared to the hate he felt every night after waking up from another crushing nightmare. How dared he make this about himself and his feelings of guilt when the Avatar could be dead? How dared he worry about the Fire Lord’s pride when the world’s last hope was gone? How dared he indulge in self-pity after all he had done? He didn’t deserve pity, didn’t deserve help, he only deserved to wallow in his own pain and die. But that wouldn’t fix anything, neither would it bring Y/N back — he had to act, and he had to do it fast.

Going after Team Avatar was not difficult. He thought he would feel complicated like he had when first betraying Y/N’s trust, thought it would hurt like coming back to the Fire Nation did. Thankfully, leaving only caused a new type of satisfaction to bloom inside his chest, giving him the sensation he was finally walking through the right path. Hope seemed to pour out of every pore in his body and he could somehow think of better, future days when he would have done enough to make up for his mistakes, days when he didn’t feel the urge to scream every time he looked at a mirror. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to despise himself like he currently did, maybe things would be okay and he would be truly happy, if that was even something he had the capability to do.

But then they didn’t want him. He left everything behind, he charged every inch of his hope with the idea of joining the Avatar, and they didn’t want him. Why would they? Why would they, after everything he had done? How could he have even considered they would accept him, that she would trust him again? Of course they didn’t want him. No one did and no one ever would and that was entirely his fault — it was his fault that he was a bad person, took the wrong decisions, and caused pain and destruction. It was his fault he never did the right thing and he should’ve known he would be rejected again, for being rejected was just what he deserved.

But it still hurt. Oh, Spirits, it hurt. She couldn’t even look at him, even after he helped them defeat Combustion Man and was finally accepted in the group. Sadly, it made Zuko realize that, no matter where he stood, he would never be a part of their team, and Y/N would never trust him entirely. For some reason, that was more upsetting than their rejection. He wanted to impress her, wanted her to like him, and she never would.

“Y/N? Can I—can I come in?”

The Avatar looked up from the map she was currently analysing on her bed, studying his figure carefully before nodding with hesitance, “yes. Do you need something?”

He sighed deeply and walked towards her, feeling his heart crack when she brought her legs closer to her body and away from him the moment he sat on the edge of the bed, “I—I just wanted to talk to you about, well, you know, everything.”

Her expression hardened and she averted her eyes back to the map, “we have nothing to talk about, Zuko. You can go back to your room.”

The Fire Nation Prince swallowed nervously, “Y/N, please. I’m so, so sorry. I have made so many mistakes, I—”

“Zuko,” her voice was firm and emotionless, but that quickly changed when she met his gaze, “I thought things could be different. I thought things could be different back in the North Pole, when we first talked to each other and you told me about Azula. I thought things could be different when you saved me as the Blue Spirit. And I was so convinced things would be different when we met again in Ba Sing Se that I—” she scoffed at her own words, “I had a crush on you, can you believe that? That’s why I visited the teashop so regularly, I just wanted to see you. Stupid, of course. I should’ve known.”

Zuko was sure she could hear his anxious heart beating from the other side of the bed. They were less than a foot away, and yet it felt like miles. He didn’t want her to think about him like that, he didn’t want her to be disappointed in him. Damn, she used to have a crush on him, she liked him, and he screwed everything up like usual. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m—I’m here now, I’m on your side.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were on my side back then too. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. You need to teach me firebending and that’s the only reason you’re allowed here. Talking is unnecessary.”

“Please, I—”

“You should leave, Prince Zuko,” he flinched at the title escaping her lips, hating how it sounded bitter coming from her, “I have really important matters to deal with. We’ll start my firebending training tomorrow.” 

“Y/N—”

“Leave, Zuko.”

With a heaviness inside his stomach, he left the room, missing if by a second the frustrated tear that ran down Y/N’s cheek. She wanted to trust him, but how could she? How could she let him in after his betrayal? She had always been forgiving, but she refused to be naive — seeing Zuko side with Azula in the crystal caves hurt her deeply and shoved her little crush on him down her throat. She couldn’t go through that again, it would be simply idiotic to. Y/N had to stand her ground. She wouldn’t be hurt by him again.

-----

“Hey, jerks. Mind if I watch you two jerks do your jerkbending?”

“Get out of—” Zuko was interrupted by the Avatar’s laughter. Sokka smiled softly at her, cheeks blushing. For some reason, that only managed to piss Zuko off even more, “get out of here!”

“Okay, take it easy. I was just kidding around,” the Water Tribe boy winked at Y/N, “see you later?”

“Sure, we still need to see that part of the temple we found yesterday. Exploration partners!”

“Exploration partners!” he agreed with a chuckle and turned away from them. “Bye, Y/N. Jerkbending… Still got it.”

Zuko glanced at her with irritation while she watched Sokka leave. He felt already incredibly frustrated for not being able to produce his fire and not knowing why, he definitely did not need to watch as Sokka and Y/N flirted. 

They would make a cute couple, though, and she smiled so brightly at him it was physically painful to watch. He wanted her to smile like that at him, look like that at him. But she wouldn’t — she was over her crush and had no reason to ever feel anything towards him again, not after what he had done. He didn’t deserve her love anyway, so maybe it was for the best.

“So? Any progress, Sifu Hotman?”

“I told you not to call me that,” he snarled angrily and she sighed.

“Sorry, Sifu Hotman.”

“This was a mistake,” he sat down roughly, ignoring the ache on his legs due to the sudden movement, “maybe teaching you firebending is not my destiny.”

She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, not understanding, “what do you mean?”

“How can I teach you anything when I’ve lost my fire, Y/N?” he chuckled sadly, letting one of his hands go through his hair in distress. “I wanted to be on the good side of the war and I can’t even make myself useful.”

“You haven’t lost your fire, Zuko,” her voice was careful, “I think you’re just going through some internal conflict and that’s reflecting on your bending, but if you were meant to teach me firebending, you will. Your destiny is still your destiny regardless, Sifu Hotman.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the Avatar! I’m not even sure who I am anymore, but you have always known what your destiny was.”

“Yeah, and I was scared of it,” she smiled softly, “I ran away and disappeared for a hundred years. People died because of my absence. I have made mistakes, and I have failed many, many times. Sadly, that doesn’t make me less of an Avatar. Zuko, if you must be my teacher, it’s gonna work. We’ll figure things out and you will get your fire back. Okay?”

He stared inside her eyes. There was still some sort of mistrust in them — she was willing to help him because she needed him, but still suspicious. She wasn’t really sure he was on their side, but this was a start. He was going to fix everything and he would make her proud. He would make Y/N happy to call him a friend. Or something more.

Maybe he had a crush on her, too.

-----

Toph’s idea to look for the original source of firebending had greatly backfired (no pun intended, even though Y/N could clearly hear Sokka’s laughter in her head at the joke). They traveled to the Sun Warriors’ ancient city and found an impressive temple adorned with statues. Things were going surprisingly well until they weren’t, and now they were stuck in a disgusting glue because Zuko touched the pretty gemstone. Hours had passed and Y/N was increasingly more annoyed at their situation.

“You had to pick up the glowing egg, didn’t you?”

“At least I made something happen! If it were up to you, we’d never have made it past the courtyard.”

“Maybe, but we wouldn’t be stuck here either, so did you really win?”

Zuko rolled his eyes, “this is stupid. How are we getting out of here?”

“Help!” the girl screamed as loudly as she could, being met with only silence.

“Who are you yelling to? Nobody’s lived here for centuries,” the Fire Prince argued and it was Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Well, what do you think we should do, genius?”

“Think about our place in the universe?”

Despite her current irritation, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his words. He instinctively smiled back and she felt warmth spread through her chest.

She was starting to think she wasn’t as over her crush on him as she thought.

They were rescued by the Sun Warriors and judged by the last dragons, and Y/N was sure she hadn’t felt this alive in a while. After burning Katara (it was so long ago it seemed like a different life), she had thought of fire as something destructive, harmful, but she could now see it with new eyes. Fire could be love, life, and power. 

The Avatar glanced at Zuko. Maybe she could try and see him as that, too. 

-----

“You did well today,” Zuko complimented warily, avoiding her gaze, “if we keep up the training, you might become a better firebender than me.”

“Why, thank you, Hotman,” she smiled brightly and Zuko was sure he could pass out right there, “I just have a great teacher.”

“Y/N!”

The Avatar felt Sokka before she saw him, laughing at the way he hugged her from behind joyfully, leaning his chin on her shoulder. “Hey, honey. What’s up?”

“Doing fine,” he mumbled, brushing her hair off his face delicately, “wanna grab something to eat?”

“I think I’m gonna train some more and clean myself later. I’ll meet you after?”

“Sure! I’ll be back inside. See you, Y/N, Zuko.”

They both watched as the Water Tribe boy entered the temple again. There was a weird burning sensation running through Zuko’s blood when he asked, voice slightly raspy and overly quiet, “so, you and Sokka, huh? You make a nice couple.”

She turned her head to him so quickly it almost gave her whiplash, “what? No! I mean—” she blushed at the question, flustered by the fact he would even consider something like that. The Fire Prince waited silently, irritation surfacing at her stammering. He wasn’t sure why that angered him so much, but he decided to be still and listen, “we are just friends,” she concluded, “he means a lot to me, but so do Katara and Toph, you know? We are—we are just friends. He even likes that Kyoshi Warrior, Suki! So, yeah, we are definitely not a couple.”

“I see,” Zuko felt curiously static with that piece of information, “and you don’t have feelings for him?”

“No, of course not. I mean, I had a thing for him when we first met, but now it’s gone. He’s my best friend and I love him, just not like that.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Good?” Y/N turned her head to the side in confusion and he paled considerably, finally noticing the meaning of his own words. “Why is that good?”

“Oh? I—it’s good that you love him! Yeah, having friends is amazing, right? Yeah.”

She smiled amusingly, “it truly is.”

“Yeah.”

The Avatar chuckled lightly, “come on, Sifu Hotman. Let’s do that leg movement again, I think I’m not doing it right.”

Days passed and a lot of things happened. Zuko knew Y/N wouldn’t be happy with Sokka’s suicide mission, but he couldn’t let him do it alone, so he accompanied him to the Boiling Rock. Again, she wasn’t happy when he followed Katara for revenge for her mother’s death, but then at least someone had Katara’s back and was ready to protect her. He desperately wanted to earn Y/N’s trust and friendship, but that was rather difficult when he insisted on doing the stuff she didn’t want him to do.

They continued their training on Ember Island and the whole Team seemed to thoroughly enjoy the place. Y/N was giving her all to learn firebending and was succeeding splendidly. To be honest, Zuko loved to see her get the moves right — every single time she made it, she would look at him with bright eyes and grin. It was the most beautiful sight Zuko had ever seen and he would do anything to have it permanently engraved in his mind.

They stayed up late during one particular night. They were both exhausted after hours of training and ended up sat beside each other on the ground on the back of the Fire Nation Royal Family’s beach house. The air between them was filled with silence and heavy breathing from their previous effort.

“Hey, Zuko?” after a few moments, Y/N called him gently, voice tired and raspy giving him chills. She laid down and stared at the dark sky. “Look at the stars with me.”

He blinked, “really? I mean, shouldn’t we go inside?”

“Please?” her eyes met his and his heart skipped a beat. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” Zuko whispered, lying down next to her. They looked at the sky quietly for a bit.

He liked to be around her. It could be the Avatar thing, but Y/N had a calming aura around her that was just unmissable. Being next to her like this gave him the feeling things would be alright, the feeling he was not worthless. It was a lie, of course. There was no way to know how their plans would go, and he was pretty much worthless.

But being beside her was enough to trick his mind. Maybe the little crush he harbored towards her had become something more — Spirits, he liked her so much. Not that it mattered, considering there was no way she would ever love him back, not after everything he had done.

“When I was younger, I believed we became stars when we died.”

He turned his head to look at her, “really?”

She turned to look back and his breath hitched at their close proximity. She chuckled, “yeah. I didn’t even know I was the Avatar back then, I was so young. They told me when I was sixteen, and I ran away shortly after,” there was bitterness to her words, “like a coward.”

“You are not a coward, Y/N. You had no way of knowing how things would go.”

“You really think so?”

“I do. Besides, if you hadn’t run away, you wouldn’t have been stuck on ice for a hundred years, and I would never have met you, which would be awful,” he widened his eyes, completing quickly, “and Sokka, Katara, and Toph, too. I wouldn’t have met them either. Of course.”

Her smile was so pretty he forgot how to breathe, “you’re right, Zuko. I don’t think I would have liked to live a life where I never met you,” she smirked before going on with teasing eyes, “and Sokka, Katara, and Toph, too. Of course.”

“Of course,” he agreed with a blush on his face. They stared at each other carefully and Zuko was pretty sure his heart was performing a professional routine of somersaults inside his body. He definitely was past just a simple crush.

Y/N smiled that dazzling smile of hers before averting her gaze to the stars again and yawning. “We should go in.”

“We should,” the Fire Prince immediately started to sit up, but she held him down with a hand to his chest, and probably felt his crazy heartbeat under her fingers.

“Just a bit more, Prince Zuko,” she whispered, eyes trained to the sky. Slowly but surely, she moved her hand from his chest to his own hand, creating goosebumps on every inch of skin she lightly touched on the way there. Zuko could feel his body burn at the barely-there feeling of her fingertips. She intertwined her fingers with his carefully, giving him the chance to pull away if he so wished. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed her hand. She immediately squeezed his back in reassurance.

In the middle of the quiet and comfort they suddenly found in each other, they fell asleep under the stars, fingers playing with each other until exhaustion finally engulfed them in dreams of pretty smiles and light touches.

It was nice to dodge the nightmares.

-----

“I’ve heard you and Zuko slept outside today,” Sokka had a teasing tone to his voice. Y/N glared at him, “you are together now or something?”

“We are not,” she countered, scratching Appa while they talked. Zuko, Toph, Katara, and Suki had left for the beach already. Y/N still needed to feed her sky bison and Sokka offered to help with the excuse of being a good friend. The Avatar was absolutely sure that wasn’t the real reason he stayed back alongside her and he was currently proving her right, “we were just stargazing and then fell asleep.”

“Stargazing, huh? Real cute. I bet it was an endearing impromptu date, wasn’t it?”

“Since when do you even know the word impromptu?”

“I am always full of surprises.”

“Right,” she rolled her eyes and he laughed loudly, “it was not a date.”

“But you do like him, right?.”

“What?” she turned her entire body to him, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms in a defensive stance. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I know you better than you know yourself and I can tell you have feelings for him,” Sokka copied her movements, staring at her with a smirk, “I also know he likes you back.”

