#anyways. hey everyone. life update time. its fucking POURING

[todayisafridaynight]

oh my god i forgot to share my delulu-ass dream where i made a masadai doujin

#snap chats #NO LISTEN CAUSE LMAO #im 90% sure i was also dreaming of scenes from shay's disneyland fic. cause i still love that fic. #honestly i think it was just an anthology of short stories WHICH. ive always wanted to make a remastered anthology doujin #for all my mineda| and arakavva fam stuff yk. like go back and redo all of them so the art's Up To Date. and in color LMAO #god imagine if i did... ive always wanted to make a doujin but i also know im terrible at long projects and writing stories #(i still have to finish that comic from last night for starters LMAOOO) #anyways. hey everyone. life update time. its fucking POURING #i went out grocer shopping with my bro cause i needed to get a new makeup palette and brushes #buuut.... yall gon be mad at me....... while i was out my store finally started to sell the metroid prime remaster... 👉👈 #LISTEN ive wanted to play prime for YEARS ever since i first saw it was a thing for gamecube but i was never able to get it #and then they had a demo run of it at the store and.... yall... i love metroid a lot... #i played super metroid and the first metroid games a lot when i was growing up and prime has been on my list For Years #one day ill play the judgement games...... just not this month i need to catch up with my girl samus 😭😭 #cant even do THAT today cause that means going upstairs and my moms home and i also Have That Comic I Wanna Finish SO #thats a thing for me to do..... for now tho bye i got drawing to do

[tsurangaconundrum]

I thought you deleted your blog for a hot second and got nervous. If you did I would do a emotional glee style mashup of fucking. Idk candle in the wind and angel with a shotgun. Yeah that sounds plausible. Anyway I’m just here to check in and see how things are going, whats new? (Its me dba!)

I am also here because in a strange twist of fate I’m in a study project under an ornithologist so I’ve been capturing birds and collecting data on them. I have NOT told him everything I know is based off of fanfiction, nor will I ever. I’m just going to have brief moments of panic trying to remember if it was a real bird fact or just something someone made up for smut. Luckily for me there are some real bird nerds there who will point at a random bush 500 yards away and be like “wow do you see that black tailed warbler” they’re really cool though! A little bit glad people aren’t as horny about my intended field of study, but at the same time I’ve always wanted to be a consultant on someones alien or hybrid or whatever fetish smut fic. I just think it would be fun to receive messages like “hey so can you describe in detail the mating habits, process, and genitals of the blue damselfly” or get sent something like “hey is this accurate” and i get to read the most insane sex scene ever written. I do know alot about ovipositors but from what I understand they tend to work very differently in porn than they do in real life.

Called up my neighbor last weekend and asked if I could bury something in her backyard and she just agreed without asking questions. Everyone needs someone like her. For the record I was burying roadkill so it wasn’t too suspicious, but to the girl looking for her cat who wandered by a sweaty dirt covered teenager smelling like death and hunched over the ground like a witch at her cauldron was probably a little concerning.

OH! I found something AWESOME the other day, have you ever heard of bilateral gynoandromorphism (or however its spelled), well I found one of those and I’m just amazed by it. Just a weird little guy.

Seriously though, college and career and the pressures that being an Actual Scientist has are all becoming very real! I’m sure you remember the whole scary exciting mix of feelings. Idk how goes the degree? Biology and all that.

DBA!!!!! i would never delete my blog, if i couldnt pour my every thought out i would die. I'm SO glad youre getting to study birds its like what you were born to do or something. thank god your expertise is going somewhere. congratulations!!! as for the neighbor i wish my neighbors would ask me to let them bury things in the yard (i live in an apartment building but still).

googled the thing you said and WOAH!!!!!! that is so cool and fun. what a funky little guy.

as for college and science and such, i got a research position with a professor and worked full time this summer studying a local species of algae. its SO MUCH FUN to be a scientist isnt it DBA. i loved it. everyone should study science forever and ever amen.

i hope you have a wonderful day and good luck with the birds i will need updates!!!!

#asks #dead bird anon #tw animal death #ALSO YES THE QUEEN DIED IT WAS SUCH A FUN EVENT IN THE INTERNET IT SLAYED

[wingsofanillyrian]

Lights Over Monaco: Chapter 1

ITS HERE! I plan on updating this weekly/biweekly, based on how busy I am. Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list! 

Special thank you to my new F1 friend for inspiring this fic as well as being my beta reader, @acourtofcouture​ ! F1 fans out there, her fics are AMAZING

Chapter Masterlist

F1 Glossary

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

Nesta Archeron discovered Formula 1 when she was 9 years old. She woke before the sun one Sunday morning, quietly excited to have the television all to herself and watch whatever cartoons she wanted. But she couldn’t remember what channel they were on, instead flipping through the programs. She had almost given up when she stumbled across a race.

The moment she had seen the brightly colored open-wheeled cars flash across the screen, she paused. For whatever reason, the high pitched wasp-like scream of the twelve cylinder engines and the astonishing speed that the drivers were travelling enthralled young Nesta. She didn’t look away once for the rest of the race, or even for the post-race interviews and wrap up that most adults skipped. Something about it had her adrenaline pumping.

Nesta traded her dolls for matchbox cars, and when she grew older, picked up racing magazines instead of teen ones. Ever since that day, Formula 1 consumed her. No matter how the other kids or her two younger sisters teased her for it, her love for the sport never tarnished. 

She spent years getting up at 2 am to watch live races that were being held halfway around the world. Instead of going to her senior prom, Nesta stayed home and layed out her predictions for the season’s drivers and constructors championships. She didn’t know how to do anything half-ass. She poured her whole heart into the sport and devoted her life to it.

**********

Nesta spent her 24th birthday working. It wasn’t like she could request the day off, not that it mattered. The racetrack at Monaco was exactly where she would have been anyway, working or not.

A press pass got her through the first security checkpoint. The team tents loomed ahead as she waited for personnel to cross the unstriped asphalt, inching her car carefully through the throngs of people. She rolled her window down, soaking in the sound of air tools and snippets of conversations. 

Street tracks like Monaco were her favorite. They required drivers to push themselves with plenty of technical corners and dramatic incidents. There was less room for error, as the tracks themselves were not as wide. Drivers had to know their limits and follow the racing line closely.

Race tracks were Nesta’s comfort zone. She knew each track on the calendar like the back of her hand. Every turn was permanently etched in her mind like words on a tombstone. Race weekends followed a set schedule, something that she could appreciate. Friday: practice laps. Saturday: more practice, followed by qualifying, where each driver got the chance to set the fastest lap and secure a spot in the starting line up for the main event on Sunday.

Before she had graduated college, Nesta had managed to fully entrench herself in the world of Formula 1. Securing an internship at ESPN her sophomore year, she had made herself indispensable to the crusty old man that had been the senior track side reporter for decades. She studied everything he did and the questions he asked each driver, noting what changes she would have made. Somehow, he came to admire her spirit and taught her the tricks of the trade.

When he retired the year after Nesta graduated, he went to the board of directors and personally recommended her to fill his spot. She waited two agonizing days for their decision. 

Using whatever means necessary, Nesta had clawed her way to the top and cemented her reputation as the most cutthroat reporter in the industry. Her goal had been for everyone in motorsport to know her name, and in only two years, she had done so. Better yet, she had caught the eye of one of the fastest drivers on the grid.

Her phone rang just as she pulled into the press parking area. She answered, not bothering to check the caller ID. “Hello?”

Tomas’ velvety voice thundered through the speakers of her Civic. “Hey baby. You here yet?”

“Just pulled in,” She replied, touching up her makeup in the rearview. 

“Right on time for a quickie. Meet me at my trailer in five.”

Tomas had already hung up before she had the chance to protest. Both their reputations hinged on their relationship staying secret. If the press caught wind that she was fucking a driver, her credibility would go out the window, and Tomas would be the laughing stock of the grid. So sneaking into his trailer wasn’t exactly the type of discreet she was aiming for.

Tomas Mandray had been racing for Red Bull for two years when she had scored her first exclusive interview with him. He had just been awarded pole position at the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, and Nesta had sweet talked her way into the paddock. It had taken minutes for his charming blue eyes to enchant her. He had won that race, and taken her to bed straight after. 

The sex was great, but that’s all it ever was. Their relationship was purely based on the physical; nothing emotional on either end. They had agreed on that from the start. Just sex.

Unfortunately for Nesta, somewhere along the way it had become something more.

Sighing, she put on her oversized sunglasses and hid her tawny hair under a gauzy scarf. The fashion wouldn’t stand out at all amongst the celebrities that frequented the Monaco Grand Prix. Going over the top here was expected; Monaco was known for its money. Due to the lack of income tax, Monaco was a haven for white collar delinquents and royalty alike. Lamborghini’s and Ferrari’s were commonplace, and women wore rings that could set a jewel thief up for life. 

No one bothered her as she strode towards the pit checkpoint, flashing her press badge to get by. She fell into her usual cadence, exuding an air of importance and invincibility. Seemingly without realizing, people moved out of her way when they saw her coming. The navy, red, and yellow of the Redbull tent came into view, and Nesta inserted herself into the crowd of mechanics and VIPs to get past security. Press wasn’t allowed in the area until after the race.

Nesta broke away once inside, heading down a back corridor. She knew the layout by heart, having walked the path many times. The door at the end of the hall led outside to Tomas’ private trailer. She didn’t bother to knock before entering. Tomas would already be waiting for her.

He set down his phone as she entered. “Finally,” He said with a savage grin. “We only have a few minutes.”

****************

Tomas left as soon as he finished, donning his jumpsuit without so much as a kiss goodbye. Utterly used to the behavior, Nesta straightened her clothes and again touched up her makeup before heading back out.

She was scheduled to conduct a pre-race interview with Cassian Valle in the Mercedes tent in twenty minutes. Redbull and Mercedes were at opposite ends of the pit, giving her plenty of time to think.

Truthfully, Nesta was dreading the interaction. Cassian was an arrogant ass. She couldn’t stand interviewing him; all he did was skirt around questions and try to flirt, which made it incredibly difficult to get any headline-worthy tidbits from him.

Azriel Sainz, Cassian’s teammate at Mercedes, was much more amiable. He was mostly forgettable and quiet, but always gave her something to work with and was sometimes downright pleasant to talk to. She could understand why the public loved him, but not why they were so enamored with Cassian. Sure, he was a three time world champion, and that earned him plenty of fans, but he was just so… dreadful.

She made it to the Mercedes pit just minutes before the scheduled time, immediately spotting her tense cameraman, Jacob. Slim built, he was average looking, nothing special. He was sweet though, if not a bit of a pushover.

“Where the hell have you been?” He hissed, chocolate brown eyes wide. “Valle is waiting.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, handing Jacob her sunglasses and the scarf. “I’m here now, aren’t I? Not my fault if he was early.” Nesta accepted her microphone and rolled her shoulders. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“Happy birthday by the way,” Jacob added. Yes, there was the pushover side shining through. 

Nesta threw a grin at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

Cassian’s back was to her as she approached, his white Mercedes jumpsuit half on, the arms of it cinched around his waist. The crisp gray shirt he wore left little to the imagination, hugging his sculpted form. Good; at least that would capture the attention of any women that might be watching. As would the deep brown curl that fell in his face when he turned to her.

“If it isn’t my very favorite reporter,” He crooned, a grin plastered on his face. “Took you long enough to get here. I also hear it’s your birthday.” Nesta glared at Jacob. He shrank under her steely look, an apology stumbling from his lips.

“I would give you a birthday kiss, but I think you’d knock me out if I offered.”

Nesta pointedly ignored him, “Let’s just get on with it,” She said, motioning to Jacob to start recording. Once he signaled he was ready, Nesta breathed deep, the sweet scent of high octane fuel assaulting her senses. It steadied her, and she slipped into her professional mask before turning to the camera.

“As we all know, the Monaco Grand Prix offers drivers a unique set of challenges. The two-mile street course has 19 technical corners with little room for error. It is in Monaco that we get to see who has what it takes to be a Formula 1 champion.” She turned to Cassian, gave him a professional smile and continued.

“Last year, you had a puncture at turn seven when you ran over some debris. Coupled with the fumble the pit crew had with not having your tires ready when you came into the pit, you finished a disappointing 12th place, winning you no points in the driver’s championship. Do you expect that this year will be better, or will you stick to your usual aggressive driving style?”

Cassian laughed, running a hand through his unbound curls. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be changing anything. You can expect to see me on the podium, sweetheart. Most likely in first.”

Nesta grit her teeth. She couldn’t air that, and he knew it. “How about you answer the question without trying to piss me off?”

“It’s too easy,” Cassian said, that devilish grin returning. Nesta cut him a glare that simmered with violence. “Alright fine,” He relented, putting his hands up. “Go again.”

She repeated her question, and this time he answered, “I don’t really see any need to change my driving style, what happened last year was a fluke. I went wide on the turn and didn’t notice Vanserra's front wing until the last second and wasn’t able to change course.” Nesta nodded, encouraging him to go on. “I don't see myself making any mistakes like that this year. You can expect to see me on the podium, most likely in first.”

“Thank you for that Cassian. Good luck on the track today.”

“Thank you,” He said, waving at the camera. He paused before adding, “Though I won’t need luck.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and signaled for Jacob to cut the recording. At least that last bit could be edited out. “You are absolutely insufferable, you know that?”

Cassian shrugged, undoing the arms of his fire suit and slipping into them. “I do my best.” He winked at her before zipping up his suit, opening his mouth to say something else when the Mercedes team principal, Rhysand, barked at him to get his ass in gear. He gave Nesta a wordless salute before jogging off.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Jacob said, packing up his camera. “That guy has balls.”

“He’s a Formula 1 driver,” Nesta said simply, putting her sunglasses back on. “Of course he does.”

**********

Nesta watched the 78 lap race from the press box, silently cheering Tomas on. Each time the pack of cars passed, the windows rattled, doing little to muffle the engine noise. She chatted with the others as necessary, keeping one eye on the tarmac below. Tomas had started from pole position, and held onto first place until the final 10 laps. He had attempted to lap an AlphaTauri driver when the driver had failed to yield, violating FIA regulations. The two had bumped tires in what was ruled a racing incident, but Nesta knew better. Tomas had lost his cool and nudged the other driver on purpose, nearly sending him into the wall. 

It was a bad call on Tomas’ part, as the comfortable four second lead he had held over second place shattered. Nesta swore under her breath as Cassian overtook Tomas, her heart dropping when the other Mercedes driver, Azriel, did the same. Tomas would not be happy about that. 

When the checkered flag waved, Cassian was first, Azriel second, and Tomas third.  The winners parked before the podium, anger radiating from Tomas as he tore his helmet off. Tamlin, the Redbull team principal, said something to Tomas that had his cheeks burning red. 

Nesta grabbed Jacob and headed for the press room. They had a half hour tops before the post-race interviews started, and Nesta had to make sure she was front row. Though it didn’t matter where she sat; she always made sure her questions were answered.

It was more so for Tomas. She wanted him to see her, to see the understanding on her face and know she supported him even when he didn't win.

They were first to the press room, and Nesta had ample time to prepare questions. She couldn’t question Tomas, or she risked uncapping his rage. Instead, she jotted down a question she knew would shift the focus from Tomas to the Mercedes drivers.

Reporters began filing in, vying for the perfect spot and debating the race results with one another. Nesta remained in her seat, determined to maintain her composure as her stomach churned. Tomas finally entered, jaw set as he took his place on the stage. Nesta tried to subtly catch his eye, but he pointedly avoided looking at her. 

Cassian and Azriel entered, laughing and congratulating each other. Nesta noted the slight change in Tomas’ posture, the only hint of the blood boiling beneath his skin. Cameras flashed, reporters shouted, but still Nesta remained seated. Cassian, at least, sought her out in the crowd, and flashed her an ‘I-told-you-so’ grin when he found her. Once the clamor had died down, Nesta stood. The room quieted further, the others having learned not to talk over her if they valued their jobs. Nesta had a knack for digging up dirt on anyone she pleased.

Her eyes were still locked on Cassian as the moderator indicated she could ask her question. 

“Azriel,” She started, turning to the dark haired man, “You were lucky you were able to take second in this race, after the incident in turn twelve on lap 27 when you sustained heavy damage to your front wing, thanks to the actions of your teammate. Does it ever get under your skin that Valle’s overly-aggressive driving threatens your own position in the championship?”

The room was silent. Tomas hid his grin behind a well-manicured hand. Cassian’s eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw fluttering. Good; she had hit a nerve. Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. 

“It was a racing incident. Could have happened to anyone. I don’t think the blame lays entirely with Cassian; I could have given him more room on the corner.”

And that was that. Nesta didn’t ask any more questions, but she could feel Cassian glaring at her throughout. At the end of the interview, all three drivers thanked everyone before leaving.

As Nesta made her way back to her car, she texted Tomas.

You okay?

Her heart pounded as she waited for the reply. Her phone buzzed minutes later.

I’ll be home late. Party at the Redbull house.

Oh. Okay. See you later then.

“Happy birthday to me,” She muttered, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

Nesta wasn’t sure why his reply stung, but it cut deep. She had hoped that he would want to see her instead of going to another party and spend time with her on her birthday. Instead, he would probably stick his tongue down another woman’s throat like usual. She couldn’t really blame him. Their relationship had to remain secret and to do so, Tomas had to maintain his playboy aura. It wasn’t really cheating if she had agreed to it.

But if that were true, why did it hurt so fucking bad when he did?

Some of her tension eased when she finally spied her car in the lot. The Blue Bullet, she had nicknamed it, due to the strikingly bright paint. It was the first purchase she had made upon being promoted, and it had since become her pride and joy. She had chosen it because it set lap records left and right when it had hit the market a few years back, and she had craved speed her whole life. On city streets, this car was the closest she could get to experiencing Formula 1 without completely breaking the bank.

“How about you don’t ask stupid fucking questions next time your prettyboy loses?”

Nesta’s breath hitched. Your prettyboy. The accusation was clear. Her hand slipped from the door handle, turning towards the voice. If he knew… If he knew about her and Tomas, they were done for. She willed her voice into solid steel.

“Cassian. I would advise you to choose your next words wisely.”

He placed a hand on her Civic, getting in her face. “Racing means you have racing incidents. I don’t expect you to understand, seeing as you’ve never been behind the wheel of a real race car.” He sneered at her car, the insult striking home.

Fear faded, replaced by a rising wave of scarlett rage. Nesta’s gaze stuck to where his hand lay on the bright blue paint, utterly vexed by the infringement. She bared her teeth at him, rising to the challenge in Cassian’s flaming hazel eyes. 

“Get. Off.”

Cassian started at the command in her tone and obeyed. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “Understanding the nuances of Formula 1 is my job description. I asked about that incident because I knew it would piss you off. Looks like I was right huh?” Her temper was getting the better of her. “And by the way, would it kill you to give me a decent quote once in a while, instead of always trying to get in my pants?”

“I do not-”

“Oh go fuck yourself,” Nesta scoffed, yanking the door open. 

The corners of his mouth twitched upward as she slammed the car door. “I was already planning on it.”

Those parting words haunted her drive home, even as she took the long way in hopes of blowing off steam. She shifted through the gears, throwing the Civic around corners much faster than was probably safe. Nesta didn’t care; her head was a mess. At least he hadn’t mentioned anything more about Tomas. Maybe Cassian had just thought she had a crush, based on the way she had been looking at him during the conference. Gods, she couldn’t get Cassian out of her head. 

His grin followed her up the stairs to her apartment, where she snapped the curtains shut. She couldn’t bear to look out over the track any longer today. 

Those words echoed in her head as she brushed her teeth and crawled into bed alone. Swam through her thoughts of Tomas, as she struggled to keep her eyes open when the clock showed 1 am. As she finally gave in, they were her last thought. 

I was already planning on it. 

@aphoeni @planet-faerie  @nina-zcnik @linsimin @that-little-red-head @teagoddess99 @enpointe10 @electronicstrawberrystrawberry @awesomelena555 @iptneus @weesablackbeak @wonderland--memories @nessian-trash-heap @magicalwaterfall @perfectlyimpxrfect @cassians-wings @valkyrie-archeron @acourtofcouture @nesemryn @chloepereyra @illyrianshadowhunter​ 

#Lights over monaco #nessian #nessian au #nessian fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #acotar fanfiction #my writing #nesta archeron #cassian #lucien vanserra

[simpsiren]

the fight or flight;

Zhong Chenle. With this guy, you either need to have high confidence to talk him down or you run away into hiding because his words shoot bullets of force that fires at rapid speed. Don’t get me wrong. He is a fun guy and with his signature dolphin laugh that you can hear miles away, he’s without a doubt a sunshine on his campus. Just be careful. Do anything to his friends and loved ones, and I can simply say, “Off with your head, love.”

description. “Nothing good comes after 3AM.” The famous saying I failed to stand by when my drunken mind thought it was a good idea to get Chenle, the guy that Lucas claimed to be one of the scariest students on campus, to fall in love with me as a bet. I knew there were bound to be consequences for that. It might have been good at first, simply butterflies and rainbows, but I knew in my heart it wouldn’t stay that way, that nothing in my life has ever seem to last long. If life’s going too well, there had to be a downfall.

genre. heartbreaking!, angst, fluff if you squint very very hard

word count. 4k~

warnings. lots of swearing, drinking

a/n. I’m so sorry this is short I really wanted to update you guys but my life’s been too busy pls :( so i decided to shorten the story- by a LoT!! i just wanted to put something out there and not be dead so anyways i hope youll enjoy this either way!

!as they should masterlist!

I downed another shot, the burn moving down my throat making me let out a loud hiss uncomfortably. Just when I wanted to take a break, Yuta pours another shot almost instantly, as if he didn’t need my permission. I gulped and had my eyes halfway closed for quite some time now. The head began to spin and I wasn’t able to see straight no longer, soon resulting in a headache that I so wish could sleep away. Too bad, it’s the group weekly drinking night.

“Who wants to play spin the bottle?” Haechan suddenly suggested, his voice that rang through my ears made me wince silently. I frowned and shook my head. Surprisingly, it seemed that I was the only one that felt like could pas out at any moment. The atmosphere was still lively and energetic. Everyone responded with hums and mere shrugs, asking Yuta who had the bottle of alcohol to pour more like it was a never ending train of action. “Hey, you up for it?” Jaehyun gently nudged my shoulder with his. It made me sit up straight and rub my eyes in an attempt to get my vision to focus.

I groaned and plopped my head onto Jaehyun’s shoulder. With his scent that was practically permanent and always stuck on his body, it sent me a wave of calmness when I softly inhaled it in. “No.” I whispered, shaking my head and getting my head to comfortably lay on his shoulder. Jaehyun hummed and pat my head before looking back to the members. The loud whine of Lucas only wanted to make me roll my eyes as I knew exactly what he was going to say. “Come on! Just a few rounds.” Lucas begged, which made everyone chuckle in amusement. I cuddled up closer to Jaehyun and let out an exaggerated sigh of defeat. Lucas’s face brightened up almost instantly as he clapped loudly and placed an empty bottle on the center of the table.

We played a few rounds, it never landed on me. Some were dared to kiss the one next to them, which obviously they did without question to show off. There were other dares too like ‘Text your ex’ or ‘Prank call someone’. Basically nothing that was illegal. I was just about to fall asleep over the loud sounds of their laughter and chatter then suddenly everyone gasped, in a somewhat amusing manner. I raised a brow, finally deciding to lift my head up to try and understand the sudden change of atmosphere. Before I could puzzle through this, Doyoung shouted, “You got chosen!”

I narrowed my eyes to Doyoung, who had his finger pointed right at me. I slowly trailed my eyes from the edge of his finger down to the bottle. And indeed, the bottle’s end was facing right at me. I sighed and brought a hand up to lazily wave it. “Uh dare I guess? I don’t know...” I mumbled weakly, instantly dropping my head back down to land on Jaehyun’s shoulder. I could hear Jaehyun sigh under his breath at my action. A sigh that said, “You really are this wasted, huh?” Couldn’t blame him. It still surprised me how I was the only one in the whole group that was a light weight.

My eyes scanned over everyone surrounding the table. Sadly, Taeil and Jungwoo couldn’t come tonight due to having the sudden need to step up and study like maniacs and are left in the library to do so. Everyone seemed to have their thinking cap on, wanting to come up with a dare for me. Some had suspiciously wicked smiles. But Lucas’s one was the most intimidating, smiling like a cheshire cat with eyes and mind filled with many evil plans. I could never know what’s running through that weird brain of his. “I got it!”

Lucas voice made me shot up from my lazy posture. It was so sudden and loud it got me to jump and even made Jaehyun do the same from my movement. “I want you to make Zhong Chenle fall in love with you.” Lucas squealed with a burst of excitement. Well, that was certainly unexpected, which was to be expected. But I really never would’ve thought of that. The living room was filled with mixed emotions, some gladly joined Lucas with his evil laughter while others seemed to have a different opinion on this. “Of all things to could dare her you chose that?” Winwin intoned. “And why Chenle of all people?” Taeyong questioned seconds after. I softly hummed, wanting to know as well while I kept my quizzical expression on.

