#everyone else is fucking boring and incapable of holding a conversation

[tiredgn0me]

i feel like im supposed to be socialising with new people and making new friends but i really just cant be bothered

#its so exhausting #and disappointing #but i only really have 1 friend #and my sister #so i feel like i should be trying to make more friends #but i tried for years and all i did was get hurt #id just like to meet someone cool and nice who doesnt turn out to be kind of an asshole #ive had someone tell me theyd be friends with a rapist #ive had someone tell me joking about raping women is quote unquote locker room talk #i got closer to an internet friend only to find out he used the word jew as a slur/insult #he also said faggot even tho hes a straight cis guy. and was a crypto loser #there was one person who just kinda stopped talking to me pretty much #there was that girl who started dating her rapist again and went off at me for not wanting to talk to her anymore #that dude who im pretty sure was just a nazi #and these were the most bearable people i could find #everyone else is fucking boring and incapable of holding a conversation #talking to myself #blah blah blah

[dead-or-unalive]

Vent

What really sucks is, im surrounded by other mentally ill people, some of whom have similar issues as what im dealing with, but all of them have the key difference that they have a *potential* to have a better life. They try new meds and it actually makes a difference. They go to therapy and work through their issues, and reveal that underneath it all there was a perfectly normal person capable of happy relationships who just happened to have some mental illness in the way. And so it starts feeling like oh, maybe i have a shot, maybe if i take the meds and go to therapy and do everything right, things will get better for me. This is incorrect! Because the things that are wrong with me arent just mental illness - yes, i do have an anxiety disorder, depression, etc., but it doesnt actually matter, because *underneath* the mental illness is… NOTHING! Im nothing! Im no one! I have no personality, no friends, and i cant hold a conversation to save my life! Im boring! It wouldnt matter if i stopped being depressed, or stopped being anxious, because i still wouldnt be able to talk! And the only way to learn to talk to people, to have a personality, to learn to be worthwhile in any capacity, i would have to first subject people to the way i am now, and I definitely cant do that - its already clear to me that most people i do try to talk to cant fucking stand me, no one wants to be around me more than 5 minutes if they dont have to. I have exactly one friend, and literally everyone else in my life *including my own family* prefer him over me, to the point that im more of a bg character/third wheel in every conversation. I have to stress that this isnt an exaggeration - its *every* conversation i have irl. Ive just generally accepted that im unpleasant to be around, so i choose to not make people have to deal with me whenever possible. But then im stuck like this. Although, i guess even the brief period pre-pandemic where i started meeting new people and making “friends”, i was still just as awkward, just as incapable of talking to people, just a third wheel for a different group. So maybe im stuck like this no matter what i try! Even when i do find people to talk to i cant fucking manage it.

Its just really unfortunate, because other people dont seem to *get* it. They think that since they can feel better, so can i. But people are social animals, and i have literally no social skills. I missed my chance to develop those, missed the window where my level of awkwardness would be acceptable. So i *cant* get better.

I am running out of reasons to keep trying. I cant live like this forever. Currently the only thing stopping me from offing myself is the fact that i dont want my best friend to have to pay our rent solo. But by sticking around im preventing him from finding new friends… idk. An unwinnable situation atm.

[youknow-igetit]

heres the thing

like, baltimore happened. right? right.

but like, absolutely none of the foxes believe that andrew and neil are together. like romantically. (it’s mildly plausible that they could have sexual relations with one another but it’s literally only allison that thinks that, and even she’s doubtful.)

(renee is the only outlier here but she doesn’t comment on any of it because she doesnt have a death wish because she’s andrew’s friend)

(maybe also aaron but he thinks they just fuck)

what with neil’s insistence on not swinging and andrews... andrewness, it makes no sense that they’d actually be together

they never touch whatsoever. no kissing (no evidence of kissing), no hugging, no hand-holding, nothing. not even an accidental bumping of knees between the two of them.

kevin refuses to talk to them about the topic, but nicky is a very talkative person. “I live in the same dorm as them. but i’ve never seen anything even slightly coupley.”

even allison is beginning to doubt herself.

by their second year most of the foxes have come to the conclusion that they just said it to get the foxes out of neil’s love life and to make them tolerate andrew at least a little more

like, of course they think that neil and andrew are friends, at least, no one could get that close to the little knife-wielding maniac andrew and not have some sort of connection

also they talk to each other a lot. andrew hardly talks to anyone else. the foxes interpret that as they 

but they kind of just brush it aside until it’s new year’s eve and all of the original foxes are there (because they’re not letting neil leave them again)

andrew and neil are off smoking and nicky’s like “okay guys a new bet.”

so nicky thinks that they’re together, full stop (because he’s lived with andrew for years he knows that he shows his affection differently). 

aaron thinks they’re just fucking and so does allison (one of the few times they have ever agreed on anything)

matt, dan, and kevin all think that they’re just close friends (because kevin is probably thinking about their exy careers and also the internalized homophobia that the nest drilled into him for years is still there)

renee isn’t a part of it (obviously)

and so the bet finally begins

neil and andrew probably know about it, but they also have no idea who thinks what and they also don’t really care. they know. that’s all that matters. they’re a very private people.