Y/N scoffed and transferred her attention back to Appa, “he does not.”

“So you admit you like him!”

“Shut up, Sokka!” she glared, but quickly gave up under his intense eyes and raised brows. “Yeah, I like him. It doesn’t matter, though.”

“Yes, it does! He feels the same! Look, what about this,” he leaned in closer, that crazy look he had whenever making up a plan taking over his face, “we are going to watch that play about us tonight, right? Well, you guys can sit next to each other! Like a couple!”

“That’s a terrible idea, honey.”

“It’s not! I bet he’s gonna make a move!”

“He won’t, because he’s not in love with me.”

“Wait, you’re in love with him?”

Y/N’s entire body tensed up. She shouldn’t have said that. She wasn’t in love with Zuko! Was she? I mean, she did love to be beside him, and her heart sped up when he gave her one of his rare smiles, and training with him when he had his shirt off was distracting to say the least. Besides, he really seemed to have changed and grown — she felt like she could trust him again, but she could never be sure, and she was adamant on not getting hurt once more. Especially now, when she was dealing with so many things. If he betrayed her a second time… Spirits, it would be just too much to handle.

“I don’t know,” she muttered and Sokka’s cheeky smile faltered, “I don’t want to be.”

He stretched an arm out to hold her hand fondly, “it’s fine, Y/N. Whatever happens, I’m here for you, okay?”

The Avatar smiled sadly, “thank you, Sokka. I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

“I know, honey. I’m great like that.”

She laughed loudly and he grinned in satisfaction, turning her body around and starting to lead her towards the beach, an arm through her shoulders holding her close to his body.

“Shut up, Sokka. You’re so stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”

Zuko felt a pang to his chest when Sokka and Y/N arrived at the beach holding each other so dearly, but he knew he had no right to complain. She would be better off with Sokka anyway — he was good-looking, nice, funny, smart. Meanwhile, Zuko was nothing but a sad mixture of mistakes and regrets. The Avatar deserved more than that.

“Hey, Hotman,” she walked to him with a smile, planting a kiss on Sokka’s cheek before leaving his side. “Why are you all alone on the sand?”

“Because he’s boring,” Toph answered from some feet away and Katara chuckled. Zuko could feel his face redden.

“He is not,” Y/N argued amusingly, sitting down beside him and grinning. She glanced at him with a happy spark in her eyes, “are you excited for the play tonight?”

“No,” he muttered, but his lack of vivacity didn’t bother her in the slightest, “the Ember Island plays are always ridiculous.”

“I think it’s going to be fun,” she shrugged contently, basking in the hot sun, “if it isn’t, we can always throw food at the stage or whatever.”

He tried really hard, but couldn’t bit back the smile that took over his frown. He watched her attentively, noticing how she seemed to glow in the daylight, giving off this incredible warmth he had only ever seen on her. He averted away his gaze, feeling his neck and face heat up at how unapologetically beautiful she was.

Zuko cleared his throat quietly, “yeah, I guess.”

She only smirked in response.

-----

The play could be worse, he figured. Yes, their portrayal of him was horrible (even though his friends — could he call them friends? Were they friends? He hoped they were — said otherwise) and the actress playing Y/N was not nearly as pretty as the Avatar really was, but Y/N was next to him and, at some point, she had leaned her head on his shoulder tiredly and stayed there. All the training was getting to her and he felt inexplicable joy in the fact she trusted him enough to rest her body on his.

“Look,” her voice was raspy from sleepiness and a chill ran down his spine, “I think now is when you join Team Avatar and becomes our friend.”

He nodded carefully not to disturb her from her position and his heart skipped a beat when she nuzzled closer to his neck. Zuko watched as actor Zuko was accepted into the group and just after a scene with only him and actress Y/N started. Actor Zuko stared at the actress longingly, “my dear Y/N… I know I have wronged you in many ways, but I wanted to apologize for my mistakes and beg for your forgiveness!”

Y/N giggled at that, nudging him affectionately, “that really happened.”

He smiled, eyes following the performers on stage. Actor Zuko continued, “your forgiveness… And maybe your love, Avatar.”

They both immediately tensed up at the words and Y/N moved her head slightly, brows furrowing in confusion.

“My love, Prince Zuko?”

“Yes, my darling.”

They all watched as Actor Zuko and Actress Y/N kissed passionately, earning cheers from the audience. Sokka whistled loudly and Y/N turned to glare at him, receiving a wink in return.

“I have been in love with you since we first met!” Actor Zuko declared excitedly, holding Actress Y/N’s hands. “You are the only one who can make me forget about my teen angst. I love you, Y/N.”

“Well… I don’t!” Actress Y/N moved away swiftly and the crowd gasped in surprise. “I have accepted you in my group, Prince Zuko… But I’ll never accept you in my heart! You’re a bad person that doesn’t deserve my love!”

“What?!” Sokka almost screamed in disbelief. Y/N finally took her head off Zuko’s shoulder, incertitude swimming in her eyes. Before she had the chance to speak, Zuko had already left. The Water Tribe boy widened his eyes at her. “Go after him!”

Y/N nodded her head, getting out of her seat and walking after Zuko, calling his name. He ignored her, feeling anger boil inside him. He knew she would never directly say something like that, but he also knew it was true. She would never love him — he wasn’t worthy of her love, and he was pretty sure she was aware of that too.

“Zuko, wait!” she finally catched up to him, holding his arm and pulling him back. “It’s just a stupid play, Zuko. None of that is true.”

“Really, Y/N?” he turned to stare at her, rage covering his expression. “Because I’m almost certain it is. They said I don’t deserve love, Y/N, and that’s true. After everything I’ve done…”

“No!” she exclaimed desperately, shaking her head vehemently in disagreement. “Zuko, of course you deserve love. Yes, you have made mistakes, but all of us have. You shouldn’t care about what some actress says.”

“But they’re right, Y/N,” he insisted, feeling tears stinging his eyes, “I’m unworthy of love and everyone knows, and that’s why nobody actually loves me.”

“I love you!” she yelled out before she could stop herself, breath hitching at the troubled look taking over his face. Y/N sighed deeply, crossing her arms shyly and looking away, “I do,” her voice was small as she blushed, “I thought I was over my little crush for you but I wasn’t, and it’s—it’s much more than a little crush. I was afraid of admitting it but I know who you are, Zuko. You are loyal and smart and so inherently good and I love you. Spirits, I really do.”

  He stared at her for a second, processing her words. She fidgeted anxiously and he smiled at all her small manners. With certainty to his movements, Zuko took a step forwards and cradled her face in his hands. He studied every inch of her expression, waiting for some kind of rejection. She offered him a hopeful smile and he was quick to smash his lips with hers, feeling the warmth that always surrounded her consume him entirely. He kissed her passionately, happiness pouring out of him — the words “she loves you” echoing inside his mind like a broken record, filling his heart with joy.

She moved away when there was no more air in her lungs, breathing heavily and grinning like a mad woman. Y/N lifted her arm and touched his scar so fondly it physically hurt. Never before had he been touched with such care and it made tears flood his eyes, something she instantly noticed, giggling at his cuteness and drying one running tear with her thumb. She felt like her chest was full. He kissed her thumb lovingly when it rested near his mouth. 

She loved him. She thought he was worthy of love, of her love, even after everything he had done. No matter how many mistakes he had made, she still loved him, and that thought was enough to make Zuko feel some sort of hope towards the future.

Spirits, she really loved him.

“I love you too, Y/N. Very, very much.”

is it good? not really. could it be worse? yeah lmao

taglist: @bottledcostcowater @lammello @coldlilheart @azucanela @samsmultifandomblogs and @knaite-solo that asked to be tagged on this particular piece

thank you all for reading!! I hope you liked it!!

[hughiecampbelle]

Being The Smartest Shelby Would Include:

Polly knew you were smart from the start

She said so when you were a baby, but of course no one believed her

Everyone thought their kids were special, but you really were

Born just a few years before Finn, you weren't the baby, but you definitely weren't the oldest, so it was hard to be taken seriously

It started with your homework

You spent a lot of nights trying to tell your siblings it was just too easy

You weren't just getting every answer right, you were finishing pages of work in minutes, faster than anyone in your class

Eventually, you moved on to your brothers work

Finding it discarded on the table, you recognized Johns scraggly handwriting

He'd only made it halfway through, so you decided to finish it, even fixing some of his mistakes along the way

You wanted to show them what you'd done, but of course no one listened

At least, not until you stood on your chair and demanded that someone look over your work

It was a bit dramatic, and made for an embarassing story later, but you wanted to be heard

They did, finally, and they were shocked

Tommy handed it to John, who passed to Ada, skipping over Arthur, who eventually got it to Polly

"Well?"

"It's right, all of it. . . ."

"Fuck."

It wasn't just math though. You were reading every book you could find, even the ones your siblings struggled to get through

You had a knack for puzzles, for figuring things out no one else could, able to pull things apart and put them together just in your head

Polly knew, and she was going to do something about it

Anything she could find to keep you entertained, occupied, your mind at work, she'd bring it home

You had an incredible memory too, remembering everything from the contents on the back of bottles you brothers drank from to entire speeches Polly gave when all of you were misbehaving

It was amazing, to say the least

You were a kid when your brothers went off to war, so it was mostly Ada and Polly who spent long nights with you at the table over homework

You didn't think it was fair, that you were forced to stay in school when none of your siblings were

Polly called it a gift, said you shouldn't take it for granted

She had big plans for you, the kind of career kids like you could only dream of

Finn grows up with you reading to him every night

Even helping him with schoolwork, though that didn't last very long

It still irks you Polly let's Finn drop school, not even getting past reading himself, but you know better than to push the subject

By the time your brothers come back, thankfully all in one piece, you've become a bit of a myth or legend around the Small Heath

Not only are you taller and with more acne, a young teenager, you've made a name for yourself, and a business

After school you could be found with a hat on the ground, getting pocket change for your "abilities"

Showing off and splitting the money with friends, you put on shows

Memorizing the faces of strangers, drawing them almost perfectly by hand, reciting lines of poetry from class all from memory, etc.

Sometimes you bring Finn along, promising candy for his silence, making him part of the act

Your favorite is showing off the languages you've lesrned, switching between Romani, French, Italian, and German (to name a few) without a second thought, so effortlessly

Arthur caught you once, but instead of saying anything, he simply cheered you on, laughing at the fact that your business was doing better than the familys

You spent a lot of time in the shop like Finn, growing up there, but never really allowed in on business, not even to listen

Instead you were ordered to be quiet and focus on your studies

And you did, for a few years, slipping notes to John about what you thought would improve business, pressing your ear to the door to listen, putting up with being categorized as "one of the kids" with Finn

And then you made an announcement, one that almost killed Polly

You weren't going to university, and instead you'd be joining the family business

Your aunt put up a good fight, but your brothers were more than happy to welcome you, with rules of course

Ada wasn't too thrilled either, knowing how smart you were, and how special it was, but she wasn't going to stop you

Pol was, or at least she was going to try

"You could be anything you want y/n."

"And I choose this."

"You're-"

"Wasting my potential? So you've said."

You'd be more behind the scenes, working on the business side rather than the side with razors and guns

Your brothers were more than happy to hear that, though you'd gotten more than a few comments muttered by Pol

If you really wanted to, you could always be a doctor or a lawyer later in life, for now this is what you wanted most

You were finally part of your family

Within the first week, you have a full list of what could be improved and you're center stage in the family meeting

To say that was nerve wrecking was an understatement

Tommy had his doubts, of course, but John knew you'd been keeping their heads above water for a long time

"Go on then, you've got our attention."

You were the one they went to check over the books, the numbers, catching mistakes no one else did

It wasn't just spelling mistakes or addition issues, you were taking stock in inventory, in all the bullets that were wasted, the little things that went missing that no one seemed to notice

It didn't take long for you to work your way up, prove yourself not only to Tommy, but Pol too, showing her this wasn't a waste of your time

She's still not thrilled, but you're as stubborn as the rest, and she knows it's a losing battle

At least you're being smart with your work

Tommy made you check over every contract and agreement he made, making sure he didn't miss a single detail that would screw them over

He brought you to the races too, working out probability, though your math was shaky at best under that kind of pressure and uncertainty

You were the one counting the profits and losses too, weighing the options of whether or not to invest

You're really the only one who knows just how much the family makes

That is a dangerous thing in itself

You make friends quite easily

Not only can you speak an array of languages, bonding with everyone, but you've got that Shelby charm and good looks, too

You're quite popular, though your brothers constantly get in the way of any potential relationship

You're smart though, and not just for their gain, but yours too

If and when you're ready to date, you'll find a way

Alfie adores you

Tommy drives him mad, but he'd have you over any day

Not only does he love the fact that you can keep up with him, witty beyond belief, but your Hebrew is perfect

"So, you're the brains behind the whole operation?"

"Something like that."

You're brought along to a lot of in person deals

You pick up on things no one else does, remembering the littlest of things that can and will be weaponized if need be

Their kids and spouses names, the way they look at you, how they speak and carry themselves

It doesn't take long for you to know exactly who they are

"They're lying Tom. I know they are."

"How can you tell?"

"They look away when they answer, their eye twitches, and they always lean forward when they're saying something true."

"You got all that from a five minute conversation?"

You're not only their beloved little sibling, but the perfect weapon

They don't teach you how to use a gun, but you've been watching for years, making note of every tiny detail

When you do use a gun, which is inevitable, it's a perfect shot

Arthur and Tom insist you carry something with you, but you're fine sticking with a simple razor

The guns can stay with them. . . .

Not only does it come in handy with work, but your family, too

You pick up on the way Arthur escalates, talking him down before there's a full outburst

You know the nights Tommy does and doesn't sleep just by the sound of his voice, the way he signs his name

You know when to check up on Ada if she's not doing well after Freddies gone, even if no one else can see the hurt in her eyes

That's the thing everyone seems to forget, is that you're not only book smart, but people smart, too

Constantly making fun of your siblings right in front of them

"Pol, y/n's making fun of me!"

"I am not! You don't even speak Russian."

"No, but I can guess."

He'd never admit it to you, but Finn really is amazed by you

Ever since he was a kid he always looked up to you

School and homework and all that never came easy to him, and it lead to him giving up, so the fact that all of this comes so easy makes him proud to be your brother

"Y/n, curse in a language we all know or don't say it all."

Along with learning weapons along the way, you pick up on how to be a nurse, tending to whatever it needed

From your nieces and nephews scraped knees to bullet wounds

"Do not get blood on my new shirt!"

