#yes I’ve tested it in these twelve different ways

[fruitless-vain]

So the sensor has not been sending push notifications the way it’s supposed to, after back and forth emails and troubleshooting with the engineering department of sensorpush they’re opting to send me a new one since it just will not work for whatever reason

Absolutely praying it’s just a faulty sensor cause like………… I really don’t want to go through an obnoxious refund process and have to find another -40c rated thermometer

[s0fter-sin]

what up i’ve been obsessed with would you fall in love with me again like every other person on the planet and i can’t stop thinking about penelope’s final verse

she’s so angry; angry that odysseus would dare to suggest that her love for him has faltered or his actions were enough to destroy it. she’s been waiting, working her fingers raw unweaving her shroud every night, not sleeping as the suitors camp inside her home; every day a threat to her and her son, to her kingdom if an unworthy man - and they are all unworthy - should take the throne. she knew they wouldn’t wait forever, that at some point her deception would be realised; her dedication to her husband means she is at constant risk and the first thing odysseus does when he sees her - if this even is him - is question her love for him?

the very first thing he says (other than her name) is, “i am not the man you fell in love with.” penelope asks him if it’s really him standing there or if she’s “dreaming once more”. once more. she’s felt the cruelty of hope before; has looked at her doorway and seen odysseus the same as when he left (which is probably partly why she’s so shocked by how he actually looks) and felt unfathomable pain when her hopes were dashed over and over again. she asks if he is really her odysseus and he says no

yes, in his mind, odysseus can’t see how he can deserve her love after everything he’s done - the atrocities he’s committed, to himself he isn’t the same man, “i see a man who gets to make it home alive, but it’s no longer you” - but all penelope hears is her husband, the man she loves and waited for, doubts the strength of her love

penelope asks what kind of things he’s done and it must be shocking to hear; his actions so different from the man who left her behind even if he did them in name of returning to her. but when she asks him to move the bed, it’s as much a challenge as it is a test. she’s asking him to prove that he is the monster he claims to be; that if he’s changed so much and become so heartless, he should have no qualms about ripping the symbol of their love from its roots. and it’s also her only way of actually determining if this man who claims to be her husband yet doesn’t take her in his arms, is actually him

“just a moment of labour would bring me some peace” - if he does what she asks, then she will know either he’s changed so much that he’s no longer her odysseus or he’s another fake and was never hers to begin with; that her husband didn’t just stand in front of her and claim she can’t love him as he is. but she’s done. she was already willing to die when she stood behind the twelve axes she challenged the suitors to shoot through. she’s so tired. she just wants it all to be over

“only my husband knew that, so i guess that makes him you” - i guess. even after telling her something only odysseus and her knew, penelope’s still not convinced that it’s truly him. how many men came to her door claiming to be her long lost husband, banking on time and distance to dull memory of his face and voice, on her longing and desperation for odysseus to blind her into believing them?

but if this is her husband? if the man she’s loved through decades of absence has finally returned to her?

“i will fall in love with you over and over again” - an exhausted promise, the core of who penelope is and how she feels; assuaging his doubts and his own clear pain

but

“no matter how long it’s been, you’re mine. don’t tell me you’re not the same person, you’re always my husband” - penelope is screaming at him; how dare odysseus say this to her? dismiss her love and her suffering? he saw the men outside, he’s smart enough to know what they were here for and instead of apologising for being gone for so long, instead of begging for forgiveness for inadvertently putting her and their son at risk, instead of embracing her and putting an end to her torment, odysseus doubts her

“and i’ve been waiting, waiting” - the tone shift of penelope screaming at him to lamenting how long she’s been waiting is heartbreaking; it’s quieter as she gets lost in the pain of her grief, her anger failing as she recalls the memories of her long years of solitude. odysseus tries to call her back with his gentle “penelope” - such a contrast to his own exhausted anger at being asked to destroy their marital bed now that he understands why she asked that of him - but she can’t hear him; she’s too trapped in the memories. he tries again, still gentle but more insistent, and this time she does hear him and her anger comes rushing back along with her grief. her “waiting, waiting,” becomes almost accusatory; she’s been alone for so long and it’s bc of him, bc he wasn’t there, bc he left her waiting

that abrupt “oh” at the end of the verse isn’t just a vocalisation; in that moment, she’s realising that she has realised that he truly is odysseus. she knew it was him before she even processed it. she wouldn’t be this angry if he were anyone else; love and grief and anger coalescing in one single divine moment where penelope finally believes her odysseus has returned to her

“for you” - she’s been waiting and waiting, years turning to dust, her sleepless nights and days spent living in fear and preemptive grief- and it was all for him. odysseus is actually here. which means her waiting is over

“how long has it been?”

“20 years”

“i- i love you”

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (25 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

A few weeks later…

Killian could now guess almost exactly when the pain would start, as determined by how long he’d been away from Alice. A fortnight allowed him to get within sight of the blue spires as the curse’s grip slowly tightened around his heart. One month, and he could stand at the tower’s base and gaze upward longingly with only mild discomfort. Six weeks, and he could make half the climb before the knives commenced their assault. Before now, he hadn’t had the self-discipline to test anything longer.

This time, as he climbed in the darkness of near-dawn, his still-healing hand threatened to give out before his heart even felt the first tentative prick of a blade. But his determination drove him higher, and yearning anticipation drowned out all physical concerns.

Alice knew better than to watch him climb. Her proximity as he reached the high window would put him in danger of falling, or even being flung outwards into space as he’d done in her premonitory nightmare before he’d even been cursed. So she waited against the far wall, anxious eyes watching for his first appearance, which always propelled her into an excited bounce--the only way to contain the longing energy that would otherwise have launched her forward into an ill-advised attempt at a hug.

Today was no different, and as Killian pulled himself up to catch his first glimpse of his impatiently waiting daughter, Alice let out a little squeal of relieved delight. Panting, Killian leaned against the wall to catch his breath, flashing her a bright smile as he fumbled for Mandible’s potion in the satchel slung over his shoulder. Alice grinned back with a wave, still bouncing on the balls of her feet and watching apprehensively as one decorative ceremonial cloth fluttered to the floor, followed by a second animal-skin wrapping. He could see tears glistening on her face, and the lump constricting his own throat made choking down the potion absurdly difficult.

Almost immediately, the stabbings slowed, the knives retreated, and Killian’s rib cage could expand freely as he drew a huge, satisfying lungful of air. He downed the last mouthful of tangy liquid, carefully replaced the stopper--he planned to fill the vial with water several times to be sure he extracted every last second of its offered reprieve--and then took a single eager step forward. Alice took that as her cue and was across the room and in his arms before he had even completed a second step.

“Alice…” Killian breathed, squeezing her tight as he’d done so often in his dreams.

“Papa!” cried Alice in almost the same instant, and they both laughed and sobbed and held each other as if nothing would ever drive them apart again.

Killian soaked in every last detail of that hug: the way she felt in his arms, her warmth and surprising strength as she squeezed him back, the sound of her emotional whimpers of laughter as she was overwhelmed by the same heart-wrenching delight that also coursed through his veins. The flowery scent of her hair. The unexpected height of her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and committed it all to memory.

“Papa…” whispered Alice brokenly.

“Yes, Starfish?” Killian placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“I… I’m not sure I can let go.”

A tear slipped down his cheek and disappeared into her shining crown of gold. “Nor am I, love. I’ve missed you… more than words can tell.”

Alice sniffed, then tilted her head back to look up at him. She gave him a watery smile, saying,

“Let’s pretend… let’s pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist. It will always be today, forever and ever. Would… that be all right?”

Choking back a sob, Killian nodded. “Of course.”

He wanted to expand upon that, to offer reassurance or somehow lend credence to the fantasy, but found he could not speak as frustration and grief boiled over. A single day was not nearly enough, and it was so terribly unfair that they had to spend their limited time together dreading the unfeeling approach of sunset. With a trembling hand, he reached up and began to stroke Alice’s hair, wrestling back all of the negativity, refusing to let it spoil this one precious day.

“I can’t believe how tall you’ve gotten!” he exclaimed, tone only slightly crazed. “Slow it down, would you? I can’t have you looking down on me one day and pointing out every new silver hair that crops up.”

Alice laughed shyly, finally and reluctantly pulling away, but entwining her fingers with his and gripping tightly. She looked down at herself, then gave an innocent shrug. “Sorry, Papa; I’ve decided to become a giant when I grow up. You’ll just have to make do.”

Killian grinned at her, sincere and encouraging. “Not to worry, Starfish; I’ll be proud of you, whatever you become.”

Alice wiped her face with her sleeve, looked him up and down, and frowned slightly. “Have you been eating properly? You look dreadfully skinny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oi, cheeky, would you rather I have a gut full of whale blubber? It would be very hard to climb the rigging of the Jolly Roger hauling that lot around.”

Alice’s laughter still contained a hint of concern, and Killian sighed. Perceptive, his daughter.

“I’m all right love; I give you my word. I had a… minor illness not long ago, but as you can see, I’m good as new now.” He glanced around the only surroundings she’d ever known, taking in the condition of her prison and noting with love the obvious attempts she’d made to make the place presentable for him. “And what about you? Not up late reading every night, I hope?”

“Papa!” Alice rolled her eyes at him. He waited for a proper reply, mock sternness completely undermined by the loving grin on his lips. Giggling, she relented. “I’ve been good, I promise. You would be proud.”

Killian couldn’t resist pulling her into another embrace. “I am, love. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Can’t fathom where it came from, considering what a buffoon you have for a father.”

“Oh, Papa…”

He had meant it as a bit of lighthearted self-deprecation--a reference to his recent scrape with Blackbeard and his monkeys, perhaps--but suddenly, the weight of his true misdeeds pressed down upon him with full force. Gently, he extricated himself and stepped back so he could look her straight in her eyes. Using his hook to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, he choked out,

“Can you ever forgive me, Alice?”

She looked completely mystified, and when it took him a moment to continue past his emotions, she asked,

“Forgive you? For what?”

He looked at the floor, recalling with painful clarity the instant the curse had been revealed. “The witch was right. It’s entirely my fault my heart was poisoned. I wasn’t thinking about anything but my own worthless, stubborn pride. I neglected my responsibility to you. I even had a whole night to consider the fact that I was risking my death for nothing more than my bloody reputation, and I still chose to be reckless and selfish. I’m so sorry, love. I’m only cursed because I’m a damn fool, and I’ve forced you to share in the consequences.”

There were tear stains on Alice’s face when he managed to meet her eyes again, but she squeezed his hand, then surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“It’s okay, Papa. I forgive you.”

Still wracked by shame, Killian cradled her head against his heart. “You do?”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she reminded him simply, and he knew he would never forget the complex mix of relief, guilt, pride, and overwhelming love that filled him from head to toe at her quiet statement. It did not completely unburden his heart; nothing ever would until he found a way to permanently break the curse. But a noticeable weight did lift with Alice’s sincere offering of grace.

“I love you,” she said, and he only just managed to choke out,

“I love you too, Alice.” He cleared his throat and struggled to gather his composure. “Thank you for being so understanding. I give you my solemn vow that you are my entire focus, from now on. I won’t stop until I free you, or cure this heart for good.”

“I know.” Alice managed to look hopeful then, despite the number of months that had already passed with no progress on either count. She took her father by the hand again and pulled him farther into the room than he’d dared venture since his magical banishment.

“How about a game before breakfast?” she suggested as she led him to the chess board, which had already been neatly arranged, minus two meaningful missing pieces. She produced her white knight from a pocket in her apron; Killian did likewise with his black rook. As two equally faded pieces joined their more vibrant counterparts, Killian said,

“I would like nothing more, Starfish. But I must warn you, I may be a bit out of practice.”

They both took their accustomed places. Alice scoffed teasingly. “That’s only an excuse for when you inevitably lose.”

“Is that so? Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

Alice giggled, considered him for a moment, then made her first move. And for just that single moment, tomorrow did, indeed, cease to exist.

[ayaspen]

Is “Across The Spider-Verse” a great sequel ? Yes.

One thing to know about me, is that I’ve always been a spider-man girlie, granted I wasn’t even born when the Raimi’s trilogy dropped, and it took me twelve years after to discover that Spider-Man was not actually blonde (my younger brain always thought he was for some reason) but there’s no denying that Spider-Man has always been a pop culture symbol, even if you don’t know his story, there’s no way you haven’t heard or seen pictures of the masked vigilante who swings around the city with his webs.

And although there were different interpretations to his story, he was always the ordinary kid in Queens (or in our case Brooklyn) who’s got too much power in his hands and is struggling what to do with it, to later become the masked vigilante who saves people and understands the responsibility he have toward his people.

When Spider-Man Into the Spider-Verse dropped in 2018, people had mixed reviews on the subject, (and I was a middle schooler who stumbled upon the trailer by accident but was intrigued nonetheless) I think people were afraid that this was going to end up not meeting their expectations, and boy did it exceed them!

The movie did very well (and for good reasons!), and managed to re-introduce the story of The Spider-Man with a twist, in this case introducing the Spider-Verse, and everyone went nuts about it, from the music to the animation to the well-crafted story. The movie was one of the best movies of that year, if not of all times.