none of the freshman even know that andrew and neil are together in the first place, so they definitely don’t know about the bet

so the foxes start watch andrew and neil just a little bit more closely but they’re still not seeing anything different than how they acted before they were ‘out’

it isn’t until the next october that they get anything

they’re all in the girl’s suite (now only dan and allison, renee graduated the year before)

it’s all of the foxes, the new freshmen and the now-sophomores (bonding exercise, dan told neil. you’re all gonna be there) and all of the original ones

they’re all hanging out and some people are chatting but it’s kinda lame

so allison’s like “fuck it, we’re all playing never have i ever.”

they establish things such as if you feel uncomfortable revealing anything you don’t have to, no singling people out, etc

so the game begins and there’s the usual tame questions like “never have i ever skateboarded” and such

but it slowly delves into the more revealing things, like “never have i ever broken the law” (and nearly all of the foxes drink because they’re foxes)

but jack, the asshole, goes “never have i ever sucked dick”

nicky, obviously take a big gulp. and allison, dan, matt (”what?? i was experimental in high school”), andrew, kevin (everyone kinda knows about the hookup culture that the nest had, so whatever), and many of the freshmen and sophomores drink as well. and, astoundingly, so does neil

nicky literally gasps, allison coughs on her drink, the rest of the original foxes simply gape (except for kevin, who swears loudly) because there was no one that neil would give a blowjob to besides andrew

neil, completely unblushingly, goes “what?” at all of his speechless friends (except for kevin, who is still swearing. it was only twenty dollars that he lost, but still). andrew, next to him, has the same bored expression

so matt, kevin, and dan have already lost the bet, even if it’s still going strong

but eventually they’re all like okay yeah, whatever, they’re fucking, but that’s it

except nicky

so it basically all of the foxes trying to get neil (not andrew, andrew’s scary) that it’s a fwb thing without explicitly asking outright

but every time matt asks how his thing with andrew is going he just kinda shrugs and goes back to what he was doing because it hasn’t really changed much except they trust each other a lot more, both emotionally and physically but neil’s not gonna tell anyone that

so allison’s like “got any dick recently?” and neil’s like”???? yeah?? i guess???”

but suddenly it’s andrew’s fifth year and nearly all of the original foxes have graduated and the bet is still there, obviously, but it’s come to the point that if they stay together after andrew graduates then nicky’s right and he wins the bet

but it’s before that that shit goes down

so it’s spring break, and they’re all at the cabin that they went to that first time (i like to think that it becomes a tradition and no matter what, all the foxes are there every year)

so  it’s the third night and things are... tense

it’s not that andrew and neil are being quiet, since they usually don’t talk a lot, but the air around them seems charged, like a bomb about to go off

they’re all gathered around, sitting on assorted furniture or the floor, and their all conversing quietly and dan gets up, grabs an assorted but large selection of alcohols, and sets them on the coffee table, declaring that they’re going to play drinking games and absolutely no one can sit out (glaring pointedly at neil, who looks ready to bolt. he hasn’t had that expression on his face for years. they all hate it.)

it is, again, during a game of never have i ever, when things come to a crescendo

they’re all mildly tipsy at this point of the night, and neil and andrew are sitting on the same loveseat, but nearly as far away from each other as possible (they’re still playing, since dan insisted, and despite her having not been their captain for two years, she is still mentally their captain)

allison, because she felt emotional or it’s just the alcohol, goes “never have i ever been in love”

and dan and matt share dopey smiles as they both drink, aaron drinks, nicky stares off into space while drinking, thinking only of erik, and kevin takes a hesitant sip from his

its silent for a full second before neil, with a determined look on his face, looks andrew in the eye and takes a huge mouthful of the alcohol and swallows

no one says anything either from knowing better than to say anything or being physically incapable of speech

neil and andrew maintain eye contact before andrew, andrew, picks up his own drink and drains his glass

as if rehearsed, they both get up at the same time and storm outside onto the deck, slamming the door and shaking the paintings on the walls

it’s a terse silence as they hear faint voices arguing but it isn’t until they fall silent that kevin gets up to investigate but then immediately goes to sit back down after one glance out of the window

he picks up a bottle of vodka and drinks directly from it before going “they’re fine”

“how do you know?” matt asks tentatively

“because they’re making out”

the room is silent again, surprise coloring the air

and then

“pay up, bitches”

Nicky is very pleased upon knowing that his cousin actually does have someone to love and so does neil his adopted son but also that he won six hundred dollars (”I never should have fucking bet that much” allison muttered later)

and for the rest of their vacation everyone’s happy and fine and dandy and they all ignore those hickeys on andrew’s neck

#andreil #andreil hc #andreil bullet fic #aftg bullet fic #all for the game headcanon #all for the game hc #andreil headcanon #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #trc #tkm #this s very long sorry

[theonewiththefanfics]

Shy (one-shot)

Synopsys: She’s shy. He likes her. She likes him. But every time something gets between the ex-Winter Soldier and the cute lab rat that works with Stark. The team has had enough of the pining.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluffffffff

Warnings: swearing, as per usual, nothing else really. Just some cute lil fluff I wrote (also this is defo not my best work :D)

Word count: 3042

It was a seemingly ordinary day when the ex-Winter Soldier’s life changed forever.