No one really suspects you to be listening or watching the way you do, so when they need it, you go "undercover"

Gaining the trust of the enemy, pretending to be a stranger that just so happens to get their attention as if you hadn't been figuring out what makes them tick, distracting them with drinks and small talk

If anything goes wrong, you picked up on how to get away, how to fight without getting too much attention, and not just by watching

With a memory like yours, there are some things you'd like to forget and can't

A lot of things do leave you with nightmares, with flashes of panic, with this dreadful feeling in your gut like you'd seen it all before

At one point or another you've called your siblings and aunt in the middle of the night, just to check up on them, see if they're okay

Begging your brothers to be more careful

They rarely ever listen though

"Is there anything you can't do?"

"I can't go on a date."

"Nope, not until you're forty."

"Come on Arthur, you can't scare them all away."

Despite all this, you're still treated like a child

Your siblings still see you as that smart little kid correcting their work and growing bored of even the most complicated things

No matter what you do or say, you'll always be small in their eyes

[teawaffles]

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 4

Having concealed all traces of his presence, Albert was advancing through the enemy’s territory with efficient steps.

He moved through the battlefield without making so much as a sound, and had already felled three opponents; even so, he had yet to encounter any real action. Louis and the others were on the opposing team, so it was probable that their movements had been meticulously planned with strategic intent: perhaps, rather than making a clumsy full-on assault, they were quietly moving the situation along. In that case, between their opponents’ flag and total annihilation, which target should he aim for……?

From the time that had elapsed, Albert approximated the remaining strengths of both his opponents and allies. But just as he was working out a plan, he abruptly sensed a presence following him from behind.

He hid himself in a thicket, and turned around. Standing there was…….

“……Master Jack?” he smiled.

Before him was Jack Renfield.

Jack chortled. “Albert. I was observing you from behind for a bit: you didn’t leave any openings, and your movements were sharp. You’ve certainly made your teacher proud.”

As he said that, Jack toyed with the rubber knife in his hand.

“Nonetheless, I didn’t notice your presence until the last second; I still have a ways to go.”

“No, no — if I had approached you with the intent to attack, I’m sure you would’ve detected me. No need to be humble.”

He laughed heartily as he placed a hand on Albert’s shoulder.

“But I’ve gotten the feeling that there weren’t many enemies along the way, somehow. I wonder what they’re planning?”

“I’ve felt the same. They can’t have decided to throw the game either.”

“You’ve got that right. Of all people, your beloved Louis wouldn’t do that. Not to mention that team has Moran and Bond too: they aren’t the type to stand by and allow defeat——”

That instant, Jack dived to the side, breaking off the conversation. Around the same moment, Albert ducked, and a dry thud could be heard from the ground.

A look in that direction revealed a single mock bullet lying on the dirt. Albert verified that there were no others in the vicinity, and murmured.

“……A sniper shot.”

Jack nodded wordlessly. Then, the two of them fixed their gazes on a single spot in the distance. There, stood a small wooden cabin that seemed to overlook the entire forest.

“It seems to have come from that cabin.”

“That’s within enemy territory. I had a feeling someone would eventually make use of it,” Albert remarked.

Jack agreed.

A building that commanded a bird’s eye view of the battlefield was an exceptionally convenient thing to have. But although its utility was apparent, there was the downside that it was easy to deduce that one was hiding within. Its advantages and drawbacks were inextricably linked, and now, the two of them had been attacked from that cabin.

“As I recall, only a handful of people chose the sniper rifles, since they’re not easy for an amateur to use.”

“In that case, the list of potential suspects have been narrowed down.”

It wasn’t yet certain, but considering the skill of that sniper shot a moment ago, both men instinctively landed on the sniper’s true identity.

“——Is it Moran?”

“——It’s Moran.”

Magnificently, the master and student had agreed with one another. If it really was Moran, he could then target these two people with whom he was connected on a daily basis at once: this would be a golden opportunity.

As if they could see the man’s fiery gaze from the window of the cabin far off in the distance, the two men laughed in equal parts astonishment and elation.

“It’s likely that their strategy involves him shouldering their defence alone, while the rest go after our flag. That’d be why we barely encountered the enemy ever since we set foot in here.”

“I see: so they’ve made our camp the main battlefield. But in that case, we can consider their flag to be near the place he’s guarding.”

Just as Jack had predicted the location of their opponents’ flag — a possible route to victory, yet another bullet passed over their heads, whizzing through a spot precisely between the two of them. Considering Moran’s skill, it had clearly not been intended to hit.

Jack rotated his shoulders wearily.

“He hasn’t moved from his previous position. Moreover, that shot…… His aim was clear.”

“Indeed. It was a provocation — to ‘come and get me’.”

Saying that, Albert smiled, and Jack burst into laughter.

“Gahahaha! How impertinent!”

Despite being right in the middle of enemy territory, the old butler paid no heed to his surroundings as he raised his voice. Then, a ferocious glint twinkled in his eyes.

“Excellent. Let’s make him rue the day he picked a fight with us.”

“Agreed. For him, we shall be worthy opponents.”

With smiles on their faces, the two men turned to the cabin, and dashed toward their top-priority target at breakneck speed.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

As Albert and Jack had reasoned, the blue team’s camp had been transformed into an intense battlefield. The opposing team’s forces were shoving aside the vegetation as they advanced, and the blue team’s rear guard fired volley after volley of bullets, pulling out all the stops to defend their position. Even though it was just for fun, the heated atmosphere made it feel almost like a real combat zone.

“Oi oi, is help not here yet?”

“Everyone’s scattered all over the forest, so it’s hard to reach them. For now, we’ll have to get through this on our own.”

“Can’t we do anything about that? Still, it looks like the enemy forces are dwindling. Let’s hang in there and ride this out.”

Near the flag, some nobles were exchanging words of encouragement. Next to them, some children had banded together, and were firing indiscriminately with glee.

“Ahaha, this is fun!”

“Ah! I got someone!”

“We’re under attack here — someone come over~”

The children were laughing as they brandished their revolvers, and it made for an unpleasant sight. At first, the adults had taken issue with it, but then they remembered how they’d played war games themselves when they had been younger, and decided not to take it too seriously.

In the midst of all that, a distance away from the group of children, a girl was sitting quietly alone.

“…………”

This isolated figure was nothing more than a nobody who’d been excluded by her friends. But the adults who were supposed to point out this incongruity were all absorbed in the heat of the battle: unfortunately, they hadn’t even noticed her very existence.

“……It’s so boring.”

Those words fell from her lips. But disappointingly, they were swallowed up by the din of the gunfire and shouts.

Perhaps she should just go and get shot. That was what crossed her mind, but the moment she was about to get up, a small hand gripped her shoulder and stopped her.

Startled, the girl looked behind her, and saw a familiar face.

“What’re you doing? Even if it’s just one more person, our team needs more firepower — surely you weren’t thinking of dropping out on your own, right?”

After delivering that stinging rebuke, Helena Curtis sat down beside the girl, and began loading her gun.

Even now, as she looked at Helena’s angry profile, the girl’s face was screwed up as if she was about to cry.

“……Why? Even though I betrayed you?”

But Helena responded in astonishment.

“What’re you saying? I’m only doing this because I want to win. Don’t take this in a weird way.” Her mouth twisted into a frown, as if she were deeply unhappy.

At Helena’s words, the girl retracted her gratitude, and leaned back a little.

“Y-Yeah. Sorry……. That’s right. It’s for the game.”

Disappointed, she lowered her gaze. But once she’d finished reloading her gun, Helena’s expression morphed into one of sullen dissatisfaction as she continued.

“……That’s why, I’ll forget about how you left me out before.”

“!”

Those words were somewhat twisted, but even so, they carried a clear depth of emotion. Helena’s cheeks had turned red; as the girl registered that, her eyes vaguely misted up.

But it wasn’t like she was crying and begging for forgiveness here. The girl pursed her lips, and abruptly cast her gaze forward.

“……I see. Then, let’s forget about those unnecessary ties and join forces.”

“Yeah — we’ll definitely win. And if we lose, I’ll treat you to something.”

Helena and her former friend. The two of them stood side by side on the same battlefront, laughing as they once did.

——I’m glad I had the courage.

In her heart, that was what Helena thought.

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8.2k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: fxf smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically a mff threesome

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and with a special appearance from eight special guests

A/N: due to burnout, i’m unfortunately putting tgm on hold and logging off of tumblr for a little while, so there will be a bit of a wait before you get the new chapter. i’m going to log back on after 48 hours when the vote is done, because i’m considering putting the results behind a ‘read more’ option so that if you don’t want to wait, you can choose to reveal who is being voted out, otherwise you have the freedom to wait for the chapter. i have a post coming out explaining why i’m going on hold and what that means. please keep an eye out for it xx

ELIMINATION

The vote has closed.

DAY TWENTY-ONE

Your ass is still still a little sore the next morning, and having Hoseok smirk at you every time you shifted is a special kind of torture in and of itself. Waiting for everyone to gather, you’re one moment away from begging Taehyung for a massage right then and there before Sejin finally enters, rapping awkwardly on the doorframe as he steps in.

Skipping the pleasantries, he hunkers down on the coffee table in the middle of the couches, gesturing for you to join.

You swallow, aware of the attention on you. “Can I just stay on the couch?” You stubbornly avoid Hoseok’s gaze, leaning further back into the cushions, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around you as you tuck your head against his shoulder. Maybe you’d ask for that massage later, you reason, massages are platonic, right?

“Sure,” Sejin allows after a moment, eyes softening in sympathy. You flush at the unspoken reminder that he definitely saw the footage, but the producer powers on. “Let’s get started, then, we have quite the day ahead of us.”

Your phone burns a hole in your pocket. You’d been chatting earlier this morning over text with your friend, who was already on a train on his way here. You wonder how the boys will react to Eric. Part of you had worried, but you’ve yet to meet a single person that didn’t like him. It would be good to finally catch up.

The other guys don’t seem suspicious about the news, but before you can dwell on it, Sejin is clearing his throat and lowering his voice into the announcer-like tone he used for the meetings. “This week’s theme was Work Hard, Play Hard. According to the Bangasm Bomb, Week Two’s fan favourite Yoongi was allowed to distribute them. Instead of asking Y/n to guess, I want the players to each say whether they were happy with Yoongi’s choice or not. Starting on the right with you: Jin.”

Perhaps due to their splitting up yesterday morning - you hope their conversation went well in the end - Jin and Yoongi are on opposite couches, and Jin is a little subdued when he speaks to Yoongi. Not necessarily sad, just calmer than normal, like they were old friends. “So, Yoongichi gave me foodplay. As much as I appreciated getting the prompt, and I had a wonderful time with Y/n, never fucking again will I use something so messy. I swear to god, there’s still caramel in my hair, and I don’t think it’ll ever come out.”

You wince at the description, jostled slightly by Taehyung’s laughter rocking his body. Sejin confirms that he’d successfully fulfilled his prompt, and moves along to Namjoon, who looks about as red as a fire hydrant.

“Mine was ageplay,” Namjoon explains, voice dipping so quiet that you can barely hear him, before he clears his throat and glances up again. “I enjoyed it a lot, if I’m being honest. Um- thank you, Yoongi. I’m a little concerned that you knew to give it to me, though.”

“Come on,” Jin jibes, punching his shoulder lightly, “you’re absolute Daddy material. When it doesn’t look like you crawled out of someone’s pocket, at least.”

Namjoon frowns down at himself, the denim overalls rolled up at the ankles, mismatched socks and a t-shirt with a little embroidered sun on it. “Was that a compliment?”

Jin sends him a solemn, meaningful look. “It’s whatever you need it to be.”

“Anyways,” Sejiin jumps in, “congratulations, Namjoon, you’ve avoided the bunks again. Following on, we have Jimin. Go ahead.”

With legs that look a mile long in some skinny black jeans, Jimin winks across the room to Yoongi. “I got breathplay,” he explains, “which I’ll admit isn’t my favourite prompt out of them all, but I still had a really good time. Though I did try and go a little easy just in case.”

Your eyes widen, remembering ringed fingers around your throat and his cold smirk which contrasted with the heat of him inside you. “That was going easy?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’ve barely scratched the surface, Y/n,” he states vaguely and sits back, tilting his head to Sejin to indicate he’s finished.

The producer quickly informs him he was successful, and moves onwards. On your couch, the only active player is Hoseok, who sits on the opposite side to Taehyung. He sends you a mischievous grin before leaning out to face Yoongi. “Wax play for me,” he reveals to the group, “which was an absolute delight. I’m very glad I got this one, just for safety reasons. It sounds like some of the prompts this week were a little more intense.”

He sits back, but Sejin doesn’t move on this time. “Hoseok, unfortunately you failed your prompt this week.”

Hoseok blinks, brows lifting. “But there are cameras in that bathroom! I checked.”

“That’s not the issue,” Sejin explains with a sympathetic smile, “it’s that you directly revealed to Y/n what your prompt was. Now-” he begins, seeing Hoseok’s clear disappointment, “I had a talk with some of the editing and producing teams on this, as well as the higher-ups. Because we understand and appreciate that you revealed the prompt for reasons related to safety and wellbeing, we’re going to change things up a bit. You have a choice. Either you take the penalty and stay in the bunkrooms, or you stay in your own room. The caveat is that you randomly have to draw a name, and that person will join you.”

Hoseok winces. “God, this feels like a variety show,” he complains, “but I’ll risk it and take my bedroom. At least I’ll be comfy, and I’m fine sharing a bed with most of you anyway.”

Sejin’s already prepared, nodding and retrieving seven strips of paper from his pocket, all folded in two. The rest of you hold your breath as Hoseok’s hand hovers over the splayed-out options, finally tugging one out from the bottom. He takes it, flicks it open, and immediately deflates with a frustrated groan.

“This is fucking rigged,” he protests, ripping the paper into two, “I pick the bunkrooms.”

Sejin patiently holds his hand out for the torn shreds, reading them over. Is that a smile on his lips? “Jung Hoseok, you’ll be staying in the comfort of your bedroom with fellow contestant Park Jimin until the date of the next Sunday meeting.”

“Hey!” Jimin shrieks. “I did my prompt! Do I get no say in this?!”

“You don’t, unfortunately,” Sejin replies promptly. “Next up is Jungkook.”

Jimin squawks, collapsing back onto the couch with his arms tightly folded and his mouth screwed up into a scowl. Across from him sits Jungkook, clinging to Yoongi. With his legs tucked under him and his sleeves balled in his hands, the youngest gentleman is reminiscent of his subbier side when you played with him. “I got anal play,” he declares proudly, “I can’t believe it took me three weeks to get pegged. Shoutout to homeboy for sending that prompt my way.” He punctuates the comment by gently bumping his head against Yoongi’s shoulder, like a cat on its owner’s leg. Rather than sitting up, he stays there.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind, finishing off before Sejin can even step in. “I was cumplay,” he states plainly, “so of course, I took that. Who needs to fuck around with wax and food and shit when you can stick to the basics?”