“Why can’t I? Zhong Chenle is like the scariest on campus there is!” Lucas extended his arms out to mimic something that resembled an explosion, or something. “Uh no you’re just easily intimidated.” “He’s younger than you for shit.” The comments that came from Winwin and Johnny made everyone laugh, but I was too tired to do so since my stomach was still aching from when I was having fun hours ago. “Oh come on I just want to see if he’s capable of love!” Lucas quickly retorted, leaning back while letting out a loud whine as if he’s a little kid wanting his lollipop.

“The thing is, you can’t make her fall in love. Things like that happen naturally.” Jaehyun lifted his hand from behind to wrap around my shoulders. I frowned slightly, already wishing I could be in bed. “You know what? Yeah, sure whatever. Someone just take me back to my dorm like right now. My headache is getting worse every second.” I shoved my head into the crook of Jaehyun’s neck, my voice instantly being muffled. Jaehyun, being the only one that seemed to hear me, slowly stood up and lifted me up to my feet as well. The room was yet again noisy and filled with chatter. I was barely concentrating on anything now.

“I’m sending her back, alright guys? Might come back since I don’t have class tomorrow.” Jaehyun announced, everyone humming and nodding their heads in response. Jaehyun turned to me and looked down, his large body in comparison to my much smaller one looming over me. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before walking me out. I turned around and waved at the rest with barely any energy left, unintentionally letting out a giggle in the process.

It didn’t take long for the cold breeze to brush against my face as the soft winds blew by. I had my wraps and legs wrapped around Jaehyun like a koala while he piggybacked me back to the dorms. The pathway we walked on was dimly lit by the orange lampposts that lined the pathway. The trip was utterly silent, with only the leaves and branches that rustled and our footsteps accompanying us on the way. I had my head snuggled into Jaehyun’s neck yet again. But I took a moment to tilt my head up, admiring the ink black sky with the stars shining right over it. Not to mention the moon having its moonlight reflected on everything down on us.

I knew we were already at my dorm room when the door creaked open loudly and warmth began to settle in. Jaehyun continued to carry me till we reached my bed. I let my arms around his neck loose and allowed him to slowly place me on my bed. I quickly grabbed hold of my blanket and wrapped myself in it tightly, getting super comfortable that I could pass out right then and there but Jaehyun sat at the edge of the bed. “You aren’t actually going to do it, right?” Jaehyun asked. I hugged my stuffed animal close to my chest. “What bet?”

“You don’t remember?” I squinted my eyes in an attempt to recall. I gaped my mouth open and nodded. “Ah yeah, that. I mean whatever I guess.” I shrugged in a blasé, god-could-care sort of way. Jaehyun sighed and his lips thinned into a line. “You aren’t in the right mind to even think what you got yourself into.” I scoffed and waved a weak hand as if swatting away his words. “It’s just Chenle. I could try.” Jaehyun smacked his lips and a long pause passed by before he said, “Whatever it is, don’t forcw yourself into it. You’re surrounded by guys who know how to treat a girl right. If Chenle isn’t like me-”

“Stop reminding me of the past, Jae. He fucked me up bad but it’s over. I can’t not be in love ever again.” I retorted, my eyes now fully closed. Jaehyun hummed and placed a light hand on my shoulder before standing up and making his way to the door. Once it was closed shut, I drifted off to sleep the moment after. Jaehyun was right. I really didn’t think about what I had to do. But I was too drunk to even care, with the realisation hitting me the instant I woke up the next morning.

“Fucking hell.”

I had my body leaned against the white wall like a dead person, hopeless and helpless. It’s been weeks and I have yet to find a way to get Chenle to even notice me. I cried out a whine like little child and turned around, letting my back slide down the wall while my body gave in entirely and I was on the floor. I quickly turned my head an peeked out slightly, still seeing Chenle sitting on one of the benches on campus. His hair felt as if it was capturing all the sunlight, wanting to keep it for himself. He looked extremely concentrated on his work, blocking out the world with his earpiece one and not giving a single care. He was minding his own business, not that I didn’t want to interrupt, but would have to someway, somehow.

I swiftly brought my head back and let my head rest, lifting it up with my mouth hung open as I wondered why I was even doing this in the first place. “Nothing good comes after 3AM.” I muttered to myself, letting out a amusing scoff after. I ran a hand down my face to get my head straight. The gears in my head began to turn, trying to formulate a plan that would’ve been simple while gathering my confidence at the same time. I fluttered my eyes open. And as if a miracle had landed on the floor in front of me, someone familiar began walking past. My chest began to fill up with hope, scrambling to get him in the quickest way possible— by his ankle.

He almost tripped, making him gasp as he turned around and looked straight before noticing the grip came from his ankle as adverted his gaze down, meeting my eyes. He arched his brow in a questioning manner. “_____?” Haechan echoed out, quizzically. I quickly let go and stood up, dusting my hands that had bits of dirt stuck to it while I lifted myself off the floor against my jeans. I sighed and looked up to him after doing so. “I’m so glad you’re here.” I said with a bright smile, quickly realising Haechan knew nothing about what I meant. He still had his confused expression on, not knowing the context.

“I need you to give me Chenle’s number.” I explained straight on, a hopeful yet pity look unintentionally sculpted on my face. Haechan narrowed his eyes on me, as if processing my words. After a moment, he turned his eyes to Chenle’s direction and looked back to me. “Him? Why don’t you just ask him?” Haechan suggested with an obvious tone. I smacked my palm against my forehead and shook my head. “You’re in the same major as him. At least he knows you. Just help me.” I pleaded, grabbing his hand in both of mine and batting my eyelids rapidly in an attempt to get his help. Haechan shook his head in small motions and shrugged carelessly. And without a word, he went off in Chenle’s direction.

I poked my head out from the wall to get a clear view yet still wanting to keep myself invisible. Haechan sauntered his way over to the bench as relaxed and normal as ever. He stood right in front of Chenle, leaning forward with his hand gripping the end of the bench. He dipped his head down to Chenle’s level. He might have shocked him since Chenle ended up leaning back and took one side of his earpiece off from the sudden appearance of the familiar face. He slowly leaned in and listened to what Haechan have to say. I didn’t bother trying to listen because the distance would never let me have a chance to anyways.

Suddenly, Chenle’s head began scanning the area. I widened my eyes and quickly moved my head from where it could’ve possibly been seen. I bit my lower lip. He looked as if he was suddenly on high alert like he wanted to identify the presence of someone. Did Haechan tell Chenle that he was told to ask for his number? I silently groan and looked down. “I literally just asked him for his number.” I whispered. I didn’t turned to look back at the current situation, already afraid of what’s coming. I slowly heard footsteps coming closer and closer, and out of spite I turned around and stood strong, expression filled with fury and ready to bust Haechan’s head off.

“What the heck did you even say-” I was too shocked at the sight in front of me that I stumbled a step back, mouth hanging open with the unfinished sentence hanging in the air. Chenle was standing still, arms folded with an expression I really couldn’t make out. I had to admit, with actually looking at him up close, he was indeed attractive. It’s no wonder I hear girls chattering about him at least once a day I walk through the campus. But I wondered why he was never seen with any of them. “You want my number...?” Chenle asked slowly. I could barely process anything right now. My mind went blank for a moment as I let out words like, “Um... Well uh.” for who knows how long. When I finally got myself to stand up proper, Chenle had his eyes darted on me. He had a calculative look on his face, as if scrutinising every inch of my being.

“Yes. Because... I want to be your friend.” I gave myself a mental slap in the face, wanting to slam my head against the wall with how I couldn’t have come up with a better explanation off the top of my head. Chenle’s expression flickered to a shocked one. But as quickly as it came, it disappeared, coming back to his stoically confused face. “Um that’s quite out of the blue. Why?” Chenle was right. It was out of the blue, like a meteor suddenly fell on him when he was simply enjoying life. “I mean why not? I see you could use a study buddy.” I said casually jerking my chin to the empty bench where his papers and bag where still laying there.

Chenle’s lips formed a thin line, looking up with a thoughtful look on his face. He was actually considering it. That, what the first thing that surprised me. Chenle looked back down to me, and the faintest of smile that was almost invisible, he nodded his head and smacked his lips. “You don’t need my number. Just meet me at the library tomorrow, at nine.” I blinked my eyes rapidly, and he was quickly out of my view. I looked to the bench, seeing Chenle walking back to the bench with a calm and laid back posture. He sat down and continued studying.

I had my back against the wall yet again, this time placing a hand to my chest and breathing out a sigh of relief. “I’m actually doing this.” I said to myself. Taking baby steps, I kept telling myself. I’ll make Chenle fall in love. But was it because I had to, or because I wanted to?

Later the next day as the hour hand slowly came close to nine, I was already in the library. I had my bag and books laid out on one of the study tables but I was lounging in the reading area, finding the couch more comfortable than sitting on the cheap wooden chairs of the study table. I was on the fifteenth page of a book I just picked out of a shelve, getting intrigued and tempted to borrow it after we were done studying. I trapped myself in a bubble, away from everything else and not giving a single care for the world and wanting to immerse myself in the book.

Just when I was about to flip to the next page, a shadows comes in front of me, the page now turning just a shade darker. I slowly tilted my head up. Chenle was in front of me yet again, this time his body looming over me while he bent down to meet my eye level. “What are you reading?” Chenle asked. I felt the curiosity in his voice so I answered with a, “It’s a fantasy romance novel.” Chenle’s lips formed an ‘O’ while he nodded and backed up slightly. I sat up straight and shut the book closed in one hand, proceeding to stand up. “So um anyways...” I trailed off, not exactly sure of what to say next.

“Where’s your things?” I stared at him. For a brief moment, I was lost in his looks, but I quickly shook my head to knock them out of me before any of it had an effect. “Uh there.” I quickly pointed to the study tables, simply estimating. “Let’s go.” 

I didn’t know what was it about Chenle, but something in my chest made me wonder that this wouldn’t be so sad after all.

Chenle had his hand interlocked with mine the whole time we were walking around the beach side. Seemed like he never wanted to let go. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” I’ve already done Lucas’s dare. I made Chenle fall in love with him. And to be honest, I did as well. But I knew all too well the reason I did was for a dare. A stupid, 3AM drinking dare. We haven’t been dating for long, but my heart would ache each time he turned to look down at me, his smile flashing and capturing all the earth’s sunlight for itself like it deserved it.

“We’re going for ice cream later right?” Chenle questioned me out of the blue. I threw my current thoughts out the window and turned my attention to him. “Again? You’re literally eating one right now!” I scolded, jerking my chin to the ice cream he had in his free hand, which was already left with its cone. Chenle pouted and shoved the rest of the cone into his mouth, chewing with over exaggerated pouts. “Come on I need more ice cream.” Chenle quickly retorted. I let out a loud sigh and smiled. A smile so small, and filled with guilt of what I’m about to do.

Chenle giggled and grinned, his mood getting unnervingly better than it already was as the thought of more ice cream filled his head. Meanwhile, I was having a war in my head, territories of my thoughts being obstructed with the means to do something I wished I would never have to do. We reached the point where the rocks came into view. And the place was silent with nothing but the waves crashing against the surface and the soft winds blowing by and feeling colder than it should be.

“Chenle.” I whisper softly, taking in a deep breath and closing my eyes for a brief moment before doing so. “Hm?” With a hum, Chenle stopped walking and turned to face me. I frowned ever so slightly. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Chenle puckered his lips and nodded, simply carefree. Stop looking like that already. “If we’re being honest...”

There was so much I wanted to say, so many thoughts popping in every direction. My brain was on overload that I was at complete loss of words. My heart was in pain and it’ll be ten times worse after I say it. Not knowing how to beat around the bush, I came to the quick decision of being straight forward. I had to do it. I’m sorry, Zhong Chenle.

“I’m sorry. About all this. What we have... It was just a dare. I was dared to make you fall for me. And I...” I already felt the tears forming in the wells of my eyes and my vision began to blur, Chenle growing blur as well and out of focus. “I never liked you, Chenle.” Saying his name was what did it for me. I wanted my soul to leave my body and have it simply melt away from this situation. I hated it, I hated having to do this. After all that we went through. For the first time in my life, Chenle was all butterflies and rainbows. I never had an argument with Chenle before, because we never had anything to argue about. I couldn’t be holding on to the one that would be much more fitting for someone else out there. He was too good for me, too good for my selfish being.

Chenle gave a blank expression, one that made the worry in my chest sink deeper and deeper into my heart as I watch Chenle process my upfront words. I thought it’ll it hit like hard bullets to the chest. I though he’d be in tears. I thought he’d actually be sad. But none of my assumptions became true at all. For a flicker of a second, I saw it. The look of sadness, torture, pain— all in one. But it disappeared in a flash, and it was quickly replaced with a light smirk and a chuckle of amusement. I was too shocked by his reaction that I couldn’t help but lean back slightly. “Chenle...?”

“And you think I didn’t know.” Chenle placed a gap between our bodies that was pressing againsg each other just minutes ago. He placed his weight on one leg and had a creepily relaxed posture, shoving both his hands into the pockets of his jeans. This unknown side of him sent cold shivers down my spine. I could even feel the hairs behind my neck standing up straight like soldiers. “What?” I questioned. I couldn’t process anything. My thoughts were too preoccupied with Chenle’s surprisingly relaxed composure.

“Don’t you know Haechan’s my friend? He told me everything.” Chenle leaned down to meet my eyes level. His gaze locking to mine. He could turn me to stone. It’s like a kick to the gut. I almost lose it right there but instead I feel panicked ,chest clenching breath coming too fast. A long pause went by. And each second I wanted to fall. “Trust me... I never liked you either.” Chenle smiled. Smiled widely as a cheshire cat. I widened my eyes, and this time I had to take a step back, unable to handle his words.

Chenle’s words lodged like painful arrows covered with venom. He barely said anything yet here I was, cheeks already damped with tears and a body so lifeless I could practically be a zombie. I never thought of the fact that this could’ve gotten hundred times more painful. His words really did shoot like harsh bullets, and he really knew me well enough to say the words that would hurt in the right places. Chenle straightened his back and rolled his shoulders, a light chuckle escaping his lips. He smacked his lips and nodded, turning to the terribly beautiful scenery before meeting my eyes yet again.

“You did have feelings for me. But who knew you’d be the one at the edge of the cliff from this dare of yours?” Chenle whispered. My legs were about to give in. My chest was clenching tighter and tighter, suffocating my lungs and stopping me from breathing in air. “I don’t... Chenle please.” It can’t be true. It was all fake so why am I hurting so much from knowing he felt nothing towards me as well?

“You know well I’m incapable of it. Of love.” And just like that, the world seemed to crumble around us as if leaving only me and him standing right there, tension so high yet piercingly harsh. I had no words, but I guess there really wasn’t any to say at all.

#nct x reader #nct #nct 2020 #nct imagines #nct 127 #nct ff #nct fluff #nct imagine #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct chenle imagines #nct chenle x reader #nct chenle angst #nct chenle fluff #nct chenle #nct zhong chenle #zhong chenle #nct dream chenle #nct dream x reader #nct dream ff #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream angst #nct dream

[rowanwhitethornisbae]

Liabilities Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry for taking so long for this next update!! Warnings for this are the same as all other chapters. Beware this is heavy chapter! I promise it pretty much goes completely uphill from here. 

liabilities masterlist

Rowan Whitethorn had never been this bored in his entire life. Or at least since 8 o clock, when Aelin had kissed his cheek and abandoned him to suffer through calculus all alone. She had been bouncing on her toes all morning, nervous beyond belief about seeing Lorcan for the first time since they'd slept together. Rowan had tried to calm her nerves while simaltaneously trying not to vomit and the thought of his two friends doing ... well that.

Now, he was sitting in the back of Mr. Faliq's class, doodling aimlessly on the front of his textbook. Math had never been Rowan's best subject anyway. Infact, the only reason he'd taken it was so that he and Aelin might have at least one class together. With her wanting to be a doctor and him wanting to be a lawyer, their senior year courses didnt exactly cross over. Unfourtunately, it hadnt worked out, and Rowan had a whole semester to suffer through whatever this was without his best friend beside him.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the bell to signal the end of first period sounded throughout the room. Rowan was out of his seat and across the room before the rest of class had even begun packing their books. Once he was out in the hallway, he felt like he could finally breathe again. Rowan really needed to think about dropping that course, he'd even take art at this point. An image popped into his head of the last thing he'd tried to paint, a picture for Aelin that had turned into more of a brown blob than anything. Laughing, he walked down the hall towards Aelin's class. Students were beginning to pour out of classrooms and he spotted his friends down the hall.

They were standing by Lorcan's locker, the tall male leaning his head against the wall. He looked positively miserable as he toyed with the strap of his bag, doing practicaly anything to avoid Aelin's gaze. Still, she was looking right at him, gesturing wildly with her hands. Rowan hung back for a moment to watch, not wanting to interupt. After a few more seconds of talking to no one, Aelin socked Lorcan in the arm. Rowan could almost here him groan as he finally looked down at Aelin. She looked relieved as she launched into speaking all over again. When she was done, Aelin paused, apprehension shining in her eyes. Lorcan hesitated a moment before sighing and folding her into his arms. Her shoulders slumped with relief as she hugged him back. When they finally pulled away, Aelin was positively beaming and Rowan couldn't hold back the smile that tugged at his lips in response.

Still smiling, Aelin grabbed Lorcan's hand and pulled him down the hall towards Rowan. Just before they got withing hearing distance Aelin said something to Lorcan that made his head tip back in laughter. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached Rowan.

They stopped infront of him and Lorcan looked up at Rowan slowly. Aelin surveyed the two males tentatively, as if preparing to seperate a fight.

"Hey." Lorcan said at last, his low voice rougher than normal.

"Hey." Rowan replied, nodding his head slightly.

Just as the silence became unbearably thick, a cheerful voice broke through the haze.

"Hey guys." Fenrys said, throwing his arm around Aelin. "I haven't seen any of you since the party, how were your weekends?"

"Totally normal." Aelin blurted at the same time that Lorcan said. "Nothing special."

Fenrys brows narrowed but he didnt push it. "Um okay. What about you Rowan?"

"Shitty." He admitted, avoiding anyone but Fenrys' gaze.

"Aw sorry about that man. I saw you leave the party alone, that sucks. It's been a while since you got laid huh."

Rowan couldnt stop the blush forming. "Uh yeah I dont know, I guess it depends on your definition of a while."

"Wasn't the last one Remelle?" Fenrys asked. Gods sometimes he just wanted to punch Fenrys out.

"Remelle." Aelin blurted. "Rowan that was all the way back in July. Its been like three months."

He was definetly blushing now. Remelle had been his last failed attempt at getting over his being in love with Aelin. He’d thrown up as soon as he’d left their room and from that moment on just touching other women had made him feel slightly nauseous. 

“Yeah well I just haven't really clicked with anyone since I guess.” He stumbled over his words. Lorcan was shooting him a knowing look that Rowan pointedly ignored. 

“Whatever.” Fenrys said shrugging. “Where’d you two disappear off too. I could've used some help with clean up.” 

Instantly all three of them looked down at their shoes, shoulders tensed. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Rowan decided to put everyone out of their miseries. 

“They fucked.” He said, his voice carefully exempt of any emotion. 

Fenrys mouth fell wide open. “What.” He paused. “Um Wha- How?” At last he sighed. “WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK.” He half yelled. 

A few freshman walking by giggled and scurried down the hall. 

“Well we were both drunk and not really thinking and somehow we ended up in his bed. But we’re good now so let’s just all forget it ever happened okay?” The plea in Aelin’s voice tightened something in Rowan’s chest. 

Fenrys, who was still staring at Lorcan, his jaw practically on the floor, said nothing. Lorcan swore under his breath and grabbed Fenrys, dragging him down the hall away from Aelin and Rowan. Good, let Lorcan deal with his best friend and Rowan would deal with his. 

They walked down the hall in silence for a few seconds. Rowan fought to hold back everything he wanted to say. He could feel their friendship slowly falling apart, like a burning house. Yet he couldn't say or do anything out of fear that the whole thing would come crumbling down with one wrong touch. Instead, he allowed himself to focus on the pattern of footsteps against the school tile floor. He watched Aelin’s hands swing back and forth, shaking violently. 

“Aelin are you okay?” He asked tentatively. 

She jerked her head towards him, then down to her hands, and then back up again. Eyes still on him, she pulled her sweater down to cover her shaking hands. 

“Um yeah its just... well I stopped the drugs and everything very suddenly and it’s a little hard on my body.” 

“How hard.” He asked, concern shining in his bright green eyes. 

“Most people phase out of the shit I did slowly. Stopping it all at once is hard.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” He didn't raise his voice but his tone was firm in the way that demanded answers. 

She took a long breath in through her nose. “Some vomiting, cold chills and sweating, a pounding headache, shaking, a couple fucked up dreams.” 

“So you’re in withdrawal.” 

“Yeah from like three different things at once.” Aelin let out a small laugh, as if this was all funny for her. 

“Do you want me to take you home?” He offered. 

“What no.” She rolled her ankle around in a circle. “I’ll see you at lunch.” 

Then she was gone. 

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

Rowan Whitehorn had thought calculus was the worst class he’d have to suffer through. French, made that course look like a fucking summer breeze. Honestly this class wouldn't even have been that hard if he could speak the language at all. Aelin and him had always wanted to go backpacking through Europe, so when he said he couldn't speak French, she practically signed him up herself. 

“Rowan.” A voice snapped him out of his daze. The principal was standing in the class doorway, panting, as if she’d ran here. The look in her eyes made Rowan’s heart lurch forward in his chest. 

“Yeah,” He said, already walking towards her. 

“Come with me.” Then they were walking swiftly down the hall.

“What’s going on?” A part of him didn't really want an answer. 

The principal swallowed and began jogging down the hall. “It’s Aelin.” 

A part of him had already known. Had wanted it to be false, but known all the same. Still, it didn't stop the panic that seized him so completely, had him practically running down the halls now, feed sliding on the freshly cleaned tile. 

The rounded the corner and Rowan stopped dead on his feet. There, sitting against the wall just outside her art classroom, was Aelin. Her arms were wrapped around her petite frame, as if she could hold herself together. She was shaking uncontrollably, her head buried in her knees. Even from a few metres away, Rowan could hear how she tried and failed to gulp down air. There were no tears on her face, just blind panic. Fenrys was kneeling in front of her, a panicked expression on his face and he tried to calm her down. 

Rowan ignore the small puddle of vomit on the floor as he pushed Fenrys away and kneeled before Aelin. He was close enough now to hear her muttering something, words he couldn't decipher. 

Ever so carefully, he grabbed her violently seizing wrists and pried them from her knees. Her hands were freezing cold, and Rowan resisted the urge to drop them. Instead, he covered them with his own and waited for her to look at him. 

“Aelin” He said softly, failing to hide the pain in his voice. “Look at me love.” 

She didn't. Some of the shaking in her hands had ceased though, becoming more tremors than anything. 

“Aelin everything is going to be okay. I can help you alright. I just need you to look at me.” 

Slowly, so slow that he felt as though time itself had been warped, she lifted those blue eyes to his own. He stared at her broken face, letting her know that he saw every part of her and was not afraid. 

“Just breathe with me.” He took one of her hands and placed it against his chest. “Just like this.” 

He inhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. After a brief second of hesitation, Aelin did the same. 

“Good.” He murmured softly, and repeated the action. “You’re doing so good.” 

He continued to breathe in and out until Aelin’s own breath had steadied. Even then, he refused to remove her hand from his chest. 

At long last, she spoke. “I don't know what happened.” The words came out scratchy. “One second I was painting, green flowers like your eyes. Then someone spilled red paint on the floor. It looked like blood Rowan. Like his blood all over the tile. Suddenly the walls started closing in and I couldn't breathe. There was blood everywhere and he was dying all over again and I just couldn't fucking breathe.” A strangled cry broke from her lips on the last words. 

“We’re going to go home now okay? I’m going to take you home.” He paused to weigh her reaction. She tried to stand up but her legs were shaking so much that it didn't work. Instead, she collapsed back down withe another small broke sob. Rowan’s fucking heart was shattering. 

“Can I pick you up?” He asked. Her small nod was answer enough. Leaning down, he curled one arm under her legs and the other below her neck. Still shaking slightly, she buried her head in his chest, as if hiding from the rest of the world. 

The principal was still staring at them in shock. Fenrys must've gone to get Lorcan who was now watching Rowan and Aelin with pure devastation on his face. “We’ll be by later.” Lorcan said as they passed. 

“Alright.” 

When they reached Rowan’s car, he placed Aelin in the passenger seat before climbing in as well. 

“Thank you.” Her words carried some of that fearless strength and determination he’d missed. “For everything. You have no idea what it means to me. I honestly don't think i’d still be here without you Ro.”

“Anytime.” He tried not to focus on the deja vu of this situation. Tried and failed to forget that it was barely two days ago when he’d placed a shaking Aelin in the front seat of his car. He was always saving her, not that he had minded much before. But now, as they pulled out of the parking lot, Rowan wondered if maybe there was more out there.

--------

tags: 

@queen-of-glass

@courtofjurdan

@fictional-horan

@bamchickawowow

#rowaelin au #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin angst #aelin galythinius #throne of glass #highschool au #angst

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 37

Read on AO3. Part 36 here. Part 38 here.

Summary: There are only so many ways you can deliver news.