        Bucky’d plopped down onto the sofa with a disgruntled sigh, making Steve smirk and divert his attention from the show on the TV to his friend.

        “You know, she likes you,” Steve said to Bucky as he sipped on his coffee giving him a side glance.

        Bucky just grumbled and crossed his arms, mind still reeling on the absolute failure that he had experienced earlier that day. It'd been a trainwreck of a mission. No lives lost, but he'd made an absolute fool of himself by making a few bad calls. “Who?”

        “Y/N.”

        “Yeah, as if,” he snorted. “I mean I know she likes me, but she likes everyone. There’s not a single mean bone in her body.”

        “No, I mean,” Steve huffed placing down the cup before he spilt some of it on himself, “she likes you. As in she might want to pursue a relationship with you.”

        Bucky was choking on his spit the second the word ‘relationship’ came out of his friend’s mouth. Y/N? Liked him? As in more than a friend? He’d be lying if he said that thought didn’t send him over the Moon, but it seemed like such a far reach, especially with the interactions they’d had, that he had to give Steve a glare, especially with how she didn’t even give a single sign she might be into him. 

       He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the expert on flirting and getting it on?”

        “Wow.” Steve put a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “That’s a low blow. I might’ve not had any game when I was skinny, but let me tell, you after the serum th-“

        “When was the last time you went on a date?” Bucky interrupted his rant.

        His friend broke the eye contact and paused, chewing on his bottom lip before deflecting. “Look that doesn’t matter.”

        Bucky rolled his eyes so much he feared they’d be permanently stuck like that.  

        “What matters is that she likes you, but she’s too shy to do anything about it,” Steve stated.

        “We had a pretty good conversation a couple of hours ago.” They did. If you take saying 'hello', an awkward wave and bashful smiles as a conversation, then yes, it was very successful.

        “Shy doesn’t always mean ‘incapable of holding a conversation’. Shy can mean not talking about how they’re feeling or how their day is because they think no one cares or would get annoyed with them,” Steve said looking over his mug.

        Bucky was baffled. “How – why – how could anyone think she’s annoying? She’s – she’s amazing!” But that’s when it hit him - Y/N never looked him in the eye, she always apologized for talking ‘too much’, and at any point in the conversation, she always diverted the attention away from her or her troubles.

        “So…” Bucky swallowed hard. “You think I should go for it?”

        Steve shrugged. “I think if you don’t, you’ll never know what it could lead to.”

        ***

        It was about an hour later after his enlightening chat with Steve that Bucky found himself walking towards where their resident lab rat usually stayed at when he heard muffled cursing.

        “Work, you absolute piece of shit!” Y/N exclaimed each word emphasized with a harsh hit against a machine’s side. “Top-notch technology my ass!”

        “Everything alright, doctor Y/L/N?” His voice was gruff as he interrupted her conversation with the computer. 

Not that Y/N would ever admit it, but usually just his presence alone set her body ablaze, but this time, it was a distraction and not a good one.

        “Just fucking peachy,” she grunted and slammed her hand against the computer with every uttered syllable.

        “Alright,” Bucky chuckled and entered the lab. “What did that poor computer do to you, since you seem so inclined to completely destroy it?”

        “For starters, it decided to shut down,” she growled at the computer, and if it was alive, it would hang its head in shame. “Then, when I rebooted it, the files were not lost, oh that I could live with, but they were corrupted. Meaning I do have them, but they’re useless, and that means I have to redo everything.”

        “You’d have to redo everything if the files were lost either way.” Bucky gave her a small smile, teasing the woman as she whined.

        “Yeah,” Y/N threw back her head. “But it wouldn’t be as humiliating. I mean, if they’re gone, they’re gone, but they aren’t!” She threw the screen a scowl. “The files are there, just sitting… and useless… just like me.”

        “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re useless." Bucky smirked at her, and she sighed.

        “Please, do tell what I’m of use here right now, right this moment.”

        “Company?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and that’s when Y/N realized how much she’d rattled on, how much of his precious world-saving time she’d taken up by a stupid mistake she made.

        “Sorry,” she muttered, shying away from Bucky’s gaze. “Didn’t mean to bore you with my crap.”

        “You don’t bore me. You could never.”

        He had that love-sick look on his face as she gave him a small smile, and her eyes dropped back to the ground. Not that Y/N ever noticed, but Sam never stopped teasing him about that fucking look. The one where his eyes glimmered like stars in the night sky, and his lips involuntarily lifted up in the corners. More than once Steve had to tell him to close his mouth or someone would slip on his drool. And each time, Bucky would slap his friend on the back of his head.

        “I’m not drooling,” he’d contest and go back to watching as Y/N moved around the lab, delicate fingers replacing whatever was fractured in his metal arm.

        “No, saliva just generally spills out of your mouth when she’s around.”

        Bucky would just grunt and say, ‘fuck off’. But he couldn’t help it really. 

        “Anyway." Y/N brought him out of the daydream. “Did you need anything? Is the arm acting up again?”

        Although she'd never think that Bucky had any feelings for her, there was some suspicion rising in her mind. Tony was the acting engineer, but on more than one occasion he had called her up and asked if she was available to take a look at Bucky's vibranium appendage.