The producer nods formally, tapping his shoe against the carpet. “And the two of you both successfully completed your prompts, congratulations. That means nobody will be staying in the bunkrooms this week. Taehyung,” he turns and fixes the boy with a warm stare, “you’re welcome to go back to your room for the rest of the competition.”

Taehyung beams, a boxy grin and crescent eyes. “Noted, sir,” he says with a chirp. “Do we get to find out fan favourite now? I know who I’m rooting for.” Taehyung sends Jimin a shy smile, and the older boy winks at him fondly.

“Yes, of course,” Sejin allows, clearing his throat. “As usual, we tallied up the results from the voting page on our website. I’ll say the top three. Third place this week was Jungkook. Congratulations.”

The youngest man sits upright suddenly with a wide-eyed look. “Seriously? I didn’t even dom! Oh, wow, uh-” he cuts himself off and looks around, finally fixing his sights on one of the cameras near the roof that are streaming to the fans. He pumps his fists with a little cheer, then folds them together and bows. “Thank you! I’ll do even better next week.”

Yoongi’s cheeks go pink as he tries to act like he isn’t cooing over the boy, reaching out to ruffle his ever-growing hair. “Good job, kid,” he compliments shortly.

“Second place,” Sejin continues, “Seokjin.”

It seems as if the therapist hadn’t seen it coming at all. A picture-perfect expression of shock blooms on his face before he lets out a bright peal of laughter, clapping his hands together with a single smack. “I did it! Ah, I knew I still had it in me. Old age won’t stop me yet, see. Everyone should learn from this.”

You shake your head with bemusement, lifting your brows at him. “Silver medal and it’s already going to your head, huh? The fans have created a monster.”

“The fans have seen the light,” Jin corrects placidly, before a line forms between his brows. “Wait. Who got first, then? Who outdid me plus caramel sauce?”

“In first place, and winning the chance to spend an evening outside the Villa with Y/n,” Sejin starts, before pausing for dramatic effect, “is Hoseok. You’re having quite the emotional rollercoaster this morning, Mr. Jung.”

Instead of a hooting cheer, a smug grin, or even disbelief, perhaps the one thing you didn’t see coming was Hoseok blinking quickly, before pressing the back of his hand to his nose. You don’t have to be watching a 1080p close-up to see his eyes misting.

Taehyung immediately croons, throwing his arms around the dom in a tight hug, wiggling in place as Hoseok laughs tearily. “I’m so proud,” you hear Taehyung say, muffled in Hoseok’s shirt.

“I- Goodness, I’m sorry- I really just wasn’t expecting that,” Hoseok admits, tilting his chin up to stare into the ceiling light. “That means a lot. Phew, wow, the audience are some kinky fuckers,” he finishes, relieved when the strange atmosphere splits into easy laughter.

Heart warm, you reach over and squeeze his arm. “I’m really happy for you, Hobi,” you say in a soft voice. “You deserve it.”

“Where will you take her tonight, hyung?” Jungkook chimes, teeth poking out of a teasing grin. “Is it ‘take your fuckbuddy to work’ day at the Red Room by any chance?” His comment rouses whoops and whistles around the room, Taehyung giggling and pinching the dom’s cheek.

“Ah, about that,” Sejin jumps in quickly, a hand held out to settle the noise, “the reward won’t be scheduled for tonight, unfortunately. We’re going to put it on Monday night, since today - as I’m sure you all know - we have some special guests.”

Your brows lift. Guests, plural? Maybe you weren’t the only one who was asked to contact a friend. Your heart skips a little faster at the prospect of being exposed to close friends from the boys’ real lives. What if they didn’t like you? Would it even matter?

Sejin isn’t done, standing up from the coffee table to give the announcement on foot. “A few days ago, you all received text messages from me with some instructions to find a close friend, colleague, or family member to join you on the show. This was up to your discretion, as long as they agreed to a quick police check, however there was one condition. Y/n; you were asked specifically for a male friend. The guys were asked to bring a female friend.”

You suck in a gasp. After three weeks being surrounded exclusively by dudes, you’d suddenly have seven new ladies to talk to. “Just for the day, right?” you question, knowing the plans you’d had to make with Eric.

Sejin’s lips quirk up. “For most of the guests, yes. However, for one lucky lady, they’ll have the opportunity to stay for a full week. At any point today, Y/n, you can draw a name from this box-” he pauses, glancing down at his again-empty hands, “-I’ll, uh, I’ll bring the box out in just a moment. But you’ll be able to randomly draw one name, and if the recipient agrees, they’ll be staying in the bunk room for seven nights. Questions?”

Taehyung raises his hand tentatively. “Hypothetically, would we be allowed to have sex with the guests?”

Sejin sighs. “All but two of them signed a contract in which they consented to the possibility of sexual interaction, yes. But none of them will be required to at all.”

You bite your lip. When talking with you, Eric had mentioned the contract, and stated that since it was just one day he’d rather not offer himself up for that. One of the girls must have done the same, then, but that still left six people who were joining for a day - or a week - willing to consider having sex with the others on the show. Perhaps you were raising your sex drive being on the show, or maybe you just missed the company of women, but that thought excited you more than anything.

“When do they come on?” Yoongi asks with a grimace. While the others are practically vibrating with the anticipation of being reunited with their friends and meeting new people, Yoongi seems begrudging, and you can’t help but wonder what girl in his life he asked to join him.

“They’re waiting outside right now,” Sejin reveals, “we’ll bring them in one by one to introduce themselves. As they come in, I want the person who invited them to get up and stand on the side with them until everyone’s paired up.”

Taehyung’s hands slip into yours and Hoseok’s, gripping them into tight fists with a hoot of excitement. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you sit up straighter, eying the doorway. “Do you think there’ll be a game?” the masseuse hisses, positively wiggling in his seat.

On the other couch, Jungkook’s eyes widen comically. “We’re doing a game? Oh, hell yeah!”

Sejin, who had been sending a text, glances up quickly. “The game isn’t ‘til the eve-” he cuts himself off, but it comes too late. “Ah, dammit. Anyways, please give a warm welcome to our first guest. Please come in.”

Before the person even rounds the corner, you hear an excited squeal. A slender girl with toffee-coloured hair and bright features careens into the room, her giddy smile widening as she lands her eyes on Jin.

If you had pictured someone to be friends with the therapist, it probably wouldn’t be this boisterous woman in tiny shorts and strappy sandals that’s currently cannon-balling onto him, but he lets out an oof, wrapping his arms around her with a fond smile.

Sejin clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself?”

“Oh!” The girl sits up, elbowing Jin in the stomach as she gets up to smile at everyone. She looks gorgeous in a summery red lipstick, and the voice that comes out is just as sweet. “Hi everyone, I’m Hyuna, Soogie’s better half.”

Rubbing his hip, Jin scoffs. “You’re my sidekick at best.”

Ignoring the person whose lap she’s sitting on, Hyuna beams. “If he’s been cool on this show at all, it’s my positive influence.”

“Thank you, Hyuna, the two of you can go stand to the side,” Sejin deigns, glancing towards the doorway. “Next?”

In this way, all the guests appear one at a time and pair off. Eric’s next in, and you rush up to give your old friend a tight hug, grinning as he immediately stands beside Jin and Hyuna and begins to schmooze, making the two of them alike fawn over him.

“Hi, everyone,” he announces in a cheery tone, “I’m Eric, longtime friend of Y/n and aspiring Gentleman. Pleased to meet you all.” Sejin nods at him, and Eric’s smile turns down a few watts to sober up. “Also, I didn’t sign the contract, so if there’s any funny business, feel free to not invite me.”

Unlike the first two, the third person that enters the room is shy, a reserved posture and sweet smile. She dresses in a corduroy dress and long-sleeved shirt, her dark hair up in a ponytail. Introducing herself as Ji-eun, she explains that she, too, chose not to sign the contract for sex, blushing at the word.

Equally blushing is Jungkook, who repeatedly bows to her as she comes in, hand hovering over her waist as he leads her to the side. You and Jin share a bemused look as the girl introduces herself as a family friend and Jungkook’s old babysitter.

Picking up the energy, the fourth guest is someone you actually recognise. Jessi, a Bangasm powerhouse in every right that Jimin is, turns the corner with a sultry look, sidling up to Sejin playfully before tugging Jimin up from his seat.

“Jessi, as most of you are probably aware,” she introduces, looking insanely stunning in a fitted crop shirt, high waisted shorts and eyeliner to kill. “Come on, Park; you’re with me.”

As he stands up, letting her ruffle his hair and gushing over his choice of earrings, you marvel at how different he appears around her. In the industry, if you’d heard of Jimin, you’d heard of Jessi. She started a few years before him, met him on a shoot, and the two were practically a power duo ever since. From the videos they had together, they portrayed an image of the King and Queen of porn, always working with each other whenever they could. But now, instead of some sex-crazed couple, all you see is Jimin being fussed over like a younger brother, leaning into Jessi’s fond yet teasing touches.

The two of them sit beside you, and your cheeks can’t help but burn up when she pokes her tongue out between her teeth and flicks you a wink, turning to Jimin and giving him a  meaningful nod.

So far Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi remain on the couches, and when the next girl rounds the corner, you just about think you must be seeing double.

With a black bob of hair sharper than her jawline, perfectly arched brows and a pouty mouth, an absolute copy of Min Yoongi scans the room. Her face changes, turns mischievous when she spots a begrudging Yoongi, and jerks her head. “I’m the hotter twin,” she announces, “Min Yoonji.”

As Yoongi huffs and gets up to join her, you watch with wonder as the two lookalikes stand together. She mumbles something low, ruffling his hair as he desperately tries to duck away, and the twins settle on the far side of you, beside Jungkook.

Quickly, another raven-haired girl steps in, barely even looking at you as she takes in the decor. “Fuck, this place is nice,” she mutters, before her eyes look directly ahead of her, maroon lips stretching into a smile, “Joon-ah, you’ve been here rent-free for the past month? Holy shit.”

Namjoon winces, bowing awkwardly to her, and you tilt your head. Why does it seem like they barely even know each other? Sejin must hear your internal monologue, as he clears his throat. “Could you please introduce yourself and state your relationship to Namjoon?”

“Oh, my name’s Sunmi,” she says with ease, “Namjoon and I are...” She trails off, looking to him for help.

Namjoon’s eyes widen, and he blurts, “best friends!” before going bright red. “Uh, we’re, um, we’re best friends.”

Sunmi beams, nodding matter-of-factly to the rest of you, before walking forward to pinch his cheeks and wiggle his face back and forth lightly. “Oh, yes,” she coos, “we go way back.” Letting go, she takes his hand and guides him to the side of the room where everyone but Taehyung and Hoseok are gathered.

You try to send Namjoon a questioning gaze, but he avoids everyone’s gaze but Sunmi’s, nodding shyly at the things she tells him quietly.

Luckily, the second-to-last guest takes up your attention fully. With velvet boots that reach the middle of her thighs, and a black shirt that reaches just as low, she’d look cute and preppy were it not for the black harness that brackets the shirt, reminiscent of Hoseok’s leathers, the sharp smokey eye and a red lipstick so dark it’s almost black. It doesn’t take you much to work out which of the remaining boys she’s accompanying. “Thank you to Hope for inviting me,” she begins, and your eyes widen at how silken and sweet her voice is, a total 180 from the typical dominatrix stereotype, yet it seems to fit her perfectly. “I’m Bee, I’ve worked at the Red Room for several years, and been friends with him for just as long.”

The two share a light hug, but you can see the affection there as his eyes crinkle and her beam widens. She hooks a finger around one of Hoseok’s belt loops and follows him to stand beside Jimin, barely enough room for them as it is.

Lastly is Taehyung, who’s already on his feet by the time a gorgeous blonde enters. Before you can get a good look at her, the two are bear-hugging, Taehyung lifting her off the ground for a moment as he grins so widely all his teeth are on full display. It warms your heart to see, and even when she settles back on solid ground, the two are attached at the hip, his arm tightly holding her to him.

“This is Chungha, my best friend,” Taehyung announces proudly, “we met at work when I was a trainee.”

“Aren’t I supposed to do that?” she questions with a throaty laugh, but still gives a warm smile to the rest of you. “But yeah, that’s me!”

They go to move over to the crowded corner, but Sejin steps in, clapping his hands once to gain everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone!” he declares. “Welcome to all our new faces! You’ll have until 10pm tonight to socialise, have fun. For lunch today, we’ll be having a barbecue and picnic outside, but after then, you’re free. Be sure to respect Ji-eun and Eric’s choice not to partake in any sexual activity. And Y/n, I’ll be right back with the box. Make sure you pull a name before 10.”

Once he leaves, you let out a dramatic breath, collapsing into Eric’s side. “Today is gonna be busy,” you anticipate, “so many pretty girls to talk to. So little time.”

“Hey!” your friend protests, wrapping his arms around to trap you against his front. “Forget about the girls, you should be hanging out with your best friend! I’ve missed you, lest you forget!”

Suspicious, you wiggle around to face him, narrowing your eyebrows. “You just want me to be your wingman,” you accuse, “who is it? What guy here are you crushing on?”

Eric scrunches his face up, clutching at his chest in offense. “I am not crushing on anyone,” he insists, before glancing over to Hyuna, Jessi, and Sunmi have gathered around Namjoon like a flock of seagulls, cooing over the little embroidered patches on his overalls. “I just want the Iron Giant over there to crush me.” Squinting his eyes, he inspects the room until he locates Yoongi, who’s pouting like a wronged child as Yoonji makes herself at home in the kitchen, pulling out drawers and cabinets like she’s searching for something.

“He’s the doctor, right?” Eric asks of Yoongi. You nod, suspicious. “He likes to eat cum, I have cum to spare… I’m no mathematician, but x equals sex, you know?”

You wince. “Not your best line,” you say in a disappointed tone, “but anyways: I thought you told me you didn’t want any funny business? You didn’t sign the contract.”

Eric’s eyes skirt over you, taking in the seven men as he shakes his head slowly. “I was young then. Foolish. I know better.” Suddenly, he grips your shoulders and ducks his head to look you intensely in the eye. “Take me to Sejin’s office. I have a contract to sign.”

--

It’s a beautiful day for a picnic, and an even more beautiful day to watch the muscles in Jin’s back flex under his t-shirt as he mans the barbecue.