Words: 2700

Warnings: dystopia

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: I really didn't think I'd get a chapter out today, but I did, so yay!? Sorry it's a bit short (I remember when 2000 words was normal for me!), but I must be on my bullshit, as always.

Thank you very much to everyone who reached out. I had a shitty week this week, and I anticipate things in the next few weeks will not be super great. If there is a week where an update is missed, I hope you can understand.

I love y'all very much, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3

Beyond the sheet, the doctor’s shadow worked in silence, collecting instruments to soon be used to pry and expose your pomegranate flesh. Your monthly exam would never feel routine--prior to the collapse of society, they’d already been unpleasant. But now, separated from the provider by gossamer cloth, scrutinized in anonymity while metal objects cracked you wide, they crushed you in revulsion. The doctor whirled on his stool between your legs, air whispering over your bare skin. You swallowed.

A squeaking, clacking, and the cold metal of the speculum parted your labia and pierced your entrance. You held your breath, willing away the tears that pricked your sight--you’d always cried at this part, even before it became obligatory--drifting to your mind until he was finished. 

Kylo Ren had been gone for 18 days, and in his absence, Gilead had drawn from your veins, a vampire of systemic proportions bleeding you not of life, but of the will to live itself. Without his presence, his power, his capability to extract you from bondage, you’d sunk into it like a tarpit, thick sticky ooze edging ever-closer to your throat. Sutures now removed, antibiotics completed, your days consisted of waking, walking, waiting, and, more than once, weeping, before wishing yourself into a witless slumber. Not that you were surprised. After all, before you’d fucked him in secrecy the first time, you’d asked yourself, what was life without living? 

As it turned out: pretty fucking awful. 

Pain lit up your spine when the doctor dug at your cervix for a swab--you winced, and the exam room door opened.

“Hey, we’re running behind, you do you want me to grab the next one, or--”

“No, no,” your doctor replied. “I’m almost done with this one. Did you get the urinalysis back?”

“Uh, no, sorry, I haven’t checked. I can go do it now.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Oh, hey.” Then he swiveled away--leaving you gaping, a red tunnel open for observation. “Did you hear what the director said this morning?”

The other man hummed in thought. “Something about Commander Pryde. I didn’t really care.”

You stared into the ceiling, hands folded over your stomach, tears stinging again while your thighs began to tremble. Privacy and respect hadn’t been afforded to you in three years; you had long been designated a womb buried in a hunk of meat. But something about having your cervix on display like the Hope Diamond was particularly nauseating. Your stomach groaned in humiliation.

“Yeah. Anyone who’s even spoken with Pryde in the last month is getting rounded up.”

Breath stalled. There was no way the doctor knew who you were--the sheet separating you ensured that. Dread iced over your chest.

“Shit,” the other man replied. “Really? Damn.” A pause, clanging of instruments. “Just questioning, right?”

“For now.” The doctor grumbled. “I just had the tenaculum. What the hell?”

“Isn’t it right over there?”

“Oh, right, yeah.” Wheels squeaked across the floor. “Anyway, it’s just a new round of Ren’s bullshit.” He sighed, scooching between your legs again. Something sharp and cold pinched you--you bit your lip. “Dissenters this, threats to Gilead that. I wouldn’t worry about it. Unless--”

A snort. “I hate the both of ‘em.” The man sighed. “You’d think that fixing the birthrate should be their top priority, the way things are going.” 

The doctor grumbled, and something pinched you like talons, shooting pain up your spine. “Yeah. Well. If Ren has his way, half the people in this country are gonna end up dead.”

Your heart was tumbling into a canyon. In the time without him, your belief in your Commander’s defection had dimmed. You’d believed initially that his motivation for Pryde’s capture was revenge--something undesirable, but still understandable--but the longer his campaign went on, the more you realized that there would be nothing that would convince him to release his stranglehold on his position. A gnawing despair within you whispered that whatever Kylo Ren felt for you, he felt it one hundredfold for power and control; convincing him to leave it behind would not only be improbable, but impossible. Yet, as you considered betraying what little affection he might have, sorrow shredded you. The thought of his capture, trial, possible execution--

More tears. You couldn’t stomach the thought of him not here, of being torn from him, of his existence in the past tense. And you also couldn’t sacrifice your freedom for his sins. 

The release of the speculum tugged you back to the exam, and you sniffled, clearing your throat. You’d missed the rest of the conversation.

“Whatever happens, at least we won’t be out of a job. They’ll always need someone to make sure the breeding stock is healthy.” A pause, as if to acknowledge that, yes, you were still in the room. “No offense, of course.”

Bile burned your tongue. You said nothing. 

“Shit, that reminds me,” said the other man. “I’ll go check the urinalysis.”

“Thanks.” 

The door shut. Without warning, latex fingers pushed inside of you, another hand pressing down on your belly. The inspection went on for seconds longer than you thought it should, his fingers curling, as if he was languishing there, reveling in the sensation of feeling your uterus. For a blink, every thought surrounding your Commander’s desertion of Gilead fled your mind, consumed by a venomous desire that he might catch this doctor in the act and crack his skull on the pearly tile, spray his blood, stain the grout. And then the intrusion was over, and your fury dissipated, the ache for retribution hollowing in your heart. 

It wouldn’t have mattered, really, if he had been standing in the room when it had happened--the doctor was no anomaly, but a functioning cog in Kylo Ren’s machine. As long as you both remained in clutches of his own creation, he would spend eternity defending you from its design. Even if you could be an exception, other women would suffer in forced silence. And even if he could mould it to your liking, it would still mean he preferred you to exist in subjugation instead of liberation.

Hope had been a security blanket almost three weeks ago, thick and warm around your shoulders while he’d bathed you with gentle hands. Now it clung in tatters to your ribs, the tiny scraps fluttering like tissue with every gust of reality.

The door opened again. 

“Hey,” the man said. “Got the results.”

A snap of rubber as the doctor removed his gloves. “And?”

“Look for yourself.”

Shuffling paper stifled the sad knock of your pulse in your ears. Perhaps you knew, and had always known, that Kylo might never come to agree with your perspective. You just frequently forgot to acknowledge that it would mean letting him go. Forever. 

“Hey! Okay!” A warm palm slapped your thigh, and you squeaked. “We got another one!”

When no one responded, you realized he had been speaking to you. About a result. A urinalysis. Another one...

You couldn’t speak. Or breathe. Oh--

“You’re pregnant!” 

Like a geyser, it burst from you--your sorrow, your fear, your disgust, your absolute joy--and poured in rivers down your cheeks, your hands clapping over your face. There was no one coherent thought that could be plucked from your mind, just a constant tornado of horrific exhilaration, a celebratory mourning that within you, a tangible testament to you and your Commander’s connection beat and pulsed and flourished with life, growing veins like vines and limbs like wings. 

His child--your child--a physical entity you could nourish in the wake of his reluctance, an unalterable legacy inside of your womb, one that you, if you were to be denied all else, could adore. Your child, but also his child, descendant to a despondent devil, progeny to a preserver of your own imprisonment. A child that, if born into the realm of its father’s regency, would never know normality, or maybe even you--at all. A heaving sob cracked through, and you shivered, trembling with terrified bliss.

The doctor slapped your thigh again. “Don’t stress!” he said. “According to the chart here, you’re about six weeks along. There’s still a chance for disruption. So I’d stay relaxed, all right?” 

Swallowing, you creaked out a noise of assent. There wasn’t a word you could bear to say. 

After the doctor left, you slipped back into your red dress and wings--despite Kylo’s words weeks earlier, you had been provided no other options after he’d left, and you suspected he’d meant for you to only be out of uniform in his presence, regardless. You were escorted by an armed nurse out of the clinic, where a Knight--still masked, no cloak, just in tactical gear--was waiting by the black SUV you’d seen a few of them in before. Averting your gaze, you climbed into the back and buckled in. The vehicle started, you coasted through the parking lot, and onto the road.

For the first time in several days, the sun was out--though it would need more than an afternoon to evaporate the muggy air that had accumulated in its absence. You gazed into the stark, cloudless sky, placing your hands on your belly, as if you could commune with the little being inside of you, know it before it knew you. A question, awful and exciting, lingered in your mind  as you imagined telling Kylo the news, but no answer revealed itself. You replayed the scenario over and over again, practicing it on your tongue--I’m pregnant--digging deep for his reaction. But it was useless, as initially unknowable as anything else about him. Anxiety constricted your heart, a dam about to crumble behind your eyes.

The Knight turned a corner, and you jostled in the backseat. There couldn’t have been much intimacy between them all. But still.

“How do you think the Commander would respond…” You swallowed again--hesitation kept wadding in your throat. “How do you think he’d respond to a pregnancy?”

Long, sweltering seconds ticked by without a word. Balling your hands in your lap, your palms slipped, heartbeat thumped in your clasped thumbs. You’d never heard a Knight say a word, before--you weren’t sure why you were expecting one to answer you. Lava licked at your neck, dripping down your spine, your teeth tearing at your cheeks. 

“Whatever it is,” the Knight said, shattering expectation, “anything in comparison will look like apathy.”

A rush of interminable origin raced your flesh, flushing hot in your blood. That was about as accurate as you could expect. And unsatisfying as you could predict.

When you arrived at home and stepped out of the vehicle, another realization crested over you. Johana. Though your relationship had settled into an uneasy truce since the day the Commander had left, the words she spared you had been few and far between. You knew that your pregnancy was possibly her only dream, but combined with the uncharted territory of her husband’s intentions, you worried it would become her nightmare. 

At the same time, perhaps these worries were unfounded--the threats Kylo would face by disrupting his Wife’s right to your child might be too great for him to risk his power. His concessions had been minor and in relative secrecy, affecting only his relationship with you--everything else had the secondary benefit of securing his reign. He’d said plenty, but how much had he meant? After overhearing the discussion in the exam room, you were fairly certain that if made to choose between Gilead and you, you’d lose.

You followed the Knight into the house, relieved to cross into central air. Taking a few slow steps, you drew a deep breath.

“Ms. Johana!” You paused, listening for a response. You heard none. “Ms. Johana?”

She wasn’t in the house--that meant she was likely out in the yard. In the heat. Sighing, you trudged through the halls through the back door, squinting as light smacked your face. In the weeks since Kylo’s departure, the garden had been cleared and mostly restored at Johana’s behest--the grass gleamed gold, summer flowers replanted in over-saturated swirls of color. You hopped over the stones, turning the words on your tongue, hoping to make them real in your mouth.

I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m--

“Ofkylo.”

You stalled, recognizing the moniker as yours, resentful of its familiarity to your ears. Beyond one of the hedges was Johana, prying open a birdfeeder. Heat--though whether it was from the sun or your fear, you didn’t know--sizzled the nape of your neck. You steeled your jaw, grabbing your skirts and tromping through the trimmed lawn in her direction.

“What are you doing out here?” There was a bag of mixed seed at her feet, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she wiped the feeder clean with a rag. “I thought you just left for your exam.”

“I did. I’m back,” you said. “I was, um. Looking for you.”

“Oh.” She flipped the top in her little hands, scrubbing it clean, too. “Well, that’s fine. What’s going on? They didn’t find out about the gunshot, right?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no no. That’s fine.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m tired of lying for your benefit. The antibiotics weren’t--”

“I know, Ms. Johana,” you sighed. “So…” The words were so simple, but so difficult to say. “The exam went well.”

She nodded, digging into the seed, scooping a helping. “Uh-huh.”

There was nothing that would make this any less nerve-wracking. You inflated your chest, and let it go. “I’m pregnant.”

Johana stopped, like she’d been shot herself, staring into the ground. The seed fell from her palms and spilled over her shoes. She rose, gaze drifting from your feet, to your hands, to your face, her chin shaking. A smile was threatening to explode across her lips.

“Wait.” She exhaled. “Really?”

Wagging your arms in admission, you nodded. “Yup.”

A human springtrap, she squealed, launching into you and wrapping you in a tight, bony hug. You wheezed from her strength--she squeezed you, pinning your limbs to your sides as she wriggled you like a toy. 

“Yes!” She jumped up and down, still holding you. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Yes,” you repeated. “It’s, um, it’s true!”

Johana released you, erupting with elation. “This is amazing!” she said. “Lord, I’m going to have to go see everyone. Yes, we’ll have to have a party.” She clapped her hands and hugged you again. “Can you let the Marthas know to clean this up? I have to get going.” A playful, devious smirk twisted her mouth as she skipped into the house, congratulating herself. “Oh, they’re going to be so jealous! I’m pregnant!”

You stood, staring down at your belly. It wasn’t obvious, yet--but it wouldn’t be long. The thought of Johana preening, presiding over your stomach like it was her work paralyzed your heart. Had it been any other Commander, any other household, you might have even been relieved to incubate your ticket out of the Colonies, but now, you felt only panic. You didn’t want to give this baby up to her--a desire you never would have anticipated.

But then, none of this had been anything you had the ability to anticipate. A Handmaid was not supposed fuck her Commander outside of the Ceremony, or kiss him, or wake up in his embrace. A Handmaid was not supposed to yearn for her Commander, feel comfort from his  voice, find companionship in his presence, or feel grateful for his brutality and strength. A Handmaid was not supposed to plan her Commander’s downfall, or plan his escape, and especially not plan his future with her in it.

A Handmaid was not supposed to fall in love with her Commander. But you were a Handmaid. And it was too late.

You left the empty birdfeeder and the bag of seed, slinking up the stairs, creeping back to your room. Throat, chest, face tight, you laid in bed, palms planted on your stomach, and breathed. Shutting your eyes, you hoped for the hundred-thousandth time in three years you would wake up in a different world--a world where the father of your child was not your legal owner, a world where another woman was not claiming it as hers, a world where you opened your eyes and you were not alone, and you were free, and you were truly, deservedly loved.

If you fell asleep, you didn’t know--the next thing you recalled was the familiar rumble of the Audi’s engine, dying as it rolled into the driveway.

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #idk I got feelings

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

asks (26)

@spickerzocker​ said:

hey there! just a heads up that i tried to click on the "why i don't ship" explanation link in your faq and it says that there is no post with that url/it's generally broken. also your "a conversation about recovery" thing is beautiful and hurts in the best way and i love it. have a nice day!

Yes, I intentionally took that link down awhile ago, and last night I went and updated some of the tabs on my blog. Here are my basic thoughts:

I wrote that link years and years ago, while I was first navigating the internet and while I was still figuring out important things about my own identity and opinions. I ran my blog differently back then, but by the end of the first few months, I knew I was uncomfortable with shipping. 

As people began to interact with me and my work, I told them over and over again no, I don’t want to talk about that, and I don’t want to write about it, and it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think that was a common position to take at the time, so it wasn’t what people expected from me. 

During those years, I felt like I had to justify myself and give a valid explanation. I wrote that post explaining why I had that boundary, and I put it in a place where anyone could find it.

I said no when people asked, let them make jokes about it, and made jokes about it myself in response. As time went on I got more and more exasperated when I had to repeat myself. I wrote definite rules into my ask box, request tab, and FAQ. People still asked. I wrote it into my description. People still asked. 

The truth is yeah, there’s a pretty simple explanation for my discomfort. It makes sense. It’s easy to understand, and most folks think it’s a “good enough” reason to leave me alone. The difference between young-me and current-me is that I no longer feel the need to justify myself. 

None of y’all need to know why I set the boundaries that I set. My explanation isn’t relevant, and I’m not obligated to give it. I said no. That’s enough. 

I think a good number of folks remember my explanation from the past, and I don’t mind that at all. There may be a time where I talk about it again, in a more appropriate context, so I guess we’ll see.

That’s a lot of information in response to a very helpful ask. Thanks! The link is gone now, and I’m so pleased that you enjoyed the fic :)

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Anonymous said:

U suck

Kenza sent this anon as a joke. She’s right, and I thank her. 

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Anonymous said:

I'm a doctor and ive seen it all.....but the milk fic made me gag

Excellent

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@wingedskyes said:

Ah. Wait. I wasn't on anon....uhm. oh well. It's fine. I like milk and am not ashamed. 😆

I don’t think I received another message from you actually, but I too like milk and I’m glad we’re on the same page

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@thelittleredheadedmusician said:

To add to the milk discussions: my best friend from home and best friend from college have each finished a gallon a milk by themselves within 2 days.

I do that too, every once in awhile. When the milk craving hits it’s a gallon a day

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Anonymous said:

"TIM! POUR HIM. A GLASS OF M A L K!"

Hold on I have to google some things

Yeah this is funny

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Anonymous said:

I have read that milk fic three separate times and every time I’m laughing just as hard as Tim and dick by the end it’s just so excellently executed and builds so perfectly that by the time dick cracks I’m ready to go too and I just lose it it’s amazing I love it

Awww anon I’m so pleased :)

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@the-smartass-under-the-mountain said:

Just wanted to drop by and say your recent fic with Tim antagonizing Damian with increasingly outrageous milk concoctions had me giggling. It was so cute and refreshing to see Dick enjoying Tim's little prank. And Bruce's reaction to just... walk away was fantastic!

Thank you! I’m always so thrilled when y’all think the jokes hit

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@njtheboywonder​ said:

I havnt really enjoyed a fic in years, but i stopped to read ur fanfic with tim drinking milk just to fuck w dami amd it made me smile. Thanks, for writing it.

Oh that warms my heart <3

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@bruciewayneisbatman​ said:

Tim Is totally the guy who would drink ridiculous amounts of dalgona coffee to annoy damian, according to that fic.

Had to google that one, but I guess so huh

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Anonymous said:

(diff anon) but that birthday fic was so good oml and you have opened my eyes as to the batfam in quarantine this is such a Concept

We’re all here dying..... together...

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Anonymous said:

Happy birthday! 🎉 or belated! 🎂 thank you for being in the fandom. 😊

&

Anonymous said:

To anon! Sorry. I forgot to add that! Anyway, thanks to them we get a lovely fic. I hope you have many more birthdays! 😊

Message for you anon

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Anonymous said:

Your writing gives off good vibes

Hear that guys I “passed my vibe check.” Is that what the youth say these days? I am an elder now and I do not know

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Anonymous said:

finding your blog while being relatively new to batman fandom is such a bliss. your batfam content especially is *chef's kiss* amazing.

Thank you my darling :) I’m glad you’re here

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Anonymous said:

Best line in a fic? Hard to pick just one, but this particular one from "Just Desserts" by fyeahbatmanandrobin on Tumblr is one of my faves: “Anyone else would be hard-pressed to provide the particular brand of excitement you bring to my life, Dami.”

&

@noisypaintersong​ said:

For the line thing: "I don't doubt it. Bruce Wayne, the unexpectedly normal guy wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a superhero wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a fake socialite wrapped in a businessman wrapped in a secretive billionaire." He paused. "…You're the seven-layer burrito of Gotham," he pondered. - Barry to Bruce in 'Of Friends and Foes' by Paganpunk2 on FFN. It's one of the funniest things I've read someone say to Bruce LOL

& 

@kirakats​ submitted:

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Anonymous said:

“I do know that according to everyone else, there is no chance, no future, no universe where I stay a hero.” Describes my frustration with the way DC treats Damian so accurately. Let the kid be a hero dammit.

Thanks! That’s really helpful. I’ve got a decent answer to my question now. 

@kurawastaken​ submitted:

So this is Kenza retaliating against me for the milk fic. I very much hate tomatoes and specifically ketchup. This photo (1) is a nightmare and (2) fulfills its intended purpose.

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Anonymous said:

I love your blog!!!

And I love you 

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Anonymous said:

quick question: how do you think jason reconciles with the fam?? i think in the comics they kinda just reboot and now he’s on better terms. but like what conversations happened, yknow??? (you’re doin great work by the way, it rips out my heart but it’s great)

This is an amazing question, and I’ll be thinking about it for the next bit, I think. That would be a really interesting topic to explore in depth

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@angel-gidget​ said:

*hugs you real tight* would you please send this to the first 10 people in your dash? Make sure someone gets a hug today and stay safe!

Oh thank you for the hug <3

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Anonymous said:

I hadn’t been aware of that Memphis petition, but I live in Memphis too (Altho I know you said you just grew up there so you may not be living here currently haha) so ig I just wanted to say thanks for bringing it to my attention!

!!!

I’ve been in Texas for six years now, ever since I started school, but I’m still in and out of Memphis for family purposes. Love the trash heap of my birth 

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@damianwaynerocks​ said:

hey! any chance you know of any other dc heroes around damian’s age?

Sure! You could try Billy Batson, Jon Kent, or Maya Ducard

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Anonymous said:

hi! i don't know if it's okay to leave anons like these but ive been feeling down because my country has passed a bill that deprives us of lots of human rights freedom and i want you to know that i just found your blog through the damian/bruce + justice fic and it comforted me. im slowly going thru your works and so far they are all comforting. i love your stuff, thank you.

Philippines? I’ve heard some things, and I’m real sorry y’all’re going through that. I don’t know that there’s anything I could say about that to help, but I hope you’re finding joy somewhere

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@awesomeness-ofgaybitches​ said:

Tumblr hates you. The links in your bio and to your fic masterlist don't work on mobile. I'm sorry.

FUCK

#I'd like to also take this opportunity to note that at this time #I have blocked 7 people for variations on #okay no ships but what about sailboats?? #but what about the TITANIC #here's a picture of the bat-boat tho #guess what kids it's not creative or funny #and I explicitly said that jokes will get you blocked #I follow through #asks

[writings-in-ebony]

Heritage - Chapter 2 Steve Rogers/Black!reader

Summary: The annual Gathering is approaching causing all Irish wolves to come and celebrate their history together during a five-day week filled with feasts, games, entertainment, and storytelling. However, The Hunt is also during this time and Steve is volun-told to participate in this Coming-of-Age ceremony by none other than his grandfather. To have a successful hunt, one must possess all the attributes of a wolf to succeed, but Steve doesn’t have that. How can he successfully complete the challenge (and not die) when he can barely make it down the stairs without collapsing into an asthmatic fit?

Author’s note: Hello everyone! Sorry for the late submission, but life outside has a way of killing the writing muse and distracting me. I struggled through the beginnings of his chapter, but as you can tell, steam was picked up as my excitement grew. I would also like to point out that I tried to do extensive research on wolf mythology in Irish culture. If it is not accurate, please let me know and I’ll promptly correct it. I like to be as concise as possible with my works. As always, likes and reblogs are well received and I love comments and asks! Thanks again, everyone!

P.S. I’m sorry the reader has not shown up yet! It’s such a slow burn but I want to build the story up!

Word Count: 3341

Warnings: Bad language and a singular event of physical abuse

Chapter 2: The Hunt Part I

Cashel watched on as the contractors he hired lifted a wooden beam that would eventually be part of an intricate large tent. The tent will house three long wooden tables and benches, all made from the wood of the ash trees that grew in his homeland. They didn’t take long to import and the wood maker he had hired was a family friend. The man has been making crafts for them for well over twenty years and there was just something special about his work that caused them to keep requesting. With the tables that Cashel needed for this event, he specially carved the family’s crest into the top of the table and poured resin into the gaps to smooth it back out. It was beautiful and each tabletop was glossed and stained to bring out the rustic coloring. Marvelous, he had praised when he first saw them released from the shipping box.

One of the workers was drilling in the beam when his assistant, a relatively young wolf by the name of Finnian, approached him with his notebook in hand. The lad was lean, average height, and had a soft face that didn’t match his stern, cold eyes. Cashel had recruited him during the latter parts of the fifties, and he has been pleased with his work ever since. Finnian was prompt, organized, and quick on his feet whenever things went south. Cashel had also noted the young man had a dark streak to him, which complemented his unwavering loyalty to the family and his boss.

Finnian, who was already opening his notebook before he reached Cashel, was looking to finalize plans, receive a few confirmations, and update Cashel on all the arrangements and changes that are taking place. “Sir, I need to update you on a few things,” he had begun, formal and professional about everything.

“Firstly, I confirmed the menu with the chef, and he has already begun making preparations for the dinner. The baker has delivered the cakes and pies. However, she tried to skimp on one, but she was able to dock off some of the cost after some nudging. The contactors are, as you know, in the middle of their building and they will be done well in advance.” Cashel nodded, pleased with the news. But he didn’t say anything because he knew Finnian wasn’t done.

“Now, as for the Coming of Age ceremony, I have made sure that there are roadblocks and barriers put in place to prevent any…unnecessary leavings of the property. There are also barrier markers in the woods at the edge of the land. And some of the men have volunteered to stand watch and prevent anyone from entering and leaving without permission. As for the ceremony, I have three boy’s names down: Matt, Sean, and Miguel.”

“Steve,” Cashel provided. Finnian’s eyes widened and he paused at Cashel’s sudden addition. Without looking at the lad’s face, Cashel continued. “Add Steve’s name. He shall be participating in the Coming of Age ceremony, too. And make sure he and his mother are notified.”

“But sir, Steve…” he trailed off, wondering if it was his place to ask the question.

“I understand. Steve is lacking the physical qualities that are preferred to participate in The Hunt, but I believe he can still participate with what he has. The boy is smart, and a fighter. I know he is the runt to everyone else, but there is something under that weak exterior that is trying to fight its way out. And I want to be there when it does.” Cashel’s words didn’t ease Finnian in the slightest. In fact, they worried him and confused him. The boy was going to die, Finnian thought as he wrote down his name under the list of participants.