But what happens when that movie has a sequel ?  4 years later and with a very enthusiastic fan-base ? Will it be a disappointment or another win ? 

Today, I’m ready to say that Across The Spider-Verse is as good if not better than the original, and here’s why…

Hello and welcome to Butterfly Scribbles, I am the Butterfly in question, and today we’re going to cross the multiverse…I mean the Spider-Verse, my bad!

So ladies and gentlemen, let’s do this again one last time!

(This review may contain spoilers for the movie, so If you haven’t seen it, I highly encourage you to do so, and then read my review after, have a nice time!)

PLOT:

Miles Morales, is very much accustomed to being “Brooklyn’s one and only Spider-Man”, he loves his job, but him leading a double life starts to interfere with his life as Miles and his relationship with his family (and his grades), which leads to him feeling the loneliness this job imposes and starts terribly missing his spider friends.

After that he gets a visit from his best friend Gwen, and learns that there’s a whole universe full of Spider-people teaming up to protect his very existence which leads to a great conflict and a “Spider-hunt” to stop him from going to change his fate and protect the people he loves most in his life, all while redefining his story and doing what he thinks is his role as a hero.

I think the plot of the movie does a really great job of solidifying Miles as his own hero, he is constantly put into situations that tests his morals and beliefs of what he thinks he is doing right, while everyone is treating him like some ignorant teenager, there’s even a great scene where miles stand up for himself and says: “Everyone keeps telling me how my own story is supposed to go, Nah, Imma do my own thing” which is nothing if not great character development.

The twists at the end of the movie are also sure to leave you feeling blown away!

Characters:

Miles:

Like I said before, this movie gives the best arcs to its main hero, Miles goes through a journey of self discovery and finding himself all while struggling with the distance he creates with his family, especially his mom whom he keeps lying to, and her trying to understand what is going on with her son, to the point where she’s scared of him moving away from her.

Miles also feels like an outcast even with his peers, when he discovers the Spider-Verse, Gwen and Peter are against him joining the team for his safety, Miles then feels pressured to prove himself in order to gain respect and inclusion, which does not end up really well.

In the end, he chooses to do it his way, and decides to have fate in his powers and do what perceives to be the right thing, and save people when he has the chance to do so, even if it means having to deal with bigger consequences.

Gwen:

Gwen was one of the fan favorites after the release of the first movie, but the sequel gives more depth to her character, and expands upon her struggles, how she lost her best friend, peter parker, how he looked up to her and wanted to be “special” like she is, also justifying her choice to not be involved in friendships anymore.

Gwen also has an ongoing conflict with her dad, the captain of the city, who hates Spider-Woman and is leading a manhunt against her, blaming her for the murder of Peter, and how that creates a conflict with her father as Gwen, which leads to a confrontation and an identity reveal.

I think it was very smart to include Gwen as one of the protagonists of the movie for obvious reasons, now we know more about her, we sympathize with her as a heroine, and its show 

the similarities her and Miles are experiencing, establishing her role to be more than a love interest and I’m all here for it!

Other characters: 

I think the highlight of this movies is the hundreds of Spider-people we see, each with their own personality, costumes and very funny cameos too! 

My favorites have to be Spider Girl (Peter’s baby), Spider-Woman, Pavitr and Spider-Punk!

Animation and Music:

I think it’s necessary to have a whole section on this review dedicated to praise the animators and the song mixers for this movie, and It’s safe to say that without these two, the magic of the film wouldn’t be the same, I mean just imagine if It wasn’t an animated movie! and If it didn’t have such great singles like “What’s Up Danger”! 

truly a tragedy.

The animation for this movie specifically was really amazing, they combined multiple coloring styles to create the personality of each story like Gwen’s watercolor world in the start of the movie, the battle scenes are epic especially in the Spider hunt scenes with Miles and Miguel.

For the Score of the movie, I personally like the last track “Across The Spider-Verse (Start a Band)” track,I think the music really fits the last and best moments of the movie!

In conclusion, and If you haven’t got it yet, I’m In LOVE with this movie! (I mean, why else would I write a whole essay about it right ?) It’s the perfect sequel to a perfect first, and I’m convinced it’s the best movie of the year and one of the best superhero movies ever !

So if you haven’t watched it yet, I highly encourage you to do so, because It is a great watch even for people who know nothing about Spider-Man.

If you did, well let me know in the comments so we can talk about it even more, cause I’m not even close to being done with it yet!

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I have been mistaken for so many different people and ages my whole life and it’s kind of funny

5th Grade — ?:

So for reference: I have baby face syndrome, but I’ve always dressed neatly and in a way VERY unconventional for my age group; often wearing vintage clothing, fancy hats, heels, tucked-in shirts, granny sweaters, men’s clothes, etc. Anyway, I never liked holding my dad’s hand in public past age the age of ten, because some dingus would always assume we were husband and wife. Oh hell no. Once it happened while my mother was standing right next to him (and the guy was an Jehovah’s Witness elder, because of course he was).

7th Grade:

I was asked point-blank by a 20-year-old “So have you graduated high school yet?” No, I’m twelve and suffering through the doldrums of middle school. Yes, this is a cry for help.

8th Grade:

The first day of school, I walked into art class. I was wearing coooorduroy britches dodging hitches I was working on the railway a gray sheath dress with a yellow blouse underneath of it, stockings, and high gray platforms. Very corporate, I guess. And I’ve known how to walk (run, and skip) in heels since age seven; so I was not awkward-looking at all.

I made a beeline for the teacher’s desk to get a look at the seating chart. The teacher, upon seeing me enter the room, went to shake my hand, asking my name, and if I’m the new student-teacher. I was like, “No; I’m a student. I’d just like to know where to sit.”

Later on that year, crazy hair day came along, and I wore a short blonde wig to school (I used to have 40” of hair). I confused the hell out of my history teacher because she thought I was a different kid sitting in her student’s spot.

9th Grade:

The same thing happened in my pottery class. I shoved my bangs underneath my hat on the first day, and came in with no hat the second. The teacher asked who I was because she hadn’t seen me before. I kind of get that, because it’s hard to spot kids across a playground if they get a haircut or put on a hat. I always look at their gait to tell who’s who.

In the Workforce:

I substituted for someone in a high school classroom, in a 1st — 11th grade school. I was sitting outside the office in a chair because the classroom wasn’t open yet. At that moment, I wasn’t on my phone and was halfway staring off into space, probably cracking my knuckles or something. I was dressed casually (cargo pants and a sweater), with a bag at my side on the floor.

This staff member walked past me, then back again to say “hello.” I said “hello” back. He asked some question about why I was sitting out in the hallway, and if I was lost. I replied that I was there from another school to substitute for a staff member, as I am a paraprofessional, and had been asked to sit in the hallway until the teacher arrives.

“Oh. Sorry, I thought you were a student. I haven’t seen you before, ahaha…” Very awkward.

Later on, the students in the district had an Autism Acceptance Walk. We had to walk through a tunnel of people, who gave the kids (and adult students) high-fives. Apparently, people thought I was one of the students, because they were thrusting their hands out at me, specifically, to high-five them, despite the fact that I was surrounded by a bunch of tiny children. I heard someone say “she’s cute” in a diminutive tone (it had to be about me, because the only other feminine person around was an imposing older lady). To be fair though, I’ve consistently gotten scores in the 130s—140s on the RAADS-R (among other online tests); but…….. I don’t know if my traits are a naturally-occurring phenomena or a weird religious trauma-induced thing. I’m also not a student and I wasn’t about to steal their thunder; so after feeling compelled to high-five exactly one person, I kept my eyes forward and didn’t look at anyone but the kids in front of me until we were out of the tunnel.

Towards the end of the year, I met with some corporate people I had never seen in person at a restaurant. I shook their hands and introduced myself with my first name. They were surprised when I sat down with them because they thought I was a waitress… I was wearing all black, and apparently had an air of “business” about me (how else would I act or look around corporate people?) We had a laugh about it

Oh and one time when I was at a mid-level elementary school watching the kids on the playground, the STUDENTS came up to me and asked if I was a kid or a teacher. I— 😂😭 My friends, I’m an adult. I am a Designated Mother Figure.

And consistently, to this day, I get asked a LOT by fellow customers “Excuse me, Miss… Do you know where [item] is?” It always happens in art stores for some reason… maybe it’s my hair? I my hair to express myself? (and for some reason I have an aversion to dying it green)

[dayfalwastaken]

The good bloke, Henry Emily.

Cracking his neck and knuckles, William got ready to get to work.

…Just to be met with the disappointing sight that was the home screen. He’d forgotten about it.

Despite his handcrafted 16-bit display permitting a colorful and revolutionary user interface, Henry had opted to remain old-school. He’d denied William’s requests to include icons for applications that could be arranged however the user liked. He “liked his programs to be organized in columns”, the man had said at the time. Stuck in the past like always, but what could Will do? Thus, everything accessible was arranged vertically on a black background, with the most important programs at the top, having their text highlighted in different colors. The result was a mishmash of next-gen features running on yesterday’s basics. It was buggy, ugly as all hell, and had no synergy, but was half a decade ahead of the crap that were modern consumer products.

William shook his head. Holy fuck was that interface ghastly to stare at.

==== HNRYE. & WLAMA.’s PC ====

***Open source***

Date: 01/05/1982 – Tuesday

Time: 09:47 PM

Index                                                        Help

/ [README]

/ [ContractDocs.txt]

/ [General Files]

/ [Program Files]

/ [Terminal.exe]

/ [Control.exe]

/ [Kernel.exe]

/ [Script.exe]

/ [Temp. Deleted]

/ [Extensions]

/ [Applications]_

/ [Images, Diner Artwork]

/ [Notes]

/ [Games] – (Stop setting coordinates for 3D objects in random txt files. Yes, rendered graphics from txt are cool, yes, I know you like to test the “engine”, but you’re taking up space and it’s a pain to always get error messages saying “You’re out of memory” every time I want to work. The least you could do is delete them after you’re done. Seriously, I’ve had like four crashes just this afternoon. You’re not twelve, William. Thank you. -Last edited 2 months ago)

PS: Don’t stay up all night if you’re having too much

trouble. We can run today’s tape if the next one

is faulty. Take care of yourself, Bill.

-Yours truly.

William laughed. Good old Henry both chastising and worrying for his health all at once. Sometimes he wondered where he’d be if he hadn’t met the man. College would’ve been the same hell as high school had been, for one. The diner would’ve never been made… He’d been lucky to meet Henry when he did. Had they met back in England they wouldn’t have been able to maintain a friendship since William would’ve left for the States regardless of his home’s familiarity. Plus, it was tough to imagine Henry as being British. He just didn’t fit that… not culture, but… lifestyle maybe? Hard to say.

Will blinked away the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. Staring at a bright screen in pitch darkness couldn’t be good for his vision, but he liked working in the dark. As corny as it sounded, William felt at home in it. He was more productive that way, when he only focused on the thing in front of him.

Better taste a little something to get me going.

[charles-and-camilla-fanfictions]

All the Time in the World - Chapter 10

Birkhall, March 2020

I’ve barely pulled on my clothes to face the morning before the door barges open and he rushes in. We’ve been counting down the days, and the result of that last COVID test took so long, I feel that time is pulling a trick on us and is in fact reversing. I accept his embrace without restraint, needing it as much as him and I reach to push my face into his neck to breathe him in. We stand tangled together for a long time, reaffirming our love for one another in the oldest and simplest of ways. We’ve been avoiding the conversation we’re about to have for the past week, a few more minutes won’t matter as I savour that sense of completeness from being wrapped in his arms, as my hands run up and down his back, relishing having him here to hold, squeezing him as tightly as I can, feeling the returning pressure. We’ve always done the making up from an argument the wrong way round. Any serious conversation has always commenced after we reassure each other how much we love each other. A large part of me would take this love and disregard any conflict but sometimes the strife is necessary to heal, to move forward.

“I love you. You know I love you?”

I hear his whisper and sigh. Here it starts.

“I don’t see a way out of this, my Darling.”

It makes me smile, even as I get a prickle through my skin in anticipation of the awaiting conversation. “You never do see a way out of it. Be more positive, Darling.”

“But this time, I really don’t.”

“By which you mean, you’re not willing to concede anything…”

“Don’t let go of me.”

“Do you remember Penelope?”

“No.”

“Yes, you do, Penelope, you know, tall Penelope…”

“Not helping…”

“Penelope… You know her. She used to be a sucker for the hair magazines and she’d come round to my flat and cut her hair and you’d get annoyed because this short blonde hair was everywhere and I don’t think you quite believed me that it wasn’t another man…”

“Massive boobs.”

“Yes, Penelope!”

“Married an old man…”

“He wasn’t an old man. He was only about twelve years older than her.”

“You’ve not spoken about her in years. You’re really procrastinating.”

“She sent me a letter, I got it yesterday. Her husband’s just died, of COVID. She’s beside herself because she thinks he caught it off her. She’s blaming herself.”

I feel his arms squeezing me tighter. “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make excuses for me. I know what you’re trying to say and I love you for it, but that wasn’t why you were so upset with me.”

“She told me to hold you very tightly when we were together again.”

“I’ll hold you tighter.” There’s a pause as we do indeed hold each other tighter.

“How’s William?”