Sharing the same sentiment is Jessi, who sighs dreamily at him, sitting beside you on the sun-warmed grass with her legs stretched out in front of her. “They don’t make men like those anymore,” she muses, “face of a fucking god. You get to fuck him?”

You chuckle at the abrupt question, quickly learning that Jessi wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Generally once a week, yeah. Unless I vote him out, I suppose.”

“God, please do,” she enthuses, “save some for the rest of us, you know?” Suddenly she sits up straighter, glancing around to take everyone in. “You know, when I heard about this, I thought for sure they’d either get a bunch of porn-addicted dweebs who jack off into crusty socks or all the airheads in the industry would sign up for a vacation. I guess they really filtered out the duds. I’m impressed.”

“They did good,” you admit, smiling fondly as you watch Taehyung jump around a small cross-legged group on the picnic blanket, holding out handfuls of beads. The masseuse had discovered Hoseok’s penchant for jewellery-making somehow and had demanded a tutorial. Jungkook and Namjoon look like two flustered schoolboys as they quietly help their respective friends, and Yoongi has his sister in a headlock as he tries to tie a bright pink and green bracelet around her wrist. Hyuna and Chungha are practically in each other’s laps, giggling as they wind delicate anklets onto each other.

Some of the others hang around Jin as he cooks. Bee is chatting up a storm with him, hip propped against the edge of the barbecue, and Jimin steals pieces of caramelised onion, sneaking glances towards you and Jessi. Your heart warms at his inquisitive look, the look of happiness and relief on his face when he sees the two of you getting along.

So caught up in your observation of the group, you don’t realise you’ve been silent too long until you get roughly punched in the shoulder. “Holy shit!” Jessi declares. “You like them!”

“Who?” you counter defensively.

She laughs, her whole face lightening up. “Fuck, maybe all o’ them. Is there anyone you don’t have a crush on? Anyone that doesn’t make you feel all giddy and happy?”

You’re stumped at that. For a long time, you’d been seeing having a crush as some grand, dramatic realisation. Realising you liked Tae and Jimin, and then more recently being confronted with your feelings for Jin, those romantic notions seemed so loud and all-encompassing. But the guys making you feel giddy and happy? Their presence cheering you up, missing them when you spent time on your own? It was a lot easier to admit to yourself that perhaps all seven of them fit within those constraints. “I… I hate to say that you have a point.”

Jessi squeals, briefly attracting the attention of the haphazard circle of jewellery makers. “I knew it! Oh my goodness, isn’t this so exciting? Have you had an orgy yet?”

You gape. “Jessi!”

“What?” she asks innocently. “If you’ve been here several weeks and you still haven’t had an orgy, you’re wasting your time, girl. Get onto that.”

“I have, actually,” you admit with firing cheeks. “Before Tae got eliminated.”

“The puppy?” When you send Jessi a bewildered look, she just shrugs, tipping her head over towards the barbecue where Jimin has taken to kissing the back of Jin’s neck and shoulders, standing up on his tiptoes to try and bribe the older man for some food. His friend sighs at his antics. “Park told me,” she explains in a matter-of-fact tone, “said he was an absolute delight to play with when he’s got his collar on. Fuck, and looking at him now really solidifies the image, you know? I’d love to make him beg for a treat.” Your face must sour, because without a pause Jessi is cackling, poking you lightly in the cheek. “Oh my goodness, you’re jealous! You can’t fuck him anymore so you don’t want me to!”

“It’s not that,” you protest, not wanting to expose that selfish desire.

“It’s fine, I get it! I’ll keep my distance,” she allows, rolling over on the grass to lean in, chin almost resting on your shoulder as her voice deepens to a conspiratorial tone. “But if I’m honest, you should just fuck him and take the penalty. I know I would.”

You bite your lip. “What if he accidentally touched me? He’d be sent home. It’s such a risk.”

She just shrugs, leaning back to watch him as he sits in the middle of the group, Chunga reaching out to playfully ruffle his hair. “Tie up his hands,” she deflects easily, “there are always solutions, you know? And if you really like him, I kinda think he’d appreciate you making the sacrifice to be with him.” Sighing out one last time, she stands up, brushing off her pants. “Food for thought. And speaking of food, there’s a big hunk of meat over there that isn’t on the barbecue.”

As Jessi makes her way over to Jin with a heavy swing to her hips, you decide to join the group. There’s a small gap between Ji-eun and Jungkook as they keep a respectful distance, so you wedge yourself in with a few muttered apologies.

Up close, Ji-eun is gorgeous, rosy features and kind eyes. It’s no wonder Jungkook looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. Perhaps you’d normally feel jealous, but you get it. “So,” you start, reaching out for a cord to begin a bracelet, “the two of you are family friends?”

Jungkook nods hastily. “Our parents went to high-school together,” he divulges, fiddling with his finished bracelet to look busy. “And since my mom and dad both worked full-time, noona babysat after school.”

You coo, tying a knot at one end of the waxed cord so the beads don’t fall off. “That’s so cute, oh my goodness! Ji-eun, was he a troublemaker as a child? I bet he was.”

“Hey!” Jungkook protests, but the older girl just chuckles, sending you a genuine smile.

“Gukkie was actually a sweetheart,” she admits, “always super polite. He was cute, too, had this coconut haircut and the roundest eyes, little tiny hands. Not like now.”

Jungkook gasps again, clutching at his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. “How dare you! I’m still cute!”

You hum in an unconvinced way, turning to poke at his cheeks, tapping his button nose. “You’re a little bit cute,” you allow. “Though I bet you were cuter with the bowl cut.”

The camboy’s temporary pleased look vanishes and he abruptly stands up. “This is slander, it was not a bowl cut, I just have a very round head! I’m going to find Yoongi-hyung, he respects me.”

You glance around the group in confusion, but Yoongi isn’t in the immediate vicinity like he was earlier. In fact, the group has dissolved into a few stragglers finishing off their bracelets as most of the gathering emigrate to the sheltered patio. “Oh shit, is lunch ready? I’m starving.”

“Looks like,” Ji-eun chirps, but once the two of you stand up, she hooks her hand in your elbow, preventing your departure. “Before we go, I just wanted to say,” she begins, eyes earnest as they lock onto yours, “thank you for making Jungkook so happy. I know it’s not like it’s just you, and I’m going to try and thank everyone in due time, but he speaks so highly of you especially. He’s really coming out of his shell here, I can see it now.”

Your heart swells, instinctively turning to seek out the black and red hair in the crowd. Jungkook has slipped a glove on one hand and is cutting up pieces of meat with tongs and a pair of kitchen scissors, a broad grin on his face as he hands them out. “I’m really lucky to have met him. You helped raise him well.”

She beams at that, tugging on your arm as the others call out for you to join them. “It’s not me. That’s all just our Jungkookie.”

Throughout the lunch, you can’t help but think that every time you look at him. Our Jungkookie.

--

Much like Taehyung, Chungha is very generous with her hands.

The offer comes quickly after lunch. Most of the guests and guys are still outside socialising (Eric has managed to con a bunch of them into playing a rather hands-on game of football on the grass), but while you were inside getting a drink, both massage parlour workers joined you, Taehyung’s arms naturally slipping around your waist for a lazy back hug.

“Pour us one?” he requests casually, his voice like molten brown sugar. “I want you two to get to know each other. Maybe we could go upstairs for a bit?”

Beside you, smiling with her eyes as well as her baby pink lips, Chungha pats your hand. “I’ve heard so many good things,” she assures. “But Taehyungie is so disappointed that he can’t take care of you anymore.” Your heart freezes in your throat when she comes in close, smelling like cherries. Her voice dips so that only you and Taehyung could hear, the latter nuzzling his nose against the back side of your neck. “I could take care of you for him, if you want?”

You turn around in Taehyung’s grasp, seeking out his confirmation. He smiles, nods, and lets go to take the two extra drinks you’d poured. It’s only lemonade, but he takes an indulgent sip as if it were champagne.

Without another word, he begins to make his way to the stairs, glancing back to make sure you’re following. You think back to Jessi’s words, of showing him that you cared. It seems like, in his own way, he’s reaching across that divide and showing you he cares too. Chungha’s fingers winding between yours, you follow the two masseuses upstairs.

Perhaps it’s their job experience, or maybe just their sweet, puppy-like personalities, but being near them both feels so comforting and relaxing. In Taehyung’s bedroom, he sits on a chair, as close to the bed as he dares. Chungha tugs you directly onto the mattress, and you gasp as a slight push to your shoulder sends you collapsing backwards, head on the pillow.

She looks divine above you, smiling down as her pale golden hair hangs down and brushes against your collarbones. With a knee on either side of your hips, she straddles you and leans in closer, lips barely brushing. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Your heart thuds strongly against your ribs. You nod, feeling dizzy as the pressure on your mouth increases and her hands slip into your hair. Her lips and fingers move in sync, massaging your lips and scalp indistinguishingly. Perhaps she’s even a better kisser than the others on the show, or perhaps it’s that the touch of a woman after three weeks of men feels like pure oxygen, like eating with a gold spoon after years of stainless steel.

Her fingers slide further, molten relaxation with every stroke. Soothing your temples, the crown of your head, the nape of your neck, she keeps you feeling warm and light, even a little hazy. Lips parting from yours for just a moment, Chungha whispers to you, her fingers playing with the waistband of your pants. “Will you let me taste you?”

Arousal thrums hot between your legs, but something makes you hesitate. Or, rather, someone. You shift your head on the pillow, looking past the curtain of Chungha’s hair to where Tae sits, cross-legged, on the armchair.

His eyes widen, soft and concerned. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Y/n,” he assures.

Chungha pulls up at that, sitting back against her heels again. Losing the closeness makes a whine catch in your throat. “It’s not that,” you confess quietly, “I just… I don’t want you to feel left out.”

The blonde masseuse straddling you coos as Taehyung turns pink, and she beckons him closer. “I don’t feel left out,” Taehyung assures you as he tentatively perches on the edge of the bed, tugging your hand gently to clasp between his own. “I can’t touch you like you deserve, at least not now. But Chungha can. If you want this, I want you to have it, Y/n.”

Your hand feels so warm between his smooth palms, but your heart feels even warmer. “I do want it. But… Stay close to me.”

Taehyung laces his fingers through yours, holds your hand up, and delicately presses a kiss to the back of your hand, making your breath catch. Afterwards, his eyes dart accusingly to the cameras recording your every move and sound. “That was technically platonic contact,” he insists quickly, “they do it in movies all the time.”

You laugh softly, but it quickly mutes into a silent gasp as Chungha suddenly moves down, hooking her fingers into your waistband and undressing your lower half as she goes.

Spreading your knees and sinking to her chest between them, her perfectly manicured fingers run teasing lines up and down your bare thighs. “Just relax,” she coos, “just let yourself enjoy it.”

Her hair, like spun gold, tickles your thighs as she lowers her face closer. So light you can only just feel it, she presses a kiss into the seam at the top of your right leg, so close yet too far from where you need her. Doing the same to the other side, she begins slowly trailing them closer to your core, giggling onto you when your breath hitches in impatience.

Taehyung shifts, situating himself behind you so that your head lies back and rests on his lap. With the same hand that holds yours, he takes the other, holding both of your wrists together in less of a restraint and more of an embrace. Together, him and Chungha bracket you in this cocoon of gentle touches, and as his other hand begins taking over the scalp massage Chungha had started earlier, you can’t help but let your eyes slip shut.

It’s because of this that when she finally licks a bold stripe up your folds, it catches you by complete surprise. You squeak, jolting between them, but Taehyung just tugs on your hair lightly, shushing you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” Taehyung asks softly, bent over so he can speak lowly.

Chungha, now that she’s started, uses her tongue and lips just as expertly as her fingers, marking Taehyung’s question redundant. You nod anyway, and are rewarded with the subtle vibration of her chuckling, lips wrapped around your clit.

There’s something inherently different about the way Chungha eats you out, that’s clear even with your eyes shut. Her lips are plush like Jin’s, her cheeks soft like Yoongi’s and her tongue roving deep like Jungkook’s, but with every second that passes, it feels like she’s explored your pussy a million times before. Each swipe and suck and nibble seems practiced, learned, and in mere minutes your thighs are trembling.

She alternates attention to your clit with fucking you on her tongue, and Taehyung’s hand never ceases its languid journey through your hair. The two poles of pleasure have you unable to catch your breath, unable to even open your eyes as every movement makes the lids heavier.

Two separate people, yet they work in unison. When Taehyung presses behind your ears, Chungha flattens her tongue on your clit in a slow drag. When that muscle becomes pointed, flicking over you to make you jump, Taehyung’s fingers curl so that the nails run over your scalp. Each nip of Chungha’s teeth is punctuated with a tugging of a lock of your hair, and caught between these tides, the only things that feel incomplete are your lips. What you wouldn’t give to have Tae bend a little lower and brush his mouth against yours, even for a moment.

Instead, you slip your bottom lip between your teeth, occupying them needily. A coil tightens in your stomach so slowly, like a gentle bubbling simmer, but it isn’t until you feel two slender fingers sliding inside you that there’s a tangible shift in pleasure. Like taking an exit on a highway, you feel a distinct change of path, like you’re now moving directly towards your orgasm. Driven by that desire, you rock your hips, moaning as her mouth hones in on your clit and her fingers curl, seeking out that spot inside you.

Unsurprisingly, she locates it with ease, and before you can even catch your breath she’s massaging it without mercy, twisting her fingers inside you with every audible thrust so that the pleasure is inescapable. You writhe, but she still has an arm free to throw over your stomach and hold you down.

Taehyung is still deliriously in-sync, and you can’t hold back a moan as his fingers press harder and nails drag stronger. Eyes rolling back, you feel that crest build, so close you can taste it, and your moans become desperate.

The two of them read the signs and up the intensity one last time. Taehyung drops your hands so that both of his can bury deep in your hair, and Chungha switches to three fingers inside you, scissoring and grinding them against your g-spot.

You come with a broken cry, seizing up as the pleasure wracks your body. While Taehyung stops his massage to brush your hair back, carding his fingers through it comfortingly, Chungha fucks you through it without mercy, sucking harshly on your clit and spreading you open on her fingers.

It’s not until your whole body is shivering and you try anad wriggle out of her hold that she finally lets up, leaving you boneless in Taehyung’s lap.

Far more full of energy than you are, Chungha straightens up with a satisfied sigh, licking her lips. As you fight to catch your breath, she runs a hand up and down your thigh. “You’re a fucking gorgeous specimen,” she compliments warmly, “when you get out of here, come by anytime.”