        “Need some assistance, sweets,” the genius would mumble, and then when she would slip into work mode, he’d slyly exit the room and leave the two of them alone. And given how Tony knew, Y/N’s primary thing was chemistry and using the nanotech for cell regeneration, not engineering, it raised her suspicion level. Especially when the super-soldier came to her lab to have a check-up on days Tony was out specifically. 

        But she would never do anything about it. He could be standing at the altar with someone else in white walking towards him, and even then, Y/N, knowing it was her last chance, wouldn’t move a muscle to say what she felt. How could she when Bucky was the walking epitome of a Greek God while she tripped over her own feet while standing? For fuck’s sake, the man even fostered puppies in his spare time as if his day job wasn’t saving the world already how could her watching cells split in a petri dish match up to that?

        “Oh, uh,” he stammered fidgeting with his fingers. “No, I uh, actually came to ask you something. Nothing work or arm… related.”

        If Y/N’s heart wasn’t already beating out of her chest, she was pretty certain she’d vomit it up with the way he was looking at her. “Sure,” she whispered. “Umm, what do you want to know?”

        He twisted a ring on his flesh arm. She had gotten it for him two years ago during a game of ‘Secret Santa’, which Tony promptly had added her to the list. It made her feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside for being included, but then dread settled in. What the fuck do you get a bunch of superheroes that could afford literally anything they wanted? And then she’d pulled Bucky’s name from the tacky Santa’s hat.

        It wasn’t bad enough he was her crush, now she had to get him a gift he’d actually like, and she could barely hold a conversation with him that didn’t involve Avengers stuff. But from the looks of it, he had enjoyed the jewellery immensely, as any time he came over for whatever reason, he was wearing it. He liked it so much there was a lighter line of skin underneath the ring where the sun couldn’t get.

        But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Bucky just froze as Y/N stared at him with hopeful and inquisitive eyes. All the things he wanted to say and ask just vanished from his brain as if he’d been put back into that horrible machine that used to wipe his mind.

        “Buck?” Her voice was small as his mouth hung open like an idiot. But he didn’t even get a chance to collect himself when Bruce rushed in.

        “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but Y/N I need you. There’s a problem with the cradle.”

        And that was her cue. With an apologetic smile, she pulled off her latex gloves and rushed out of the room, but not before leaning back in through the door. “Hopefully I should be done in two hours tops. Raincheck on that question?”

        Bucky shook his head. “You know what, it wasn’t that important anyway.”

        Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, hand reaching out to touch him, but he pushed past her and was gone, leaving the woman a bit stunned, and in all honesty - heartbroken.

***

        The rest of the day she spent in utter confusion, and Bucky in self-wallowing. Y/N couldn’t understand what had changed his mind so suddenly, what she’d done so wrong, and Bucky beat himself up the whole time about choking and running away. Which is why Steve was absolutely done with it.

        As Bucky sulked on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and the pop tarts he’d stolen from Thor’s stash, Steve with Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Y/N in tow, all came into the room. 

        Seeing her lab coat swish behind her as she walked, Bucky slid down into the couch even more, as if the granite gray leather could absorb him and erase him from existence. God, how he wanted to be erased from existence. 

        “Hey, Y/N?” Tony drew everyone’s attention as he handed a coffee to her. “Would you mind taking a look at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s intercom system? She’s gotten a bit rusty here.”

        “Umm yeah.” She nodded, kinda confused as to why she'd have to do it, but Tony was her boss, so Y/N rarely asked him much. Unless something he said was absolutely dumb. “Mind getting me a ladder?”

        With a wink from Steve, Clint nodded. “Sure.”

        But instead of just him leaving, all of the Avengers slowly started to ‘disperse’ throughout the living-room, before bolting towards the hallway and telling the A.I. to shut everything down.

        “What’s going on?” Y/N asked looking around the common room, spotting the bright fiery hair of Natasha as she rushed out of the room, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to override the lock code and not let either of them out. “Why are the doors locked?”

        The smug smile she received from the assassin only infuriated Y/N more. “Tony!” she yelled through the glass, but the genius put hands over his ears and screamed back at her.

        “Not until he talks to you!”

        That’s when she felt someone towering over her from behind. 

Two beautiful Y/E/C eyes looked up at him as Y/N turned around, confusion swimming in her irises. Bucky almost swore he passed out just from that look alone. 

“Buck, what’s going on?"

        The second he’d seen the group walk in, he knew what was happening. He wanted to murder all of them. Rip them apart piece by piece, but not in front of Y/N. No. He’d do that in the middle of the night, blending into the shadows and delivering slow and painful deaths to all of the conspirators. 

        But at the same time, this was his chance. There was literally nowhere for either of them to run unless you counted jumping out through the window and the ninety-story drop, you’d face. Which seemed very appealing to him at that moment, but Steve’s words rang through his head – ‘You’ll never know what it could lead to.” And he hoped it would lead to something beautiful, so taking a deep breath, Bucky confessed.

        “Because I’m a coward…” he sighed, “and I can’t do it without someone telling me to.”

        “Why?”

        “I’m scared,” it came out as a whisper, and Y/N had to take a step back hurt flashing across her face thinking back to all of the times they’d spent together, while in truth Bucky’d been terrified of her.

        “Of me?”