 ~~

“He wants me to do what?!” Steve screamed, face red and blotchy as he looked into Bucky’s worried eyes. “I-I can’t do the Coming of Age ceremony! I-I’m not, I c-can’t even run to the bathroom without having an asthma attack and increasing my risk of heart failure! And now the old coot wants me to compete against my strong ass cousins in an effort to show off what, my ability to die at the slightest breeze?!” He was breathing very heavily, almost wheezing, and Bucky reached into his pocket for the back-up inhaler.

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Bucky softly answered, but the responding glare aimed back at him told him that wasn’t the best approach. “Okay, listen, you’ll be given the tools you need to complete the challenge okay? And guess what, knowing you, you’ll do great!”

Steve flopped down on the bed, shrinking into himself and putting his face into his hands. “I knew my grandfather was trying to kill me. I bet he’s like, ‘Oh ho ho, let’s put him in the ceremony. That way he can die without it being on anyone’s conscious.’ Acting like I’m not the fucking runt.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I know that’s not your voice I hear dishing out that horrible language,” came his mother’s stern voice. Steve jumped in surprise and watched his mother enter the room, a garment bag dangling over her arm.

“Sorry mam,” he grumbled. Bucky stood to the side and watched as Mrs. Rogers went to the bed and laid the garment bag down.

“Apology accepted,” she smirked, unzipping the front and exposing about five outfits for Steve. Her son let out an irritated groan and she quickly shut him up. “No, none of that. You know this is an important event and you need to look the part. Especially given you’re now in the ceremony!” She looked excited, but Bucky could smell the presence of nervousness and fear. She felt the same hesitations as Steve, but she couldn’t voice them unless she wanted to discourage her son. Even so, the matter was out of her hands.

“Now, c’mon and try on these outfits. I want my son to look good for the ladies this weekend!”

 ~~

The Hunt was only a small celebration within a larger one called The Gathering. The Gathering was the annual meeting of Irish wolves to celebrate their origin, survival, and thriving heritage. It has been held for centuries, usually somewhere within Ireland, but after the Gathering of 42’, it was decided that it should be held within America. It was a safety and security issue, and Cashel had taken up the mantle of hosting the event at his mountain estate every year.

The Gathering consisted of five days of events and various festivities. The first day was dedicated to the history of Irish wolves and everything involving the lore and stories behind their origins. A huge bonfire will be erected, and everyone will gather around to listen to the elders' recount old tales, both scary and mesmerizing. Steve always loved the tales, even if he’s heard them every year. They were so inspiring and made him proud to be part of a family with so much history. They told tales of the Laignach Faelad, a tribe of wolf-men who followed under the cruel rule of Crom Cruach and demanded payment in the form of newborn babies. Or the fight between Morrigan and Cúchulainn and how the goddess shifted into a giant wolf and caused destruction in her path. The stories were also exaggerated to make them more outlandish, but they were always entertaining, and everyone listened attentively every year as if they were brand new.

The second day would be dedicated to various games, tournaments, and music. It was an all-day party that ended in a giant feast and all the alcohol anyone could dream of. There wasn’t much Steve could do on this day since it mostly required you have the strength and skills of a wolf, so he usually just cheered his cousins on as he stood off to the side.

The third was a day of rest. A day where everyone tried to get over their hangovers and compose themselves before the big ceremony. A simple dinner was held, and it was usually a peaceful affair. There might be some rowdy individuals, but most just ate their dinner and either talked about the previous day or the one to come.

The fourth day was the big ceremony: The Coming-of-Age ceremony. This is where the chosen youth come forward and participate in a challenge and upon successful completion, they will fully be recognized as adults. It was a very important event amongst the family and every young wolf must participate if they want to be accepted and respected. The ceremony started with another big feast. The participants are sat in the middle of the table and given a hearty helping of food to increase their energy. Once that is done, the elders will announce each of them and give a speech on what it means to be an Irish wolf. And then, begins The Hunt.

 ~~

Steve was brought out of his thoughts when he realized his name was being called repeatedly. He gazed up from the book in his hand (he wasn’t actively reading it anyway) and saw his father standing in the doorway. His face was a mix between nervousness and irritation, probably because he has been calling his son’s name numerous times. “Yeah?” Steve asked, curious as to why his father was here. He never came to Steve’s room. It was like a silent agreement between the two. They stayed out of each other’s way and never had to deal with each other. But here they were, staring at each other as Joseph leaned against the frame of Steve’s bedroom door, looking at Steve with a weird smirk on his face.

“I just wanted to see how my son was doing,” Joseph chuckled. Steve’s frown deepened. This was highly unusual. Joseph saw the open expression of confusion cross his son’s face and his own smirk faltered. “What, I can’t see how you are doing?”

“You never come here,” Steve shot back. Was there something he did wrong? Did his father want something from him?

Realizing that Steve was not buying the fact his father became suddenly attentive and caring, Joseph eased off the doorframe and entered the room. “I heard you are participating in The Hunt.”

“Yeah, granddad volunteered me. Apparently, he has this notion that I’d be a great candidate for it, and I need to have the “experience”,” he raised his hands and did an air-quote on the word “experience.”

Joseph shifted his feet and chuckled, “Yeah, that’s your grandfather for you. Always making decisions for himself without considering others. But you know you can opt-out of it right?” Steve closed his book, narrowing his eyes at his father.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, son, let’s be real. If you go out there, you’re going to die, and it won’t be pretty either. Your mother is already worried sick about you going into this thing without a lick of strength and skills to guide you. So, yeah, you can save yourself by opting out. It won’t hurt anyone’s feelings and I’ll make sure your grandfather knows. Okay?” He actually had the audacity to aim a smile at Steve, like he didn’t just propose that he become the ultimate coward in front of his family.

“No one has ever backed out of The Hunt before,” Steve sneered.

“I know, I know, but listen. It won’t be that problematic. I’ll talk to the elders; your granddad and I’ll make sure you catch no slack from it. Everyone will understand why you want to opt-out.”

“So, you want me to…to become a damn coward?! To become the only person in the entire Rogers family, no scratch that. In the entire history of Irish wolves, to not participate in The Hunt? Really? You really think I want that on my name along with the fact I’m a literal runt?!” His voice raised at his father because he couldn’t believe his father would try to talk him out of something so important. Now, don’t get him wrong, Steve didn’t want to participate in the ceremony to begin with, but he’d have to at some point. So, he wanted to go ahead and get it out the way, hoping that luck was on his side and he wouldn’t die in the process. But he didn’t think his father’s hatred for him was deep enough to talk Steve out of finally being seen as something more than a stain on the family. No, Joseph didn’t want to be seen as the man who had an embarrassment for a son. He’d rather his son live his life silently as a runt than go out and get himself humiliated and killed during such an important event. It would only solidify the fact that he might not be a great heir to inherit the Rogers throne. He’d be the man who carried the weakest genes.

“I didn’t come here to start a fight, Steve. I’m only trying to protect you,” he began but was immediately cut off.

“You came here to protect your image. Not once have you shown any concern for me. No, you only care about what I’d make you look like if I participated in The Hunt. Well, sorry, Dad, I’m going to be in The Hunt and if I die, so be it.”

Joseph’s eyes flared a bright, blinding blue, his anger clear across his face. “You are a selfish child! And I don’t need you to solidify my place as a family heir anyway because your grandfather has already made it known that he will announce an heir to the family this weekend. And since your uncles have no knowledge of any of the business that goes on with the family, guess who is left to lead? ME.”

“Oh great! An ego booster that you don’t need.”

“I will not be disrespected by some child who can’t even breathe straight half the time. Especially one who is willing to put their mother through the pain of losing a child!”

“Is it comparable to the pain you put her through when you fuck around with other women?” The slap didn’t register to Steve until his face was already turned towards the other wall. The sting of his cheek followed soon after and he could already feel it swelling. When he turned his head back forwards, he saw his father standing over him, eyes blazing with sweltering anger. His hand was still raised, and his breathing was coming out more raggedly as if he had just run a mile. Steve glared right back at him, hoping his face was showing the same level of hatred.

“Sir, Mr. Cashel has requested you to be at his mansion as soon as possible. He’s looking to speak with you on some of the plans for the weekend,” Bucky piped in, face stoic and composed. Joseph, hearing the man’s voice, jumped back from Steve and straightened himself out.

“Ah, yes. I’ll be there shortly,” and with that, he hurried from the room. Bucky watched the man leave, waiting until he was around a corner before entering Steve’s room and shutting the door. He quickly went to the bathroom and prepared a warm towelette covered in water and rubbing alcohol. Steve silently took it and placed it on his cheek.

They sat in silence for a good minute, listening to the sounds of cars as they passed by the front of the house. “How much did you hear?” Steve eventually asked, eyes aimed at the window.

“Enough,” Bucky supplied, sounding grim.

“Do you think I’m in the wrong?” Steve turned to look this time. Bucky’s face softened and his head slowly shook from side to side.

“No…You have every right to do it,” Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, aiming a small smile at Steve. “Plus, you have that determined look. Even if I tell you no, you’ll still do it anyway.”

“You’re damn right,” Steve grumbled. “I’ll show them all I can do it. Even if it does kill me.”

 ~~

Things with Joseph did not get resolved by the time the weekend started. Sarah, who was ignorant of the exact reason why her boys were acting strange, tried to ease the tension with conversation and excited talk about the events to come. But it did nothing but make the long drive up to the mountains more awkward. She had given up three-fourths of the way and they all just sat quietly as the radio droned on.

When they reached Cashel’s mountain estate, they saw that there were already quite a few people already there. Eight cars were neatly parked in a line towards the edge of the lot and Steve recognized two to belong to his Uncles Brennan and Aiden. Joseph must have recognized them too because he was currently cursing under his breath.

Everyone in the family knew that Joseph was not liked by his uncles, Cashel’s brothers. And while Steve didn’t know the exact details of what caused the dissonance, he faintly heard that his father had said the wrong thing at the wrong time and has been on their hate list since then. Add that to the fact they thought of him as a lowly individual and constantly berated him whenever things went to hell. If they thought that bad of him now, wait until they heard he was being considered as the next leader. Steve can already imagine the looks of disapproval and distaste.

Thankfully, Steve and his mother never had an issue with Cashel’s brothers. If anything, they adored Sarah and Steve and wondered how both of them ended up stuck with Joseph for a husband and a father. It was hilarious and they made Joseph the butt of their jokes whenever he came around. And while Sarah tried to defend him, Steve always laughed along and agreed with half the shit they said. Mainly because it was true.

They climbed out of the car and walked towards the front of the mansion, already consumed by its great shadow. The large wooden front door was opened to reveal Cashel, who looked down upon them with a huge smile and a glass of wine in his right hand. “Son! Daughter-in-law! Grandson! Welcome!” he cried. Deeper within the mansion, music could be heard, and someone’s laughter cut through.

“Hello, father,” Joseph uttered as he crossed the threshold. He bypassed Cashel’s open arms and made his way further inside. However, it was noted the way he looked around as if looking for someone. Or maybe trying to hide from a specific pair of individuals.

Sarah, on the other hand, walked into her father-in-law’s open arms and hugged him. She smiled brightly and started giving compliments to the Cashel about the house and how she was looking forward to another year of enjoyment. Cashel thanked her and eased her inside. But he paused and looked back at Steve. Steve stood just outside the door and looked up at his grandfather’s face. The man’s merry smile was replaced with something darker, more mischievous. As if he was hiding a secret that only he knew.

“And hello Steven,” the man grinned, making Steve suddenly uncomfortable.

“Hey, granddad,” he muttered.

“Are you excited about this weekend?” The smile was gone, replaced by his signature intense stare.

“I don’t know if I’ll do good. I mean, I’m not really cut out for…The Hunt, or anything. I don’t want to disappoint you or the family,” Steve gulped, hating he was showing any slight weakness in front of Cashel. But what he didn’t expect was his grandfather’s firm grip on his shoulder, pulling him into the mansion and leading him through the hallway towards the music.

“Don’t worry Steven. I believe you are fully capable of completing the ceremony. And hell, you might even surprise us.” Steve looked up at his grandfather’s face, trying to read the man, but there was nothing but a knowing smile. And before he could inquire the man about what he said, he was called away.

Previous Chapter <-- ---> Next Chapter 

Taglist: 

@mygirlrenee​

@sunlightandkisses​

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x poc!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #black!reader #poc!reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #heritage fanfiction #fanfiction

[jj-lynn21]

Cozy Cove:  A side of tits with your pancakes

song: Creedence Clearwater Revival - Suzie Q. warnings: light smut perhaps, cheesy romance most definitely, a dash of angst.

Saved by an Angel , A side of tits with your pancakes ,Fires Burn Hot , spending the nights , Learning and Loving , The end id not always the end,    Axel Grease, Big Decisions, Sex and Jet Skis, Late night fun , Old Wounds , Storms pass , Dangerous Waters

Susie relaxes in a lounge chair on the sand a few feet away from the beach cottage she is staying at with her parents. The sun is already hot at early day break. Her iced mocha is beside her. A book, California dreaming, is in her hand.

 Axel saunters up throwing his shadow over her. She grins internally, but keeps reading as if she doesn't notice.

"Hey," He bounces from one foot to other nervously, "What's up?"

"Reading," She didn't look at him when she answered. "No dangerous activities to do this morning?"

Axel  chuckled, "not at the moment." He runs his hand through his hair winces as he goes over the stitches. He keeps forgetting they are there until he touches them. "You want to go for a walk on the beach? That shouldn't put me in too much peril."

Susie taps the front of her book with one finger.

"Oh, yeah you're reading," He bounces a little more before he turns to walk away ego a little deflated. "I guess. I'll catch ya later."

She rolls her eyes as she closes her book with a bookmarker saving her place. "Maybe, you will catch me." 

She giggles and he turns back around surprised. "I didn't think you would give up so easily Axel." She gets up and runs down the empty beach. 

Axel runs after her. "I just knew you wanted to be chased. I wanted you to get a good head start Susie Q." 

Her Mother has been watching her and the tattooed local from the kitchen window. "What do think of this, Richard?" Her Mother motions for her Father to also eavesdrop. "I'm not so sure she should be hanging around with a local that probably goes through vacationing women like tissue."

Susie's Father glances out the window, "He looks pretty nervous to me. That is not the stance of a regular local predator. Plus, Susie is twenty-seven years old, and she has made good decisions in her life so far. Let her have some fun. We have to trust we raised a strong girl, Sandra."

"I suppose we do," She takes a deep breath as she sees her daughter run off laughing and the boy running after her daughter down the beach until they are too far to see.

 Susie runs down the beach laughing until she can barely catch her breath. When Axel catches up, he grabs her from behind picking her up. He spins as she kicks her feet outward until he falls back on the sand. 

Susie looks up in his memorizing emerald eyes, "I guess you caught me, Axel."

Axel has his elbow propping up his head in the sand as he catches his breath, "I think you wanted me to catch you, Susie Q." He smiles as his free hand runs up her side moving to go under her tank top. 

Susie pushes his hand down to her hip. "I'm not as easy as other vacationers you might have been involved with."

He puts his hands behind his head before laying back. "I'm not fucking every female that comes through town like that. I have had relationships with some local chicks that didn't work out for a multitude of reasons and on occasion I have had fun with those that come to vacation her but I don't make it a habit. I learned most people that vacation here use me as part of the atmosphere. Just another vacation story to tell their friends. I don't want to be a good vacation story. I rather be a good friend someone makes while vacationing and maybe even keep in touch. Its stupid thinking really." He sighs deeply looking up at the puffy white clouds floating in the blue sky of sunshine.

She leans over on his shoulder. "Sorry Axel. To many guys are assholes."

He puts an arm around her and runs the tips of his finger over her arm. "I know. Is this ok?"

"Yeah," she got chills from the sensation but it was nice. 

They laid there in a comfortable silence watching the clouds pass for longer than they realized. Axel's stomach made an audible growling sound.  

"Have you had breakfast yet?" He kept his eyes up and his fingers gliding up and down her arm. 

"No, just most of my coffee," She had to admit she was hungry. 

"I know a place we can get the best pancakes and eggs," He got up and offered her his hand.

She jumped up letting him help her but had a huge smirk on her face, "Let me guess, your place?"

"Boy you have run into some assholes," He shook his head. "We are going to Karen's. Its the diner in town. Best pancakes and eggs you will ever have. I promise you that."

"Let's go," She smiled. 

They walk hand-in-hand over to his motorcycle. He gets on and grabs the keys waiting for Susie to join him. 

She gets on the back reluctantly. "Is this thing really safe without a helmet?"

Axel starts the cycle revving it a little, "The safest thing you will have vibrating between your legs this summer."

"What was that?" She yells over the rev.

"Just hold on Susie Q." He starts off.

She wraps her arms around his middle laying her head against his back. Axel goes the speed limit for once since he got the beast. Its twenty-five through town, and he barely goes that fast wanting her to get use to the riding before showing her what real power can feel like at a good speed. She leans with him into the turns which take her breath away. It is scary but also exhilarating. They pull in behind the restaurant in minutes. 

Axel walks her around the building to the entrance where he sees his brothers and co-workers inside. He freezes, "Maybe we should come back after the breakfast crowd clears out?"

"Don't be silly,": She slaps his chest. "Its not that crowded."

"Yeah, alright," He quickly drags her through the restaurant to a booth he thinks is a little more secluded. Puts the menus up to hide them even more just at the waitress comes over to take their order.

"What will it be?" The young waitress looks to Axel with a big smile. "Hey Axel, the usual today?"

"That would be great Jen." He smiles back.

"Are you working this afternoon," She bites at the inside of her lip. "I have been meaning to stop by for you to check under my hood. Could use an oil change or something more." She doesn't even choose to notice Susie.

"I probably have time to give your car an oil change," Axel rubbed the back of his neck. "I work two until ten tonight. Susie is going to get the same breakfast as I do. I told her they make the best pancakes in town here." Axel reach over to told Susie's hand.

"Oh hey," Jen finally acknowledged her. "Oranges juices with that?"

They both nodded yes. Axel's brother Josh noticed them just as the waitress walked away. He hoped over the seat beside Susie and put his arm around her. "If you ever want a man that will save you instead of you having to save him, I'm around, babe." 

Axel glared at him. He was just about to call him out when Susie spoke up as she pulled away from Josh, "Go play in the kiddy pool," She stared at Josh coldly. "The only one that needs saving is you if you don't remove your arm."

Josh jumps back removing his arm and laughs, "Alright miss feisty." He stands and slaps Axel's shoulder as everyone stares at the situation. 

Axel smirks, "Don't you have to get to work. The beach opens to the public in ten minutes."

"Yeah man, I'll catch you later at the bonfire tonight." He walks out still a little stunned the vacationer put him in his place like that.

"Here you go summer girl," Jen put their drinks on the table. "Axel, she smiles. Pancakes and eggs will be right up sweet boy."

Axel blushes, "Thanks Jen."

Susie smirked, "You date her or something?"

"I would maybe rank it under or something," Axel fumbled with her fingers in his hand. "You sure put Josh in his place quickly. I was about to deck him, Susie Q.:"

"And then I take both of you bleeding to your Father?" She chuckled. "Glad I spoke up when I did then. Let's try to keep you from getting hurt the rest of the time I am here." 

"No promises but I'll do my best." Axel chuckled, "You want to go..."

"Here is your pancakes and eggs," Jen smiles showing off the deep cleavage of her tight uniform that hugged every curve perfectly. "And multi syrups since i know you like variety."

He look up at her eyes, "Thanks, this will do fine for now." 

Susie sat back crossing her arm just waiting for the waitress to leave. As soon as Jen left she leaned  forward again as Axel started to eat. "You were saying before the waitress put her tits in your face?"

Axel swallowed his bite. It felt heavy in his throat as he heard Susie's claim which he knew was true. He took a big gulp of his juice before answering. "Susie Q. will you go to the bonfire with me tonight after I get off work? Or maybe just meet me there if you don't want to wait until close to eleven to go?"

"I will think about it." She pours some pecan syrupy on her pancakes. "So what is with the Susie Q. shit anyway?" She said gruffly. She is unsure if she wants to go to some townie bonfire with Axel's asshole brother, probably his other asshole brother and more chicks falling all over Axel that he fucked. The more she thought about it the more pissed off she got which she tried to hide on the outside by stabbing her food to eat it. 

"That's cool," Axel takes another bite of his breakfast looking around. "You need to hear something to know why I like calling you Susie Q." He gets up and goes to the Jukebox updated with digital recordings but still older music from the 50s, 60s and 70s. He pushed a few buttons and a song started playing. He sat back down. 

"This is one of my favorite songs on here for some reason." He finishes his orange juice as the long musical interlude played on. "It is called Suzie Q. by Creedence Clearwater Revival."

Susie gives him a half smile. Her anger still slightly bubbling. What breaks her is when Axel begins to sing. He sings bad. Really awful actually, but there is a lot of heart behind it.

Axel sings: Oh, Susie Q, Oh, Susie Q Oh, Susie Q, Baby I love you, Susie Q I like the way you walk I like the way you talk I like the way you walk I like the way you talk, Susie Q

Well, say that you'll be true well, say that you'll be true, Well, say that you'll be true and never leave me blue, Susie Q

Well, say that you'll be mine well, say that you'll be mine, Well, say that you'll be mine, baby all the time, Susie Q

Oh Susie Q, Oh Susie Q Oh Susie Q, Baby I love you, Susie Q

I like the way you walk I like the way you talk I like the way you walk I like the way you talk, Susie Q.

Oh Susie Q, Oh susie Q Oh Susie Q, Baby I love you, Susie Q 

The restaurant clears out his singing is so bad.. Or maybe everyone is done with their breakfast ready to open other local business to the tourists staying or coming in for the day. Susie is laughing and smiling. It is a little embarrassing but also real sweet.. "I get it now Axel. I get it and I love it."

His brother Eric walks over to him with a coffee to go before he starts his construction job. He leans down to whisper, "Maybe, you shouldn't sing in public." He looks to Susie with a smile. "Good to see you again. Susie, is it?"

"Yes, and you are?" Susie smirked.

"This is my older brother Eric." Axel introduces them. "Eric, Susie is the girl that saved me."

"I figured." Alex took a sip of his coffee. "Have a good day. I'm bringing my guitar tonight and you will hear some good singing." he chuckles as he leaves.

"All your brothers like to bust your balls, don't they?" Susie suggested.

Jen came to clear the dishes. Her breasts blatantly tosses in Axel's view again. "Two checks today?"

Susie said, "Yes."

Axel looked around the waitress, "No, let me get it as a thank you, Susie Q."

Susie nodded, "Ok, one check." She smiled taking his hand as she ignored the waitress.

Axel paid and they walked out to his motorcycle. He sits on the edge and pulls her between his legs. "Sorry, that wasn't the nice breakfast I want to have with you."

"The Pancakes were excellent as you said they would be." She ran her fingers through his hair. "But I could have done without the side of tits."

They both laughed.

#axel cluney #axel and susie q #fanfic #fan fiction #bill skarsgard #valter skarsgård #Valter Skarsgard as Josh #alex skarsgard #Alex Skarsgard as Eric

[onepunchmiss]

OPM s2e12 Live Blog

“The Wiping of the Disciple’s Butt”

The season finale. I’m nauseous. Lets begin. 

As always, I’m watching from the perspective of someone who has read the manga and webcomic. 

Right where we left off. Again I love the music. I’m just like, really calm right now actually. hhhhhhhhhhhokay. OOF oh god all the crunching sound effects oh no, this is already so weird watching Garou get his ass handed to him since he’s pretty much curb stomped every other hero in battle thus far, or at the VERY LEAST avoided taking so many hits. This. is so uncomfortable to watch. WOAH ????? THESE SHOTS WERE ONLY THERE FOR A SPLIT SECOND BUT??? HOLY SHIT???

GAROU’S HAIR OH MY GOD 

Oh god oh god Bang is relentless this hurts please stop guys GUYS PLZ  HAS NO ONE REALISED THAT NOT ONE HERO HAS DIED CMON PLZ IT HURTS calm down stop trying to kill him plsplspls OH

THIS 

IS WHY

WE STAN GAROU

HE SAYS FUCK DEATH HOW ABOUT I JUST GET STRONGER INSTEAD QUE EPIC THEME MUSIC

oh god damnit him legit running on all fours right there just looks goofy tho F “preposterous style” Bang you aint lying asdfghjkl really though OH MY GOD EVERYONE IS DRAWN SO BEAUTIFULLY THIS IS SO BLESSED 

WAIT 

NO OPENING THEME???????????????????? WHAT?????????????????????? WHY????????????????????????? ONE, I WANTED TO SEE THE CHIBI OF THE WEEK AND 2 

I WASNT PREPARED FOR MY FAVORITE DOPEY BIRD MAN THE FUCK PHOENIXMAN PLS NO ILY I know people hate him a lot but I just really dig how he feels like a fleshed out character compared to most other monsters, like he’s legit lookit him being all smart and stuff plz I just,,,,,,,,,,,, want to hug dumb fluffy birb ;-;

Woah again I’m being blown away by the animation??? Garou getting smacked around is really fluid and this just looks really cool in general?????