Suddenly Taehyung’s arms wrap tightly around your arms and chest, chin tucked onto the crown of your head. Even as you can’t see him, you can hear the pout in his voice. “When she gets out, she’ll be coming by for me,” he protests sweetly, “but I’m sure we could invite you too if she wanted.”

You laugh tiredly, leaning your weight back against Taehyung. “I’m definitely not turning that down, holy fuck.”

Chungha giggles prettily, chin still glossy from going down on you, though it doesn’t seem to bother her. “Won’t you give me one last kiss before we go clean up?”

You can’t deny her sweetly batted eyelashes, though you wouldn’t even want to. Once Taehyung begrudgingly lets you go, you lean forward and meet her halfway, tasting yourself on her tongue. It’s filthy but chaste, a quick swipe of her tongue into your mouth, a peck, and she’s pulling away with a wink, jumping off the bed.

Once she prances into Taehyung’s bathroom and closes the door behind her, Taehyung goes slack, winding his arms around your torso from behind and tucking his face into your neck. “I hope you liked it,” his voice comes out, muffled and shy.

You ruffle his hair fondly, wishing you could do more than that. “It was perfect,” you say without a doubt. “Thank you, Tae. I-” There are words that you can’t say, shouldn’t say now. “I like you a whole lot.”

If it’s possible, his hug tightens. “I like you a lot too.”

--

The rest of the day goes without hiccups. You spend your time getting to know the girls - albeit in less intimate ways than you had with Chungha - and slowly the idea of pulling a name out of the box becomes both exciting and worrying.

Hyuna brings out a new side of Jin. He looks more unburdened with her than he has the whole time on the show, and their vibrant energy together is contagious. Jungkook acts like a smitten schoolboy around Ji-eun, and she’s so patient and endearing that you can’t help but sympathise with him. It’s very clear Namjoon and Sunmi don’t actually know each other very well, but fuck you could watch their awkward banter and dynamic for hours. Sunmi is a relentless, unflappable tease, and Namjoon eats it up with a nervous laugh and bright eyes. Chungha seems more interested in the other girls than she is with Taehyung, but they’re never far apart, sharing countless meaningful stares between conversations. Bee is much like Hoseok, in that she’s so sweet and bubbly when she doesn’t don her dominant persona, and quickly she wins you over, her kind words and cheerful laughter a highlight of the evening. Jessi seems like the type of bossy but protective older sister that seems perfect for Jimin, whose usually-concealed soft interior lifts closer and closer to the surface with every minute spent in her easygoing, boisterous company. And finally, Yoonji is an absolute enigma, commanding attention with ease but seeming entirely disinterested with it. The moment a conversation bores her, you watch her eyes shift, inspecting some person or other like they’re a science experiment. You’ve been under that gaze yourself, and you practically feel the heat of the magnifying glass. But at the same time, when she does get engaged and speaks up, she’s just as articulate and sharp as Yoongi, and you can’t help but hang off her every word.

After relaying all this information back to Eric, who seems equally supportive and bemused, the only conclusion you can draw is that it would be entirely preferable to have all seven of them stay.

“Goodness, you insatiable minx,” your best friend teases with a mock look of disapproval. It’s 9:58pm, and the two of you have been stuck in the living room for almost the whole hour, staring hopelessly at the box. “Seven men is good, but fourteen people is better?”

“It’s not that,” you defend with a whine, “not that I would protest. No, it’s just- I wanna get to know them more, you know? And I feel like I’m learning more about the guys while they’re here, which is going to prove very important for tomorrow’s decision. And once I pull a name there’s nothing separating me from elimination, and I have no fucking clue who to eliminate, but then at least-” You huff, unable to articulate it. “I’m procrastinating.”

Eric grimaces, nodding. “It took you roughly fifty-nine minutes to come to that conclusion, but I’m glad we got there eventually.”

You kick your feet up over his lap, throwing yourself back onto the couch in despair. “I could’ve been out there researching this whole time, why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, bouncing his knees so that your feet are jostled off. “I thought you wanted to work it through and that explaining every vivid detail of the past three weeks was necessary. It was riveting, by the way,” he adds in a drawl, “I’m certainly relieved you felt it pertinent to describe exactly the size and appearance of all the cocks in this house.”

You jump up, kicking him in the shin. “Hey! Don’t be sarcastic, I’m in a crisis!”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Eric defends, brows lifted. “I’m doing my own research. Taking into account the past several hours, as well as the interesting mental pictures I’ve now been able to make, I’ve decided I wish to become the sexy meat in a Namjoon and Hoseok sandwich. Do you think it’s feasible?”

You open your mouth instinctively to protest, but then you stop, mulling over the combination. They had spent a lot of time together…

Eric claps his hands together with a victorious cheer. “You considered it, that’s basically a yes! Anyways, I hate to say it,” he digresses, quickly sobering up, “but it’s time to draw a name.”

Nerves immediately alight down your spine, but you fight them off. “Fuck, okay, I guess it’s random so it doesn’t matter, right?” Before you have the chance to second-guess that statement, you lean forward and plunge your hand into the circle-shaped slot in the box, feeling sharp edges of paper bumping against your skin.

Managing to close your fingers around a slip, you pull it out, opening the fold. Two words, three syllables. Eric and you read over it in silence for a moment, before you let out a amused chuckle. “Yoongi’s going to be pissed, huh?”

ELIMINATION

On the seventh Day of every Week in the game, the Elimination vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the fan-favourite vote, which has already happened.

The vote has closed.

Below are the results for last week’s vote for Fan Favourite! 

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. 

Day 7: Screw This.

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  Day 7 of the threeway collab between myself @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @jennmurawski13​…and Ransom is getting no better11

Series Masterlist.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Yes.”

“Ok, let me rephrase that…”you shifted your weight a little “Are you sure you can do this?”

Ransom let out an annoyed snort through his nose and turned his eyes to look up at you. “Doll, how hard can it be?”

You really didn’t want to answer that question, as to anyone else with half a logical brain, following simple instructions on how to piece together a crib wouldn’t be so hard at all. But to Ransom, the mere fact that there were instructions to follow was kinda making you a little uneasy, as he had a problem with doing anything he was told to do at the best of times. Ransom’s brow furrowed as he clocked the look on your face and he rolled his eyes.

“You have so little faith in me.”

“Can you blame me?” you spluttered “You turned all the washing pink a few weeks back, then you almost poisoned everyone, not to mention the incident with the tire jack!”

“This is different.” He said confidently as he began to remove the outer packaging of the crib.

“Is it?”

“Yes, Y/N!” he groaned with an air of exasperation “Look, I know you have zero faith in me whatsoever, but what else is new?”

“Ran…” you started to protest, and he shrugged you away very matter-of-factly.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he deftly changed the subject and you sighed recognising your dismissal. In all fairness he was right, you were due to meet your friend for lunch in half an hour so…

“Okay, I’m going.” You padded into the room, over to where he was now knelt on the floor surrounded by various tools and pieces of the crib, and dropped a kiss to his forehead “I’ll see you later. Love you.”

Ransom turned his head towards you, his lips brushing yours softly, the annoyance he had displayed seconds ago completely forgotten. “Love you too. Both of you.”

With a smile you headed out of the room and bustled about grabbing your coat, scarf and purse. You stepped outside your home and as you made your way down the gravel drive to your new car, Ransom having finally put his foot down and purchased the Mercedes he’d been eying up for you, you glanced back up at the window of the room that was to be your baby boy’s nursery and pulled out your phone.

“Hey Daddy, it’s me. I was wondering if you would do me a favour…”

*****

Ransom would never have thought in a million years that he’d be doing this. Putting together a crib for his unborn son in the nursery that the pair of you had almost completed. Kids had most certainly not been on the agenda. Mind you, neither had marriage. But Y/N…well, she’d not only done the unthinkable and tamed him away from his play-boy days, she’d completely and utterly hooked him. And he wasn’t ever going to let her get away. So he’d bought a ring, they’d bought a house together…and then one drunken night and forgotten pill later wham, he’d knocked her up.

As such here he was, in one of the spare rooms that was no longer spare as it now belonged to his unborn child. The colour was picked, paint was purchased…but he drew the line at decorating. That was something that happily you had both agreed was to be done by a professional. In an hour he’d managed to get three sides of the crib together. And they were even and matched the photograph perfectly. But this fourth side…the side that was supposed to go up and down along a set of runners was not playing ball.

“Son of a bitch…” he cursed after what felt like the one hundredth attempt at getting the little wheels to line up “You’re gonna fucking work you fucking piece of…”

“Ransom?”

He paused as the familiar voice drifted up the large stairs and he gave an exasperated sigh. Of course she’d called her dad to check in on him.

“In the nursery.” He called back, a little gruffly. Ransom would never admit this, but the fact that his father-in-law actually cared enough to make the 30 minute drive over to check on him was kind of nice. His own father would have simply sniggered and put the phone down.

But then, Richard Drysdale was an asshole. Y/N’s father was not. And he most certainly was not going to allow his boy to become one either. Well, not a complete one anyway…he had to have some attitude after all, he was a Drysdale.

“Hey Son.” Ransom looked up as Y/N’s dad walked into the room. “Y/N called me before, said you were fixing up the furniture. I thought you might need a hand.”

“She really doesn’t trust me does she?” Ransom snorted and her dad laughed.

“If it’s any consolation, her mother is exactly the same.” He soothed as Ransom straightened up “And I don’t think it’s a case of not trusting you. When me and her brother put the crib together for his kid, it was a pain in the ass to get right.”

Ransom inhaled sharply, his hands falling to his hips “Done ok so far.” He replied a little sullenly.

“Yeah, I can see.” His father-in-law nodded “I just thought I’d check. If you don’t need me, then I can go.” He held his hands up, palms facing Ransom in a conciliatory manner “I got stuff to do so.”

Ransom watched him turn to leave and followed him out of the room with his eyes. He looked at the final piece of the crib before he gave a soft groan and quickly strode after his wife’s father.

“Actually…” he spoke, watching as he paused at the top of the stairs “I can’t get the last piece to line up right.”

He stopped short of actually asking for help, but he didn’t need to. Y/Father’s/Name turned and smiled, patting him gently on the shoulder as he strode back towards the nursery. He stooped to examine the sides and then stood up, pointing.

“This screw,” he said, and Ransom looked at it,“just needs tightening. The head is jutting out a little too far. Once it’s flush to the side then the runners should line up.”

Ransom blinked and then sighed, his head hanging dejectedly “Seriously? That’s it.”

“Hey!” His father-in-law chuckled, “easy thing to miss. Come on, get it screwed in and I’ll help you lift it. Then I think we can safely say a beer is in order.” He then checked his watch “Huh, might even catch the Red-Sox if we’re lucky.”

At that Ransom perked up a little. Another thing he would never admit was that he enjoyed the way her father would simply do stuff like that with him, things his own dad had never wanted to do. Sit, drink beer, watch a game…talk.

Fuck, he was going soft.

He picked up the screw driver and knelt down, angling it slightly so he could reach and lined the head up. He gave three sharp screws to the right but on the fourth the screwdriver slipped and he felt a sharp pain in his left hand.

“Fuck!” he yelled, drawing back instantly as he glanced down and saw the blood oozing from his palm tracing a path down his wrist.

“Here, let me see…” Y/Father’s/Name stepped forward quickly, reaching for Ransom’s arm. He frowned and then looked at Ransom who had gone pale. “Looks pretty deep.”

Ransom swallowed, taking a deep breath as his head began to spin. Fuck, he hated blood.

“Ransom? Son? You okay?”

“I err, I don’t feel…” he took another deep breath and then with a thud he hit the floor.

*****

Don’t Panic.

If there was ever a phrase do make you do just that, it was those simple two words. Which your dad had uttered when he had called you to tell you there had been an accident and he was on his way to the ER with Ransom. You and your friend abandoned the basket full of baby items you’d indulgently been about to purchase after a cheeky trip to the baby boutique one down from the restaurant you’d eaten in, and you’d rushed out of the store, making your way straight to the hospital. By the time you had located Ransom’s room, your dad was stood outside chatting to a nurse.

“What happened?” you demanded and your dad turned to look at you.

“His hand slipped when he was screwing a part of the crib together.” Your dad offered an explanation. “Gave me a scare though, completely out of it he was for a good 2 minutes or so.”

With a soft sigh, you rolled your eyes and pushed the door open. Ransom looked up at you from where he was sat on the bed, his hand heavily bandaged, face pale.

“Hey!” you said, making your way to his side. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “Just stabbed myself.”

“My dad said. What did you do that for?” you frowned.

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose, sweetheart.” He drawled, narrowing his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Just waiting for someone to take me down to X-Ray to make sure I’ve not damaged anything major”

You arched an eyebrow, a grin playing across your face. “Big enough of a deal to make you pass out from the pain.”

“It was nothing to do with the pain.” He mumbled sullenly. “You know I don’t like blood.”

You chuckled as you sat on the bed next to him, your hand gently pressing against his forehead. He felt a little clammy. “Yeah, you’re gonna be no use what-so-ever when I have the baby.”

“I don’t intend on being at that end.” He looked up at you, shrugging.

“No? You wanna be up there holding my hand, telling me how amazing I am?” you asked, your hand gently running up his neck.

“Maybe.” he replied, his head laying on your shoulder, seeking out comfort like the huge baby he was, his nose nuzzling into your neck.

“Gee thanks.” You replied with a scoff

“I just don’t wanna see you squeeze a baby out of your….you know.” he waved his non bandaged hand, as he moved his head to look at you, a cheeky smirk flickering across his face “I imagine it would be like watching my favourite bar burn down. Knowing that it’s completely wrecked and going to take a while before I can head back in for a drink.”

You blinked as his words registered and then slapped him harshly round the back of the head, causing him to yelp.

“Maybe instead of a fucking x-ray they can scan you for a brain.”  You glared at him. “Not that they’d find one.”

[wiypt-writes]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby. Day 7: Screw This.

 Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  Day 7 of the threeway collab between myself @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ and @jennmurawski13 …and Ransom is getting no better11

Series Masterlist. 

 “Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Yes.”

“Ok, let me rephrase that…”you shifted your weight a little “Are you sure you can do this?”

Ransom let out an annoyed snort through his nose and turned his eyes to look up at you. “Doll, how hard can it be?”

You really didn’t want to answer that question, as to anyone else with half a logical brain, following simple instructions on how to piece together a crib wouldn’t be so hard at all. But to Ransom, the mere fact that there were instructions to follow was kinda making you a little uneasy, as he had a problem with doing anything he was told to do at the best of times. Ransom’s brow furrowed as he clocked the look on your face and he rolled his eyes.