        Instantly he shook his head seeing the pain on her features, and once more Bucky scolded himself. “No… of what your reaction might be.”

        “Buck, you know I would never judge you. You can always talk to me… about anything.”

        “Yes, but this will change things.”

        “How?”

        “I don’t know… that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want to lose you.”

        “Never. You could tell me you’re hiding a body in the tub, and I would offer you my help to get rid of it.”

        And it was this firm statement that solidified his decision.

        “Would you maybe,” Bucky exhaled deeply not daring to turn and look at the team that was gawking at both of them like hawks pressed against the glass, the same team that had bolted shut every door and window to prevent either of theirs escapes, “would you maybe want to go out… with… me… on a date?”

        Y/N was stunned. The cup of coffee she was still holding in her hand went slack, and it would’ve smashed against the ground had Bucky not quickly stepped forward and caught it stepping to stand in front of her.

        “You don’t have to,” he mumbled, looking at the milk infused drink. It was a light beige colour with a white foamy swirl in the middle like a little vortex that was sucking him in. God did he hope it would pull him in and never let out after what he was going to say. “It’s just that… I really like you.” There. Now it was out there. “I really like you. And not the way a friend likes a friend. I like you in a way that I want to hold your hand when we walk out together. I want to buy you coffee in the mornings and wake you up with breakfast in the bed and smooth out the hair that’s fallen on your face…”

        She wasn’t breathing as with every single word said Bucky seemed to move closer. “I think I might be in love with you, Y/N…” his hand gently lifted and cupped her cheek.

        She just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, shallow breaths escaping into the air as her heart beat out of her chest in a manner, she thought it might hit Bucky directly in the stomach. 

        “Say something,” he pleaded, blue eyes searching for an answer in Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. “Please.”

        “I – I don’t know what to say,” she whispered back. And it wasn’t because she didn’t feel the same, not at all. In fact, when he had started his whole confession, she felt like she was about to pass out from all the love that invaded her body, but the thing is - Y/N has never been good with emotions. She never knew how to process them, how to give the correct answer and make people happy. She was shy, awkward and a recluse. And now she was supposed to come out of her safety shell. Which is why for the first time in her life, she expressed herself with her actions by leaning up, grasping onto the nape up Bucky’s neck and pulling their mouths together.

        When her lips touched his, Bucky knew there was no going back. Not that he’d ever want to. He couldn’t help the giant smile that bloomed on his face, as he pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arm one around her waist, the other trailing up to settle between her shoulder blades, pushing their chests together, so impossibly close an ant couldn’t crawl between the two. 

        It became even more of a beautiful moment when Y/N’s own lips pulled up in a smile, breaking the kiss apart, but leaving them grinning and feeling dizzy from the happiness. 

        “Guess we needed a gentle nudge in the right direction,” Bucky gave out a small laugh, both palms securely resting on Y/N’s hips and bringing her closer.

        “I’d say it was more of a shove with a rifle at our backs,” she said, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders fingers skimming against his clavicles and making his breath stop halfway to his throat. “Let’s… let’s go somewhere… the two of us without a bunch of people watching our every move.” Her eyes flitted over to where the rest of the team stood behind the doors listening in on the two, and suddenly the heads of their teammates disappeared from the view, making Y/N and Bucky shake their heads.

        “Yeah,” he chuckled, squeezing her side. “That’s probably the best idea. You truly are a dream, aren’t ‘ya?”

        Y/N could only chuckle and hide her face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as her hold tightened around his middle, and he responded much the same by weaving his fingers in the hairs on the back of her neck and pulling her closer if that was even possible, burying his nose in the Y/H/C locks.

        “Don’t go all shy on me now.”

        “Can’t,” she mumbled back. “You make me turn into mush.”

        Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “A cute mush.”

        “Shut up!”

And he did by pulling her in for another searing kiss. God, how he loved his shy girl.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @strangersstranger​

A/N: have you ever hated your job so much so, that you can’t sleep, can’t eat and basically live in a well of anxiety? and not because of the work itself, but because of that ONE PERSON that makes it miserable? Cause I do. And I can’t wait to get away from it.

P.S. sorry for being so pessimistic, but it’s just a nightmare.

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :) P.S.S.S. if you wanna be added to a taglist, drop me a message :)

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #the winter soldier #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #the winter solider imagine #the winter solider x reader #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel endgame #imagine marvel #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #avengers 4 #The Avengers #Avengers #avengers x reader #Steve Rogers

[astrologichole]

the signs and their best qualities

Aries: selfless, adventurous, the hardest workers ever, cares a lot, extremely helpful, their wisdom is so unexpected but valuable, will go to great lengths to protect the people they love, charming, magnetic, will prove you wrong so don’t even try arguing with them, relentless and driven, will stop at nothing to achieve their goals even if their goals seem impossible, very sure of themselves, would probably actually kill for you

Taurus: smart as hell, really relaxed but never boring, unexpectedly creative, surprising, can be very romantic when they’re in love, always willing to try new things, funny as hell, the most sarcastic and snarky people, generally cool people with a diverse perspective, music taste is impeccable, don’t even bother trying to argue with them because their logic and debate skills are unnaturally advanced, up front and genuine, doesn’t like to bullshit people, go to them for honesty and good advice