“He says he’s fine. I don’t think he is. He’s said his wifi isn’t working properly so we can’t video call. I know I’m old but I know an excuse when I hear one. What have you heard?”

“Kate was evasive. I think he’s a lot worse than he’s letting on.”

“It’s not even public that he’s ill.”

“People will worry.”

“When it’s about someone else, you understand duty.”

His words hit me as a blow to my entire body and I pull away from him, holding onto the bedpost to steady myself. “I understand it perfectly.”

“But you suggest you can shirk it because you’re upset? When the rest of the country can’t?”

“Yes. You think I’d just be ‘upset’ if you were dying?”

“Do you think your feelings are stronger than Penelope’s? Or anyone else who has lost their spouse and not been there with them?”

“Yes.”

“That’s incredibly selfish.”

“You don’t get to temper my feelings. Put this the other way round. How would you feel?”

“That’s completely different.”

“How is it any different?”

“I’d be with you.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you die alone.”

“But that’s exactly what I’m saying!” The indignation at his remark rails my skin into hackles.

“How would it look if I left my wife to die alone in hospital when everyone knows I could bend the rules to see you? I’d look like a coward, and everyone would think I have no heart.”

“So you’d only be with me because it looks better?” My words are very quiet but I see his face and he knows I’m angry.

“I didn’t say that, don’t extrapolate. I’m talking about public perception. Feelings don’t come into it.”

It’s like being shot. I gulp, feeling my temper boiling through me, controlling it with difficulty. “Get out.”

“No.”

“Get out of my room before I completely lose it with you.”

“Lose your temper. I’m not leaving.”

“Fine, I’ll go!” I step forwards towards the door and he grasps onto my wrist. “Get your hands off me!”

I see him hold his hands up. “Don’t walk out on me.”

“If you think I’m staying here a second longer…”

“You can’t go, Darling, it’s lockdown. You can’t leave. We have to talk about it.”

“Just try and stop me!”

“Milla, please…” He swoops to the doorway and stands in front of me. Once, I would have barged past him and marched out into the grounds, storming through the heather, knowing he was behind me, at a distance, watching that I’m safe, waiting for me to calm down. Today, I’m filled with a hopelessness which leaks through my body and turns the anger into despair. The despair is too heavy for my knees and I sit down on the bed as they buckle. I wouldn’t want to become predictable anyway. He paces like I’m a wild animal, not knowing what to do or to say. I lie down on the bed and turn my body away from him. By the time he dares to sit next to me, the tears have started and I push my face into the sheets but when my shoulders give me away, I feel him turning me, lifting me until I’m sobbing against his chest.

2010, Clarence House

He fusses around me so badly sometimes, it’s peaceful to shut the door to my bathroom and block everything else out, the order, the adherence to a schedule, the need for perfection in everything. It extends into the ways he feels things ought to be conducted, some of these opinions I share, others I do not. His insistence on the both of us bathing rather than showering, for instance, is sometimes irritating, but this morning, the hot water warms my aching bones and I lean back gratefully, pleased with the time to myself.

“Darling, where did you put your phone? It’s ringing and it won’t be quiet.”

Standing in place of the door, he looks at me expectantly, a breath of cold air cooling my shoulders, which sit above the water. My peace shattered, I sigh. “Under my pillow.”

“Under your…” His face screws up in distaste. “You know my thoughts about having that too close to your head.”

“Mmmm. Yes, and you know mine…”

He stands, mouth open like a goldfish. “You care that little about what l think?”

“I’m trying to bathe, Darling, to get a modicum of quiet before…” That look on his face. My words trail off as he’s in a different world. He’s not present when his face looks like that. “Darling?” There’s no response. “Darling!”

“Hmmm?”

“Charles!” That did it. His eyes move up to meet mine. “Finished ogling?”

His cheeks flush slightly and he smirks at me.

“Out!” I point to the door and he turns to leave, chuckling.

I sink down into the tub, letting the water submerge me, enjoying the feeling of tranquillity brought about by the cocoon of the water. Holding my breath and with my eyes closed, I can escape from the world here. When I surface, I should feel reborn. I don’t. Every ache and pain remains. My hair needs washing and I can’t be bothered. Nor do I want to get up and dressed and styled. I’d prefer to stay here all day, reading a book, not moving. Eventually, the heat from the water is transferred into the cool of the air and my skin has wrinkled up into prunes. I toy with simply turning on the hot tap but I hear my husband’s dulcet tones. 

“We’re leaving in an hour. You need to hurry up.”

I sigh. I’ve still not washed my hair. Then the door opens and I consent to help with my hair before being chivvied out of the bath and into my dressing room. It’s a very female sort of peace in here. I’m wrapped in a huge dressing gown as my hairdresser blows my hair dry and styles it, chatting away amiably. Usually, I do my own makeup, but my team have evidently decided that there is not enough time as that’s applied onto me like I’m a doll. My clothes are set out ready for me and I let them dress me, appreciating the help when I can’t summon the energy to do it for myself. Hat affixed, broach pinned on my coat, shoes polished and gloves on, I walk down the stairs towards my impatient husband. He smiles at me, marching down the corridor to help me down the last steps, then kisses my neck, making me chuckle.

“The car’s ready.”

“I’m never late.”

He rolls his eyes at me, “You just enjoy making me panic.”

“Your tie isn’t done correctly.”

“You never think it is.” 

But he smiles down at me, enjoying the fussing as I fix his tie and remove a bit of fluff from his coat, taking pleasure in being able to go to work together, relishing the soft kiss I can give him before I take his arm to walk to the door.

[roastyoualive]

𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 — send 💭 + a topic to receive a headcanon about said topic.

@mohawkmade asked: 💭 + relationships 

Warren has a weird relationship with - well - relationships. On one hand, he has huge trust issues. This stems from a lot of things. First off, he’s been treated horribly by most people on principle. He’s his father’s son. He doesn’t get a chance beyond that. It doesn’t matter what he does or how hard he tries. Even if you don’t know his dad’s a villain, you know his dad’s in jail. 

Easy target. 

So he had to learn not to be. Be big, be intimidating, be closed off. If you let them take an inch, they’ll take a mile. No exceptions. Don’t give them anything. That’s partly why he reacts so viscerally to Will in the cafeteria scene. I’ve talked about the difference between them before - maybe not on this blog, but I talked about it - but I’ll rehash it here. Where Warren grew up, you didn’t solve things by apologising. Their schools didn’t do friendship circles or anything like that. They don’t really hold hands and sing kumbaya. Someone pushes, you push back harder. Eventually you get your place and settle down, but you have to earn that. It doesn’t come easy. 

And there’s also the fact that he’s been singled out before. Again, no dad, low income, weird family history. He didn’t even know what his father was in jail for until he was about eleven, twelve, maybe even older. He had no idea what was going on. Why’s your dad in jail, Peace? It started as ‘I don’t know’, evolved into ‘none of your business’, and settled on a fist to wherever Warren can hit first. That’s what makes people stop asking, so that’s what he grows to rely on. 

It also didn’t help that when his dad was arrested, Warren lost everything. His dad, yes, but also his house, his mom (she was too busy working), and his friends. The only friend Warren still has from before his dad was arrested is Lacey, and that’s because he works for her grandparents. The friends he made in preschool, his best friends, Sam and Grant? He never sees them again. So he lost basically everyone he loved or even liked in one fell swoop, and was too young to even understand why. That's a traumatizing experience. It messed him up bad in regards to relationships. People will leave him. That’s inevitable. One way or another, they’ll be taken away, and he’ll have nothing but catastrophic pain to show they were ever there in the first place. So why bother getting attached? 

It only makes things worse. 

On the other hand, Warren doesn’t like being lonely. There’s a difference between lonely and alone. He likes being alone, not being lonely. He also, like I mentioned, hates the notion of people leaving him. That can make him an interesting mix of distant and clingy. He won’t tell you a damn thing about himself sometimes, and other times he’ll just drop a ‘he doesn’t have much use for it in solitary’ without hesitation. In a way, that's almost a test. Will you stay, even knowing this about me? Will the ugliest parts of me not scare you away? He wants to be sure he can be vulnerable. Also, sometimes it just comes out - he’s still a teenager, after all. If you stay, if he thinks you’re safe, he’s really hard to get rid of. … In his own way. He will absolutely go out of his way for you. He’ll quite literally lay on the wire. He just doesn’t like people knowing he cares, because again, vulnerability and trauma. That’s why, yes, he agrees to help Layla with the whole Will thing, but ‘I’m not renting a tux’ - but he still shows up, dressed nice, even when he knows Will won’t be there. I was going to add about how he was willing to die for the sidekicks - making sure they got out before he did, putting himself between Layla and sue/Gwen, volunteering to fight the henchmen for Will - but no, that’s just how he is for everyone.

He’s a good boy. 

(But if he thinks you’re bad news, oh boy, he’ll go scorched earth - but that’s for another headcanon.)

[marylcna]

Open Your Future: Comprehensive CNA Training in Missouri for Aspiring Healthcare Heroes

Unlock Your Future: Comprehensive CNA Training in Missouri for Aspiring Healthcare Heroes

If you’re looking to embark on a rewarding‍ career in healthcare, becoming a Certified Nursing⁤ Assistant (CNA) is a fantastic way to start. In Missouri, a ​variety of comprehensive CNA training programs are available to equip you with the skills needed to excel in the healthcare field. ​This article​ will guide you through everything⁢ you need ⁣to know about CNA training in Missouri, including benefits, ⁣practical tips, and firsthand ⁤experiences.

What is⁢ a CNA?

A Certified Nursing⁣ Assistant (CNA) is a vital part of the healthcare team, providing essential care to patients ​under⁢ the supervision of Registered Nurses (RNs) or Licensed Practical Nurses (LPNs).CNAs​ assist with daily activities,‌ monitor patient vital ⁢signs, and support the overall comfort and well-being of those in their care.

Benefits of CNA Training in Missouri

Job Security: The demand for CNAs continues to rise due to an aging population and a growing healthcare industry.

Short‍ Training Duration: CNA training programs in Missouri ‌typically last between ‍four to twelve weeks, allowing⁤ you to quickly enter the workforce.

Flexible Career Options: ⁤ As a CNA,you can work in various settings,including hospitals,nursing homes,and private residences.

foundation for Advanced Careers: CNA experience can serve as ⁣a stepping stone‍ to ⁢further training, such as becoming ‌an‍ LPN or RN.

Choosing‍ the Right CNA Training Program

There ‌are many CNA training programs available across Missouri.When selecting a program, consider the following:

Accreditation:⁤ Ensure the program is​ accredited and ‌approved by the Missouri Department ‌of health⁣ and ⁣Senior Services.

Curriculum: look for programs that cover essential topics, such as patient care, hygiene, and medical terminology.

Hands-On ⁣experience: Choose ‍programs⁤ that offer ample clinical hours in real ⁣healthcare settings.

Cost and Financial ⁢Aid: Investigate tuition costs and available financial aid options.

Top CNA‌ Training Programs in ⁤Missouri

Program Name

location

Duration

Accreditation

Florissant Valley ‍Community College

Florissant, MO

8 weeks

Yes

East‍ Central College

Union, MO

5 weeks

Yes

Ozarks Technical Community College

Springfield, MO

10 weeks

Yes

Jefferson College

Hillsboro, MO

6 weeks

Yes

Practical Tips for Aspiring CNAs

As you prepare for your⁣ CNA training in Missouri,⁣ consider the following practical‌ tips:

Stay Organized: Keep track ‌of ⁣important dates, assignments, and clinical placements.

Practice Skills: Regularly practice⁣ essential skills, such ‍as vital sign measurements⁤ and basic patient care tasks.

Connect with Peers: Create study groups with fellow students to prepare for exams and ⁤share knowledge.

Utilize Resources: Take ‌advantage of supplemental⁣ resources, such as online tutorials or study guides.

First-Hand Experiences from CNAs in missouri

Many⁤ CNAs ⁤share their experiences and insights that highlight the rewarding aspects ⁣of the profession. here are a‌ few testimonials:

Sarah,⁤ CNA in St. Louis: “Becoming ⁣a CNA has been one of the best decisions of my life. I love being able to make a difference in my patients’ lives every​ day.”

James, CNA in ⁢Kansas City: “The training was⁢ intensive ‍but worth every minute. I’ve ⁣gained skills that ​not only​ help me in my career but also in my personal life.”

Getting Certified: The Exam Process

After completing‍ your CNA training, the next step is to⁤ pass the state certification exam. This involves:

Completing a‌ written test that assesses your knowledge of patient care principles.

Demonstrating your skills in ⁣a clinical setting in front of an evaluator.

Upon prosperous completion of the⁤ exam, you will receive your CNA ‌certification, allowing you to practice in Missouri.

Conclusion

Embarking on a ‌CNA career in Missouri is a fulfilling journey towards becoming a healthcare hero. With comprehensive training programs available, you can quickly gain the skills and knowledge needed ‌to make‌ a meaningful impact in the lives​ of those you care for. remember to choose ⁤an accredited program, ⁣stay ⁢organized ⁤during your training, ‍and connect with others ⁣in the field. The future of healthcare needs compassionate and dedicated ⁤professionals like you—unlock ⁣your‌ future today!

https://www.cnacertificationschools.net/open-your-future-comprehensive-cna-training-in-missouri-for-aspiring-healthcare-heroes/

[mammonsbby]

Catching Feelings (Among Other Things)

This is the seventh part of my “when he knew he loved you” series.