“You have so little faith in me.”

“Can you blame me?” you spluttered “You turned all the washing pink a few weeks back, then you almost poisoned everyone, not to mention the incident with the tire jack!”

“This is different.” He said confidently as he began to remove the outer packaging of the crib.

“Is it?”

“Yes, Y/N!” he groaned with an air of exasperation “Look, I know you have zero faith in me whatsoever, but what else is new?”

“Ran…” you started to protest, and he shrugged you away very matter-of-factly.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he deftly changed the subject and you sighed recognising your dismissal. In all fairness he was right, you were due to meet your friend for lunch in half an hour so…

“Okay, I’m going.” You padded into the room, over to where he was now knelt on the floor surrounded by various tools and pieces of the crib, and dropped a kiss to his forehead “I’ll see you later. Love you.” Ransom turned his head towards you, his lips brushing yours softly, the annoyance he had displayed seconds ago completely forgotten. “Love you too. Both of you.”

With a smile you headed out of the room and bustled about grabbing your coat, scarf and purse. You stepped outside your home and as you made your way down the gravel drive to your new car, Ransom having finally put his foot down and purchased the Mercedes he’d been eying of for you, you glanced back up at the window of the room that was to be your baby boy’s nursery and pulled out your phone.

“Hey Daddy, it’s me. I was wondering if you would do me a favour…”

***** Ransom would never have thought in a million years that he’d be doing this. Putting together a crib for his unborn son in the nursery that the pair of you had almost completed. Kids had most certainly not been on the agenda. Mind you, neither had marriage. But Y/N…well, she’d not only done the unthinkable and tamed him away from his play-boy days, she’d completely and utterly hooked him. And he wasn’t ever going to let her3 get away. So he’d bought a ring, they’d bought a house together…and then one drunken night and forgotten pill later wham, he’d knocked her up.

As such here he was, in one of the spare rooms that was no longer spare as it now belonged to his unborn child. The colour was picked, paint was purchased…but he drew the line at decorating. That was something that happily you had both agreed was to be done by a professional. In an hour he’d managed to get three sides of the crib together. And they were even and matched the photograph perfectly. But this fourth side…the side that was supposed to go up and down along a set of runners was not playing ball.

“Son of a bitch…” he cursed after what felt like the one hundredth attempt at getting the little wheels to line up “You’re gonna fucking work you fucking piece of…”

“Ransom?”

He paused as the familiar voice drifted up the large stairs and he gave an exasperated sigh. Of course she’d called her dad to check in on him.

“In the nursery.” He called back, a little gruffly. Ransom would never admit this, but the fact that his father-in-law actually cared enough to make the 30 minute drive over to check on him was kind of nice. His own father would have simply sniggered and put the phone down.

But then, Richard Drysdale was an asshole. Y/N’s father was not. And he most certainly was not going to allow his boy to become one either. Well, not a complete one anyway…he had to have some attitude after all, he was a Drysdale.

“Hey Son.” Ransom looked up as Y/N’s dad walked into the room. “Y/N called me before, said you were fixing up the furniture. I thought you might need a hand.”

“She really doesn’t trust me does she?” Ransom snorted and her dad laughed.

“If it’s any consolation, her mother is exactly the same.” He soothed as Ransom straightened up “And I don’t think it’s a case of not trusting you. When me and her brother put the crib together for his kid, it was a pain in the ass to get right.”

Ransom inhaled sharply, his hands falling to his hips “Done ok so far.” He replied a little sullenly.

“Yeah, I can see.” His father-in-law nodded “I just thought I’d check. If you don’t need me, then I can go.” He held his hands up, palms facing Ransom in a conciliatory manner “I got stuff to do so.”

Ransom watched him turn to leave and followed him out of the room with his eyes. He looked at the final piece of the crib before he gave a soft groan and quickly strode after his wife’s father.

“Actually…” he spoke, watching as he paused at the top of the stairs “I can’t get the last piece to line up right.”

He stopped short of actually asking for help, but he didn’t need to. Y/Father’s/Name turned and smiled, patting him gently on the shoulder as he strode back towards the nursery. He stooped to examine the sides and then stood up, pointing.

“This screw,” he said, and Ransom looked at it,“just needs tightening. The head is jutting out a little too far. Once it’s flush to the side then the runners should line up.”

Ransom blinked and then sighed, his head hanging dejectedly “Seriously? That’s it.”

“Hey!” His father-in-law chuckled, “easy thing to miss. Come on, get it screwed in and I’ll help you lift it. Then I think we can safely say a beer is in order.” He then checked his watch “Huh, might even catch the Red-Sox if we’re lucky.”

At that Ransom perked up a little. Another thing he would never admit was that he enjoyed the way her father would simply do stuff like that with him, things his own dad had never wanted to do. Sit, drink beer, watch a game…talk.

Fuck, he was going soft.

He picked up the screw driver and knelt down, angling it slightly so he could reach and lined the head up. He gave three sharp screws to the right but on the fourth the screwdriver slipped and he felt a sharp pain in his left hand.

“Fuck!” he yelled, drawing back instantly as he glanced down and saw the blood oozing from his palm tracing a path down his wrist.

“Here, let me see…” Y/Father’s/Name stepped forward quickly, reaching for Ransom’s arm. He frowned and then looked at Ransom who had gone pale. “Looks pretty deep.”

Ransom swallowed, taking a deep breath as his head began to spin. Fuck, he hated blood.

“Ransom? Son? You okay?”

“I err, I don’t feel…” he took another deep breath and then with a thud he hit the floor.

*****

Don’t Panic.

If there was ever a phrase do make you do just that, it was those simple two words. Which your dad had uttered when he had called you to tell you there had been an accident and he was on his way to the ER with Ransom. You and your friend abandoned the basket full of baby items you’d indulgently been about to purchase after a cheeky trip to the baby boutique one down from the restaurant you’d eaten in, and you’d rushed out of the store, making your way straight to the hospital. By the time you had located Ransom’s room, your dad was stood outside chatting to a nurse.

“What happened?” you demanded and your dad turned to look at you.

“His hand slipped when he was screwing a part of the crib together.” Your dad offered an explanation. “Gave me a scare though, completely out of it he was for a good 2 minutes or so.”

With a soft sigh, you rolled your eyes and pushed the door open. Ransom looked up at you from where he was sat on the bed, his hand heavily bandaged, face pale.

“Hey!” you said, making your way to his side. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, “Just stabbed myself.”

“My dad said. What did you do that for?” you frowned.

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose, sweetheart.” He drawled, narrowing his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Just waiting for someone to take me down to X-Ray to make sure I’ve not damaged anything major”

You arched an eyebrow, a grin playing across your face. “Big enough of a deal to make you pass out from the pain.”

“It was nothing to do with the pain.” He mumbled sullenly. “You know I don’t like blood.”

You chuckled as you sat on the bed next to him, your hand gently pressing against his forehead. He felt a little clammy. “Yeah, you’re gonna be no use what-so-ever when I have the baby.”

“I don’t intend on being at that end.” He looked up at you, shrugging.

“No? You wanna be up there holding my hand, telling me how amazing I am?” you asked, your hand gently running up his neck.

“Maybe.” he replied, his head laying on your shoulder, seeking out comfort like the huge baby he was, his nose nuzzling into your neck.

“Gee thanks.” You replied with a scoff

“I just don’t wanna see you squeeze a baby out of your….you know.” he waved his non bandaged hand, as he moved his head to look at you, a cheeky smirk flickering across his face “I imagine it would be like watching my favourite bar burn down. Knowing that it’s completely wrecked and going to take a while before I can head back in for a drink.”

You blinked as his words registered and then slapped him harshly round the back of the head, causing him to yelp.

“Maybe instead of a fucking x-ray they can scan you for a brain.”  You glared at him. “Not that they’d find one.”

[blitzturtles]

Title: Can't Fix Everything

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Diamond is Unbreakable (Future Fic)

Pairing(s): JotaHan

Summary: Jotaro frowns when he rings the doorbell and no one answers. It’s not as though he’s unexpected. He and Rohan had discussed this beforehand, but he knows that it’s entirely possible that Rohan got too caught up in his work. That he’s got his eyes glued to the pages with such a hyperfixation that he hadn’t even heard the doorbell going off.

Notes: When I went to write the ‘Flail Chest’ piece, I couldn’t make up my mind if I wanted it to be with Jotaro or Josuke, so here’s the Jotaro version (if it can be called that. Same injury, very different story.) Ngl, kind of frustrated with the end, but I've been sitting on this for a few weeks now.

[Copy and pasted from the Josuke version: Unimportant bit of trivia: the first rib fixation for adolescent flail chest wasn’t actually done until ~2006, but this is fic, so fuck it.

Flail chest: When a section of the chest wall becomes detached due to the ribs being broken in two or more places. The treatment for this can be a wait and see method (with pain management and physical therapy), but there’s also rib fixation, which is a surgical procedure that can help dramatically reduce short and long-term complications.

The rib injury is canon; the extent of it in this fic, not so much.]

-

Jotaro frowns when he rings the doorbell and no one answers. It’s not as though he’s unexpected. He and Rohan had discussed this beforehand, but he knows that it’s entirely possible that Rohan got too caught up in his work. That he’s got his eyes glued to the pages with such a hyperfixation that he hadn’t even heard the doorbell going off. At least, that’s what Jotaro tells himself. How he tries to rationalize the lack of response.

Unfortunately, too many years on this earth-- facing some of the worst creatures to have ever disgraced her surface-- means that Jotaro has a good idea when he’s being pointlessly paranoid and when his ‘gut feeling’ is something to be taken seriously, and he’s feeling the latter right about now.

Star breaks the door’s lock with a particularly nasty twist of the knob. It’s nothing Jotaro can’t fix with a quick trip to the hardware store later, but that doesn’t matter right now.

“Rohan?” He calls into the seemingly empty house. The majority of the lights are off, and there’s no movement. No sound, and it’s far too early for Rohan to consider bed, which means he’s either closed in his studio or gone.

Jotaro makes a beeline for the familiar door that leads to Rohan’s sanctuary. It’s possible Rohan went out on a whim. Impulse control isn’t exactly his strong suit, especially when it might be something related to his manga, but it’s smarter to check the one place Rohan haunts most in life before bothering with anywhere else.

The door is unlocked, which doesn’t necessarily mean anything, though it doesn’t stop Jotaro’s heart from hammering away in his chest. There’s a flash of red across his vision, like a filter of blood, but he shakes it off in favor of taking in the room. He can’t let his past trauma affect him now.

Or maybe he can, because there Rohan is. On the floor, huddled partway beneath his desk. There’s a low whine that accompanies the screwed up features, and it’s all Jotaro needs to know that Rohan is in pain. A significant amount of it.

“Fuck,” Jotaro grinds out. He makes his way to Rohan quickly. Star Platinum itches to freeze time. A natural reaction to walking into an obviously bad situation with little information to work with, but Jotaro won’t waste the opportunity. They might only have one shot to work with, and he can’t waste it before he even knows what he’s walked into.

Carefully, he crouches in front of Rohan, His eyes don’t quite fixate on the mangaka. Instead, he’s too busy taking in their surroundings, searching for a threat.

Rohan startles and yelps. “What the fuck?” He grinds out after the initial shock washes over both of them.

“I could ask you the same thing. What happened?” Jotaro demands. His gaze shifts to Rohan. It’s a raking thing. Slow and deliberate as he searches for any sign of injury. There’s no blood that he can see. No limbs twisted horrifically out of place, and no holes punched where they don’t belong. Jotaro doesn’t allow himself to relax. There’s obviously something wrong; he just hasn’t figured it out yet.

“Ribs,” Rohan breathes out after a moment of hesitation. The mere effort of talking leaves him struggling for air.

Jotaro’s frown deepens, and he tunes out the rest of the world to focus on Rohan.

“Let me see.”

“No.”

“Rohan.”

“Go away.”

“Kishibe,” Jotaro grinds out. He doesn’t have time to put up with Rohan being a toddler when he could have a punctured lung.

“Fine,” Rohan concedes, though doesn’t move.

Jotaro sighs and carefully maneuvers Rohan onto his side. He uses Star’s hands as a cushion between Rohan’s body and the floor. A gentle effort to avoid making the situation worse, and, for once, Jotaro is incredibly thankful for Rohan’s penchant for crop tops. It’s a convenience-- rather than a nuisance and a distraction-- in a time like this.

Slowly, Jotaro pushes the fabric out of the way, and he sucks in a sharp breath out of sympathy the moment he gets an eyeful of the bruising that’s blossomed across Rohan’s side.

“That Stand got you right in that old wound of your’s, huh?” Jotaro asks. He barely resists the urge to reach out and touch the scars hidden underneath the black and blue mess. He’s known about their existence for a while, though Rohan rarely lets him lay eyes on them for more than a few seconds at a time.

There’s three scars in total, and each one runs the length of a rib, starting at Rohan’s sternum and wrapping around midway to his spine. A childhood injury from a freak accident that still causes unnecessary pain.

(”Why not just let Josuke heal you?” Jotaro remembers asking the first time he caught a glimpse of the scars.

“Josuke can’t fix everything,” Rohan had answered, short and irritable.)

Jotaro wonders if Rohan would allow Josuke to help now. If only to take the edge off, but Jotaro will worry about calling his nephew later. For now, he’s more concerned with getting Rohan off the floor and checked over properly. Jotaro hadn’t seen Rohan take a hit, which means that he has no idea how hard it had been or what kind of damage they might be dealing with. There could be internal bleeding, a collapsed lung, or god knows what else. The bruising is extensive enough, and Rohan’s breathing is ragged. Too shallow and a touch uneven.

“What gave you that idea?” Rohan snarls at him, breaking Jotaro out of his thoughts. He forgot how ill-tempered the mangaka is when he’s hurting.

“Good grief,” Jotaro mutters, though he takes it as a positive sign that Rohan’s got enough fight in him to make this as difficult as possible.

As carefully as possible, he scoops Rohan up into his arms. It isn’t easy, given the location of the wound, but he only makes Rohan whimper rather than scream. That has to count for something.

The path to the bedroom is blessedly short, considering the size of Rohan’s house. Jotaro gently deposits the mangaka on his oversized bed and heads for the en suite bathroom to retrieve the bottle of prescription painkillers that he knows Rohan underutilizes whenever possible (Rohan doesn’t like what they do to his head, and Jotaro can’t say that he blames him). It takes some rummaging, but he manages to find the pills and a cup to pour some water into.