Gemini: will give those they love everything they need, observant, not afraid to stand up for themselves, go getters in general, really silly (sometimes morbid) humor and generally fun to be around, strong, compelling, really interesting people with lots of “useless” knowledge and fun facts, knows more than they show, they’re often the most victimized sign but in reality they’re just really misunderstood because they themselves don’t understand who they are but that’s part of their charm

Cancer: the absolute most selfless, always figures out a solution even when it doesn’t seem possible, can win over anyone, timeless, they’re probably the most magnetic sign because of how fucking great their personalities are, well-rounded, wouldn’t kill for you, but would emotionally torment someone for you, knows how you feel before you even know how you feel, dreamy, honestly just lovely people, their endurance for people’s bullshit is above and beyond, even though they’re emotionally sensitive, they connect on a very deep and empathetic level and may appear disheveled but are actually pretty aware of what they feel

Leo: their minds.....ugh, one of the most underestimated signs in terms of their creativity and emotional toll, committed until the very end, when they’re in love they’re actually pretty big babies and will 100% surprise you with their sensitive nature, natural leaders but even if they’re more on the subdued side, leos still have a natural knack for understanding people on a level that enables them to move through (especially) their careers, relationships and so forth, self-aware and unafraid of judgment as judgment only adds to their constant inner quest for self understanding, stereotypical leos are known as being out there and brave, but often times leo’s want to be acknowledged for their ability to withhold themselves and be more in control than they let off

Virgo: they remember everything...everything, they’re really the baddest bitches out there, incredibly smart and determined, gives the best advice, will tell it like it is and doesn’t care to hold back what they see as true, their actions are their love language and those actions are priceless, they honestly live thirty years in the future and are really prepared even if they don’t know what they’re prepared for, while they can sometimes come off as grounded and engrained in the more serious aspects of life, virgos are actually incredibly sensitive and imaginative and are never given enough credit for their visions and virtues, able to navigate tricky situations, fearless

Libra: babies, extremely lovable, quietly powerful, not just smart but incredibly wise, gentle and caring, living, breathing fairytale people, extremely giving and gracious, even though they’re indecisive, they’ll alway try their best to make the most well intentioned decisions, they just kind of get it, can analyze you in 2 seconds and suddenly know everything about your deep rooted childhood traumas (I don’t understand how but they just do), they’re people pleasers so they’re very social, but their truest selves come out most when they can connect to someone who genuinely understands them and vice versa, they’re very tired so expect lots of naps and quality relaxation time with them, peaceful angels

Scorpio: the absolute most stubborn and unrelenting sign and while that could be a negative quality, its positive attributes are that they will not stop until they’re understood and will be wildly loyal to their morals and standards even if those moral and standards are a bit unaligned with everyone else’s, highly individualistic but can blend in easily if they want to, passionate, when they’re in love they’re in love for good (the perfect soulmates), critical for the best reasons, they don’t like to sugar coat and want to give the best advice possible while still keeping things very real, adaptable, their mind is everywhere and with that they are an endless landscape of imagination, visions, and characters all weaved within this one beautiful mind

Sagittarius: they’re just here to have a good time, would 10000% kill for you, steal for you, probably commit treason for you but they’re chillin, will go to great lengths to understand others and the world around them, cultural and diverse, very social but they also know when to pull back and seek comfort from themselves, they know how important self-awareness is and constantly seek out who they are and what they aim to be, refuses to be tied down to any one thing (not to suggest they’re incapable of finding a solid relationship, rather, they need someone who can match their unrelenting speed and drive for life), truly goes with the flow and lets life lead them rather than lead their own life

Capricorn: doesn’t seem like they’re psycho analyzing you, but they're 100% psycho analyzing you, scary smart, the hardest working sign, they’re often considered as a bit stiff and lacking vulnerability, but on the inside, capricorns are complex and other worldly and really want to be understood, they can endure and manage just about anything, is unexpectedly very artistic and deeply understanding of the emotions their art depicts, committed and responsible, incredibly reliable, they don’t like to cancel plans or ghost people, but sometimes they need time to themselves and can be susceptible to those things which is perfectly fine because capricorns deserve a bit of a departure from their usual selves, the type of person you think about even if you don’t talk to them for a long time

Aquarius: cares a lot about social issues and pressing matters, optimistic, efficient with time, not afraid to try new things, a people person (pretty popular), very free spirited, very in tune with their morals and virtues, easy to relate to when they’re vulnerable with those they’re close with, mysterious and adaptable, truly the chameleon of the zodiac signs, great listeners and even better speakers, can dictate a conversation even through silence (it’s never awkward), sometimes has a hard time loving others deeply but has an everlasting love for life so it’s cool

Pisces: also babies, empathetic and kind, dreamy, intuitive and observant, goes out of their way for the people they love (or strangers, they just like making sure everyone is comfortable), good listeners, will make you fall in love with them without them even knowing it, sensitive to other’s feelings and morals, socially aware, overall very sweet but also very encyclopedic and aware of social and political matters (can debate you under the table), will 100% take you away from reality

#aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #zodiac #astrology

[puckmeupfam]

The Right to Be Jealous | Jake Virtanen

Word Count: 3177 Note: Friends with benefits to lovers with the one and only. I feel like everything I write is same ice cream different cone, but I like to give the people what I want.