Lucifer | Mammon | Levi | Satan | Asmo | Beel | Belphie Diavolo | Barbatos | Solomon | Simeon | Luke

✨My Masterlist✨

Warnings: Cursing, Chapter 16 Spoilers? Pairing: Belphie x GN!MC Words: 1388

4:30pm, at the House of Lamentation

After what he’d done to you, Belphegor never expected you to become his friend. Hell, he figured you’d avoid him like the plague, and refuse to even be in the same room as him. All of his brothers thought the same, but… you’re kinder than any of them deserve.

You’ve forgiven him, or so you say. But, he can tell you’re still nervous to be alone with him, which is understandable. Honestly, he’d think you were an idiot if you weren’t cautious. No matter how close he wants to be, he wants you to be comfortable.

He tries his best to give you space. He notices how your hand subconsciously comes to rest near your neck whenever he’s close. And anytime he’s in his demonic form, you keep your distance, ever wary of his tail. And it hurts, but… once again, he understands.

And he can tell he’s made progress in the several weeks that have since passed. You’ve allowed him to get closer. And closer. Currently, you’re sitting on the floor of the library at the coffee table, with several books open, working on an assignment.

Satan had been with you until about ten minutes ago, when Asmodeus had texted him something about a stray cat outside. And off he went, leaving you with a half-asleep Belphegor in the armchair on the other side of the table.

You look at the notes you have so far and realize you need a different book. You shoot a text message to Satan, asking if he knows where it would be. And he answers that, yes, of course he knows, along with very specific directions to a very specific shelf.

“Okay,” you mutter to yourself, “according to Satan, the book I need is…” you look upwards, to the second level of the library. “Up there.”

Belphie is sort of conscious, but not quite lucid enough to register what you’re saying. His eye cracks open when you move to stand and he watches you for a second, wondering where exactly you’re going. When he realizes you’re only going to the upstairs shelves, he settles back into his chair and closes his eyes.

Unfortunately for you, the shelves in the Devildom are proportionate to the people who inhabit it. Which means they’re very fucking tall. The book you need is out of your reach, on a shelf high above your head. You glance down at Belphegor, living up to his title, napping the day away. And decide to get it yourself rather than disturb him.

After all, you can climb the shelves, right?

You test your theory, placing a foot gingerly on the second shelf and hoisting yourself upwards. Then again, to the third.

Little do you know, you have an audience. The entire time, Belphie has been watching you through his bangs, with an amused expression. Could’ve asked me for help, idiot, he thinks to himself, closing his eyes once more.

You scan the shelf and… Aha! You raise one hand, the other still gripping the bookcase and shift your weight to one foot for better reach. The shelf you’re using as a step creaks.

Belphegor’s ear twitches at the sound, he glances upwards in time to see the shelf give way. His eyes widen when he realizes what’s going to happen. Your hands claw at the shelf, but it’s far too late to regain your footing. You slam your eyes shut just as you tumble backwards.

Over the railing.

Head first.

You try to scream for help, but the sound dies in your throat when you feel something behind you. At first you think that it’s the ground, but then it pulls you closer.

“It’s alright. I’ve got you.” says a soft voice. You open your eyes to see Belphegor looking down at you.

“Here.” He says as he carefully sets you down on your feet. Once you’re upright, you look up to the ledge you’d fallen from, twelve feet above you. Then to his horns and his tail, which flicks off to the side. And take a deep, shaky breath.

You slam yourself against him, pulling him into a hug, “thank you Belphie!”

He freezes, arms by his sides, unsure of what to do. The first (and last) time you hugged him, he killed you. How could you trust him to be this close? How could you risk your life again?

“Why aren’t you hugging me back?” you ask, somewhat offended.

“I…” When he sees the look you’re giving, he reluctantly wraps his arms around you, hands barely ghosting your back. He’ll never hurt you again. Ever. He knows that, but do you?

“Come on, you silly cow. Give me a real hug. Just… don’t squeeze too tight,” you laugh. As if it’s funny. He scoffs, but then he stares into your eyes for a few seconds, silently asking whether you’re sure. You nod. And he gives in, pulling you as close as possible, resting his chin on your head.

His tail takes you both by surprise. It winds around the two of you, looping behind your back and then back around Belphie, the end coming to rest on his shoulder. You still for a moment. The involuntary action makes him flush.

Then you snuggle your face against his tail and he flushes deeper. And his heartbeat, which is normally pretty slow, quickens.

He killed you, MC. He killed you and you’re hugging him. What in the world is wrong with you?

You stand that way for several minutes, arms around each other and Belphie’s tail all but tying you together. Finally, you just have to ask, “Belphie… are you asleep?”

He smirks against your hair and fakes an obnoxiously loud snore.

“You can’t sleep standing up!”

“That’s nowhere in the rules,” he replies.

“Only horses do that, cow man,” you argue. But he doesn’t budge. He never wants to let you go. He contemplates dragging you to one of the chairs to cuddle, but decides against it.

“You’re right,” he says, releasing you rather abruptly. His tail, which curls around your wrist, has other plans. “I’m… sorry,” he says, slapping it away.

You only laugh as you go to resume your position of studying at the table, “you’re a good hugger, did you know that?”

“Uh…” No. He didn’t. Before he can give a sarcastic comment, you curse.

“Fuck.”

“What is it now?”

“The... the book…” you sigh, peering up at the broken shelf. The left side of it had collapsed, spilling books everywhere.

“I’ll get it for you. Dumb humans can’t even get books for themselves,” he mutters, feigning annoyance. But, as he climbs the stairs, he can’t help but wonder…

Did your heart start pounding when he was holding you? Or was that just him? Or was it adrenaline? Or… something else?

He’s still considering it as he hands you the book.

“Thank you, faithful book-delivering cow,” you laugh as he plops down behind you.

“Shut up. I’m going back to sleep,” he grumbles, plopping into the chair behind you, instead of the one he’d been in before. Your back rests against his legs and… he short-circuits, face lit up red.

You sit that way for a few minutes, flipping through the dusty old book. And every now and then, Belphegor fakes a phony, exaggerated snore.

“Thank you for catching me,” you whisper, after the fourth time. He doesn’t answer though, he’s lost in thought.

Would a stool be better? Or a ladder? They could fall off those just as easy…

Oh fuck, someone’s gotta tell Lucifer about the broken shelf. And Satan is going to flip when he sees the mess of books Belphie hadn’t bothered to pick up.

Eh… if it comes up, he’ll just blame Mammon or something.

(Eventually, he does get back to his nap. And when he wakes up, you’ve disappeared. All the things that were spread across the table are gone. But, a blanket is draped over him. And, wait, what the fuck is on his face?

He snatches a purple square of paper off his bangs. On it is written ‘thank you, Bel, sweet dreams. <3’ followed by a cartoon drawing of a cow with a super hero’s cape. He looks at it for a few moments. Then grabs his pillow and runs towards his room to show Beel.)

–

Thank you for reading! Please reblog!

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

<3 Aerie

PS: here's a goofy little doodle I made of the superhero cow. TwT

[babblydrabbly]

Distracted (Peacemaker x Reader) Smut

Pairing(s): Peacemaker x F!Reader; Brief Javelin x Reader

Characters: Peacemaker/Christopher Smith, Amanda Waller, Javelin

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warning(s): Smut, language, mentions of blood/violence. Choking, cream pie, semi-rough sex.

Summary: Out on a Task Force X mission, Peacemaker notices you're acting... different. He generously offers to help with what's distracting you. Asshole.

A/N: What's this? Baby's first Peacemaker fic? Takes place before The Suicide Squad (2021). Metahuman!Reader has super strength/speed abilities. Also, what kind of vanilla name is Chris Smith.

---

"Again?"

Amanda Waller arched a brow at your perturbed expression.

"My apologies." She droned. "Am I not stimulating you with enough variety, [L/n]?"

You scoffed, folding your arms in deference. It wasn't about that— It was about the deliberately repeated pairings with Christopher Smith. The dynamic that was becoming a pattern. You never would have worked with someone like Peacemaker on the outside. As much as you appreciated the job always getting done with him, you still bumped heads with him too much on the way to the finish line. He was frustratingly serious and flippant at the same time.

You decided to shut your trap before Waller decided she didn't need you anymore.

"You've got one skillset useful to me, [L/n]. I suggest you get used to the prospect of being paired up with Smith on a regular basis— While you're still around."

You nodded when she dismissed you. You had gotten used to it. You were seeing so much of Peacekeeper you were practically partners.

So, you pointedly sat to next the one called Javelin on the helicopter out of Belle Reve, as far away from Smith as possible. You were about to spend over twelve hours with him— It didn't have to start right away. While Colonel Flag gave you all the spiel on the mission, you glanced over and saw Javelin toss you a nod.

"You're Team B," The thrower noted over the whir of the helicopter. "[L/n], yes?"

"Yeah," you said. Your eyes flitted over the muscular squad member. He looked more like a superhero in his light blue and yellow get-up than the rest of you. You personally kept the lower half of your face covered with a black hard shell mask— Your armor from before you were incarcerated (Yes, you've heard the 'Baby Bane' jokes from the others). Even if you had to get used to working with a bunch of weirdos, you could at least conceal your face from them while you did it.

"You move very swiftly." He complimented, and you didn’t know how you were supposed to take that.

"Thanks," You tried, "I like your... weapon of choice?"

Javelin held his namesake in his arms, his legs spread wide to accommodate it as he rested it against his inner thigh. The innuendo normally would have had you rolling your eyes, but today they lingered, and you wondered if he still looked as broad and muscular without the suit on.

You frowned. Without the suit on?

Were you still staring down at his thighs?

You supposed he was a goddamn Olympic athlete at one point. And prison didn't seem to stop him from his regimen. —There it was again. You blinked and looked away, thankful nobody seemed to notice. Javelin seemed content with the brief introduction, so you left it at that.

Okay, so maybe it had been awhile since you...

You reprimanded yourself. These were not recreational outings. As much as you liked feeling free every once in awhile, you were never in a position to consider doing something so stupid. The last few missions were some of the closest calls you had while on the task force, but now that your job today was more about recon, you could at least let your mind wander to the less... imperative things. You crossed your legs at the ankles in front of you and let mind drift for the rest of the trip.

But christ had prison been rough. And a little boring. You didn’t have to think about Javelin moving closer to you for long— Pressing up flush against you— Before you were imagining yourself against a wall— Hell, right here on this bench— hooking your legs around his waist as he thrusted into you. You pictured him going for two, three rounds, that stupid suit lying on the floor with your back on top of it. You pictured him going down on you too, a handful of his wavy blonde hair in your grasp as you pressed your thighs around his ears. You swallowed behind the mask, glad it was there to hide your face.

You get dropped off an isolated point a few klicks outside the target area, the rest of the team traveling further in to handle the bulk of the mission. You lug some extra equipment in a canvas bag— Guns, surveillance tech— already annoyed by the heat.

The heat of the jungle. Definitely not the heat you'd been feeling in the helicopter. You walked a half mile in total silence just trying to focus on the mission again.

"What's got your tactical suit in a twist?" Smith finally uttered as you got to your destination. You almost forgot he had dropped down the rope onto the ground after you. He stood out against the green around you in his obnoxious red shirt and white pants.

"Nothing." You lied, and you could tell from under his helmet that Peacemaker thought you were full of shit today. Great.

You set up inside a small building— An outpost long abandoned. Whatever organization you were taking down for Waller, they clearly had to downsize over the years. You kicked open the metal door, sending it flying off its hinges. Smith entered first, clearing all the rooms before you joined him. Upstairs, you begin setting up the equipment together. Peacemaker started with standing up a rifle by the window, aiming it at the road below.

You fiddled with a tablet; You went downstairs to put a sensor on the door frame and on the rusted gate blocking the road outside. They were supposed to warn you when any vehicles were approaching, but when you came back up, it lost signal. You did this twice; You batted at the little screen, vexed. There were probably signal jammers over at the main compound that could still reach all the way out here. You thought about how Team A was doing— So inevitably, your thoughts drifted back to the damn Javelin guy.

"Jesus!" You snapped. You were grateful when you didn't break the small screen in half with your strength.

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong." Came Peacemaker's voice from across the room. You stood there without turning around. You took a breath, tossed the tablet onto the bag at your feet.

"Nothing is wrong, Smith. Fuck off." You said. You reached up and unclipped your vest. Beneath it, you felt the cool air of the shelter hit your jumpsuit. You tossed the vest on the floor, then turned around. "When are they supposed to get here?"

He quirked a brow, as if proving his point. Since when didn't you remember the mission details? Rather than give him the satisfaction of thinking you were slipping you waved your own question away.

"God, never mind."

He scoffed. You watched him remove his helmet and gloves, setting them down carefully next to his own pack. He'd made his own area across the room from yours, another tablet showing him a view of the road propped up against the wall. Smith took a seat on the floor; The two of you were going to have to play the waiting game now.

In silence. The thought made you pinch the bridge of your nose right above where your mask stopped.