“Here,” Jotaro says once he returns to the bedroom. To his surprise, Rohan takes both the cup and the proffered pills without complaint. He swallows the painkillers dry and chases them down with the water before falling back against the pillows with a quiet groan.

Jotaro takes that as his permission to resume his earlier inspection. Once again, he rolls the edge of the crop top up and tries not to grimace at the sight that greets him. It’s definitely no better than before, not that he had expected it to be. There’s more bruising than not on the scarred side, and some of it has branched across, spreading to the other side. Despite how horrific it looks, Rohan’s breathing is mostly even. It’s obvious that he’s in pain and holding back, but the lung seems to be inflating properly, which is… something. Far from great, but definitely better than the alternative.

Slowly, Jotaro palpates the area. All while ignoring the squirming and gasped breaths that he gets from Rohan. At some point, Rohan has enough, and he tries to swat Jotaro away, but he pulls back before Rohan can reach him.

“I don’t think you’re bleeding internally,” Jotaro announces with a barely level tone. Relief edges his words despite his attempt to keep his tone even. He tries not to think of what could have happened if Rohan had been left alone, bleeding internally, and without any way to call for help. Jotaro chastises himself for not noticing the hit or its aftermath. How could he have missed something so obvious? He can’t imagine that Rohan had been able to fully hide it.

“Fantastic,” Rohan grits out with a roll of his eyes. The way he relaxes into the mattress gives him away, though. He’d been scared.

“I’m going to go get some ice for that. Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Rohan says too quickly. His fingers twitch, but he doesn’t speak up again. Jotaro takes that as his sign to go ahead, and he wanders downstairs and toward the kitchen.

The pantries are unsurprisingly bare, though Jotaro manages to find a baggie to put a decent amount of ice into. He grabs the hand towel off the counter to wrap the makeshift pack in and heads back upstairs, where he finds Rohan exactly where he left him. He hasn’t moved so much as an inch. It’s one more sign of the agony he must be in.

“Do you want me to call Josuke?” Jotaro asks, already knowing the answer. He passes Rohan the ice pack, figuring it will be better if Rohan places it himself. The cold is already going to make him tense up, and he doesn’t need the added pain.

“No.”

“He doesn’t have to see.”

“No.”

Jotaro gives a half shrug, “If you insist.”

“I do,” Rohan sniffs, snooty and irritated until he places the wrapped ice against his skin. He hisses and jolts away from it, but it only takes a moment before he relaxes and presses the pack that much closer. “Stop being a mother and lie down. ‘m not going anywhere anytime soon.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance, but Jotaro takes it that way anyways.

“I could call the Foundation.”

“Don’t you dare,” Rohan shoots back like Jotaro’s words had been a threat. They hadn’t. It’s an offer to have a specialist come to Rohan rather than to force Rohan to the hospital, but it doesn’t surprise Jotaro that he took it to be something else entirely.

“You’re wheezing,” Jotaro points out with the same frown he’s been wearing since he found Rohan on the floor.

“I’m fine. Get in this bed or get out.”

Jotaro can’t help thinking the words might hold more weight if Rohan weren’t practically wheezing them, but he decides to let the subject drop for now. There’s no apparent sign of an emergency. Yet. He’s not sure he can relax enough to get comfortable, but he does toe off his shoes. He rolls onto his side after another moment of contemplation. At least this position allows for him to keep an eye on Rohan without jostling him too much.

Rohan rolls his eyes, but he settles against the mattress with a half-shrug. A ‘suit yourself’ sort of gesture that’s far milder than the rest of his responses have been. His eyes slide shut and he keeps his hand firmly pressed to the ice he’s still holding to his side. His hold is still too tight, and his posture is too stiff. Jotaro wishes he could do more, but he knows how chronic pain goes. There’s really nothing more either of them can do now other than sit and wait for the medication to kick in. Rohan won’t see Josuke, and he’d probably bite Jotaro if the older man tried to take him to the hospital. Waiting is their only option, and time moves at an impossibly slow pace.

Nearly thirty minutes go by in complete silence. Rohan keeps his eyes stubbornly screwed shut, and Jotaro watches him unashamedly. The moment he thinks Rohan is getting worse, he’s dragging both of them to the nearest hospital, repercussions be damned.

Likewise, he keeps having to remind himself to take a breath. Rohan is alive and-- well, mostly-- breathing, granted it looks strained and painful, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than the rattle that Jotaro’s heard too many times before, and there’s no needless gasping. Only the occasional, low whine that manages to slip its way past Rohan’s thin-pressed lips.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Rohan’s body begins to relax. His limbs go slack against the mattress, and his core sinks downwards. He’s no longer holding stiff as a board, and the difference is nearly palpable. Jotaro can see the moment exhaustion takes its hold over pain, and Rohan begins to slip under the blanket that is sleep.

Jotaro takes the risk of removing Rohan’s headband then. His fingers card through the mess of hair left behind. Rohan leans into the touch like it’s the best thing he’s felt in awhile, and it probably is, given what his body’s just gone through. Jotaro won’t deny him that bit of relief, so he continues to pet through Rohan’s hair until there are soft snores escaping the mangaka. Even then, he doesn’t stop. The last thing he wants is to accidentally wake Rohan up.

Eventually being curled on his side and having nowhere to go takes its toll. Jotaro’s eyelids grow heavier the longer he stays put, and he doesn’t bother to fight the sleep that settles in his limbs first and comes for his mind second.

[deltaengineering]

Spring Anime 2021: Embarrassment of Riches

So this current anime season absolutely stinks, which just makes the last one look even more impressive. Well, maybe not all of it...

Zombieland Saga Revenge

First off, you don't need to tell me that the following is a severe outlier opinion. We good? Ok. ZLSR is, in a word, subpar. I liked S1 back in the day, but it was already in the process of getting lazy towards the end. S2 continues this trend and is basically just another idol show. And as someone who actually does watch other idol shows I have to say that it's not a particularly good one of those either. The zombie gimmick has mostly stopped mattering and we're just doing what every idol show does, only with the odd occasional sight gag. The alleged subversive qualities mostly amount to a flashback for Yuugiri, which is admittedly the best part of the show but feels like it barely has anything to do with anything. Apart from that, it's a bunch of generic idol plots, rehashed character beats, shoddy attempts at twists (while not connecting to any setups from S1), and the obligatory "idols give us hope" ending, which is terribly hackneyed and flat out bad. Tae gets further memed into the ground, because of course she does. And there's stuff that was simply never good to begin with, like Kotarou and his comedy schtick, which gets truly insufferable now that there's no qualities to distract from it. It really makes me think that S1 wasn't even all that good to begin with and seems like an attempt to turn this surprise success into an easy money longrunner with no edge and no ambitions. "The idol show for people who don't watch idol shows" indeed, but not the way you mean it. 4/10

Bakuten

But not to dwell on the failures, with the second show we're already above the cut — barely. This one got my attention with its really impressive performance scenes early on and it totally sticks to that, which is even more impressive. But besides that? Well, this is by far the most predictable show in a season where I watched an unambitious Kiraralike and put ZLS on blast for having no ideas. The characters are a mixed bag, some are cool (Shida, Asawo), some are very annoying (Mashiro), but those are the supports. The main cast is extremely one-dimensional, which is fine until they try to heap a ton of pathos on their lead, which doesn't go well. But I guess execution matters, and Bakuten is slick enough to get by. Writing this down in stark daylight I feel like I overrated this show somewhat (I actually put it over the next one originally, which definitely doesn't hold up when thinking about it), but I was indeed mostly entertained. 6/10

Yakunara Mug Cup mo

Yeah. Of course Mug Cup definitely doesn't invent or subvert anything either, but it's a pretty good Kiraralike that's always entertaining to watch. Explaining the qualities of such a nothing genre is as difficult as ever, but it mostly comes down to me liking the characters and it having nothing to annoy me. It's shorter than normal, which is a plus for slim shows like this. And yeah, you can make an excessive amount of dick jokes with the clay fondling. That helps too. Looks are just fine, pleasant but nothing out of the ordinary. Comfy low-effort anime. 6/10

Vivy: Fluorite Eye's Song

This one is decent, but sadly still a major letdown. Because the first few episodes of Vivy were excellent and kicked ass, but then it became increasingly clear that the writing can't cash the checks the ideas wrote while the action starts running into severely diminishing returns. Vivy just keeps slowly getting worse and worse as it goes on, not by a huge amount each episode but by the end there's a pretty sizeable gulf between potential and result. Going into detail would probably be a little much for this venue because there's a lot, but from the top level view the issue is that while Vivy has good fundamental ideas and steals at the right places, it just isn't a smart show — it's schlock, and by the end, poorly thought out schlock that tries to smooth out every problem with liberal application of the big feels hammer and le epic twist at that. Yeah, couldn't tell that the Re:Zero dude was aboard here, for sure. That said, it still works pretty well as entertaining schlock that is not to be taken too seriously, and the characters are generally just very fun to watch even when they're doing stupid things. Still, I can't in good conscience rate this higher than Beatless, a show that looks like butt but properly executes on its ideas. 6/10

Super Cub

So this is 100% a Honda commercial, and I got really mad a Yuru Camp last season for being a blatant shill. Yet I'm feeling this, what gives? I think the main difference is that Super Cub is specifically a commercial for one product (and a very iconic product at that), while Yuru Camp is so all over the place that it ends up mostly a commercial for consumerism in general. And when Super Cub goes too hard on the product (which it does), it's at least pretty entertaining. That's something about Super Cub in general: It goes hard. Your regular Kiraralike this is not, because it's uncommonly slow, focused and moody - yes, it almost measures up to Yuru Camp at its best and demolishes it at its worst. Also, it's just extremely amusing to see sadblob Koguma grow a huge grizzly biker beard and become a badass outlaw dad to her goofy wife and cute daughter, all thanks to the power of afforable personal transportation. Needless to say, that can get unintentionally silly, but Super Cub has so much charm that it doesn't matter — it's great when it's good and still funny when it's not. 7/10

Shadows House

Shadows House turned up with a lot of potential, and I have to say it at least delivered on most of it. It has some problems; notably I'm not a fan of how the entire middle turned out to be a tournament arc of sorts that seems curiously inspired by Resident Evil memes, crest-shaped intentations and boulder punching included. I also think that this is a show that would be perfectly fine without explaining much, but I guess it is a shounen manga after all so we got dumped on eventually anyway. At least that came late - close relative Promised Neverland didn't show that much restraint. Shadows House is generally well written though, with great characters, interesting interactions and a great hook. But what really makes it memorable is that it's exceptionally good at the cute/creepy contrast, something that is often tried but rarely works as well as here, with great character designs and very appropriate production. I hope this gets a sequel, because it seems like it's just getting started. 7/10

SSSS.Dynazenon

Coming in with a fondness for Gridman, Dynazenon didn't have to do much to convince me. The surprise though is that it's not a rehash even if it's basically the same show, a character drama where occasionally huge and goofy fights break out. Dynazenon is Gridman done better, and the interesting part is how it accomplishes this - mainly by being far more conventional. I do appreciate that Gridman went for something weird and almost experimental, but that only really paid off towards the end while most of the show was a distraction/holding pattern. It just didn't feel like there was enough material for a full series there, more like a movie maybe, if even that. Dynazenon fixes this by just being a TV show, with an actual cast of characters that each have their own arc. And by spreading the material this way, Dynazenon ends up having a lot more nuance than its intensely focused predecessor, while having the same themes and not actually being any deeper. In a way, Gridman ends up looking like the spinoff in retrospect, while Dynazenon is the full package. 8/10

Thunderbolt Fantasy S3

So how good was this season? So good that Thunderbolt Fantasy doesn't end up at the top, that's how. And all the elements that made Tbolt such a sure thing are still there, big hammy puppets doing stunts and scheming never gets old. However, I do have to note that at this point, the writing appears to have gotten too comfortable. I don't expect it to ever top the amazing S1 ending, but at this point it's like Tbolt has stopped trying to deliver on endings at all and seems in the process of retooling itself into a longrunner instead. Barely anything gets resolved in S3 (the climax is that the climax of S2 is resolved again, for good this time... maybe), and everything else is just setting up plotpoints for the next season. Tbolt is truly lucky that it doesn't actually need to resolve anything to be a great time, but at this point I have to say that I'd appreciate it if they wrapped it up with S4. 8/10

Nomad: Megalobox 2

Speaking of sequels to shows I liked, Nomad doesn't so much improve upon its predecessor but steamrolls right over it. This is a tall order, since Megalobox was surprisingly good for a sports shounen and had a real nice, heartwarming ending that Nomad instantly negates for purposes of drama and everyone being extremely miserable. That sounds like a pretty terrible idea - and it would be, if Nomad wasn't as excellent as it is. To call it not the same show would be an understatement, because it's a true sequel, not just the same characters doing their thing some more, or new characters doing the same thing as the old ones did. Indeed my biggest problem with Megalobox was that it still closely adhered to its genre template and was very predictable; Nomad fixes this issue thoroughly. Nomad is about questioning what being a hotblooded shounen protagonist eventually leads you to, and how to fix everything you screwed up by being one. You could call it a deconstruction, but that term has been so abused for cynical, edgy "thing you like actually sucks" takes that I feel like it doesn't really fit here. Nomad isn't cynical at all, it's just a character drama about some boxers past their prime, and it being a sequel to a show that is indeed rather formulaic just enhances the experience. My biggest issue with it was that I really like what they did with Joe in this story, so the big focus on Mac's backstory felt like a distraction for a long time. But in the end that turned out to be absolutely necessary to make the ending work. The ending's just great, by the way, and I shall say not more about it. 9/10

Odd Taxi

Yeah boy, here's the show that has apparently become somewhat of a "greatest show you didn't watch" meme, which I can feel smug about because I don't need YouTubers to tell me what's good and followed this from day one. Anyway, Odd Taxi is indeed great, the greatest show in a few years even. What starts out as seemingly a relaxed hangout show in the vein of Midnight Diners quickly turns into a psychological murder mystery while never losing its quirky humor. The character writing is outstanding, with even small bit players being on a level that the average anime wishes it could have for leads. And the rollout of the mystery is exemplary, with answers given and new questions raised every episode with a satisfying and logical payoff in the end. This is also the rare anime that has rock solid production from the first to the last second; it's never really flashy but excellently done and highly consistent nonetheless. And the music just owns. I have a few complaints, mainly that there's a few logical weaknesses in the story (which wouldn't even register in a lesser show, but sticks out here since the rest is so immaculately constructed) and that the ending overextends on the emotions when the rest of the show is so reserved and dry in comparison. But those are only the reasons why I didn't give it perfect marks, and I almost did that anyway. 9/10