FUCK I CANT DO FLASHBACKS MAN JUST HEARING THE KID VOICE MAKED MY STOMACH LURCH OH NO 

OH NO I SCREAM OH NO I CANT OH NO GIMME 5 MINUTES PLEASE I CANNOT BBY NO I FORGOT ADULT GAROU IS IN THE FLASHBACK WATCHING THIS TIME PLS NO 

LIKE???????? I got kinda a comedic vibe watching him comment on it in the manga but the slow music and shit is just FUKKIN ME UP RIGHT NOW I HATE IT THANKS IT HURTS

oh god his face he has the seething thousand mile stare of quiet rage and its burning a hole STRAIGHT THROUGH MY ENTIRE BEING “But me I was the loner kid. Always gloomy and without friends” STOP. YOU STOP THAT RIGHT THIS INSTANT. IM CRYING AT U RIGHT NOW STOP

NO DONT HOLD HIM LET HIM GO S T O P OR SO HELP ME i can’t watch this what the fuck “I was always the loser” SHIT this legitimately hurts me “I dont want to be the monster anymore” GArou hey did you hear that part?? hEY GAROU DID YOU HEAR YOURSELF THERE??? 

WHAT DID I SAY WHAT THE F DID I JUST SAY STOP HOLDING HIM STOP STOPPIT  THE HELL MAN What if……….. I just go BACK IN TIME AND ADOPT BB GAROU CAN I DO THAT IS THIS POSSIBLE IS THIS ALLOWED ? ?? ?

oh my god it keeps getting worse. I mean. I already knew garou was being disproportionately reprimanded for what he supposedly did, but watching this scene just fucking kicked me in the teeth. As if my stomach wasn’t already in knots. The fuck . why does this hurt so much more watching than reading the frustration in seeping into me ffffff.

This looks really cool but, i can barely focus on that because im pretty much being exsanguinated on the floor over here by this whole sequence look at him crying. do it for me cause I sure as hell can’t 

“I want to strike a blow for the little guy”

Fukkin GETTEM GO GETTEM 

HOLY SHIT HIS VA IS GOING T F OFF 

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH LOOKIT HIM ILY SO MUCH SAVE THE DAY BIRB SAVE 

ASDFGHJKL THIS IS SO INTENSE EVERYONE IS SO INTENSE I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS BUT HOLY SHIT FUCK IM SCREAMING GAROU IS SCREAMING BANG AND BOMB SCREAMING GENOS AND EVEN PHOENIXMAN EVEN THE MUSIC IS SCREAM WE ALL JUST SC R E M

OH MY GOD AND THE LITTLE HEAD NOT GENOS AND BANG GIVE EACHOTHER SAVING THE HEROES OH MY GOD OH FUCK AND THE WAY THEY ANIMATE BANG JUMPING AROUND IS DOPE AS HELL AND ALSO HOLY SHIT ELDER CENTIPEDE I MISSED THE UNSETTLING SMOOTH CG LIKE ANIMATION FOR THE CENTIPEDES EVERY CELL IN MY BODY IS JUST SCREAMING RN I AM OVERLOAD HELP 

Garou flailing in the air in Phoenixman’s grip is … really adorable oh my god. “It’s your fault for not finishing them” ooooooo that shut him up didn’t it oof. Also nice cameo by Tatsumaki there 

ASDFGHJKL THE MUSIC AGAIN I LOVE IT I LOVE THEM LOOK AT THEM OH MY GOD 

THIS IS SO BAD ASS

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS IS SO BADASS

Genos’s eye static, The brother’s fists swirling, THE FUKKIN CARAPACE SHATTERING 

THIS FIGHT IS SO WILD MY COMPUTER CANT EVEN TAKE IT. ITS GLITCHING AND FREEZING UP HOLY SHIT

oh god ok the face coming out of the face was pure nightmare fuel alright then

WAIT

I FORGOT GENOS IS A SELF SACRIFICING DUMBASS. NO IM NOT READY GENOS YOU DOOF LISTEN TO KUSENO LISTEN TO HIM 

oh no 

oh no

im crying oh no

this animation is beautiful first of all and the music like im just here this is where I’m at and I’m crying oh no 

He’s an angel. A literal angel. Look at that and tell me he doesn’t look like a fucking angel in the sky with the rays of light casting shadows around him. 

Genos you are too good and pure for this world but that DOESNT MEAN TRY TO GET YOURSELF KILLED 

Shit they really made it look like he was gonna self destruct there for a second which MADE HIS LAST STAND EVEN MORE INTENSE OH MY GOD SWEETHEART Y’all ever get into a show because you keep seeing one character that catches your interest, and you keep seeing them pop up on your dash or wherever until you finally decide ‘well fuckit, this is the asshole that’s gonna get me to finally watch the show’, cause you’re already invested in them anyway? Genos did that for me with OPM. If this fool didn’t exist Who knows how long it would’ve taken me to get to watching OPM, if ever. And shit like this is why I STILL love him. I usually move on to new faves 90% of the time but nope. Genos earned his spot and is keeping it. Look at this insane shit. My heart. Uhg

Enough gushing asdfghjkl ok but Genos, you just went INTO THE DAMNED THING’s STOMACH,,,,, and you’re SURPRISED that there’s STOMACH ACID?? But real talk. What the EVERLONG FUCK is that thing’s insides made out of? How did it NOT DIE. the FuCK

asdfghjkl Phoenixman’s chuckle???? I love 

Oh Bang no, this is wrenching my heart like I know that he doesn’t actually use his power but its built up so intensely like,,, would he be ok if he did??? and actually more concerningly since it even WAS brought up that he has some hidden true strength, will we EVER get to see that??? Oh Shit well when they word it as “All the power left to me in this life” then yeah, that seems pretty life or death ish???? THE FUCK 

Oh thank god comedic relief is here I feel like i’m about to have a heart attack my chest is so tight hhhhhh ok breathe WAIT THIS ISNT COMEDIC THIS IS BADASS AS HELL JEEZUS witht he flashbacks to the Saitama encounter and THIS LOOK

The Anime is really fucking with the audience huh??? Making it look like KIngs about to throw hands like???????????? OH SHIT AND THIS MUSIC IS DOPE AS HELL TOO IM JUST laughing I have so much excessive energy right now???

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHZAHAHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASDFGHJKLJHGFDSWERTGYHUIUJHGFDFGHJKJHGFRE THE FUKKIN SONG THEY BROUGHT IT BACK THE ULTIMATE SONG I GOT THREE NOTES IN JUST THREE NOTES AND I KNOW IM SCREAMING I GOTTA GO RUN BRB 

IM STILL SCREAMING FADFJSAGFJDSLKAHVFSKLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OUR MAIN MAN THERE HE IS THERE HE IS IM GONNA THROW UP 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

OH MY FUCK THATS WHAT THE OPENING SEQUENCE EXPLOSION WAS FROM OH GOD OH FUCK BEAUTIFUL THIS IS BEAUTIFUL OH FUCK OH GOD 

The REPRISE oh no oh NO OH NO OH NO NO ITS NOT OVER im not ready its not I cant no no no i dont want to press play cause if I press play it will end soon no no no Oh my god and at the end there isnt gonna be a title card for the next episode because THERE IS NO NEXT EPISODE no non o nonononon on on on ono no no no 

NO 

HEY IVE BEEN RIPPED OFF. WHERES THE FACE WITH HIS HAIR BLOWN BACK??? ASDFJKL fine I cant even be mad everything else was tooo  ofdbghjfshkggfhsjgbfhjka

KING WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT REACTION ASDFGHJKL W H A T 

WAIT THEY ARE DOING THE OPENING THEME AT THE END NO I CANT HANDLE SEEING EVERYOONE NOW OF ALL TIMES GOD DAMNIT WHY ok yknow what. I knew it would be king. I dont know how but i did 

Wha

wh

fkin cliffhanger no please no 

I.. I’m kind of at a loss for words. I’m. That’s it, huh? It’s really over. It doesn’t FEEL over. There’s so much unfinished business. Well, the only way to really neatly wrap everything up as neatly as S1 did would have been to get ALL THE WAY through the Garou arc, which obviously wasn’t going to happen, but this is not a great spot to leave off if we’re going to endure another few years hiatus. My hope is that, with biweekley manga updates, we should wrap up the Monster Association/Garou stuff (assuming it doesn’t diverge from the web comic too much) some time next year, and I’m HOPING that s3 is already being planned accordingly along side manga publications. So MAYBE it will at least be announced around that time 2020. That’s my wishful thinking at least. I don’t think I can survive 3 years. anyway

You could really tell JC Staff poured their hearts and souls into these last 2 episodes. Absolutely gorgeous, paced well, so completely satisfying and making every second of s2 worth while. For me, at least. I’ve already seen people still complaining and I’m just sorry they didn’t have as much fun as I did. 

Seriously, thank each and every one of you guys. This has been a wild ride, I’ve barely had this blog a few weeks before season 2 started airing (and honestly just got into opm maybe a month before that?), so I owe a lot of the success on the blog to the anime I bet. This was the first series I’ve never tried live bogging, and I honestly can’t believe that they were as popular as they were? Especially since I never have any idea what I’m doing but yall listen to me ramble anyway?? Yall are crazy thank you so so so much. Now my tuesdays are gonna feel really empty… next week is gonna be weird as hell. Though I’m gonna get mad nostalgic good vibes rewatching this season in the future in no small part from sharing my experience with everyone who's stuck around. I can’t say see yall next week this time, but, see you next season whenever it may be for sure.

#live blogging #one punch man #opm #season 2 #finale #spoilers #garou #Saitama #genos #bang #bomb #phoenixman #anime #king #long post #im so sad right now oh my god #opmiss mumbling #s2e12

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 8

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6 ; Chap 7

Masterlist : Here

AN : Hi guys! I can’t believe I made it this far ! Last chapter did so poorly I’m having a life crisis, I hope you’ll like this one better, it’s the calm before the storm. I’m wondering if I should update more than once a week so I asked the lovely @brightonfleet and I’ll try to post on Wednesdays and Saturdays now, since the chapters are so smol. Thank you for your love and support, feel free to comment and send me messages, see you on Wednesday ! (Also the title isn’t clickbait this is my gift to you).

Chapitre 8 : Is he naked ?

One thing I never knew was that one day I'll be pissed at « Friday I'm In Love » by The Cure. My head felt heavy as I sat on the bed, eyelids still shut tight, budding headache waiting in the corner of my head for the perfect time to screw me over. I could feel the burning sunlight trying to attack my eyes even behind their curtains, bathing the whole room in their warm rays like they owned the place. It smelled like food, and someone hummed along Robert Smith's singing, so Mandy was already awake. Painfully stretching and rubbing my face, I rolled out of bed, carefully taking in the light in the room as I finally opened my eyes, trying not to trip on the covers. Yawning, I dragged myself to the kitchen to greet my roomate.

- Hey.

Mandy turned around when she heard my grunt, spatula in hand. The table was already set, with orange juice, bread and cutlery, which I almost knocked over while putting my elbow on the table.

- Hi dude. No offense but you look like a truck ran you over.

- Fuck you, my head hurts so much already, how come I'm hungover and you're not ?

As a response, she shrugged, looking like she herself didn't know the answer to that. But like the good friend she was, aspirine was alredy on the table next to a glass of water. Oh I remembered now, she probably wanted to apologize for her screw up yesterday night. I couldn't blame her nor get mad at her though. It slipped, it happened. And besides, I think we saved this whole situation by lying terribly and then drink some more. I could vaguely remember Josh holding out shooters for everyone and cook burgers in the middle of the night but other than that... my mind was pitch black.

- Where's Josh by the way ?

Swallowing a whole glass of water woke me up further and despite my stomach's complaining and churning, my appetite awaken too.

- He's sleeping on the couch, came the simple reply.

- What couch ?

Did we owned a couch ? No we didn't.

Turning back once more, my friend pointed something behind me with her spatula, motioning for me to follow the direction. Oh, so we did have a couch after all. And a sleepy curly head snoring on it, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. Too many questions came to my mind.

- Okay, so since when do we own a couch ? And also Josh slept here ?

- We got out for a walk last night and found a couch so Josh could sleep on it when he wants to crash at ours.

- He plans to do that on a regular basis ?!

She shushed me hurriedly, standing still as Josh turned and moaned in his sleep. His clothes were scattered on the floor around him and on the worned out leather couch that creaked with his every movement. God I hoped no animals were living on it. Getting up, I stole a pancake from the plate next to Mandy, needing energy to register everything that just happened in less than five minutes. So what she's telling me is that we got so drunk we went who-knows-where and got back to the dorm with an abandonned sofa we found on the side of the road ? Just so Josh could sleep at our place. Couldn't he just bring an airmat or a sleeping bag, like a normal person ?

I had to admit my irritation was purely fake. This whole situation was so ridiculous it made me want to laugh more than anything, really. Going to great lenghts only so he could stay the night. Unbelievable, what a princess. It's with an amused grin that I studied his sleeping figure, peaceful and quiet. A rare sight.

- Is he naked ?, I half-murmured to Mandy.

She turned to me, then to Josh, putting her back to the kitchen counter next to me, intently watching him turn in his sleep before the blanket slipped and uncovered his bare ass in all its glory for the world to see.

- Yup, he is.

- Should've guessed.

Nodding to ourselves, we returned to our occupations, and I helped her with breakfast. Our sleepy guest sat with us only a few minutes later, with the covers hiding everything needed this time, devouring pancakes and chatting joyfully about last time and the day to come.

We didn't have school today, which was the main reason why the Christmas Festival was set to this day. And it also explained why students weren't that interested in coming. Even though it was a proven fact that we were all gonna party hard in the dorms after the concerts. Speaking of which, Josh had to perform today but wasn't stressed at all. In fact I never saw someone being this serene about singing onstage to a batch of people. He was talking about how it'll be amazing, and we'll be there, and they'll be rocking the school like it was no big deal at all. It truly amazed me, giving how nervous I was just presenting an assignment to the class. He ate a lot, babbled a lot, and then thanked us for everything and left. Time flew by fast after his departure.

I was too hungover to do anything more than lie in bed all day watching Netflix, let alone do homework. Mandy and I slept some more, and in what seemed like a minute later, had to shower and get dressed for the festival.

Much to my surprise, almost every department had their part to play to the Christmas school fest. The architecture dudes with the help of the carpenters students built cabins and decorated them with christmas lights and lanterns hooked on trees, the Music dept helped set the stage, Furniture Design peeps brought some tables and chairs they had left in the workshop (mostly projects refused by teachers), and Photography students as any other department invited a whole lot of people and bought alcohol for us all to enjoy. It wasn't crowded, but there was a nice amount of visitors nevertheless. A good amount of drugs too, judging by the familiar smell surrounding the school grounds. The stage was surrounded by wood cabins giving or selling beer, food, or cocktails, with stools or benches to sit, which were already taken by the time we got there.

We stood in the cold for hours, close to the heaters and the tiny hot dogs stalls, stuffing our bellies with junkfood in a vain attempt to warm ourselves up. We didn't know where the guys were, nor what their band was called. None of the twins were replying to their phones, so we were left with no clue as to when they were gonna play or if we could skip half of it and come back just for them.

- Can't believe the flyer said « free beer », grumbled Mandy while rubbing her arms.

- Yeah about that, I'm the one who asked for it to get removed, sorry.

Her hair whipped my face as she abruptly turned around to face me with a look of pure betrayal on her face.

- What ? Look at all the efforts they put on the festival, it's only fair they at least get some money out of it.

A lot of people brought their own booze to the party so they didn't have to spend a cent here anyway, we just didn't know enough folks to borrow from them.

- Screw that, she exclaimed before heading to one of the stalls.

Where was she going ? Should I follow ? What kind of crazy plan had she in mind ?

I saw her body leaning on the counter of a drinks stall where the barman looked overwhelmed by all those people calling him around, playing idly with a strand of hair while pretending to read the laminated menu just has her free hand got under the wood panel, fingertips caressing the handle of a huge beer keg. There was no way in Hell nobody would notice her stealing something so big, she couldn't get away with it. By the time I was facepalming while pretending I didn't witness anything at all, she came rushing to me with the keg in her hand and grabbed my arm, hurrying me to follow as we sank through the park.

- I can't believe you stole it, how the fuck are we supposed to drink a KEG ? Do you even know how to open it ?

She paused, letting the big barrel of beer clunk to the hard floor.

- I was kinda counting on you on this one, she said with a perplex tone. We'll find someone who can, don't worry.

I wasn't really worrying about that to be honest but oh well, now that we had it, might as well open it.

It turned out finding someone who could help us was more easier than I first thought, and since a lot of people had the idea of bringing their own keg along, nobody seemed to think it was weird we were carrying one. Now I wasn't a big fan of curing a hangover with more alcohol, but I got to admit it was a special night. And seeing everybody party without participating would've been a shame. That's what I told myself when I poured us another drink.

It was starting to get really chilly outside, so we stayed by the heater, taking turns to sit on the keg when our feet got too tired of standing still, listening to the bands playing, watching the christmas lights illuminate the trees and people sitting under them.

- Who's next ?, asked Mandy for the fourth time that evening.

Struggling once more to get the crumpled flyer out of my jacket pocket, I squinted my eyes, trying to read what band was next in the darkness of the night.

- Greta Van Fleet, I guess. Don't know her.

- Me neither.

Oh how wrong we were. I think my heart leaped in my chest when I saw Jake's figure enter the illuminated stage, followed by Josh, his tambourine, and their two bandmates. The lump in my throat came back, and as the first guitar notes were played it became impossible for me to either keep my mouth shut nor to take my eyes off of Jake. He looked so good. They all did, jamming and playing loud, smiling and having fun, but Jake. He was something else. He looked unreal. His unbutonned black patterned shirt revealed his chest and all the pendants that hung around his neck, bouncing to the rythmn of his body, while his hand recklessly attacked his guitar' strings. His face, so concentrated, like nothing in the world in that moment existed, a single drop of sweat running on his cheek, hair plastered to his forehead, some strands of it getting stuck at the corner of his gaping lips. That night he took my breath away.

- They're so good, muttered Mandy, taken aback too.

I could only nod, at a loss for words, barely having the capacity to register all the informations that were presented to me because it would mean I could miss a second of Jake playing. They all were simply incredible. You could tell they were putting their soul in their music, and it moved me in a strange way, changed me somehow, even a little. That drum solo was the most powerful I had ever witness, the skilled bassist made an amazing job of keeping everything together, and Josh's vocals would put to shame every damn diva on this earth. I think I died a bit when I saw Jake lift his guitar to put it behind his back and play his solo like that. Or if I didn't, I fell even harder for him. There was no turning back from the depths I was now. When Greta Van Fleet started performing at our school, I saw all the people surrounding us stop their activities to pay attention to them. That's how powerful they were.

Josh was in a bliss, we could tell by the spark in his eyes. He played the tambourine during solos, hopping on the stage like he was born on it, giving the crowd smiles and winks, and even blowing us a kiss. We waved at him, but my gaze kept finding its way to Jake like he was calling it back home. He was too busy to focus on anything else, drowning in his music, delighted by the sounds they were producing, barely realizing there were people cheering for them. He looked up from time to time glancing at his surroundings, and during one of them our eyes met. My heart skipped a beat, and he smiled, a pick stuck between his lips, eyes squinted with glee.

By the time they finished their set, my legs were shaking as if I was the one who just performed, but they didn't let us any time to catch our breath. A sweaty and barely dressed Josh jumped out of the stage to come rushing to us, holding us both in a tight embrace and giggling in our ears. He was talking excitedly about the show, how exhilirating it was, and bombarding us with questions about it and what we had thought of it. In the corner of my eye, standing on the stage, Jake was quietly picking up his stuff, putting his guitar back into its case with great care, chatting excitedly with the drummer. Oh fuck I wasn't mentally prepared.

- Are you kidding me ?, yelled Mandy who was holding Josh at arms' lenght. You guys killed it ! We absolutely loved it, you were the best !

- She's right, I chimed in, adrenaline kicking in. Why are you even in this school ?! Damn I wish I had recorded you, I kind of want to hear your songs again now.

Chuckling kindheartedly and hugging us some more, Josh thanked us a million times before settling down with us, helping himself to a beer he chugged before asking for another one. Still feeling starry eyed, I couldn't help focusing on the sweaty guitarist next to the stage, deeply lost in thought between his two bandmates having a conversation. Some people must've bought them drinks real fast because they were carrying red cups, still in their stage clothes with a coat put on top of it. Josh on the other hand... I couldn't look at his bare chest without scolding.

- You're going to catch a cold.

As much as his red velvet sleeveless jacket looked good, seeing his moist skin glimmering got me worried. We were in December, it was like -4 degrees outside, a few more minutes like that and he'll end up like the little match girl.

- Mama I'm too hot to catch a cold, came the reply with a smirk and a wink.

- Oh my Lord go put a coat on I swear to God Josh-

- Okay, I will ! But more importantly !, he said loud and clear while putting each arm around our shoulders. Tonight, my place, we're throwing an after party ! Ladies, please be my guests.

As backup to his words, Josh made grand gestures and a deep bow, taking our hands in his while I shook my head with a look of disbelief on my face.

- Only if you put on a coat.

#gvf fic #gvf x reader #gvf imagine #gvf fanfic #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka imagine #josh kiszka fic #jake kiszka #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet imagine

[ninaahelvar]

Chivalry Fell On Its Sword (5/?)

Summary: All Arya wanted so to feel normal and go outside of the damn castle. Now, through a series of unfortunate, she’s stuck with a bodyguard that she accidentally flirted with: Gendry Waters.

AO3

A/N: unbeta-ed...we post like men. ya know....male authors who talk about boobs in a weird way or like your vagina is a flower or some shit. we have that level confidence son! yeah....its been a while - sorry! got a job that keeps me busy and writing took a while. sorry!

Silence. 

Hollow echoes of noises filled the halls, soft and sharp, piercing into the frozen home. Gendry tried not to disturb it, moving in quiet footsteps to get to Arya’s room. But it still felt hollow. Stairways left barren, rooms left without a breath, spaces remained unoccupied. No one dared to disturb their tranquility of mourning. 

Yet, it wasn’t exacting mourning - it was fear, caution, worry.

Gendry stood outside of Arya’s room, her door cracked open enough to watch her sleep. She seemed to sleep better in mid-afternoon, so he let her. Watched as the fierce woman he knew and cared for, lay in bed, trying to find solace in sleep. 

No one had died, thankfully, but they were all hospitalised. The driver had a ruptured spleen and a few fractures in his arms and ribs from the airbag going off. Brienne broke her femur, a clean snap when the bonnet caved in as it crashed. She’d been stuck at the scene the longest - body completely pinned in place. She was calm through the whole thing - even with such a painful break.  

The Queen had superficial injuries compared to others; a broken wrist and a fracture in her leg. She was released the next day. But it didn’t mean she left the hospital. Bran was left in a fragile way. Gendry knew the kid would be fucked, but he didn’t know to what extent. Multiple spinal fractures. He hadn’t regained consciousness since the accident three days before. 

The king was another story. A broken rib that caused a collapsed lung - Gendry guessed that was why blood was pouring from the king’s mouth that night. When surgery came to repair it, complications arose, and a suspected swelling of the brain happened. Everything was so rushed, by the time things settled down, so to speak, the king was placed in an induced coma. 

And that was what had the house standing still. 

Robb was supposed to be covering all the kingly duties, but declined, stating that it was wrong to lay claim to a man’s title that wasn’t even dead. When Robb had said it on the news, the sisters were gathered to watch. Sansa broke down crying. Arya stormed out. Gendry later found her in the empty bathtub, curling her arms around herself and quietly sobbing. 

Gendry had found that she did that a lot - curled herself in the bathtub, softly crying or just sitting silently. He wasn’t sure why. But he left her - worrying himself with the possibilities of what was going through her head. 

Arya was the strongest person Gendry knew - she’d fight tooth and nail for just about anything she took the slightest pleasure in. He’d never seen her so...soft. Arya had a front, walls built so high, by the time you reached the top, she’d had built something even higher. Gendry didn’t want to break down her walls, didn’t want her to cave in every time he came near her - he just wanted her to be okay. 

It broke him to have to see her that way. 

It was also becoming a problem after what he said to her that night - that she was doing something to him that he couldn’t explain. And it was true, she was a whirlwind of a person, shooting through his life like a bullet, and all he wanted to do was chase after the disaster, being left in her wake. He’d crumble, and he didn’t care. She set him free. 

But so many things kept them apart. 

His job. 

Her title. 

Their age.

Although, that was a small stretch, it was something that had become clear to him - that he was the age of her oldest brothers, and there was quite a few years between he and Arya. She was only twenty-two, and he was just about to turn twenty-eight - and yes they were adults, there was still something strange about Gendry feeling this attraction his best friend’s little sister. 

And in the end, all he wanted to do was kiss her - to be able to finish what he started that night in the pub. 

But everything in the universe seemed content on stopping them from being close. Gendry fucking hated it. He deserved the fucking princess. 

Well, he thought he did. There was an undeniable connection, and any time they were close always seemed to lead to the same tension and lips so close to touching, it was as though they were inseparable. 

For the life of him, Gendry never wanted to be apart from her, not even for a few hours, as he had come to realise the night of the accident. 

He held her, and knew he was done for. 