"You know, I've been at Belle Reve for four years now." You finally relented. You leaned back against your wall, folding your arms over your chest.

"Yeah? So?" Smith retorted. You rolled your eyes.

"So," God— You were really confiding in Christopher Smith. That's what it was coming down to. "I haven't had sex in four years. It's... not a big deal— Nothing's wrong. That's just what I was annoyed about earlier, you know? Consider me over it."

"That why you were ogling the Javelin in the copter today?"

Shit. Shit!

You dropped your arms. "You piece of garbage. You saw that?"

"I'm garbage? You're the one sexually harassing our fellow teammates with your eyes."

"I was not sexually— Nope. I'm done. You're ridiculous." You said. You reached down and went back to your tablet, busying yourself with it idly.

Peacemaker did the same. From the corner of your eye, you just knew he was doing it smugly.

"You know," He said after a few minutes, "If that's all you're bitching about, we can just get it over with."

"Excuse me?"

"You and me. Target's not coming in for another six hours, by the way. You don't need that much time do you, 'four-years-dry'?"

You stared at him from across the room. When you didn't reply, Peacemaker set his screen down so damn casually you consider just shooting yourself in the head.

"You're off your game. I'm not going to let you compromise our objective."

You threw your hands up. "There it is. You're like a broken record."

"What? Am I fucking wrong?"

"No, you're fucking crazy."

"Get over here." Smith instructed in a low voice.

The words shot up your spine, sending a very mixed signal to your brain. Directly across from you, Peacemaker was pinning you with an expectant look— One that was clearly a challenge. It pissed you off.

It was the look he used when he said you couldn't rip a guy's spine right out of his back— It dared you. And when you did succeed, you would shoot him an equally smug look in return. Your back and forths were always crass, always a test of who would back down.

You weren't normally so brutal when you worked alone, but something about Peacemaker brought it out of you. Whenever you were paired together, it was like your powers weren't something you had to hold back. They were something he was always prodding you to embrace. The jabs, the snark— It made you want to punch him in the face.

Standing up, you crossed the room. Smith didn't move as you stepped over his legs, as you leaned down to straddle his waiting lap. He simply watched you shift around until you're comfortably seated, your hands resting on his shoulders. He moved to place his own on your thighs but didn't do anything more.

"Well?" You said.

He shrugged, "Your call."

"What am I gonna do? Dry hump you?"

"Hey, if that's what it takes."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Fuck."

Finally, you reached up, unclipping the back of your mask.

"Whoa, wait—" He started, finally reacting to this ridiculous situation, but you already had it off, in your hand.

"I—" He stared at you. You shifted, feeling nervous as you stared back. It occurred to you that you'd never seen him shocked before.

He blinked. "I've never seen your whole face before."

That wasn't true— was it? You tried to think. "What about in Cuba? We camped out for like three days. I had to take it off to eat at least."

"I didn't look."

"You didn't look."

"I don't fucking know! You wear that fucking thing everywhere. When you took it off to eat I assumed you didn't want me looking."

"Wow. How courteous."

"Fuck you."

"Well, isn't that what we're doing here?" You said, putting your hands on your hips stubbornly. Smith's were still resting on your splayed thighs.

"I can't wear this when we— How am I supposed to...?"

He snorted softly, "Don't tell me you're a romantic, [L/n]."

Nothing about this seemed romantic. Least of all with him. Still, if you were going to take the opportunity, you were going to do it your way. You looked him over.

He had a few tufts sticking out from wearing his damn helmet earlier. You reached up and brushed some of it back into place at his temple first. Smith blinked up at you, his brows pinching together.

"This okay?" You heard yourself asking him. He eventually nodded once, watching you as you placed your palm on the side of his face. Finally, you leaned down and caught his lips with yours in a long kiss. You squeezed your eyes shut, not wanting to know his reaction.

But you felt him return it. Slowly at first— Then he was kissing you back. You moaned somewhere in the back of your throat as he ran his large hands up and down your legs, his fingers folding to grip your ass tightly. You were already reacting, already so touched starved. His lips parted, and you felt him swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, over the front of your teeth. You opened for him, your tongue darting out to meet his hungrily.

You tugged at the front of his uniform. Without a word he reached down to pull it up over his head, the fabric dropping off somewhere beside you. You glanced down at his bare chest. You ran your hands over it, dragged your nails down his pecs experimentally. When you looked back up he was still watching you.

Your mouths crashed to meet again, this time with a fervor that threatened to split your bottom lip with every bruising kiss. You felt his hands on you again, pressing into your sides, your waist. He didn't move to take off your clothes, so you drew your hands to your own chest, pulled the zipper of your suit all the way down to your stomach.

He took the invitation, and you gasped when he roughly reaches in and cups a hand around your breast; He kneaded it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. His other hand worked at your shoulder, yanking the rest of your suit off of you. You reached back and tugged the sleeves off, finally exposing your upper body.

You felt the clasp at your back come undone, and Smith was tearing your bra off next. A muscular arm came around to scoop you up by the waist, bringing your chest closer to him. He leaned down, took one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Smith—" He bit you roughly, and it sent a shock of electricity up you. He palmed your other breast again, tweaked at your nipple until your back was arching into his touch. You squeezed your thighs around him.

Then he was back in your face again, bruising a kiss against your lips as you took a breath. Your eyes flew open when you felt the press of his fingers to your mouth. You shot a look at him, but didn't object when he pushed his index and middle fingers past your lips. You sucked them hungrily, your eyes fluttering shut again.

"Fuck," Peacemaker murmured, feeling your tongue swirl around the digits. You slurped sloppily until they were soaked, until he was pulling them back out with a light pop. He brought his hand down to the base of your suit, where the zipper stopped just above your pelvis. A pair of black panties peaked out from the V shape there, the same shade and material as your bra. You gasped when Smith finally pushed down past the layer of cotton, gripped his bare shoulders when you felt his wet fingers dip right into your cunt.

"Fuck," He said again, because you didn't need any help down there. "You're so fucking wet."

You expected to feel humiliation— To hear a joke about how it really had been while. But all you felt were his warm, thick fingers; He ran them up and down your slit, pressed them in small circles around the peak of you a few times. You cursed, your head falling back. Smith leaned up to kiss your throat, teeth dragging across the base of your collarbone. He bit you some more, daring to take your meta-human skin between his teeth. You cried out, your arm reaching to wrap around his head in pleasure.

Smith slid his fingers up into your pussy. He crooked them, scissoring them inside you. Your hips bucked, unable to resist meeting his short thrusts. You felt him grin against your neck. "Damn, baby."

"Shut up." You whispered, letting your hips rolling down to fuck yourself on his fingers some more. When he slipped in a third you moan loudly.

"Fuck! Fuck me." You demanded, yanking the short hair at the back of his head. A groan left Smith's lips, his head jerking back. Quickly, he removed his hand from your suit, pulling the rest of your clothes further down your waist. You lifted yourself off him, but Smith didn't wait. He picked you up and lifted you both off the floor. You grabbed at him as he laid you down on your back, his body between your legs. Then he was ripping off the last of your suit, tearing your boots off.

"Watch it," You snapped— If he fucking ripped anything you—

"Oh please." He huffed, and your thoughts stopped in their tracks as you watched him lean back on his knees above you, undoing his white pants. His cock sprang free from a pair of just as white underwear, his arousal already thick and ready. You stopped yourself from expressing how the sight of him made you even wetter.

He took a moment to drink in your face, a hint of that smug smirk forming. You growled, pulling him down by the neck again before he ruined the moment with speaking. Smith caught your lips again, his hand running down your naked body. He gripped one of your legs and nudges them apart, planting his knees between you.

Despite his earlier preparation, it was nothing compared to the feeling of his cock pushing inside you. You groaned as he entered you, your walls stretching around his length. Your back arched as you took him in, eyes rolling a little into the back of your head.

"Fuck— Chris—" You shuttered. His hands squeezed your thighs at the sound of his name leaving you. You heard his breath shake, his hips remaining utterly still as you got used to the size of him. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see him waiting for you; You nodded once, another moaning already escaping in anticipation.

It was like a brick wall knocking into you. Smith didn't hold back as he began fucking you— Knew you could take it— what with your powers and all. The idea seemed to drive him, and he began hammering into you, his hands moving to bracket your hips so he could fuck you better. Faster. Your legs wrapped around his waist.

Fuck— You couldn't think. You arched up off of the floor as you rolled your hips to meet Smith's. It felt like he could keep up this pace forever the way he wasn't stopping. Your breathing turned to panting, a high whine escaping you when he shifts just right— he picked you up again. You arched up into his arms, holding yourself up from around his neck as he fucked up into your soaking cunt. You bounced on his cock, a sheen of sweat blooming across your skin.

When you opened your eyes, Smith was still watching you intently— witnessing every little expression on your face while he fucked you. You could hardly discern what he was thinking. All you could focus on was him ramming you, the feeling of his cock hitting and stretching you out.

“Choke me.” He said, and you have just enough wherewithal to oblige. You wrapped your hand around his throat, pressing firmly on either side. You felt the tightness of his skin shifting under your touch. His pulse beat a fast rhythm in time with his rough thrusts. The strength of your grip was a little vice tipping Smith over the edge.

The look on his face, his eyes closed as he tried to control his breathing sends a jolt up you. You used your other hand to slip two fingers down between your folds. They found your clit, making quick work of bringing you to close to climaxing. You shuttered as you felt the tight coil of it building. Finally, with a cry you were coming, squeezing your legs around him as your hips rolling through every wave of it. Smith groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you through your orgasm until your walls were fluttering from the unrelenting stimulation.

“Going to—“ He warned, and you squeezed the hand around his throat harder, making his eyes roll up. You whimpered as you feel the hot spurt of him fill you, his hips finally locking as he pumped you with his cum.

You both took a moment to catch your breath, your hand releasing from Smith’s neck so he could take in a long gasp. His skin was reddened along his throat and chest. You saw the beginnings of your handprint bruising around his Adam's apple, your fingers a mark on his skin. You hung onto him like that, your arms back around his shoulders for balance.

“Fuck.” You finally said. Out of habit, you checked your watch to assess where you were on the mission. He took your chin in his hand, drawing your eyes back up to him. You saw that his hair had fallen back into his eyes, his face glistening with sweat.

“I’m not done with you.” He said. It sent a shiver through you. You felt your walls flutter again, some of his cum leaking out with his half-hard cock still firm inside you. You gasped as he pulled you off of him, guiding you down until you were turning around on all fours on the floor. You glanced over your shoulder, already craving the feeling of him filling you up with his cock again.

And fuck it, you two do take the whole six hours.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Love To Hate You ~ A Chris Evans Story ~ Chapter 2

Pairing: Chris Evans/OFC Angela Wagner

Summary: Angela Wagner has been best friends with Sebastian Stan for years. Meeting in Vienna and following each other around the world has formed a bond that couldn't be broken. No matter how much Sebastian's other best friend, Chris Evans, tries.

A cruel comment sets the stage, and the frenemies makes sure to let each other know how much they love to hate each other.

*** this story will have situations and scenes that are not suitable for younger readers. Smut, infidelity, degradation, dirty talk and foul language are your warnings.

Chapter 2 of 13 - Chapter 1 Here

Playlist available on Spotify.

Chapter 2 - Trouble's Coming

Chris had always been hesitant to accept a role that could radically change his career.  He really didn’t want to play another superhero but when Robert Downy Jr. takes the time to convince you differently, you go for it.  So here he was, boarding a plane to London from New York, for something that would change his world forever.

Sitting in the first class seat purchased by the studio, he went through his routine of flying.  Stretching out, making sure his music and book were easily reachable, pillow and blanket for sleep.  He didn’t noticed the guy who sat next to him until he accidentally bumped him.

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” The guy reached over to put his bag under his seat and put what looked like a script into the pocket of the seat in front of him.

“It’s all right.”  He looked up at the guy.  “You look familiar.”

“So do you.  I’m Sebastian,” offering his hand for a shake.

“Chris,” taking his hand. “Wait, didn’t I audition with you?”

“Umm,” Sebastian studied his face.  “Yes, for the role of Steve!”

“Right! Hey man, how’s it going?”

“Good, man, really good.  How about yourself?”

“Same.  Just headed to London for filming.  You?”

“The same.  What film?”

“Captain America.  I got Steve.”

“No shit!  Bucky,” he pointed to himself.  They shared a laugh and talked the rest of the flight, getting to know one another.

Chris took a sip of his beer.  “Did you leave a girl behind?”

“My best friend, Angela.”  Sebastian showed a picture. Chris looked at the phone. The girl in the picture was smoking hot.  Fiery copper hair, bright green eyes, creamy complexion.  Chris felt his pants tighten slightly at her image.

“Oh, you guys really serious?” Please don’t be, he thought

“No, I’ve known her since I was twelve.  We met before we moved to the States together.”

“Well, she’s smoking hot.”

“I’ll let her know.  I don’t see her that way.”  Sebastian shook his head and laughed. “Been too long and she knows too many secrets.”

“I hear you, man.  But at least I know I got a wingman in you, Stan.” Maybe I’ll get to meet this girl soon.

“Same, Evans, Same.”