Sitting in the shadowed booth, your nails dug into the faux leather upholstery. Everyone else was out dancing and laughing loudly on the sticky floor. They were relaxed, blowing off steam, singing along to the ‘00s pop throwback that was blasting. You just stayed glaring daggers at your vodka cran that had slowly become watered down by the ice, shedding a puddle of condensation. There was one other member of the Canucks posse who was not on the dance floor: Jake was standing with his elbow on the bar while his eyes were on the woman perched on the barstool. In your desperation, you had even tried that body language deciphering trick of looking at his feet just to find them pointed towards her as well. 

Jake was free to do whatever he wants, you told yourself, you have no hold over him. The two of you met shortly after you moved to Vancouver for school. At first, you were friends but nothing more. Yes, you found each other attractive, that was clear. But you were much more compatible at making sarcastic jokes and counseling each other through life’s daily mindfucks than anything else. Then, Jake started inviting you as his plus one to events and parties, he had found that everyone had a tendency to pair off at those events and he wasn’t a fan of not having anyone’s attention. That’s how it started, him shushing you because you were incapable of keeping your voice down and you saving him whenever he got caught in a boring, bureaucratic conversation. 

And that’s how it went until last year’s Halloween party.

You both drank more than usual. And maybe the catalyst was him placing his hand on your bare thigh where the costume had ridden up. Or maybe it was you lamenting about how long it had been since you had gotten laid. But probably it was him tying a knot in that damn cherry stem. No matter how it happened, you found yourself being pulled by the wrist down the hallway of his building. Both of you drunk and giggly. When you stepped into his apartment, he spun you around so your back was flush against the cold door. He spent a minute staring down at you, not laughing anymore. You let yourself get lost in his bright eyes that kept flickering to your lips. Without even realizing it you brought your hand up to his face and stroked your thumb along the apple of his cheek. Suddenly he leaned down and kissed you, hard. The hand on his face went to wrap around his neck while the one previously at your side ended up tangled in his hair. You tasted booze and hints of sweet grape from jello shots as he licked your lip. When you opened your mouth there was something else on his tongue which you classified as “fuck-why-have-we-been-doing-anything-but-this.” No matter what the catalyst was you were gone.

The next morning you woke up with a pounding headache and messy hair. On your right, Jake was sprawled on his stomach with one tattooed arm thrown over your hip. As you started to shift he groaned and tightened his hold on you. Reaching over to scratch your nails against his scalp, you spoke in a scratchy voice, “I’m just getting coffee, you big baby.” When you came back with the mugs full of steaming liquid, Jake’s with an extra splash of cream, you both sat against the headboards quietly. Minutes passed but it was Jake who broke the silence, “(Y/N), you know, I’m so sorry,” he said in a nervous jumble. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say but it wasn’t that. 

“I just really, really don’t want to fuck us up. You’re so important to me and I just can’t not talk to you every day. It’s not something I can live with,” he continued. When you peered over at him he wasn’t looking back at you but rather locking his eyes on a chip on his mug that he worried with his thumb. Your chest felt tight and your chin wobbled a bit. If Jake was trying not to ruin your friendship then you would have to try too. So you steeled your emotions and forced your hands not to shake as you brought the mug to your lips.

And that was that. 

Until the holiday party. Where the same thing happened, except the next morning he didn’t say anything. Instead, when you moved to get coffee he held your wrist back and insisted he take you out to a diner. While you would really rather him not tell you that last night was a mistake in front of witnesses, you still threw on a hoodie and did your best to tame your hair though you didn’t bother attempting anything for the dark circles under your eyes. The surprising part was that when you got to the diner he didn’t say anything about the night prior. He even went so far as to order for you before you could even open your mouth. Caramel french toast with strawberries and powdered sugar. And when the food came to your table, he even went so far as to nudge the syrup in your direction. 

He never brought it up. And he didn’t the next day. Or the next. But then he pulled you into a corner at Bo’s New Year’s Eve party, planting his lips on yours until you found yourself slipping out the door with him with over thirty minutes remaining until midnight. Whether you liked it or not once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, three was a pattern, and after that… Well, you had simply stopped counting once you got to eleven. Stopped trying to make sense of it. Just went with it.

You’re broken from your memories by Troy and Emma coming back to the table to get their things. With the night winding down and your group dispersing, some realities occurred to you. Jake had picked you up at your apartment earlier in the evening and both of you had planned that he would take you home at the end of the night. Apparently, he had forgotten. Or maybe he just didn’t care. You weren’t sure which was worse: being thrown to the side for a blonde at the bar or being such a blip on your best friend’s radar that he would totally forget about your existence.

“Hey, would you guys be able to give me a ride home by any chance?” you asked, drawing their attention to you. The couple shared a look before nodding along. You grabbed your bag and jacket before scurrying out of the booth and following behind them, not sparing Jake a glance. Slipping into the backseat of Troy’s car, you reminded him of your address. They had the radio turned up lowly so you could vaguely hear the tune but not quite catch the lyrics. You looked at your phone for a few moments before Emma spoke. 