The first night, he helped her put on her baggy clothes and sat at the edge of her bed as she cried herself to sleep. All Gendry knew to do was stroke her hair out of her face, and hold her hand when she reached for it. When she finally slept, it was morning, and the media was going insane. The press stood at the palace gates, shouting at all hours to try and get a glimpse of the grieving family. They didn’t get past a stern Tormund and Beric, who stared down the media - threatening them with a gaze and a trained hand on their hips.

Apart from everything, Gendry was concerned for Arya. She could protect and take care of herself, but it seemed she lacked the titular word - care. She didn’t shower until he told her too, she’d rarely eat, and most of all, she was barely sleeping. Afternoon naps were as much sleep as she got, as far as he knew. The rest of the family kept a fairly good sleeping schedule, but Arya seemed like a mess. He knew why - Bran, mostly - but no one blamed her, for any of it and it broke him to see her so fragile. 

For most of the day, Arya spent it in her room, looking over news articles that updated on the King’s wellbeing, as well as Bran’s. For the afternoon shift, he had Podrick looking after her. She would go take her nap, maybe ask for food and walk around the palace - Arya was locked into her routine and it had only been a few days. 

There was a spark that was lost from her, and Gendry felt it. 

He made sure she went to take a shower before he left that day. “I’m handing over to Podrick, okay?” he asked, waiting for her to acknowledge his words. She wandered into the bathroom in a daze, nodding slowly before escaping behind the bathroom door. Gendry sighed, hands on his hips as he left Arya’s room. Outside, he found Podrick waiting, giving a weak smile as they saw each other. “She’s taking a shower. I think she’ll go to sleep for a bit.” 

“Her walks have been longer. She sometimes just stands outside of the Prince’s room,” Podrick noted. 

“Fuck.” Gendry ran his hand over his head. “We’ll get her back. Any news on the king? Or Prince Bran?” 

“Nothing good.” 

“Alright. Try and keep me updated if you hear anything.” 

“Yes sir,” Pod replied, and Gendry clapped his shoulder before leaving. Gendry flicked out his earpiece, moving around the palace before he stopped at the young prince’s quarters. No one had touched it since that night. He broke open the door, untainted by days of grieving and let the light in.

It was dark, curtains drawn and nothing getting through. Gendry cautiously flipped the lights on, to see the room of a boy in his early twenties. It was a mess in some regard, clothes strewn around and a few pieces of garbage that had missed the bin. His bed was made, sort of, as the duvet was haphazardly thrown over the entire bed and not smoothed out to look pristine. On his desk, there were notes from Bran’s university course that was to start in a few months. He was doing an honours course after Oxford, now at Cambridge. From what Gendry knew, Bran decided this, as to not pick favourites amongst universities, and that both are a good fit for any student. 

Gendry had rarely interacted with the prince, but from what he knew, Bran was a great guy. 

Turning off the lights, Gendry firmly shut the door, as though nothing had disturbed the room at all. 

Gendry checked in on everyone before leaving - and although they were all in their respective rooms, he just liked to check in. The reality of the security situation was, Gendry wasn’t a personal bodyguard anymore. Since the crash, Ed prompted Gendry to his second, as Gendry had practically taken point. Once Brienne was back, Gendry would return to his full duties of protecting Arya. 

Yet, he couldn’t stop. Ed didn’t know that Gendry and Pod took turns watching Arya - keeping her well monitored. It was the only way that Gendry felt right about leaving her; that night broke her in a way that he couldn’t quite explain and the thought of leaving her at that moment was too hard to even contemplate.

Walking to the gates, Gendry turned back to the palace. It looked darker, the white colour seeming sadder, the imperfections from time and weather were more clear to him now, and it made leaving almost impossible. He did anyway, knowing he’d be reprimanded if he didn’t treat himself well - an unwell, sleep deprived bodyguard isn’t any use to its protectee, Gendry remembered. 

Wandering into town, he made his way towards the bar. The Stag Head. It was quiet during the day, just the day drunks and a few men trying to watch an old game of football. Behind the bar, a woman with long brown hair stood cleaning a spot on the bartop. She had a few greys starting to take roots in her hair, wrinkles becoming a little more defined, but she was beyond beautiful that hardly anyone noticed. She pushed her glasses up onto her forehead when Gendry walked in. 

“Hey mum,” he greeted, stretching across the bar to place a kiss on her cheek. His mother glanced behind her, looking at the clock on the wall. She wasn’t used to his new schedule. 

“Hey sweetie, what are you doing here?” she asked, turning back to him, a furrow knit between her brows. 

“I need some advice,” he said, sitting down across from her. She sighed, leaning to meet his eye across the bar. 

“What on?” She kept her gaze trained on him, squinting hard until Gendry laughed. He always did - ever since he was a kid. 

Combing his hand through his hair, he huffed, flattening himself against the bar’s surface. “How do...I make a girl know that I’m there to comfort her without seeming like a twat and making it seem like she can’t handle a situation?” he huffed, tracing patterns into the countertop and looking up at his mum with pleading eyes. He felt like he was asking her advice like when he was a teenager - some pathetic weak voice that came after and eyes that asked not to judge him. 

His mother straightened, hand moving over his head. “That’s quite an ask,” she sympathised, “who is she?” 

“A friend,” he said, tilting his head slightly. 

“Hmm,” she rolled her eyes, and before Gendry could protest, she spoke, “act like nothing has changed. Just smile more,” she tried, and Gendry shot up.

“What?” 

She scoffed, folding her arms in front of her chest, a raise in her brow as to challenge her again. “Look, Gendry, you’re a bit of a stubborn bull, and that means you look like you’re ready to fight in any moment,” she laughed and Gendry ran a hand over his face. He needed to rephrase it. He hated speaking. It was always so hard. 

“The thing is, this girl...she doesn’t like sentimental things. She’s strong, and she knows she is, but this thing has really thrown her. What do I do to have it be better?” he asked again, a little more determined. 

She stopped for a moment, thinking to herself. Gendry always looked up to his mum. Tailya was the youngest of four siblings - the only girl and was made tough because of it, but weaker after whatever happened with Gendry’s father. He was gone in a breath, no one besides his mum knew who he was. Tailya moved on with her life, raised Gendry, and that was all that ever mattered to either of them.  

Tailya finally sighed, reaching over the bar once more and touching his cheek. “The problem is, you can’t. Unless the thing that’s making her sad is easily reversible, then you just have to be beside her. Just being there will mean more than any gifts, or gestures,” she smiled sweetly and Gendry smiled kindly back. 

Wandering home, hands in his pockets, all Gendry could think of was Arya. He should have been concerned for the king - the protection of everyone within the confines of the palace walls. Yet, she was the only thing that worried him - whether she was sitting in bed, or was running around doing god-knows-what, and she was all he could think about. 

He stopped mid step and knew exactly what the fuck this all meant. 

Rain clouds loomed overhead. Droplets hit his face, and he stared up at the breaking sky. 

He was screwed.

~*~*~

Arya wasn’t used to being so sad. She understood everything; that her father was in a coma and needed to wake up, her mother was fine if not a little bruised, and her brother was probably never going to walk again. Yet, she didn’t understand why she felt so rotten. Arya could be better than all of this. Instead, she stayed in bed without sleeping and wandered the palace grounds because it seemed like the thing to do. She wanted to pull herself together, but she felt so torn from herself, that something was so violently taken from her and all she wanted to do was throw things until they shattered like her spirit. 

None of it seemed to matter in the end. 

Between the worry she felt and the constant eyes, she wasn’t sure where to start with recovery. Was recovery even the right word? She didn’t even know. She felt so tired, distant from anything and anyone. Not even Gendry seemed to reach her and it hurt her a little that they didn’t speak since that night.

Maybe she was different now. Maybe he didn’t see her the same. Maybe he wouldn’t look at her the same. 

As the afternoon became night, and night drifted into the pitch black of it all, Arya wandered the palace. No one was awake, the darkness invaded every space as though it were the only thing there that could possibly exist. She understood the darkness now - how it let sadness wallow within itself to let people grieve. 

Arya wasn’t sure what made her go there. She was so used to having Gendry by her side, that the middle of the night felt strange. She was used to being found by her dad, a night owl by nature, and talking with her until she was tired - but that wasn’t what life had in store for her anymore. Instead, she made her way to the kitchen. If she were lucky, she would find some alcohol that would knock her on her ass and keep her sedated until her dad woke up. 

It was quiet, but the lights were on and the ovens were still going. Arya could tell because it was blazing hot like it did when she used to sneak into the kitchen in her youth. She’d never been down there so early, so she wasn’t exactly sure if it was normal. Arya tried looking around for some form of life until a portly young man carrying things in his hands walked in. He jumped as he took sight of her, putting down his things on the countertop and bowing for her. 

“Sorry, your highness, I didn’t think anyone would be down here,” he said in a hurry, bowing again and trying to clean himself off. He had flour all over him and sweat on his brow. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Was just looking for some food,” she lied, moving around the counter to sit down. 

“I’ll make you something, Princess,” he offered, trying to seem calm, but it was obvious that he wasn’t used to interacting with the family as much as the other members of the household. 

Looking at the clock, Arya yawned, looking back at the perky baker. “Do you really need to bake this early?” 

“For fresh bread on the table, usually,” he said, pointing over to the other counter that had dough sitting on the tabletop. In total, there were five counters in the kitchen, and usually had many people working. But it was only Arya and the young baker. 

“4am? Seriously?” 

He moved over quickly to a machine the size of a large toaster, easily fitting two loafs of bread inside if you really wanted. “We have the machines that bake it, but I’ve still got to make the dough, and the royal majesties said they like the little patterns I leave on top, so it takes a little longer,” he explained, running a hand over his hair and cleaning it quickly with a with a teatowel. He went to get some tea cake from the cupboard and something in Arya perked. 

“Can I have some?” she asked quickly. 

“Of course!” he beamed, offering her the entire plate and handed her a knife to cute it with. She sliced it as he went over to the dough on the counter, beating it out and giving it a formless shape. 

She spoke with a mouthful of food. “You don’t have to treat me like royalty, by the way. I think we’re just a family...stuck here.” 

“How is your dad?” he asked, and Arya found the cake even harder to swallow than just having it dryly go down her throat. She coughed as she stomached it.

“What takes so long to make the bread anyhow?” she asked, and the moment the subject was changed, the boy nodded, moving along. 

“The yeast has to rise. And you have to check that it’s baking properly and not burning. Do you want me to show you?” he said in return, gesturing her over. 

“Yeah, sure,” she smiled, walking over to his side. There, she extended a hand to him. “I’m Arya.”

“Hot-pie,” he took it proudly as Arya’ brow furrowed. He laughed, pretending to get frustrated with her. “Yes it’s my name, stop lookin’ at me like that.” 

Over the course of the morning, Arya found out that Hot Pie was orphaned young, his birth mother calling him Hot Pie, and the name sticking. He often says its a nickname, but confessed it was his given name because it was the only thing he replied to when given up. His adoptive family moved to Winterfell only a few years prior, and also admitted to calling the place ‘WinterHell’ because he was so forgetful with the name. Even mentioned said he once said it in front of the king - to which he thought he was going to lose his head. Arya laughed when he said that. And it felt so nice to laugh again. 

Over the next week, it had become a little routine she kept in her schedule. Sleeping was hard - especially at night, and her midafternoon naps helped, but she heard some of the security guys talking about sending for the doctor to help her. A doctor was the last thing she wanted. When she heard Gendry one morning berate them for saying it, it gave her a sense of security - that he would protect her in all capacities. 

Maybe he didn’t see her any differently. 

When Gendry had left that night, she checked in on the news, and no further updates. It worried her. Arya had read up on things online - which she knew she shouldn’t have done - yet, the information said that in both cases, they should have woken up by now. It was so damn worrying. 

She was chewing on her nail when Hot Pie came into the kitchen that morning, a little tired by how wide his yawn went, then he got out all his ingredients before the two even acknowledged each other. Arya jumped up onto the countertop next to where Hot Pie was working, which made him grumble under his breath - he had told her off the day before about sitting on kitchen tables, because people eat there. If she remembered his words they were “Why would anyone want to eat something if they knew ass had been near it.” To which he apologised for saying ass. 

“What kinda bread you making this morning?” she asked, and Hot Pie grumbled to himself as he put on his apron. 

“Rye.” 

“Ugh, boring.” 

“What’s interesting to you?” 

“Wolves.” 

He scrunched up his entire face, which made Arya scoff. “What?” 

“Make a wolf. Dare ya!” she challenged and he merely shook his head.

“That isn’t -” he stopped before standing his ground. He had to swallow hard before he said it though, but he was certainly starting to treat her less like a princess. “Why do you have to stress me out? I’m here, having a good time,” he said, and Arya laughed. 

“How’s the coffee this morning?” a voice said, it was deep and familiar and it sent a chill down Arya’s spine. She turned to see Gendry walking into the kitchen, a little disheveled, but it was what he usually looked like in the morning before Brienne got to him. 

“Great, fresh pot and everything,” Hot Pie said, although Arya knew it to be a lie. He rushed off to get it started as Gendry stood opposite Arya, a soft grin on his face as he looked at her. 

“What are you doing here?” she said, a little more aggressive than she had intended. Maybe she was used to getting away with being unfound by security for a few hours. 

“I’m your fucking bodyguard, what do you expect?” he spat back, crossing his arms. 

A large and scandalised gasp came from Hot Pie as he walked over with Gendry’s coffee. “You’re allowed to talk to her like that?” 

Arya scoffed. “He’s not allowed to. But he does because he spends hours and hours with me. How would you like it if someone called you ‘your royal bakerness’ every two seconds of the day?” 

“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Hot Pie considered. 

“See?” Gendry smirked, sipping at his cup. 

“You’re both against me and I know it,” she narrowed her eyes at both of them, and they exchanged a soft laugh. 

Gendry stood to the side, keeping a close eye on Arya as she and Hot Pie talked over crafting new things to have on the breakfast spread that morning. He didn’t interrupt, and barely paid attention to them when the sun started to rise. Once breakfast was completely ready and everyone was coming down for their meal, Arya helped set the table.

It was on her way back where she heard a conversation she was never supposed to hear. 

“What time does she usually come down?” Gendry asked. Arya stuck to the wall, hearing the pair talk. 

“She’s usually here before I get in at four. I just assume she’s waiting for me,” he replied. 

“She likes you, Hot-pie. Whatever you talk about, it helps,” Gendry said, a light thumping noise, as though a heavy hand met a shoulder. 

“We don’t really talk about anything,” Hot Pie huffed. 

“Maybe that’s enough.” 

“How did you know she was here, anyway?” Hot Pie asked, and Arya chewed on her lip, waiting. 

Gendry sighed, the light shift of his shoes on the tiles seemed to echo in her ear, even when it barely made a noise at all. “I always know where she is. I like knowing she’s okay,” he said simply, and there was a part of Arya that wanted to sigh, content with her life. 

She moved back into the kitchen once they got sidetracked with talking about food and gathered more things. They acted as though nothing had gone on and continued to get food to help set up for the breakfast meal for everyone. 

The next morning, Hot Pie seemed to have something on his mind. They had both been preparing things to serve at breakfast. Arya was making her first loaf of bread without any help and Hot Pie was making something special. Once her bread was all put in the machine, she sat up on the counter, nibbling at a biscuit with her hot tea. 

“Have you talked to anyone yet?” Hot Pie asked. In small conversations, they had talked about Arya’s family. They were stunted conversations, and Hot Pie had known where to draw the line in conversations about her father. 

“You. Gendry. Who else do I need?” 

“Your siblings,” Hot Pie spat, and Arya was about to protest.

“They…” 

Hot Pie was quick to discourage her sentence. “They’d probably get it more than he or I will.” 

“You’re right,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair. She jumped off the counter and looked at the thing he was making. She laughed, pointing to the creation, “that looks like a fat donkey.” Arya gripped Hot Pie’s forearm and went off out of the kitchen. 

“It’s supposed to be a wolf!” he shouted, slamming down a mountain of dough to start his new attempt. 

Arya paced outside of the room for quite a while. She wasn’t sure where to start, or even if they’d talk. She didn’t want to cry, and it was a big probability, but it was the last thing Arya wanted. She didn’t know how to handle that! Emotions were hard sometimes. She stopped, squared up at the door, and gave three tentative knocks. When there was no reply, Arya slowly opened the door. 

On the bed, Arya found Sansa sitting with her phone in hand. She looked so elegant, even when she looked so sad. Sansa put her phone down, smiling as she took Arya in. The pair hadn’t seen each other since the night. It was mainly Arya’s doing - distance was what she needed and she kept it tightly. 

“Hey,” Sansa said, as though seeing her was so unexpected, the word couldn’t be anything but surprise. 

“Hey,” Arya sighed, sitting down next to her sister, relaxing into the comfort of the pillows, “you texting the guy?” 

“Yeah. He wanted to know how I was going with everything.” 

Arya slouched closer to her sister, seeing if she could pounce if the moment arose. “Am I ever going to know who he is?” 

“No,” Sansa smiled. As the two stared each other down, Arya jumped up, and Sansa’s arm shot into the air, keeping the phone out of reach. 

“Stop! I can’t reach,” Arya bellowed, essentially wrapping herself around her sister.

“That’s the point!” Sansa yelled, giggling as Arya eventually transform it into a tight hug. Sansa stopped struggling, her arm slowly moving around Arya. The pair took each other into an embrace that was unexpected but familiar. They held each other close and waited for what felt like hours to let go. “Thanks,” Sansa whispered, placing a kiss at Arya’s crown.  

“You too,” Arya whispered back, head in her sister’s chest and giving her another tight squeeze. 

When she made her way to Robb’s quarters, she was forced to wait. Unlike Sansa, who was able to pause her life to feel the tragedy that befell their family, Robb was required to keep moving and have his life shift gears. 

Arya walked into his study, papers pilled high and his laptop open with whatever news he was reading up on. Arya sat opposite him as he pushed things aside to take her in. He tried to smile, but there was something in his eye that was like guilt - that he was replacing something before it was even gone. It didn’t feel right for anyone. 

“How’s Talisa?” Arya started. He sighed, reclining back into his chair and throwing up his hands slightly. 

“She’s good. Keeps fretting about, but makes sure to tell me everything will be fine,” he shrugged. 

“She’d know,” Arya smiled, remembering that before they were engaged, Talisa was a nurse by trade. After engagement, however, she had to give most of that up. It wasn’t seen as proper, but Arya thought Robb would still let her work regardless of his role. “Why is she fretting?” 

“King.” 

One word and she knew. “Ah.” Arya chewed on her lip. “Is she scared to be Queen?” 

“No. Just wasn’t expecting it so soon. Neither of us were.” The pair sighed together. 

“You’re going to be fine. Now or later. But hopefully later.” Robb nodded, and Arya sucked in a breath for what she was considering. “I might go see them today, check in on how everyone is doing,” she said, standing up from her chair and waiting for Robb to confirm if it was the right thing to do. He smiled. 

“That’s great. I have a few meetings, so if you do, let me know everything you learn about their status,” he said, gathering up some papers as though what she said helped him more than she realised. Arya’s heart felt full at the sight. 

“See...you already sound like a King,” Arya gave over a sad smile and Robb returned it. 

“Thanks,” he nodded, getting straight back into work. 

Arya heard the sound from her youngest brother’s room before she even got to open his door. She pushed it open, finding Rickon’s room in an absolute mess, everything pilled up like it was a garbage heap. She honestly couldn’t tell if this was just because their mum wasn’t around to yell at him, or his room genuinely looked like this most of the time. 

“Hey Rick,” Arya grimaced as she waded through his room to his bed, finally seeing what the noise was about. He was playing Mario Kart very loudly. He paused it, panicking as Arya sat down beside him. 

“Hey Arya! I’ve finished all my assignments, so I’m allowed to -” he stopped as he remembered who he was speaking to. “Sorry. I feel like mum is gonna walk in at any second. I’m used to covering for myself,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, smiling weakly. 

“I know. I’ve been hiding my boots for days,” she laughed, and took up a controller from the ground. “What track are we playing?” she smiled and Rick smiled back, switching it to the right settings, allowing them both to play a few races. They each won a few rounds, lost a few, either way, they had fun. 

Jon was the easiest to sneak up on, she found, his hearing must being suffering. She crept into his room, sat on his bed and played with his phone without him even realising it. He walked in, jumping half way out of his skin as he saw her. 

“God, you’re so quiet,” he snapped. 

“I get that a lot,” Arya shrugged. Jon walked over, taking his phone from her hand, flicking through it as he spoke.

“Robb said you wanted to go see dad and Bran today.” 

“Yeah. Considering it.” 

He paused and knelt down in front of her. “I think you should,” he said solemnly.

“Probably,” she smiled. 

“Have you heard?” he asked, patting her knee. “Lannisters are coming,” he smirked, a joke lying beneath the words that years covered. Arya beamed back. 

“Really? Which ones?” 

“Jaime and Tyrion,” he confirmed and Arya scoffed. 

“Seriously?” 

“Apparently, your mum called for ‘em,” he stood, moving off to his desk, running over a few things. Since Robb had become busy, so had Jon. The pair worked hand in hand most days, and being in charge of the future king’s security detail was a hard thing to manage under the best of times - now it was the worst. 

“What for?” 

“Help Robb. We may not trust them, but since Tyrion has counselled the Targaryen Queen, she trusts him.” 

“What about Jaime?” 

“He’s rather good at gathering information, plus Tyrion needs a bodyguard and his brother is the best choice,” Jon shrugged. 

“Or…” Arya suggested, her hand going up as far as it would go, indicating a certain person’s height. 

“Or that, yes,” Jon laughed, shaking his head. 

“I could let her know through the grapevine. The security team likes to talk,” she offered and Jon shook his head again.

“It’s okay, I’m sure she knows,” Jon tried to wink, failing and making Arya scoff. “You want me to drive you to see dad?” he asked softly. 

“No, I’ll be okay,” she said, standing up and hugging onto her brother. Although they had little blood between them to actually make them siblings, they felt like it, and they loved each other like it. She held onto him with everything she had, and Jon did the same. 

When she left his room, she felt a pressure off her shoulders she couldn’t explain. Then, someone nearby cleared their throat. 

In the midst of her visits, she had completely forgotten that there was a shadow behind her, keeping her company - always watchful, caring without outwardly saying it. A comforting blanket surrounding her without her even realising. Gendry stood at the edge of Jon’s door, waiting for their next destination.

“Thank you for following me around today. It’s been a weird day. I need to go to the hospital later.” He nodded, and as she was about to walk off, his hand caught her wrist lightly. They hadn’t touched like that since that night, and it took Arya off guard. She stopped, turning back to him, swallowing hard as they faced each other. 

“Arya,” he said softly, and Arya’s heart was racing. He took a breath. “I know I haven’t outright said it to you, but I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you. No matter what,” he said, keeping her focus on him entirely. There was a beat, and the words escaped her before she even realised. 

“I like it when you say my name.” Once she did, she felt like a little girl, giggling to herself, trying to catch it as he looked at her. 

“I like saying it,” he replied with a smile and she felt less self conscious than she had a moment before. 

“Then can you help me with something?” she said, trying to avoid him seeing the redness she knew was in her cheeks. 

“Anything.” 

“Do you have any idea how to start a royal charity?” she asked. 

“No, but I can definitely learn with you,” he shrugged, and they smiled to themselves, moving along as she explained what she wanted. 

By the time that was done, some discussions with Davos and a few new teams assigned to them, Arya felt ready to go see her parents. Gendry drove her into town, got her a safe way into the hospital without people wanting to get her photo, and a safe passage through the hospital like it was nothing at all. 

Gendry stood outside of the room as Arya went in to see her brother. Like she expected, her mother was by his bedside, looking far worse than anyone in the palace did. Her hair was all out of sorts, her clothes had definitely not been washed for a while - most likely worn for multiple days, which was never her mother’s way. 

“Hey mum,” Arya said quietly. Her mother shot up, almost darting across the room. 

“Darling, what are you -” she started, embracing Arya tightly. There was a cast on her wrist and she walked with a limp because of the heavy boot she was forced to wear. She took in Arya’s features and smiled down at her, “it’s lovey to see you.” 

“How are they?” Arya finally asked, biting her lip as she looked at Bran. He was wired up to machines, monitoring everything they could. It broke Arya a little - she could barely look at him for long. 

“Bran is doing well, but we won’t know more until he wakes up,” she sighed.

“And dad?” 

“He’s still in the coma,” her mother nodded, and Arya felt the spike of tears in her eyes. “Are you doing okay, darling?” 

Then, she started to rant quickly, trying to get it all out before the tears peaked in her eyes. “I told Bran to go with you. I told him to leave the car cause I was mad and frustrated and wanted to be by myself. This wouldn’t have happened if -” 

Her mother quickly embraced her again, soothing out Arya’s worries, and looking down at her again, comfort in her eyes. “Darling, you cannot blame yourself for what happened to Bran. Do you blame yourself for what happened to your father?” 

“No, but -” 

“It was an accident. One that we cannot take back and all must live with. Bran would never blame you for what’s happened to him. He loves you.” 

“I just…” 

“It’s okay,” her mother whispered, dashing away the tear that escaped Arya’s eye as quickly as it came down, “go see your father.” 

As Arya met at Gendry’s side, he guided her down the hall - the most heavily secured place in the hospital. Arya was worried that Gendry would be stopped, but he was allowed as far through the security zone as the door to her father’s room. Arya stopped alongside him.