Chris and Sebastian became close friends in the months of working together.  On their nights off, they would hit the town, picking up girls, drinking, smoking.  It was easy for them, two single guys in London.  Chris could have sworn that the pussy in London was way better than in the States.  And he tested the theory every night.

A couple of months in, Sebastian started to freak out.  “Seb, what the fuck is your problem?”

“Sorry, its just, I got a message from Angela.  She’ll be here at the end of the week.  I’m just so excited to see her.”

“Does that mean I’m losing my wingman?”

“No, just means I’ll bring her along.  She used to live here when she was a kid.  But she’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”

Chris thought about the girl from the photo and wondered how she would be in real life.  He had already managed to think of all the things he would like to do to her, ruin her for anyone else.  But he didn’t want to ask Sebastian if it was cool to ask her out.  Seb, unfortunately, had already seen the womanizer in Chris and would probably flip at the idea.  Didn’t mean that Angela wouldn’t want it though.

On the day she was due to arrive, Chris was at Seb’s flat, watching him run around.  He wanted to laugh at the effort Sebastian was putting in for this girl.

“Chris, seriously, can you at least use a napkin when you drink that?” Sebastian was exasperated with his new friend.

“I dunno why you are making such an effort for the girl you don’t even bang.”  Chris took a swig of his Boddingtons and kept his eye on the TV.

“Chris, I beg you, don’t talk like that in front of her.  She is my absolute best friend and I want you to like her and her like you.”

“Fine, Stan whatever.”  Chris waved his hand around.  He didn’t understand the dynamic of Sebastian and this chick but he respected Sebastian enough to respect his wishes.  Sebastian took off to Heathrow and Chris headed to his own flat.  He couldn’t get Angela off of his mind.  It was like she was unattainable and that made him want her even more.

The next day, he arrived on set, waiting for his call, when he heard a commotion outside the trailers.  A crowd had gathered around.  He headed over.

Dominic, Neal, JJ and Hayley were crowded around another pair.  When they parted, he saw Sebastian and what he could only describe as an angel.  “Angie, this is Chris.  Chris, this is my Angela.”

“Its nice to meet you, Chris.” Angela spoke with a faint accent, which made Chris want to drool and she  extended her hand and looked at the man in front of him.  Chris kept his composure and subtly checked the object of his wet dreams out.

“Nice to meet you too.”  Chris took her hand.  “I feel like I know you Angela.  Sebastian is always talking about you.”

“Same.” He took her in, more beautiful than he had imagined.  Sebastian pulled her away from Chris, talking about visiting other cast mates and other parts of the set.  Angela had turned to look back at him and his heart leaped.  He never felt like this about anyone.

The next couple of weeks were torture for Chris.  All he wanted was to bury himself in Angela but she didn’t show any outward desire of him.  He went along with the hanging out, just as Sebastian suggested and got to know her.  A hot shot photographer, making a name for herself.  A former Londoner, but he quickly learned that she had been well traveled due to her father being an ambassador.  His desire of her went up and up.

A few nights before she was due to leave, Chris arrived to the party Sebastian was hosting for the crew. He hoped to make his play for Angela tonight. He spotted her.  She was wearing a white, off-shoulder wrap top and skinny jeans with black heels.  Her copper hair was up in a long ponytail that gave Chris wicked thoughts.

All night, they just kept missing each other, being pulled in different directions by different people.  At one point, he watched her leap into Sebastian’s arms.  His furrowed his brow until Sebastian yelled out, “Hey everyone!  My best friend is going to be photographer for Vanity Fair!” Everyone clapped and cheered for Angela, who blushed from the attention.

As the party went on, Chris decided to wait until the crowd thinned out to talk to Angela.  He was near the bathroom when Dominic approached him.  “You’ve been quiet, Evans.  Usually, I see you with a girl or two wrapped around you.”

“I’m just taking it easy tonight.” Chris smirked.  “A quiet night hurt never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah right, ok.”  Dominic rolled his eyes. “What do you think of Sebastian’s friend?”

“Who? Angela?”

“Yeah, that Angela girl is hot.”

“She so is.”  Chris took a drink. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting to know her if you know what I mean,” Dominic said with a wink.

Chris laughed. “I would tap that if I didn’t think it would cause problems with Seb.”

“You are a love them and leave them kinda guy, Evans.” Dominic said with a laugh.

“What can I say? Too many girls out there, so little time.” Chris smirked.  “Maybe she wants it.  She is a fine piece of ass.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to get whatever you have, Evans,” Angela said with venom from behind him.

Oh fuck. Chris closed his eyes and turned around.  “Angela.”

“Don’t talk to me Captain Asshat!”  Angela spun around went to her room and closed the door.

Chris followed her to her room and opened the door.  He saw Angela sitting on the window seat with a tear falling.  “Angela, I…”

“Get out Evans! Get the fuck out!”

Chris knew what he said was not the nicest but the anger coming out was not what he had expected. “What is your problem? It was a compliment.”

“Compliment?  Are you serious?  Objectifying a woman is not a compliment.”

Chris started to get mad.  “I wasn’t.”

“You think I would want a fuckboy like you?”

He saw red. Who the hell did she think she is calling he names? He didn’t know what he saw in her anymore. She had been so closed off the whole time she had been here which at first Chris found sexy and now just bitchy. “Watch your mouth, ice queen.  You’re such an icy bitch, you should be happy that someone wants you.”

Angela scoffed. “Please.  I know I can do better.  The girls only want you because you’re a movie star.  If they got to know you they would move on to better things.”

Chris and Angela squared off in the room.  Sebastian stood in the doorway, opened mouth.  “Chris, Angie…”

“Stay out of this Rață.  This had nothing to do with you,” Angela said.

“Finally, something I can agree with,” Chris said, his tone laced with hate.

Sebastian didn’t listen.  He moved in between them with Dominic and Hayley following suit.  Dominic put his hands on Chris’s chest to push him towards the door.  Hayley stayed in the middle with Sebastian pulling Angela closer to the window.  “C’mon Duck, just stop.”

“He started it.” Angela pointed at Chris. Chris balled his fist up but allowed himself to be pushed out of her room.  He paced in the living room with everyone staring at him.  He could hear the conversation happening in her room.

“He thinks I’m just some piece of ass, Sebastian.”

“I’m sorry Duck.  I didn’t know…”

“I want him gone.”

“Duck, please.”

“Sebastian, either he leaves or I’m going to a hotel.”

“Ok, ok.”

Sebastian walked into the living room and saw Chris.  He pulled him into the hallway and closed the door.  “What the fuck!”

“Seb, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know she was behind me when I was talking to Dominic.”

“You need to go Chris.” 

“Seb…”

“Chris, look I figured you liked her but seriously man, you couldn’t just shut up for a few hours.”

“So you’re taking her side?”

Sebastian sighed. “I’m not taking any sides.  I’m going to talk to her when everyone leaves.”

“Whatever.”  Chris started to make his way out of the building.  Who the hell does Angela think she is?

[starkerscoop]

Little Touch of Heaven (Ch. 1)

Written for the @starkerfestivals​​ Summer Bingo

Prompt: Love at First Sight

And no, they do not get together in the first chapter. Despite my fluff rep, this fic will have some drama and angst, so buckle in!

Tag List: @snowstark​​ @nerdylocksandthethreebears​​

ao3

Tags: omegaverse, high school au

-

“Did you hear about the new kid?”

Tony’s ears perked up at the excited question, and he spared a glance at the direction it came from. Two girls stood by the blue lockers with animated expressions, and Tony wondered where they got their energy from. It was seven in the morning, damn it. It shouldn’t have been legal to be awake at this time, let alone to chatter loudly in the hallways.

“Yes!” the second girl said in response. “Have you seen him yet? He’s so cute.”

Tony scoffed and continued moving through the hall. He had no time for romance or aimless gossip. He was only attending school so that he could go on to university, escape his parents, and never return to his hometown. There was no need to concern himself with who was or wasn’t conventionally attractive.

The notion of a new student did intrigue him, however. It wasn’t often that teenagers or children moved to what was essentially the middle of nowhere. The most that the town got was retired elders seeking a quiet life.

Tony reached his locker and jerked on it harshly, getting its stubborn door to swing open with practiced ease. He pulled out the textbook he needed for his Physics class and stuffed it into his bag. After zipping it up, he shut his locker and turned, ready to make his reluctant way to his classroom, only to come face to face with James Rhodes, his best friend of twelve years.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey greeted. “You ready for Markovitz’s test?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “Are you doubting my skills? Please, I could do it in my sleep.”

“That makes one of us,” Rhodey grumbled, annoyance passing over his face. “The least he could’ve done was make the test later on in the week. But no, we have to take it first thing in the morning on a Monday. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“You’re good at Physics,” Tony insisted. “Markovitz is just a shit teacher.”

Rhodey gave a helpless shrug. “Nothing we can do about it. We need his class to graduate.”

Tony nodded in agreement and they stepped into the classroom, which was halfway full of students who resembled zombies more than the teenagers they were. Their faces were marred with stress lines and deep eyebags, but that was no shocker. It was their last year of high school, and they were overcome with a need to both work themselves to the bone and give up, letting life take them where it pleased. A great deal of the graduating class wanted to move to the big cities and become more than small-towners following in their parents’ footsteps. It took a lot out of them.

Tony and Rhodey took their seats, which were, unfortunately, on opposite ends of the classroom. That wasn’t much of a problem for Rhodey, who was charismatic and got along with most people he encountered. For Tony, who preferred for people to stay away from him at all times, with the exception of a select few, it was equivalent to the end of the world. But he made do.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the class to file in, and by the time the bell rang, they were all at their desks. Mr. Markovitz cleared his throat, bringing their attention to him.

“We have a test today, so you better hope you studied, because this one’s a tough one.”

He allowed them a brief moment to groan and roll their eyes, and continued:

“But before we start, I have someone I’d like you to meet. Come in and introduce yourself, Peter.” He finished speaking and turned his head to the door, his students mimicking the action with curious eyes.

A boy walked in with his head down, his brown curls flopping over his forehead with each short step he took to the front of the classroom, where he stopped and looked up at them with a grimace. Tony could sympathize. He’d never had the ‘new kid’ experience, but he imagined it wasn’t good.

The boy began to speak. “My name is Peter Parker, I’m from New York, and I want to be a chemical engineer.”

Peter gazed around the classroom, his stare lingering on each student with a curiosity of his own, until it landed on Tony. Their eyes widened as they met, and Tony felt his breath catch in his chest. The tenseness of Peter’s jaw seemed to melt off of him the longer they stared at each other, and Tony’s heart fluttered at that. He’d never calmed anyone at sight before, and he thought that, that was what might’ve been happening at the moment. A smile, small but bright, started to grow on Peter’s face, and Tony found himself blushing.

“Take a seat, Peter,” Mr. Markovitz interrupted, and the eye contact was broken.

Peter shuffled to the only available seat, the one two rows in front of Tony’s, and sat down next to Ned Leeds, an omega who led the only Lego Club in the entire state of Montana.

Mr. Markovitz walked through the rows at a hurried pace, tossing a test face-down in front of every student. He’d handed everyone a test in the span of a minute, eager to begin testing.

“As usual, there’s no multiple-choice in my class. You have forty-five minutes. I’ve set the timer; you may begin your test.” Once he finished speaking, Mr. Markovitz perched on his desk with the timer next to him, and didn’t move an inch for the entirety of the test, watching them all with strong focus.

He’d said more than once that he hated cheaters, and he took enough precautions that no one doubted him. Aside from keeping an eye on them as they tested and making all their questions short-answer, he also gave his students different versions of the test, so they couldn’t ask each other for help.

Tony gripped his pencil tightly, attempting valiantly to forget Peter’s presence for the duration of the test, and read the first question.

You have a mass of 71 kg and are on a 51-degree slope hanging on to a cord with a breaking strength of 165 N.

(a) What must be the coefficient of static friction between you and the surface for you to be saved from the fire?

(b) If the coefficient of static friction is zero, what would the incline angle have to be in order for the cord to not break?

He’d read up on static friction over the summer to prepare for Physics. This was something he knew the answer to. And yet, his mind was drawing a blank.

As the minutes ticked by, heat flickered at the base of his spine and rose up as panic stirred in his gut. He’d never stumbled over himself in a science test like this. What was going on? What was wrong with him?

Despite his alarm, he glanced up from his papers to look at Peter, who was scribbling away on his test. Perhaps Tony had gotten the harder version, and Mr. Markovitz had overestimated the students’ ability to pass Version B. That had to be it.

Tony sifted through the pages, skimming every question to identify ones he could answer, but his search came up fruitless. The questions, though phrased in terms he was familiar with, weren’t bringing any answers to mind, and he released a distraught whimper. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, all engrossed in their tests.

Forty-five minutes flew by quickly, Tony’s stress making each second spent frantically scanning the test for something he could answer, shorter.

Mr. Markovitz collected each test with the same rushed demeanor he’d handed them out in. He tucked them into a drawer in his desk, locked it, and faced the class with his hands clasped before his stomach.

He announced, “Your tests will be graded by the end of the week. For homework, read the next chapter of the textbook, and be ready to discuss it tomorrow. Class dismissed.”

Everyone stood up, pushing their chairs in and rushing to their friends, no doubt to gush over the test. Tony made his way to Rhodey with an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“That was horrible,” Rhodey sighed, massaging his hand to rid it of the soreness it had acquired during the test. “I bet it wasn’t for you, though, boy-genius.”

Tony shook his head mutely.

“What?” Rhodey placed a concerned hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, man. Even if you failed, one grade won’t do anything to you.”

Tony didn’t agree. “I need to pass if I want to make it out of here.”

“One bad test won’t tank your grade,” Rhodey asserted. “I promise.”

Tony smiled grimly. “We’ll see what my parents have to say about that.”

[peachywrite]

Unpleasant Pleasantries

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader

Trigger Warning: inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Rohan thought this to be the perfect opportunity to get back at that imbecile with the hair of a 60’s delinquent, but instead found something more fulfilling than revenge.

It was your first time meeting the famous mangaka, but Koichi insisted that you introduce yourself to the newly found stand user as a formality.

~

“It’s better to make friends than enemies, y/n! So please do this for me.” He begged, clasping his hands tightly together as he bowed.

“Koichi-chan, he ripped out pages from your face and tried to do the same to Okuyasu and Josuke. I don’t know if I trust this guy.” You sighed, nervous and even a little scared.

“It’ll be fine, when you tell him you’re related to Josuke, he won’t even think about trying anything!” Koichi’s eyes glistened, still silently begging you to go.

“Fine, but if I don’t show up back home in an hour, call Josuke please.” Koichi nodded enthusiastically, shouting thank yous while he ran off to find your brother.

~

Thanks to the written address Koichi had given you, it was easy to find the large Victorian mansion that belonged to the isolated artist.

“Come on, y/n. You can do this. Just a quick hello and you’re done.” You tried to psych yourself up, taking one last deep breath before approaching the walkway that led up to the door.

Knock Knock

You waited, your heart rate a bit too quick for your liking.

You could hear the steps on the other side slowly approaching and suddenly stopping, only to find the door creak by.

“Now who would be disrupting the Great Rohan Kishibe?” The man spoke in a sinister tone, swinging the door open.

Rohan Kishibe looked nothing like how you expected him to. He was built slim but still toned, his green hair neatly styled and face slim and sharp with a cute dolphin bandage placed on the bridge of his nose. His green eyes stared at you intently, as if he was trying to analyze your face as well.

“I-I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. My friend Koichi wanted me to introduce myself. I’m Y/N Higashikata. I’m a stand user and I go to school with the rest of the boys.” You stammer out, guilt hitting you for interrupting the presumably busy manga artist.

The man eyed you with a devilish smirk, clapping his hands together like he had discovered something amusing.

“You’re Josuke’s little sister! Oh how fun! You know, you’re too cute to be related to that boy. Now please come in, I’ll make you some tea and we can talk.”

“I’m actually the same age as him, and I’d love to join you but I got... study plans with K-Koichi!” You tried to avoid his stare but as he made eye contact, you knew you had lost.

“Nonsense! I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ll be studying with me, now please come in already.” His smile grew while he pulled you into his abode by your wrists.

The house was lightly decorated with manga related memorabilia on the wood carved shelves and many original panels from famous mangas hung framed on the soft toned walls, but the home still held a grand Victorian feeling to it.

Your original unease disappeared as you took in the grandeur of the mansion and the interesting items that adorned it so carefully. Rohan smirked at the curiosity in your eyes and the quick movements they made while you focused on specific areas of his home.

“Would you like a personal tour of the property before we study? I will warn you though, not all the rooms have been styled by yours truly yet. It’s a work in progress at the moment.” The smile he bared had you suspicious again, but you didn’t want to be rude to the owner of such a magnificent estate.

“As much as I would love to, your home is absolutely stunning, I sadly only have an hour to study. My mom would kill me if I got home late again.” A hefty sigh escaped your lips and you gave him your best upset expression you could muster.

You hoped he wouldn’t key in on your lying, remembering the warning Koichi had given you about his ability to discern genuine emotions from fake ones.

The mangaka squinted his eyes for a moment, causing your heartbeat to speed up substantially, but his face returned to its usual smile that you swore held a bit of deviousness underneath.

“Oh! it’s alright, dear. I understand. I’ll save it for your next visit. Let’s get to your work now, follow me to the kitchen. I’ll prepare us something and you can take a seat by the window.” He gently took your hand, guiding you to the kitchen and carefully pulling out a seat for you at his dining room table.

A beautiful bouquet set in a hand sculpted vase caught your interest on the table as Rohan busied himself with brewing a fresh pot of tea. The flowers were bright in color compared to the muted ones of the vase, but the contrast made both appear unique and appealing to the eye.

“I see you even appreciate the smaller details of a home. Though I am a mangaka, I do dabble in other forms of artistic expression. Take pottery for example, I glazed this vase in a muted color pallet so it could stand out on its own when beautifully bright flowers were placed in it. The two compliment each other nicely, don’t they?” He set down two tea cups and began to pour.

“Yes! And I especially love the bright purples in the lillies you picked here.” You gently touched a petal, Rohan now lightly tapping his cheek, pulling out a chair for himself to sit right beside you.

His closeness and unwavering gaze brought a heaviness to your chest, making you stumble over your words.

“Um-m thank you for treating me so well and letting me study in your home, Rohan-sensei.” You began to unpack your notes and textbook, Rohan scooting closer to analyze what you had written.

“No need to thank me, my dear. Now let’s get to your studies. What is it you need to work on today?” The smile he shares with you is comforting, but you can’t help but feel like he was plotting something.

You set your pencil bag down and prepare your notebook, trying to make yourself busy by setting up.

“Biology. I’ve only just recently started going to school in person, but I tested well enough to be placed in the highest class. Today we’re supposed to label all the organs in this frog drawing.” Your tone comes off as annoyed and Rohan picks up on it, tilting his head to the side while he reads your frog diagram.

“You aren’t a fan of biology? I’ve got a few anatomy sketches of animals you could use instead of this photocopied worksheet. Maybe that will help peak your interest?” He stands and saunters out to find his sketches, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

When Rohan returns, the two of you work on your Biology homework for about an hour, finishing the entire pot of tea in the process. You found out that Rohan was quite skilled at anatomy, having an entire sketchbook dedicated to the anatomy of many living things, including the likes of frogs and flowers. He was extremely helpful and fun to talk with.

As you packed up your bag, Rohan remained seated in his chair, playing with one of the lilies from the bouquet. You weren’t sure if you should head towards the door and leave Rohan or wait for him to stand and lead you out. You were about to speak when the mangaka interrupted with a swish of his pen in your direction.

“Heaven’s Door.”

You felt a sharp shove of air to your midsection, sending you onto the floor. Every movement you attempted was futile as the grinning artist looked down at you. A deep chuckle haunted you while he leaned in closer to your face. His hands gently caressed your cheek, opening it up like a book.

“I’m sorry, y/n. You’re interesting and I’d love to learn more about you, but I’m impatient. It’ll be far easier for me to just read you. Don’t fret, my dear. I’ll make sure you don’t remember this.” He flipped through your pages, ignoring the tears that ran down onto the very paper he was trying to read.

“Now let’s just read the juicy bits today. You were hospitalized along with your brother when you were only four, a strange parasite made up of Dio’s cells attacked your immune system at age twelve and had you bedridden until fairly recently.” The curiosity he held for your story excited him, the pen he held in one hand quickly wrote onto the notepad he placed on the floor beside your head.

You felt like sinking into yourself, ignoring his quips and teases as the embarrassment of the mangaka reading your thoughts and feelings enveloped you. It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be this way? He was so kind before and just like a flick of a switch, he changed.

“Oh, now how did you escape that? Here we are, thanks to Mr.Joestar’s Hamon lessons, you not only came back from your illness, but gained a proper stand and the ability to wield Hamon just like your father and great grandfather! Wait, what’s this new paragraph about?” He squinted closely, reading your page out loud again.

“I have to visit Rohan Kishibe today because Koichi told me to. He practically begged. Even though I’m scared, Koichi gave me his word that nothing bad would happen. Rohan Kishibe looks very different from what I imagined a mangaka to look. Well, what did you expect me to look like?” His smirk grows as he continues on.

“Ah, another new bit is here! Rohan Kishibe is very good at anatomy, he’s been kind and helpful, I’d like to get to know him better. I think Josuke was just overreacting when he called Rohan Kishibe pure evil. I could see us being friends.”

His smile disappears skimming the next sentence, his usual tone of voice changed as he starts to read. He sounded upset, hurt even.

You were the one being wronged here! Why would he get upset? He doesn’t have the right.

“Josuke was right. Rohan Kishibe is not nice, he is terribly mean. He’s using me for his entertainment. He doesn’t care. Rohan Kishibe is not kind, he is not helpful, he is cruel, I don’t want to get to know him. I want to forget him.”

“I hate Rohan Kishibe. I hope to never see him again.”

Rohan paused, looking away from your pages, trying to focus on anything else for the moment.

“W-well, I’ll just fix this last paragraph and erase it from your mind. You’re being dramatic, I’m not as terrible as you describe me.” Chuckling to himself, he tries to laugh off his obvious pain and attempts to regain his composure.

“No! I won’t let you erase my emotions!” You shouted, a wave of Hamon spreading through his arm as his pen touched your page, his attempt to rewrite your memory foiled.

The mangaka was sent flying back, his right arm dropping the pen and your face finally shutting closed, returning your ability to move. Although you were upset at the betrayal of trust you gave the man, you felt a twinge of guilt in your heart when you spotted his still form draped across the wood floor, cradling the arm you had burned with your Hamon.

Running to his side, all thoughts of malice left your body while you attempted to get a better look at his injury. His arm was still intact thankfully, but it was badly burned and needed to be set correctly and quickly if he ever wanted it to heal properly. You took a deep breath and turned Rohan over to see if he was still conscious.

“Oh god, Rohan I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Your eyes fill with tears again as you see the artist weakly rest himself against the wall, still holding his arm close to his chest.

“No, no it’s alright. I brought this on myself. I accept that.” He grimaced, trying to take a peek at his injuries but too frightened to actually check.

“You read my thoughts and history, it wasn’t right but you didn’t physically hurt me. I don’t know how that happened, but I promise you I’ll fix it.” You swore to the manga writer, now searching through your backpack.

When you found your pair of scissors, you went into full first aid mode, removing the sleeve from his right arm by carefully cutting the loose cloth off. After tossing the short sleeve to the side, you cut the bottom of the skirt you were wearing off into a long bandage-like shape of clothing and ran it under the cold tap water from the kitchen sink, returning to the injured Rohan.

“I’m going to wrap your arm with this, it won’t be painful if you let me use my stand, but I’m going to ask you first before I use her on you.” The man nodded, accepting your offer to erase the pain.

“Under Pressure. She’s a stand that has the ability to manipulate emotions. She can change them within a radius or focus on only one individual. When she focuses on a single person, she is only able to change their emotion to the opposite of what is being felt.” You began to wrap his arm, nervous about what he might feel when you placed the wet fabric loosely around it.

All Rohan could do was bite back his lip to avoid making any embarrassing sounds. Instead of the immeasurable pain he imagined to come with dressing a freshly burned wound, he felt a wave of euphoria. He now understood what you meant by the “opposite” emotion would be felt.

The artist never knew wrapping his burned arm would feel so good, every touch caused his breath to hitch in his throat and his eyes to water. It confused him, even though he understood that the opposite of pain was pleasure, it still startled him every time you did one more pass of the homemade bandage.

He tried his hardest not to be flustered, but when you finished off his arm by tieing the last bit with a knot, he let a small whimper escape his lips. His hand shot up to cover his face, it’s hue now a bright crimson.

Your cheeks turned bright pink as well. You turned away swiftly, to avoid eye contact.

“U-Um just stay put. I’m gonna borrow your phone for a second and let you catch your breath.” Scratching the side of your cheek, you stand up and make a b-line for the phone, dialing your home and hoping that Josuke would pick up. You glanced at the clock set on the wall, it read 8:15.

I’m late.

As soon as the phone line rang once, you spotted the front door to Rohan’s manor fly across the main hall. Peeking your head out from the kitchen, you see a furious Josuke with Koichi in pursuit.

“ROHAN-SENSEI! WHERE IS MY SISTER YOU CREEP?! SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HOME 15 MINUTES AGO!” He yells out, his voice echoing throughout the home.

“Josuke! I’m here! I was just about to call you. Listen, I messed up bad and hurt Rohan. He’s in the kitchen bandaged up but I need you to heal him all the way.” You run to Josuke, giving him a tight hug while trying not to cry from the stress of the situation.

Josuke squeezes you once and let’s you go, looking you over from head to toe so he could make sure you weren’t injured as well. When he spots your torn skirt, his aura radiates a dark malice you’d never seen him show before.

“Wait Josuke! I did this to myself, we didn’t have bandages so I cut some cloth.”

He looks you over again and sighs heavily, the purple hue that was full of rage, leaving him.

“Ok, fine. Where’s that jerk? I’ll fix him up real quick so we can go home.” He grumbled, following you into the kitchen.

Even though Rohan wanted to refuse any treatment from Josuke, he finally accepted the help when you threatened to cry on the spot. His arm had returned to its previous state, unburned and fully functional, thanks to Josuke and Shining Diamond.