“I don’t think I can -” 

He interrupted her. “I’ll be right outside, nothing’s gonna happen. I promise,” he said, hand on the small of her back. She nodded, moving into the room and sitting in the chair that was nearby his bed. She could tell her mother had been there fairly recently, with blankets strewn over the furniture and a few of her mother’s things scattered around. 

After a beat of just looking at her dad, the wires and tubes all hanging off of him, helping him breath and survive, she got the courage to speak. 

“Hey dad,” she started, voice so hoarse and scared, she wondered if anymore words would form. She sniffed before she could continue. “You know I don’t like talking much. I’m not good with words. I’m scared, ya’know? I think I finally get why you never liked me going out by myself. The fear I’ll never make it home. Or you might not ever speak to me again. So, I’m scared you’re not gonna come home, or that you’ll never speak to me again. I want you to come home. Please…” she stopped as she felt the tears on her cheeks. They wouldn’t stop coming and her chest felt so tight, like breathing was the hardest thing to do when she was trying to keep herself together. And she cried again. “Please?” she gave in a small beg, clutching at her father’s hand. All she wanted was a small sign that he was there. 

But Arya wasn’t going to get that in the moment, her hands could beg for as long as they wanted - but her father needed to rest. 

As Arya dried her eyes, she cleared the room, she looked at Gendry and she saw his tie undone and earpiece hanging on his shoulder. And the next words that left her, with a heavy sigh and a little desperate were met with a smile. 

“I need a drink.” 

“Come on,” he said, arm curling around her shoulder for a short hug before eyes could see them. Then, he led her back to the car.

They drove a short distance before Gendry got out and opened the door for her, leading her to the entrance of a bar. 

“Hey! I know this place!” she said, grabbing hold of Gendry’s elbow. “Isn’t this where we -” she started as they walked into the bar. 

“Gendry!” a feminine voice yelled. Gendry smiled, moving towards the bar. 

“Hey mum,” he greeted as he moved over the bar to kiss her cheek. Gendry looked at Arya and she beamed back. 

“Mum?” Arya mouthed. He went tight lipped as he got back to sit on the stool next to Arya. 

“Mum, this is Arya,” he introduced.

“Ah, the girlfriend!” And Arya looked over to Gendry who had wide eyes and straining in his seat. 

“No, mum, she’s -” 

“Yep, that’s me. The girlfriend,” Arya said, resting her chin on her palm, loving to watch Gendry squirm. 

“Beer on tap! On the house, honey,” she said, moving away from the pair. 

“Mum, come on!” Gendry tried, only to fall back into his seat. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” Arya smiled, and she watched as Gendry’s eyes closed tight before he turned to her. 

“I never said that. She’s assuming things. Why are you playing along?” he asked in a hushed voice. 

“Free drinks?” 

“Please pay my mother.” 

“I will, don’t worry. This is just going to be fun to torture you with.” She beamed back and Gendry rested his head on the bartop. 

Before she even knew it, the night had come in, and her day was done. Exhaustion echoed in her bones, chest feeling heavy and the day wearing on her. She’d been more productive that day than she had since the accident. She talked with Gendry’s mum for a little while, and Gendry sat at the side, staying sober and trying not to slowly die inside. Arya eventually paid for the one drink she had and stood up from the stool, yawning.

“Only one?” Gendry said, standing up beside her. 

“I just needed to get it out of my system, I’m good now. Let’s head back,” she nodded and he returned it lightly, moving outside to get the car. “Thank you, Ms Waters. You’ve been so lovely,” Arya said, grabbing hold of the bartenders hand and the woman smiled back, so wide that it felt comforting. Like Gendry’s smile. 

“It’s no problem, come back ‘round for dinner sometime!” She almost demanded it. 

“I’ll make sure Gendry gets the memo,” Arya laughed with her. The thought didn’t seem that bad either.

They got to the palace late, and Arya was so exhausted, she got dressed for bed quickly, falling into the comfort of the duvet that felt like a goddamn cloud. 

“You’re going to sleep?” Gendry scoffed, and Arya nodded, clinging to one of her pillows.

“I think so.” 

“We’re making progress,” he said, and Arya thought he might have forgotten himself as he combed a hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear with the lightness of a feather gracing skin. She shivered. Gendry smiled, moving off, and Arya’s heart lurched. 

“Wait,” she almost shouted, making Gendry stop. He turned to her, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Can you stay tonight?” 

“Sure.” He nodded, moving to the chair near her bed and she sat up quickly.

“I mean, can you sleep...here?” She pat the vacant spot in the bed beside her. She felt so nervous, as the air filled with such silence that it was like the entire earth stood still. Then, Gendry scratched the back of his head. 

“Princess, I -” 

“Can you just call me Arya tonight? Leave your pants on if you’re so concerned, I don’t care. Just…stay,” she sighed. He paused, as though he contemplated the moment. 

“Fine. But only because you asked.” 

He was saving his own ass by saying that. He discarded his suit jacket, tossing it over the chair and taking off his belt, tie and unpacking his earpiece. After it was all done, he rolled up his sleeves, unbuttoning his shirt to take off the vest underneath and slipping the loose dress shirt back on as he fell into bed beside Arya. 

Gendry kept the distance between them, staying strictly above the covers until the glare she was firmly pressing into his temple burned him enough to find himself under the sheets. The distance stayed for a short while before Gendry fell asleep, and Arya was able to lay herself on his chest. 

Within minutes, for the first time in what felt like weeks, she was able to sleep in the comfort of night, as a heartbeat rocked her to sleep and an arm that slowly brought her in, to keep her tight to him. Arya slept so soundly, she never felt so well rested, even as she was in the midst of her slumber. 

When she woke up, the day was only just starting, the remnants of pain still lingering in the air - yet, she found none within herself. She still felt sad and angry for the pain of her family, but she felt protected in the wake of it all. Arya was also sure that when she woke, she’d be by herself - cold, alone, a bed left empty save for herself, the staff all moving about and keeping the family on their toes. Yet, she found herself clinging to the warm body beside her, the soft puffs of air as he breathed in his sleep. Gendry had kept her warm and secure - his arm keeping her to him, rolling over to her, both clinging to one another as they slept. She felt so protected and safe. 

She knew she always would be. 

With Gendry.

#gendrya #gendrya fic #gendry x arya #arya x gendry #got fic #my fics

[bigskydreaming]

#38 for the fic ask meme?

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

Oh man. SO many. You have no idea. Like, I have been lucky enough to get a number of extremely uplifting and moving reviews from people on various fics over the years, and its really hard to pick out just one. I mean, literally any review is great, no matter how ‘generic’ or whatever - like I’m not saying that a single one line “I really liked this” review is going to impact me in the same way as a personalized, three paragraph long review, but each and every review IS an impact, and they all add up. 

Like, a lot of times writing fic (especially when you tend to focus on side characters, controversial fandom takes and rare pairs as much as I do, lmfao) - I mean, a lot of times it can feel a bit like just shouting into the void where the only way you even know if anyone’s reading is by the hit count, but when combined with a total lack of comments, that can like….be counter-productive and make you go oh shit, does that mean everyone read it and just went meh? 

(Personally, I’d rather have someone hate something I wrote than be apathetic about it. The former means I at least reached them on some kind of level, even if it wasn’t the way I ideally would like, lol).

So I mean, I have so much love for any and all reviews I get, there are fics that I’ve left just sitting unfinished for years and years and only went back to and ended up finishing because someone commented saying they really hoped I would come back to it someday, even when it’d been like four years since I updated last, when they left me that comment.

And then there’s one fic I wrote in one of my extremely random fandoms, where like, its literally the only thing I ever wrote in that fandom and yet I still get comments every once in awhile and it just….reminds me of that fic and what I was thinking about/feeling when I wrote it, just kinda takes me back to that headspace, and that can be really welcome at times.

Which brings me to something that rarely gets mentioned when talking about reviews, actually…..for me at least, timing also has a lot to do with what reviews stick with me longest. Like, its not just about the contents of the review or anything the reviewer is likely to know anything about, but my mood when getting a particular review or my headspace or what I’m just going through in my life at the moment, like…all of those can mix with the actual review itself and make it especially memorable for me, even if that same review, if I’d gotten it at a different time, like, might not have made the same impact.

I bring that up because personally, I don’t think any reader should ever feel obligated or guilted into leaving reviews….no reader owes me anything anymore than I owe readers anything other than whatever I choose to give them ie publish or post. BUT, I know people often feel self-conscious about leaving reviews, or getting too…specific or personal in a review, stuff like that (I mean, I do the same thing as a reader myself)….like, I just mean where sometimes people aren’t sure if a particular review would be welcome, or if there’s any point when its been years since a fic was posted. And I say, if you’re ever on the fence about leaving a review, my vote is always gonna be for going ahead and leaving it. You never know when you might be the person to say just the right thing at just the right time to really reach the fic’s writer as much if not more than their fic reached you. 

*Shrugs* Tbh, because my memory is weird as fuck, I’ve literally forgotten about writing fics in certain fandoms and stopped getting notifications for them years ago cuz I changed emails or something…..and a couple of times, I’ve come across my own fics that I’ve completely forgotten writing, lmao, but then I check the comments and find a whole bunch more that were left long after I moved on from that fandom, and its just like, a cool little…..feel goods stockpile, just sitting there in case I ever came back to it or stumbled across it, like I ended up doing.

Anyway, back to the question, if I had to pick just one, there’s one that I’ve actually mentioned a couple of times before, enough that I probably make the reviewer feel weird about it at this point, lmfao. But it was a review on one of my Teen Wolf one-shots, Howling Like Real People Do, and it was a fun, really sweet review, but more than that, I think its like I was just saying, about how timing can play such a large role……the reviewer left that comment like a year or two after I’d written that fic actually, but it was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. I got it at a time when I was seriously contemplating just moving on from Teen Wolf fandom in general, because I was getting a ton of constant harassment from S/terek anons, and my two ‘big’ multi-chapter fics that I’d poured a ton of time and effort into were getting anon hate comments on every new chapter I posted, that had nothing to do with the fic itself and were all just aimed at me, lol, but y’know…..it kinda made it all feel like a waste of time and energy, and I was all….ugh, what am I even doing here at this point, this isn’t fun for me and it doesn’t seem like its worth it. 

But then I got that review just when I was actually looking for reasons to stick around, and it did exactly that, it was proof that there were still at least some people out there looking for the kinds of things I was writing (and it really helped that it was on Howling too, because Boyd is a criminally under-utilized/prioritized character in fandom, and so I was always kinda like…..’is anyone even gonna care about this Boyd POV character piece’…and then hey, they did)….but I mean like…..I’m actually a pretty simple/bare bones kind of guy. I love validation as much as the next guy, but it takes surprisingly little validation to motivate me, lol, and so I mean, that one single review then and there probably did just as much to motivate me to stick around and stay posting and present in fandom, as like….a dozen equally thoughtful reviews on one of my more frequently read fics. *Shrugs* Right time, right place, right words. 

So yeah, there’s your answer. The one review that’s probably stuck with me the most and made my day the most is that one Howling review years after I wrote the fic, because for as much as I bitch about TW fandom, it was a big part of my life for awhile and where I met a ton of really great friends and so its not actually something I regret and I’m glad I ended up sticking around instead of moving on from the fandom back then. *Shrugs*

Like I said, you never know when the review you feel self-conscious about leaving might have a far bigger ripple effect than you ever thought it would, so if you feel enough of a reaction to a fic to write or even just think of a review you might want to leave….just go ahead and hit post too. It could be the review that writer really needs, just in the way their fic maybe was the read you really needed too. Fanfic and reader comments are a kind of conversation, IMO. Go ahead and take the opportunity afforded by it and talk back to a writer, if their fic gave you something to say.

[vexedtonightmares]

La Fin Des Temps Chapter 18 (Elu Hogwarts AU)

Vendredi 20:27 - “Here are all the things I never told you”

Lundi 9:56

lucallemant: Hey Eliott, hope you’re doing ok, let me know if you want me to come see you at all xx

Mardi 11:42

lucallemant: Harriet misses you in potions, she failed the draft we’re brewing today because of it. One might even think you were a good potions partner after all ;)

lucallemant: I miss you too, but I know you need time

lucallemant: Don’t forget that I’m here, though

Mercredi 8:10

lucallemant: I just realized that I don’t even know if these messages are going through, because your Instagram is deactivated. I hope they are, so I’ll keep sending them. I tried to visit you in the hospital wing, but the nurse said visitors weren’t allowed. Hope that was ok with you, and not just her deciding for you. Anyway, I’ll try again tomorrow, love you.

Jeudi 17:12

lucallemant: I’m making a playlist of all the songs that remind me of you. Don’t know why, actually, but I guess I’m missing you extra today. Nurse wouldn’t let me visit again. Maybe I’ll get a boombox and play these songs outside the hospital wing until she lets me in like in those old movies.

lucallemant: I miss you Eliott

lucallemant: I hope you miss me too

lucallemant: I don’t care that you’re bipolar, all I care about is having you in my life. Whatever you’re worried about, I can handle it, I promise. If you can deal with my mess, I can deal with yours.

lucallemant: Not that being bipolar makes you a mess

lucallemant: That came out wrong

lucallemant: I just want to be there for you

lucallemant: <3 je t’aime

Lucas didn’t know if they were going to be ok.

Eliott had been in the hospital wing all week with no visitors allowed. Lucas had tried to visit every day, only to be shot down. He didn’t know if Eliott was still manic, or if he’d entered a depressive episode, or if he was just recovering on his own. It ate away at him, day after day not being allowed to see Eliott and know exactly how he was doing.

The boys were doing their best to cheer him up, but he couldn’t help but worry. Basile even relayed some stories with his mother’s experiences with the same disorder. Lucas had been surprised to hear it, since Basile was a pureblood, but his family had always been tied to the muggle world, realizing that there were some things muggles understood better than wizards, especially things like this.

Lucas was, for lack of a better word, hiding, in his refuge under the Quidditch stadium. He’d told everyone he was going to do homework somewhere quiet, but really he just needed somewhere that made him feel like everything was going to be ok. Being down there brought back memories of his first kiss with Eliott, the first kiss that had really mattered to him. It was drizzling again now, not quite pouring like it had been that night, but it was making him even more nostalgic than he already was.

Idriss and Sofiane had kept in touch, telling him to just wait it out if Eliott wasn’t ready to see him yet. They sent their love from Paris, and it comforted Lucas more than he cared to admit. He knew that he wasn’t alone in the world, but he was worried Eliott didn’t.

Another reason Lucas had come to this place was his knowledge that Eliott might look for him there. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it was still a possibility. Eliott might show up and pull him out onto the field, kissing him under the moon as it rose to its apex in the sky.

His phone vibrated, jolting him out of his reverie. Manon was calling him, which was a tad unusual. Usually she just texted him when she needed something.

“Hello?” he answered uncertainly.

She breathed out a sigh of relief on the other end. “Thank goodness. You haven’t heard yet, have you?”

Her words made him uneasy. “Heard what?”

“Eliott. They’re transferring him to St. Mungo’s.”

Lucas’ heart dropped to his feet. No, he couldn’t let that happen. He knew firsthand what St. Mungo’s did with things they don’t understand. If Eliott really needed to go anywhere, he would be better off at a muggle hospital. He started to tell Manon this, but she cut him off.

“I know that, of course. But that’s not the problem,” she said.

“Then what’s the problem?” Was his voice shaking, or was he just imagining it?

She paused. Then--

“He’s gone, Lucas. No one knows where he went.”

“What?” he asked sharply, certain he’d misheard her.

She repeated, “He’s gone. I overheard the nurse say that she left for a moment to use the restroom and when she came back, he was gone.”

“Putain,” Lucas hissed, mostly to himself. He’d been hoping Eliott would escape the confines of the hospital wing, but not like this. Preferably, once he felt better and able to return not only to Lucas, but also to classes and the mundanity of school life.

Her voice turned worried. “You don’t know where he is, then? We were hoping he was with you.”

Lucas held back a sob. “No. He’s not.”

“Putain,” she swore, “Merde. I’ll call you if we hear anything, ok?”

“I guess so.” He didn’t know what else he could say, or do. Where could Eliott be?

“Bye, Lucas.” There was silence on the other end, but he knew she hadn’t hung up yet. “Everything will be ok, all right?”

“All right,” he agreed, but they both knew it was a lie. She hung up at last and Lucas dropped his phone on the floor beside him, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms. He hated this feeling, this hopelessness.

His phone buzzed again and he dove for it, hoping it was an update from Manon and not just someone liking his post on Instagram. He blinked at the screen, opening his messages cautiously, not sure if he should believe what he was seeing. There was a video attachment from Eliott. He clicked play, but it was just a black screen. He was about to close it out when Eliott started speaking.

“Lucas. I’m standing in the place you poured your heart out to me for the first time. I should have talked to you then, or even any of the other times after. All the nights hidden in the room of requirement and days spent learning each other’s bodies and minds as if they were everything we ever needed in life. There was so much I should have said, but now it’s too late to tell you the way I’d hoped someday I’d be able to, so I’m afraid this is what you get. Here are all the things I never told you.” Lucas paused the video, not sure if he was hearing correctly. Eliott didn’t sound like he had a week before, he just sounded empty.

Lucas clicked play. “The first is that I hoped I’d never have to tell you at all. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry for it all. I was selfish, thinking what we had could end any different than anything I’d had in the past. I know you know now that I’m bipolar and why I was expelled. I’m equally relieved and pained that I never told you these things myself, because you deserved to hear it from me. I was scared to lose you. You were so special to me Lucas, don’t ever think you weren’t, but I can never be what you deserve. And you deserve the entire universe. No, all the universes.”

Why was Eliott speaking in the past tense? Lucas’ hands were shaking as he continued listening. “Maybe in one of them there is a Lucas and an Eliott who are married, together forever. I would like to think that’s true. Maybe there’s a Lucas who plays the drums, or an Eliott who isn’t crazy. I’m sorry you were stuck with this one. Another Eliott will come along and love you like I tried to, but he won’t fuck it all up. He’ll be whole and unbroken and every inch the man you deserve. I wish it was me. I wish so badly that it was me.”

Lucas stopped the recording. This was bad, this was very bad. Idriss’ words were ringing in his mind and he couldn’t stop thinking about how this sounded eerily like a goodbye. Eliott had said where he was, hadn’t he? Lucas scrubbed back to the beginning and listened to the first part again.

“I’m standing in the place you poured your heart out to me for the first time. I should have talked to you then, or even any of the other times after. All the nights hidden in the room of requirement--” Lucas didn’t hesitate, rushing out from under the stadium and out into the open, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He didn’t want to be too late. As he ran he continued listening from where he left off.

“--I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in our first class together, the one where you didn’t see me. I fell in love with you when I saw how your face lit up when I came to sit by you at lunch. I fell in love with you when I showed you my drawings in the bathroom and you didn’t flinch from the first shred of myself I’d given willingly. I fell in love with you when we laid on the floor talking about patronuses and I had to resist kissing you for the first time.”

Lucas was running faster than he ever had in his life.

“I fell in love when you played piano for me and shared a part of your soul for the first time. I fell in love when you were worried about me when I disappeared for days on end.”

He nearly barrelled directly into Manon and the girls, who called after him in worry, but he ignored them, pleading with the universe. He prayed, pleaded, If there is a God out there, please don’t let me be too late.

“I fell in love with you when you told me about your life in the same place I stand right now. I never told you why I’d been up there in the first place, but it was the same reason I’m up here now.”

All that was left was the massive staircase leading to the astronomy tower. Lucas took all the steps two at a time, three if he could manage it. Eliott’s voice sounded thick with emotion now, no longer cold and flat.

“It’s getting cold now and a part of me doesn’t want to go, but I know I can’t stay. So here’s the last thing I never told you: I fell in love over and over and over again, but I’d do it all again in an instant. I guess I’m still selfish, after all. I’m sorry, but at least know that you were always le premier in my heart, even at the end. There’s no one like you.”

He was so close, so close.

“You made me forget for a minute that we’re all alone in this world anyway. We’re all so alone, trying to find a way not to be, and it never works. No one will ever love anyone the way they want to be loved. I tried with you, though, but I wasn’t enough. I never am.”

Lucas made it to the top of the stairs, gaze jumping frantically to find the boy he loved more than anything in the world. The tower was empty.

“So now I’m alone again, the way I was always meant to be. I love you, and I’m sorry for not being the person you deserved. I love you so much.”

The recording broke off at the same moment Lucas’ heart shattered so deeply he could feel it like someone had actually stabbed him in the chest. He was too late he was too late he was too late.

“ELIOTT!” he yelled fruitlessly, blinking tears out of his eyes when they caught on something bright and he felt a sense of deja vu. I never told you why I was up there in the first place, but it’s the same reason I’m up here now.

He followed the patronus, Eliott’s source of comfort, and found himself back out on the ledge, inches from falling, inches away from where Eliott stood, face turned up to the sky, tears mixing with the rain on his face. Lucas’ heart cracked open again, but this time it refilled itself with relief. He wasn’t too late, and Eliott wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Never again, if Lucas could help it.

When Eliott looked at him it was like he thought Lucas was an apparition. His face was apprehensive, like he couldn’t allow himself to believe that Lucas was actually there, taking steps towards him, trying not to fear the shallow ledge.

Lucas reached him, and Eliott fell apart, collapsing into Lucas’ arms. His body wracked itself with sobs, and Lucas let the two of them stand there like that for a moment, arms wrapped around Eliott tightly enough that he hoped Eliott understood what he was trying to say. I am never letting go.

The rain was beating down harder now, or maybe it was just because of how high they were, so close to the sky that they could nearly touch the stars. Lucas unwrapped one arm, using it to tilt Eliott’s chin up to look him in the eye. “You are not alone,” he said, pouring all his emotions into the statement.

“I’m here.” Then, in French, because it was the language of love, the language of them. “T’es plus tout seul.”

Vendredi 21:21

Lucas and Eliott were lying in Lucas’ bed, legs tangled together and arms wrapped as tightly as before, still disbelieving that the other was actually there. Lucas had cast a Muffliato charm around his bed to keep people from hearing them, not that there was much to hear, as Eliott was asleep against Lucas’ chest. Luckily it was early enough in the night that all of Lucas’ roommates were still out and about, or simply waiting in the common room.

Lucas was vaguely aware of changing the two of them out of their rain soaked clothes and into large, warm gryffindor sweaters, of lying down on the bed, but everything was a bit fuzzy from the moment he’d held Eliott out on the ledge. There were simply too many emotions coursing through him to begin to process everything that had happened.

He shifted slightly and felt Eliott’s arms tighten around him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured Eliott, not even sure if Eliott was awake to hear him. He’d thought Eliott had been asleep from the moment they’d laid down.

“I know.” The words were soft, barely a whisper, but they were the first Eliott had spoken to Lucas in a week, other than his message earlier. Lucas felt a tear drip gently down his cheek. Eliott knew that Lucas was there, that he wasn’t going to leave, and that meant more to him than he knew what to do with. “T’es plus tout seul,” Lucas repeated quietly. He would say it every day for the rest of his life if he had to.

Eliott tipped his head up, opening his eyes to meet Lucas’. “You are not alone either.”

Lucas’ throat constricted with emotion, and Eliott unraveled one arm to lift a hand up and brush the tears from Lucas’ face. “I’m so selfish,” he said to himself, and Lucas pressed their foreheads together.

“Why now? Why are you so selfish?” he demanded.

Eliott glanced downward. “Because I’m still here. Because I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Fuck that.” Lucas’ voice must have been harsher than he intended, because Eliott blinked his eyes back up in surprise. “Fuck that, Eliott. It’s not selfish to want to be loved. To want to not be alone. You deserve it. You deserve to love yourself, too. You know what is selfish? Thinking that you can just leave me, leave your parents, hell, even leave Lucille, and that none of us would care. When I thought--” he cut off, taking a deep breath.

“When I thought you’d… Something cracked, a fissure so deep I’m not sure it will ever heal fully. I don’t want you to feel guilty for it, but you need to know that the thought that I’d lost you forever broke me inside. I love you. You deserve so much more than even I can give, and I’m willing to give you all the love I have.”

Eliott didn’t answer, but the gleam in his eyes was answer enough. Lucas wanted to kiss him and promise never to leave, but that wasn’t what Eliott needed right now. Lucas knew that Eliott knew, deep in his heart, that he wasn’t alone anymore, that he was loved, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still need time. And that was ok. They had all the time in the world.

“Lucas and Eliott number two thousand twenty-seven,” Eliott murmured, “How does their story end?”

How does it end? Well, that was simple. It doesn’t end, not really, because as long as Lucas and Eliott number one are writing their stories, so are all the Lucas and Eliott’s in all the universes. Eliott number two thousand twenty-seven was bipolar as well, and he had also been weary of Lucas’ reaction. So he kept it a secret, but, as most secrets do, it came out in a burst of wedding talk and cheap ham on a… boat. Yes, on a boat.

Eliott chuckled softly and Lucas could have sworn he had never heard a sound so beautiful in his life. “Ham on a boat?” Eliott clarified, but for once Lucas didn’t chide him for the interruption.

“Of course. This Lucas and Eliott aren’t as classy as us, they don’t get the fancy restaurant and hotel experience,” he answered, keeping his tone as light as he could. Eliott nuzzled in deeper to Lucas, which he took as a go ahead to continue his story.