Josuke picked up your backpack and held the now fixed front door open for you, while Rohan stood and waved goodbye. You awkwardly returned the wave and made your way back home, your thoughts chaotic and confused.

On the one hand you felt guilty for putting Rohan through such an immense amount of pain, but you were also upset at the humiliation he put you through by reading your life with Heaven’s Door. These thoughts plagued your mind as you laid your head to rest for the night.

~

It was roughly two in the afternoon when Rohan Kishibe knocked on your front door. A short but older woman answered, complaining about the loudness of the knocks when she looked over the artist.

“Oh, my apologies. You’re that Rohan Kishibe my kids talk about. How may I help you, Mr. Kishibe?” She asked with a warm tone to her voice, leaning against her door frame and smiling up at him.

“Is y/n in? I’d like to deliver this to her personally.” He spoke softly, shaking the box he held in his hands.

Your mother couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. He appeared to be anxious and uncomfortable, most likely it was his first time gifting something like this.

“She’s not home yet, but give her five minutes. Why don’t you come in? You can wait for her up in her room, just don’t go raiding her drawers or anything.” She joked, Rohan’s cheeks turning vivid scarlet.

“I’m only pulling your leg, sweety. I know you’re better than that. Now come on! Have a seat at her desk and I’ll bring you up some lemonade.” Rohan followed her inside.

When they reached your room, Mrs.Higashikata opened the door and waved her hand to your desk seat.

“Pull up that chair there and I’ll be back with some refreshments.” Her smile gleamed at him. She walked off to the kitchen, leaving the artist alone in your room.

Rohan browsed around your room, taking in the personality that was apparent by the many bits of decor that gave your little private space a peculiar style. Your walls held photos printed on Polaroid film, sketches presumably drawn by you, and posters of your favorite video games and shows.

When he glanced around your room, he was immediately caught off guard when he spotted two volumes of his very own manga, propped up and on display in your bookcase. To say he was flattered was an understatement, he was completely floored. You were a fan of his?

His heart was heavy all of a sudden, he felt a dreadful pain in his chest while he held the book in his hands. He turned his head toward the doorway when he heard your voice greet your mother. To regain himself, he quickly skimmed through the pages of the manga he was holding, hearing your distant conversation come to an end.

You entered the room. Dropping your bag at the corner of the closet, your eyes never leaving Rohan while you take a seat on your bed. The mangaka gently placed your copy of Pink Dark Boy back in its original position, turning around now to face you.

“I’d like to humbly apologize for my abhorrent behavior and actions yesterday. I was terrible. I know it might be asking too much of you, but I brought you this as a peace offering. I want us to start over. I’d like to get to know you the right way.” He passes you the box he was carrying with him, nudging you to open it.

Casually unknotting the bow and removing the lid from the bottom, you slowly lift what appears to be a white sundress out of the box. It was beautifully made and looked to be just your size.

“I know it’s not the skirt you tore, but I felt like you deserved something a little more unique.” He averts your gaze quickly when you attempt to gauge his reaction.

The mangaka appears to be flustered, apparently not very used to apologizing. His eyes held a fear of rejection but also a glimmer of hope. A breath you never knew you were holding was released with a quiet hum.

“It’s beautiful, thank you, but do know that buying me things isn’t going to repair my trust in you. We can at the very least start over though.”

Rohan smiled to himself, thankful for your empathetic nature, and nodded a quick yes.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, how about we take that dress and enjoy some tea at the cafe? My treat.”

[outivv]

SBCUVBHFD- So,,, The Boys' crush who just makes it their daily mission to tease the hell out them. Like constantly hugging them from behind, kissing their hand, telling them they look handsome, often kissing their ear from behind then running out, etc. They'll even say," Hurry up and kiss me you handsome bastard." They basically just have no shame when it comes to The Boys.

Synopsis: y/n constantly teasing the tall boys + Scaramouche (because I’m in that kinda mood today, ok? 🥲)

Warnings: I cure once in Dainsleifs part, also probably a lot of grammar, and spelling mistakes this is a long one and I didn’t proofread it :’)

Game/ fandom: genshin impact

Characters: Diluc, kaeya, childe, zhongli, Dainsleif, and Scaramouche (I hope it was ok that I added Scaramouche!)

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: hello! Thank you for requesting! I’m extremely tired because I just got my first shot of the covid vaccine, but I was in a desperate need to write fluff, so fr thank you for requesting ☺️! I’ve got a slight Scaramouche brainrot right now, so I added him in the headcanons if that’s alright! But, aside from that I hope you enjoy, and remember to take care of yourself! Drink water, eat something if you haven’t yet, or take a nap!

— zhongli —

The first few times you go out of your way to tease zhongli, he’s definitely taken aback before saying something like, “ah... can I help you?” He genuinely thought that you may need something, but you only shook your head and hugged him. He wasn’t going to deny you of your wishes that’s for sure, so he wrapped his arms around you.

He’s definitely a bit flustered every time you tease him, but will try to stay composed. He’s never going to say no to you if you want a hug, or just some attention. While you’re not dating it’s definitely going to seem like you are.

He loves when you call him handsome. He can’t comprehend how much he loves it. He’ll typically smile, and say, “thank you Y/n you look beautiful/handsome/ amazing yourself.”

He really likes when you comment on his eyes. That is something that he loves. It’s difficult to explain my reasoning, but zhongli finds eyes attractive, like it’s something that he thinks is just really pretty on people. And I will frequently gaze at your eyes from afar. So when you compliment his eyes he gets super happy :)

Hates it when you run away from him after teasing him. He hates it but finds it cute at the same time. He thinks if you’re really that bold to tease him, why not stay for a bit? Surely you’re not shy? You just complimented his eyes, how could you run away from him?

When you say “kiss me you handsome bastard.” His reaction could go one of two ways. Either he’s like, “y/n! Eh hem... that... right.” While blushing profusely. Or he’ll smile a bit chuckling, and may even take you up on the opportunity. If all depends on when you say something like that. If he’s jut used to your teasing remarks then yeah he’s going to be shocked, but if he is used to it then he’ll slightly brush it off.

— childe —

Hmm... he views your teasing as a competition. But he loses every time. He’ll try his hardest, but you tease him a little bit too much and he will melt on the spot.

He’s a pretty touchy guy himself, so he doesn’t mind when you back hug him, but if he’s around some fellow harbingers he’s going to be a bit more... stiff? No... a better word is agitated. He needs to keep up a bit of an image around them, so he’s going to be pretty upset when you try to tease him.

I think he likes when you kiss his hands the most. He feels almost... sad though? His hands have dealt so much bloodshed, and you’re kissing them? Do you know what he’s done? Who he’s killed. Just so he can be alive... and in this moment with you. It makes him have a melancholy feeling, but he can’t get enough of it.

Childe craves for you to call him pretty, handsome, or just attractive. He actually likes being called pretty the most. It makes him so flustered because he’s like, “me? Pretty? ...really?” And when you nod and say, “yes you dork, I’m talking about you! You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met.” In a teasing tone. He gets all giddy and happy. He feels like a twelve year old who’s crush just told him that they liked him. And he loves it.

Don’t even try to run away from him. He’ll catch up. And when he does. You won’t escape the cheesy pick up lines. He knows they’re cheesy, and that’s the whole point. He knows they’re stupid, and that’s why he saves them for this event specifically.

He chuckles when you say “kiss me you tall handsome bastard.” Really? You think he’s tall? Well that added a bit to his ego. He’s chuckling but he knows that he looks as red as a tomato right now. He knows how hard he’s blushing, but he doesn’t care.

— kaeya —

Also someone who views it as a competition. But he takes it seriously. He’ll get flustered a decent amount, but you have to do things very precisely. If he teases you first, then you gotta come back 10x stronger than he was. And he’ll be blushing while trying to brush it off as best as possible. He typically isn’t prepared for you to tease him back, so it’s an easy way to win.

Loves hugs. It’s so sweet and innocent, and it makes Kaeya all soft. It’s a small break from work, his past, the world, just everything. Your arms are his safe space, and he frequently visits.

I don’t care what you say he loves when you kiss bear his eyepatch. His right side is his blind spot, so you being on the right side of him means that he trusts you. So having you near his eyepatch really shows how much he trusts you. Plus whether you know what he’s hiding under that eyepatch or not doesn’t matter, it shows that you don’t care and still love him whenever you kiss near it.

I think he kinda likes being called handsome. Like... how do I explain without fueling this mans ego. He knows. Others have told him how handsome he is. Now calling him pretty, or gorgeous? Loves it. He hasn’t been told that he’s pretty very much, so it’ll make him a little flustered. And it makes him feel super happy :)

Doesn’t care if you run away from him. You can try of course, but he’ll find you eventually. He’s going to stall for time, because he probably knows where you are, but just wants you to get all anxious. Not in a bad way of course, but in a way of “you know that he’s going to tease you relentlessly, and make fun of you a little bit.” I mean Kaeya will literally laugh at how you ran away so quickly from him. He’ll do it. Don’t test him. He doesn’t mean any harm from it, but does like teasing you.

Saying something like “kiss me already you handsome bastard” will only make him raise an eyebrow and say, “oh? Why not kiss me yourself?” Which it’s up to you to decide what to do from here. I’m not helping you, that’s on you >:)

— Diluc —

Help this poor man. He just wants to admire you from afar and tell you how amazing you look, not being so flustered he feels too nervous to talk! Almost everything gets him flustered, but he’ll get used to it after a while.

He really likes when you quickly kiss his forehead, and then go back to what you were doing or just keep talking. It makes him think for a second, but he really likes it.

He really likes when you just grab onto his arm, or hand out of nowhere. He knows it’s to tease him, but feels like he’s protecting you in a way, especially if you’re in a crowd of people. He’ll feel a little bit of pride swell up in his chest, which it’s your choice to tease him for his sudden change in confidence or not. Either way he’ll have a slight blush dusting his cheeks.

He gets so flustered when you call him handsome. Especially if you call him pretty, or anything else. Handsome is the term he’s most familiar with I guess, but pretty??? Oh boy, that’s new. A good new? Yeah definitely.

When you run away from him he’ll be a little sad, but then realize he can just catch up to you. Which he will, but he doesn’t know what to do once he actually does. He’ll probably just stare at you, and say something like, “why’d you run away” while panting like a dog. Hey just because he can run fast doesn’t mean he didn’t work really hard to catch up to you. Especially if you ran a long ways, or if you can run fast.

When you say stuff like “kiss me already you handsome bastard” he’ll be decently flustered, but depending on where you are, he’ll either kiss you on the cheek, or say “later.” And then move on. He does keep his promise though.

— Dainsleif —

Help this poor man pt 2. He doesn’t know what to do, or how to react. Should he tease you back? Should he let himself be flustered? Dammit what should he do!

Dainsleifloves subtle touches, he loves when you hold onto his hand, or brush some hair out of his face. Maybe even a little peck on the cheek. He knows that isn’t really teasing but still!

Absolutely goes soft if you touch his right arm. Treating it with such care, even though to him it looks like an eyesore. He never thought about looking at it differently, the blue veins shimmering under your touch is a gentle reminder of how he’s here today.

He loves being called handsome, pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, just everything. He loves it all. He lowkey craves your attention, but doesn’t want to ask for it, so when you call him pretty/ beautiful/ gorgeous/ etc it makes him feel supper soft and happy.

He didn’t understand why you run away from him. I mean you’ve gotta come back eventually, you left all your travel gear/stuff with him! And those are all important things might I add. Plus you left Dainsleif standing there by himself. Another important thing you forgot as you ran away.

Calling him a handsome bastard as is makes him flustered, but adding a ‘kiss me already’ before that?! Wow this man is just putty in your arms. Doesn’t know what to do other than... fill out your request. Don’t doubt him. He’ll do it.

— Scaramouche —

This man couldn’t give to flying f- oh what’s that? Giving him attention, and love that he really wants from you but flat out doesn’t know how to ask and didn’t want to seem weak? Yeah he’ll take that thank you. :D

He’s a bit all over the place when you tease him. He’s very conflicted. Because, home one side of him wants that attention, what if the other harbingers find out? What if you’re just messing with him? He’s gotta keep up an image you know.

While he’s very conflicted on how he feels about your affection, he does know one thing. He loves when you back hug him. Whether you’re taller than him, shorter, or same height, he loves it. If anyone who’s a lower rank than him tries to say anything, he’ll give them a death glare, and make a mental note for later.

He’ll subconsciously tear you a bit by wrapping a arm around you. It’s a weird way of saying “I’ve got a crush on them to if anyone says anything to hurt them, or if you try to hit on them I’ll personally murder you.” To other people without... saying that. Though he would say that, that’s not my point.

He has a weird relationship with being called pretty/handsome/etc. like it makes him feel happy and flusters him, but he’s also like “no I’m not. Me? Pretty? No. Flat out no.” He can’t just take the compliment.

Hahaha try to run away from him. I dare you. You brought this upon yourself when you said he had gorgeous eyes (he does but not the point!) so you better except your fate now. He’s either going to force you to say it again, or dare you to say it again.

Hated when you said “kiss me you handsome bastard” he hates it. But only because it made him want to kiss you more than he already did. So... that was mildly annoying to him, but it’s fine he lowkey loves you.

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”