Things happened, as things do, and Eliott was gone. Lucas was scared, so he called Lucille, who told him why everything was happening. She was a bit of a bitch about it, actually, said some harsh things that made Lucas think Eliott didn’t, or couldn’t, love him.

Lucas couldn’t help himself with that one, he was still a bit mad at Lucille for not letting him in to see Eliott earlier in the week. Eliott frowned up at Lucas. “She didn’t actually say those things, did she?”

Lucas debated lying, but decided to tell the truth. “Not… exactly. She said some things, but the sentiment remained the same.”

Eliott sighed. “I wish I could say that was a one time thing, but that’s Lucille for you. You can probably see why I didn’t want to talk about her.” Lucas laughed softly before continuing his story, unable to keep himself from pressing a small kiss into Eliott’s hair.

Given what Lucille number two thousand twenty-seven had said, Lucas was heartbroken and scared, didn’t know what to do. So he just didn’t do anything. He stayed in bed and cried, because this Lucas cried at the drop of a hat, numbing himself to the pain that he felt. After he took time and felt a little bit more like himself, he decided to research bipolar disorder, knowing that even if Eliott didn’t want him anymore, he had to try to understand. He probably got shitfaced that night with Emma, or Manon, or both of them, but he’d needed it, in some ways, needed to get out of his own head.

Naturally, he would feel like shit going to school, but he would confide in his friends about what was going on and Basile would school him on his knowledge of the disorder, making him feel terrible for ever doubting Eliott could love him. Mostly, Basile would educate and encourage him, giving some great advice Lucas hadn’t thought Basile would ever give.

“Why Basile?” Eliott asked.

“His mom is bipolar,” Lucas said, brushing a stray hair away from Eliott’s eye. Eliott blinked up to meet Lucas’ gaze. “Really?” he asked.

Lucas nodded. “Really. You are not alone in that either.”

Eliott didn’t respond further, so Lucas continued from where he’d left off.

This Lucas, he knew by then that he loved Eliott more than anyone else in the world, but now he was afraid that Eliott didn’t know it. So he decided to try to fight for them, but he was unable to get through. He didn’t know if Eliott’s parents maybe didn’t want Eliott to see anyone, or if Eliott himself was backing away, isolating himself intentionally or unintentionally. It had been nearly a week since he’d heard anything and, as much as it pained him, he thought maybe that was a sign that he should let go.

Then Lucille texted him, telling him Eliott had disappeared and no one knew where he was. Lucas knew immediately. The petite ceinture, his refuge. He found more clarity and insight into Eliott’s thoughts and feelings in that moment than he had the entire week prior. He knew what he had to do.

He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, all the way across Paris, running back to Eliott’s home, back to the place they’d kissed for the first time. An array of memories flashed through his head as he ran, from their first meeting to when they’d actually spent time together, to their first kiss, their morning talking about parallel universes, even their night on the boat, before everything went awry. He ran, and ran, and ran, almost getting run over by a car, but barely noticing, not caring about anything other than making sure Eliott knew Lucas would always be there. When he found Eliott under the bridge a surge of relief had rushed through his body, and he’d said you are not alone, I’m here, you are not alone anymore, and, at last, Eliott had heard him.

“At least, I hope he did,” Lucas finished. Eliott sniffed, and Lucas noticed a few stray tears running down his face. He brushed them away gently with his thumbs, relishing in the smooth familiarity of Eliott’s skin.

Eliott murmured something so soft that Lucas couldn’t hear him. “What” he asked gently, not wanting to make Eliott have to repeat anything if he didn’t want to.

“He did,” Eliott repeated, no longer crying. “He heard you. In that universe, and in this one.”

Lucas nearly cried himself in the relief of hearing Eliott say that. Of course times would be difficult for them, but as long as Eliott had heard him, seen him, understood him, and knew that he would never have to face any of this alone ever again, the could get through anything.

“I love you, Eliott.” He could hear the emotion in his own voice, not even caring if he sounded a bit like he was pleading. Eliott deserved to be loved in every sense of the word. It was something he’d always known and he could see that now better than ever.

Eliott didn’t respond right away, and in the time they were both silent Ouba leapt onto the bed, snuggling her way between them. She looked at Lucas pointedly, clearly jealous that Eliott was getting more attention than she was. Lucas smiled softly and moved one of his hands from Eliott’s face to ruffle her fur and give her a quick kiss on the top of her head. When he looked up, Eliott was gazing at him with such a tender expression he had to hold back from pushing Ouba aside and kissing Eliott immediately.

“I love you too,” Eliott said, eyes never leaving Lucas’. Lucas felt more affected by the words now than he did the first time he’d heard them. What they had was real, and no one could take it away from them, not even themselves. Eliott looked down a moment before bringing his gaze back up to Lucas. “Can I kiss you?”

Lucas nodded, tilting his head down in answer, their lips meeting so briefly Lucas almost thought he imagined it. It was a small gesture, but it finally told Lucas this is really going to be ok. He wasn’t sure he’d completely believed it until that moment, but now he knew for certain that they were going to be alright. That just as much as Eliott was not alone, Lucas wasn’t either.

They had each other, they had their friends, they had Ouba, they even had Brian, and they were going to be ok.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

AO3

Weekly Instagram Roundup: Week 1 Week 2 Week 3 Week 4 Week 5 Week 6 Week 7

#skam france #elu fic #elu #elu hogwarts au #la fin des temps #FINALLY #sorry its so late on tumblr

[dotsz]

hey i finished my elmer’s glue fic i bet for the phight

@phandomphightclub​ dunno if you’re still active but here’s my bet lol fml

Empty. The room was empty.

Oh, sure, one could argue otherwise; literally speaking, the room was covered wall to floor in posters from various comic books, fanarts, certificates, and the such. Action figures littered every surface, and the camera set in front of the desk gave the impression of there always being an audience.

And yet.

It wasn’t so much the contents of the room but the atmosphere that made it feel so incredibly void of… happiness? No. Purpose. Maybe. Even the word felt empty.

Butch sighed from his place on his seat. He looked into the camera, the lenses reflecting his own mournful face back at him, and a cold pit grew in his stomach.

“What am I,” he said, “but a puppet in this madness? This simulation? This… this reality, it’s… it’s falling apart.” He put his head in his hands, inwardly cursing himself for how his shoulders shook. “Oh, Lord, it’s all falling apart.”

All this efforts to create something for this bland world, all the years of pouring his heart and soul into his work… was it for naught? Did they truly detest him so? What did he ever do to deserve such torment?

Deep in the recesses of his mind, a dark voice slithered through. But you didn’t really do anything! it whispered. Your show only did well because of the concept; still people fight you on it, tell you what you could do better, yet you refuse to open your mind and accept criticism-

“Silence yourself,” Butch murmured fiercely. “I am not weak. I don’t listen to those who are less than me.”

But are they really less than you? it cackled. What if you are the one in the simulation? The dream? The nightmare? What if they are telling you to wake up? What if your masterpiece is really the key to your salvation, not theirs?

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Butch stood abruptly from his chair, and the screech it made as it slid across the floor caused him to cringe almost as much as the phandom while watching Livin’ Large. “I created their childhood. Without me, they would not exist. I shaped their very souls.”

Is that the truth? Or simply your over-inflated ego?

“Who even are you?” Butch whirled around to face his wall of fanart, which had not been updated since, like, 2015. “What business do you have to be in my mind, speaking poison into me?”

I am your insecurities.

“Impossible. I have none.”

Let me clarify, said the voice. I am the insecurities created out of your show. The creation of Danny Phantom came with sacrifice; it came with the knowledge that despite your initial ideas being of interest, your writing and unwillingness to stray from your narrow-minded beliefs of what cartoons are to be caused the show to inevitably fall into mediocrity.

“Hey-”

The inspiration of superheroes, woven into a twist of a child’s secret identity stemming from keeping themselves safe rather than those they love, coupled with the allure of ghosts in a small, eerie town, as well as relatable and well-written depictions of teenage characters, could’ve made the show to be a legend, revered, given much more than two seasons plus one half-assed excuse for a season and conclusion.

“Are you done yet?” Butch asked irritatedly, an ache beginning to form between his eyes. He didn't have time for this. He didn’t have much time for anything, it seemed, what with Oaxis needing more support and his fans letting him down… he was always being let down…

Stop whining, the voice snapped. Anyway, as I was saying: if Danny Phantom had been given the same treatment as other popular cartoons, like Gravity Falls, the creepiness would’ve fit its child-like innocence enough to give it the right kind of feel people were hoping for when you put ghosts and superheroes together. Truly, I pity you. You could’ve done something great.

“Stop…” Butch groaned. His head pounded, his hands shook, and every inch of his body tried its hardest to go against the thoughts that had begun to enter his brain. His - no, it was no longer his - fandom had grown into a phandom, solely for the show, leaving his ideas behind for “better” ones of their own. And when he demanded answers, they only laughed in his face… is this what he’d become? A laughing stock? An example of everything he’s ever hated?

This simulation of life was created for us to give, the voice said, sounding much more sympathetic. But they’ve done nothing but take from you.

“I…” Butch gasped, fell into his chair, stared into the camera. Soulless lenses.

Isn’t it your fault, though? You pushed them away, didn’t you?

Black spots danced before his eyes.

You false god, said the voice, and Butch lost consciousness.

He swam in darkness for what felt like eons. Bursts of light and noise every so often tore through the veil in front of him; he heard whispers from years past, mutterings of guacamole and a red-head background character, the phrase Phantom Planet’s Not Canon Fuck You; he saw lists of dissection fics and metaphysical hang-out spots at Denny’s, accusations of diaper fetishes… finally showing his ridicule after announcing Oaxis, the way they slandered him.

This was his legacy being shown.

Butch groaned. Something soft remained under him.

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” said a voice to his right. Familiar.

He opened his eyes, slowly, pushing through the heaviness, black spots receding to the corners of his vision. He took a moment to recognize he still sat in his office, only this time on a small couch by the corner.

“Here, drink some water,” said the same voice. Butch turned his head to look-

And froze.

It was him. It looked like him. Same strong jawline, luscious locks of dark hair, broad shoulders and tight-fitting shirt that stretched over his toned physique; same deep, soulful brown eyes, a charming grin showing perfect, pearly-white teeth.

It was like looking into a mirror.

The other him grinned wider, holding out a cup of water. “Here, drink up.”

As if on autopilot, Butch reached forward and took the glass out of Other-Butch’s hands. Their fingers brushed, and something akin to electricity traveled up his arm and into his chest, warming him up from the inside, making him gasp. With shaking hands, he gulped down the cold drink and shivered at the chill.

“What was that?” Butch choked out, staring at the perfection that was his face - on another body, yet so incredibly familiar he had no choice but to feel calm, secure, happy.

Other-Butch laughed, booming and infectious. “Oh, you took a nasty fall, all right. Don’t worry, the voice in your head won’t come as long as I’m here.”

“Alright?” Butch paused. “Who are you?”

“I’m you,” said Other-Butch simply. “Well, not exactly; I have my own thoughts and feelings too, of course. But I’m still you. Same memories.”

“Same name?”

“Butch Hartman.” Other-Butch smiled softly as if he were revisiting an old nostalgic memory. “But you can call me Elmer, if it’s too confusing.”

“Elmer.” Butch tried the name on his tongue - it fit. “I haven’t heard that in years.”

“It’s pretty old, isn’t it?” Elmer sighed, leaning forward. His biceps flexed as he wrung his large hands together. “Butch, do you remember the Golden Days?”

“The what?”

“The Golden Days.” A ghost of a smile. “Back when everyone loved your show. I mean, they still do, but they respected it back then. Loved you. Your ideas.”

“I…” Butch closed his eyes. “Yes. Yes, I do. Good times.”

“I remember your - our passion,” Elmer continued, his voice dripping with wistfulness. “And now? What now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re giving up,” Elmer said, his tone suddenly sharp.

Butch snapped his eyes open to stare at Elmer. His jaw jutted out defiantly, his eyes smoldering, looking into his very soul. For the second time today, Butch shivered.

“You can’t give up, not now,” Elmer continued. “What about Oaxis? What about the children? You’re making the future, Butch.”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Butch sniffed angrily - he, crying? The almighty Butch Hartman? No, he would not stoop to such low measures. “The phandom-”

“Those little shits know nothing of what you’ve accomplished,” Elmer hissed. “All they’re good for is making bad shitposts and hurting your canon. What happened to ‘You can’t bring me down,’ to ‘Criticism only makes me stronger?’ What happened to the Butch we know?’

Butch stayed silent.

“You can’t give up.” Elmer grabbed his hand, brought it close to him. Butch gasped at the energy flowing between them. “You can’t.”

And through his doubt, a pinprick of light shone through; a small bit of passion broke through, then multiplied, flooding his veins and swelling his heart as he fell further into the electricity Elmer brought him.

Butch grinned, reminiscent to his old bravado. “You’re right.”

Elmer mirrored his grin. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“You will?”

“We can do this together,” Elmer said, his eyes wide and open. Butch leaned into him, the two embracing, gasping at the energy coursing through them. Yes, this was meant to be. They were meant to be.

And whatever happened, Butch knew he’d be ready. With Elmer by his side.

“We can fix this simulation,” Elmer whispered hoarsely into his ear. “Together. Like glue.”

And Butch said, “Okay.”

And together, they created.

#fuck! i can't believe i wrote this #tears are streaming down my cheeks i hope yall are happy #phandom phight club #elmers glue #birch tree fartman #phicc #danny phantom #bet

[hailsuzalulu]

The Cute Quirk Analyst

I took way too long to get anything at all out and I want to apologize to my Giftee @rvkiakuchiki, for having to deal with the fact that I am a horrible Santa. I’m hoping to make this a several parter because everything in life just seems to hate me. But so far this is what I have and I’m planning to update every chance I get the time

I am so so so so sorry for posting so late, but I hope you enjoy what I have.

“ I swear to god round-face, if you ask again about that damn secret santa i’m going to blast you sky high and not wait for you to float your ass down.” Bakugo growled, sending a signature glare to the shorter girl walking by his side.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud Blasty, it’s a holiday tradition! There’s just something thrilling about not knowing who’s going to give you a present, it’s fun to see what people think about you.” Uraraka teased, jabbing her partner in the side with her elbow. Her grin could only be described as shit eating, to think she used to be the sweetest person that he knew. Being partners since UA really had changed her, maturing her from someone who was polite to everyone and overly bubbly, to someone who wasn’t afraid to throw sass and get tough when she needed to.

Bakugo huffed at the jab, focusing his attention on the scenery below him. People hustled around the streets, buying gifts for the holidays and going on window shopping dates. Snow slowly fell, a flake showing itself here or there. Ground Zero eyed the alley ways that were sure to be littered with villains just waiting for something sparkly to cross their paths. And today was their lucky day. A scream emanated from across the street where a jewelry store was getting robbed. The villain dashed out of the door, knocking people over as he ran down the street. A wicked grin spread across Bakugo’s face, the two heros shared a glance before taking of into action, jumping from roof to roof of the buildings, watching the movements of the villain. He was clearly an amature, his movements through the streets and alleyways were erratic, like he was making up where he ran on the fly. Ground Zero and Uravity followed him closely, hoping to trap him before he hurt anyone. They had practiced this maneuver several times, chasing low time villains throughout the abandoned alleyways until they reached a dead end. It minimized fighting, damage, and the possibility of civilians getting caught in the fray. He fell for it easily, skidding to a stop when Bakugo chased him to a wall, effectively trapping the villain.

“Geez, and I was really hoping for a real fight today.” Ground Zero spoke as he approached the villain, cracking his knuckles as he prepared to take the guy in. Uravity floated down beside him from the rooftop.

“Don’t be mean Zero.” Uravity sighed. If she was being honest she hoped for a fight too, but if that wasn’t the case then it meant far less paperwork, and that she was fine with.  The villain took steps back as the heroes approached, the bag on his side jingling with the stolen jewelry. He was sweating buckets as the heroes came closer, distressed and cornered, he backed himself into the wall and then he froze. Now he had only one option, the one any cornered animal would use.

“Look out, he’s about to use his quirk.” A voice came over their coms, one that neither hero had heard before.

“Who the fuck-” Ground Zero began to ask, before he was cut off by being pulled violently toward the villain by his gauntlets. Instantly Bakugo set off explosions, splitting from the guy’s hold.

“His quirk is Magnetism. He can attract the metal in your gear.” The voice spoke again through the coms.

“Zero!” Uravity yelled as the guy pulled her towards him, her belt buckle the source of the magnetism, Bakugo leaped into action before she could fall into his hold, shooting forward with an explosion. He reared back to aim a punch at the villain, before getting stopped by the villain’s quirk. The metal of his gear was held in place by the magnet, stopping Bakugo from moving away to toward the villain.

“Ground Zero, distract him somehow. It’ll stop his quirk.” The voice said in his ear again. Bakugo let out a growl.

“I dunno who the fuck you are but you damn well better not be wrong about this.” He was out of options, not being able to move his body to attack left him with few options, the person on the other end of the communicator voicing the best option that came to mind. Ground Zero let off a loud explosion, catching the villain’s attention enough to break his concentration and let his quirk’s grip loose. Uravity used the chance to punch the villain and put him in cuffs. She stood up, the villain lying on the ground below her, and let out a relieved sigh. The heroes pulled the man to his feet, leading him down the alley towards the police sirens going off in the distance. After dealing with turning the villain into the police, the hero’s checked the time to realize their patrol shift was up. They both headed back to the agency, and unfortunately, had paperwork waiting for them both.

“Hey Bakubro, are you ready for the secret santa?” Kirishima asked, leaning his body weight against the hero sitting at his desk. Bakugo straightened his posture under the weight of who he could only call his best friend.

“I’m not doing it.” He grumbled, reading over his progress on the report before sighing and turning in his chair to face Kirishima, he needed a break anyways.

“How come? You gotta do it, it’s part of the holiday fun!” Kirishima exclaimed, his smile blinding.

“Because I don’t want to.” Bakugo responded nonchalantly. He reached back to pick up the coffee cup from his desk, a plain white mug with the words ‘Fuck off’ on the bottom, displaying his mood to any bitch that watched him take a sip. Bakugo downed the rest of the caffeinated liquid, scowling at the taste of cold coffee.

“Strange, I thought Uraraka told me that you were doing the secret santa this year.” Kirishima muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Bakugo’s back cracked as he stood and stretched, moving his head side to side to pop his stiff neck as well. “I need more coffee.” He groaned, heading for the employee lounge to make another cup. Hopefully one more would be enough to get him through the day.

“You should probably get something else man, that much caffeine will keep you up all night.” Kirishima insisted, following Bakugo through the office. It was late already, maybe an hour and a half before everyone started to go home. The sun outside the large office windows was close to beginning to set, the sky a nice yellow color.

Bakugo responded with a grunt, knowing that Kirishima was right, but he was too tired to care. Who would have thought that paperwork could make someone so tired, way more tired than the several small time villains he took down over the day. There weren’t even any damages or casualties for any of them! If that was the case the paperwork and reports would have doubled, maybe tripled in size. No one ever told him in UA that being a hero required so much awful desk work.

Tiredly Bakugo took the kettle off the stove and filled it with water, setting it back on the burner, he turned of the flames and leaned against the counter to wait for the shitting thing to go off. Damn office didn’t even have the good kind of coffee, not even a coffee maker, just that instant crap along with shitty powdered creamer. It was annoying, such a high time hero agency didn’t even spend the little bit of extra money on a fucking coffee maker? Fucking cheapskates. To the side he could hear Kirishima digging in the fridge for something, probably a snack that he brought that someone had taken or moved without his permission.

“Oh, Bakugo there you are!” A bubbly voice broke the mild silence in the room.

“What do you want 3D printer?” Bakugo asked, greeting Yaoyorozu as she walked into the room. She didn’t even react to the nickname, used to what Bakugo called everyone at this point.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You need to pick your person for the secret santa.” She explained, a basket with folded pieces of paper in it.

“I’m not doing it.” Was his simple answer. The kettle began to scream, signaling the boiling of the water. Bakugo turned off the burner and poured the hot water into his mug, reaching for the coffee powder on the shelf above.

“Your name is in the drawing.” Yaoyorozu pointed out, holding the basket out to Bakugo.

“I didn’t put it in.” He growled, beginning to get pissed at how much people were asking him about this fucking event. Then it clicked, “Fucking round face.” Bakugo sighed and turned back to Momo. “I’m dropping out then.”

“You can’t, then that leaves someone without a gift.” Momo pushed the basket closer to Bakugo’s chest. “ Just do it Bakugo?” She pleaded, giving a small smile in hopes that it would get the temperamental hero in front of her to give in.

“Do it man! It’s fun!” Kirishima encouraged, holding up his own slip of paper between two fingers.

“Fine! I’ll fucking do it. A gift card should work just fine for anyone right.” Bakugo grumbled, shoving his hand into the basket and pulling out the first slip of paper he grabbed. Unfolding the slip revealed the name “Who the hell is Izuku Midoriya?”

“T-That would be me.” A small voice stuttered from the doorway, a mass of green hair and star like freckles making its mark on everyone in the room. Mostly Bakugo, because damn was he cute. Fuck! No! Stop thinking like that! You don’t even know him!

Uraraka peeked from behind the other, her face like the cat who caught the mouse. And Bakugo was the mouse, because he fell right into her clutches, and that pissed him off.

“When I get my hands on you, you’re gonna regret it.” He growled, but the threat was met by snickering from the bubble faced girl who knew she was won the fight for now.

“Oh c’mon Blasty. Put the aggression in your pocket and meet our new team member!” She exclaimed, patting the nervous looking man on the back.

“H-Hi.” Midoriya stuttered, smiling nervously and giving a little wave.

“He’s a quirk analyst! He’s the one that warned us during that one fight.” Uraraka smiled, pulling Midoriya closer to her in a friendly side hug. Midoriya flushed at the contact, fiddling with the name tag that hung around his neck. Several pens and pencils were clipped to the lanyard, along with a few hero buttons, among them being All Might, Ingenium, Froppy, and Ground Zero. This guy was a nerd wasn’t he. Bakugo turned to finish making his coffee, scowling at the water in his mug that had cooled significantly by this point. He glanced at the jar of coffee powder in his hand and finally decided against it, putting the jar back and instead grabbing some green tea. Cooling tea at least tasted better than cooling coffee, that shit just tasted nasty.

“What’s a quirk analyst?” Kirishima asked, confusion written all over his face.

“It’s someone who analyzes quirks and figures out how they work. Most of the time people in the profession have analyzing quirks that can help them better understand what’s going on in a person’s body when they use their quirks. I’ve actually been very eager to learn more about all of your quirks, more than I already have that is.” Midoriya explained, still playing with his name tag. He seemed a bit less nervous now, good, people who were constantly nervous got annoying real fast.

Bakugo took a sip of his tea, throwing out the used tea bag. Thank god the water was still warm, anything as disappointing as cold tea would throw off his already teetering mood even more.

“More than you already have?” Momo asked, setting the basket of names on the table and taking a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

“Um, I’ve kinda already studied them quite a lot. I watch several news feeds and just about any footage of uses of your quirks that I can find and then I figure out whatever I can from those bits of information. I know the basics at least of how your quirks work.” Midoriya muttered in response.

“Oh! Oh! Do me! What do you know about me?” Kirishima jumped at the chance to see what Midoriya knew about him. Damn eager idiot.

“Let me see…” Midoriya trailed off, reaching behind him and pulling a worn notebook from his back pocket. He quickly flipped through the pages until he found the one titled “Red Riot, Quirk: Hardening. You can harden your body to withstand almost any attack, and very few singular attacks have knocked you off your feet in that state let alone got the chance to harm you. Prolonged use of your quirk weakens your ability to use it, and over time of taking multiple hard hits it will begin to fail. Your body becomes very sharp when you use your quirk and that itself can be used a weapon. Hand to hand combat has been growing better and better since UA and by now you’re a very hard hitter that can be useful in both defense, rescue, and attack positions as a hero.” Midoriya read off, drifting into a bit of a muttering state.

“Wow, you really do know your stuff!” Kirishima said, amazed at just how much this guy knew about his quirk.

“It’s not really much, I just observe what I can and write down what I see.” He flushed, closing the notebook and shoving it back into his back pocket. “ I hope that I can help all of you, especially when it comes to villains. Thank you for allowing me to work with you all.” Midoriya bowed, smiling before taking his leave.

“He seems cool.” Kirishima commented enthusiastically

“Seems like a nerd to me.” Bakugo retorted, taking another sip of his tea, using his other hand to rub his aching head.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Uraraka interjected. “He’s so nice though, and super nice. You could learn a thing or two from him hot head.” She smirked. Her shitty bubbly face pissed him off, but he didn’t feel like doing anything about it now, he was way too tired.

“Shut up rosy cheeks.” Bakugo retorted, wanting nothing more than to be home right now. “I need to finish that last report, but mark my words, tomorrow I’m gonna kick your ass in sparring.” He passed a light glare at Uraraka as he passed her.

“Just try it Fireworks!” She called out the door toward Bakugo’s retreating form.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakudeku #bakugo katsuki #izuku midoriya #this is so bad! #i lowkey hate this