“Didn’t Jake drive you?” You held in a sigh at her loaded question. While you had never spoken about your situation with Jake to anyone, not even Jake himself, you knew other people noticed that there was something going on between the two of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly cautious, nothing you and Jake did was well thought out, the two of you had surely drunkenly made out in too bright of a corner or stumbled out the door a bit too loudly. And everyone had likely discussed whatever the two of you were doing after you left. And Jake might have even talked about your situation during late-night card games on roadies. And… You snapped yourself out of the weird self-analyzing pity show to answer Emma and save yourself from hyperventilating in your friends’ car.

“He did,” you began, “but he was… busy, and I didn’t want to get in his way.” You were sitting behind Emma so you had a much better view of Troy as he reacted to your answer. He squinted before looking over at his girlfriend with a raised brow. Emma’s only response was a mumbled, “Oh.” 

As Troy pulled up in front of your building, you were glad that they didn’t push further. You thanked them profusely for the ride before jumping out and speed walking into your apartment. You closed and locked the door as soon as you got in before pouring yourself a glass of water. One glance at your phone showed that you had many texts waiting for you and one flash of Jake’s name had you powering the device all the way off and plugging it in. You wiped your makeup off and rubbed in your favorite rich moisturizer. Even though it was still fairly early, you felt exhausted with emotions that you shouldn’t have. Nevertheless, you took a melatonin gummy for good measure and brushed your teeth before encasing yourself in blankets and waiting for sleep.

When you woke up to the morning sun on your face, you got up purposefully avoiding your phone. After drinking a cup of coffee you decided to cook a healthy breakfast. Maybe if you detoxed your body a bit it would help to detox Jake from your mind. When you were finished you sat at the counter. You couldn’t stop flashing through every moment with Jake, looking for hidden meanings in his actions and replaying his words to search for anything valuable. It was like you couldn’t stop yourself from relishing in the emotional pain. You weren’t sure how much time passed before you tasted metal and realized you had been chewing up your lip in thought. 

This simply wouldn’t work. No more wallowing, you decided. Cleaning up the pans and dishes you had used with a bit more elbow grease than you would typically use you shoved everything back in its typical place. You stopped yourself for a minute as something occurred to you. While you wished it had been an epiphany about moving on or signing up for online dating, you realized that your kitchen organization was completely lacking. Your pots were nowhere near your stove. Your cups weren’t close enough to your sink. Your pantry was a disaster.

Without any hesitation, you started pulling everything out of the cabinets. Before you knew it your counters were covered in plates, glasses, mugs, pans, and a rice cooker. You had just started alphabetizing your spices when you heard a knock on your door. With a loud groan, you ran to the door and swung it open without even looking through the peephole. Standing in the hallway was none other than Jake Virtanen. You stilled your frenzied movements to just stare at him. His eyes were sharp as they studied your face. 

“Can I come in,” you barely heard his words but they somehow woke you up and you opened the door wider before spinning around and racing back into your kitchen. Your heart pounded wildly as you went back to work. Nerves coursed through your veins so you weren’t being productive but rather picking up an item and setting it down in a slightly different place. The sound of Jake’s footsteps followed you and you could feel him hovering.

“Um… (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Jake?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He paused for a minute to watch you scramble around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“I honestly have no idea.” You huffed and forced your hands to still on the counter top.

“I’m organizing my kitchen.” You forced your face into an expression that could be read as ‘duh’ but given your flushed cheeks and wild eyes, it didn’t seem to translate. 

“Can we talk about what happened last night,” Jake asked. While you hadn’t assumed this was a typical social visit, his question reignited your panic and you resumed your pottering around the kitchen. At first, Jake just seemed bewildered but after a loud clang erupted from two pots you were moving from one side of the counter to the other his eyebrows furrowed into a scowl and he snapped, “(Y/N), do you mind?” 

You threw up your hands and turned to him as he continued, “I want to talk to you and have you actually listen like a normal person instead of doing… whatever it is that you’re doing over there.”

“Talk about what,” you asked, partially trying to buy time and partially trying to seem blase.

“About last night.”

“Nothing happened last night, Jake.”

“I watched you leave with Troy and Emma. You just left, (Y/N).”

“So? You were busy, I wanted to go home.” Without you even realizing it, Jake was taking steps towards you until you glanced up from the floor to find him right in front of you. He reached out his hand to hold your arm. Whether he was trying to comfort you or prevent you from escaping you weren’t sure. The spot where his skin met yours sent tingles down your spine that you forced yourself not to react to.

“When you left, I called Troy,” he said. Now this was news to you. Before you could interject Jake spoke again, “I had been trying to text and call you but you weren’t answering so I finally called Troy. He said you left without me because of that girl.” You tried to pull away but his hand around your arm tightened.

“You were jealous,” Jake said. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. You glared at him, you couldn’t believe that he would come to your apartment just to embarrass you about your feelings for him.

“I wasn’t jealous. I have no right to be jealous about what or who you do,” you snapped. He threw his head back and sighed.

“That’s the fucking point, (Y/N). I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

Your heart stopped. Your mind stopped. You looked up at him just to see his eyes boring into yours. 

“What,” you asked hazily.

“You heard me. I want you to have the right to be jealous.”

“B-but what does that mean?”

“It means… I love you, okay? I love you and I want to be with you and I want you to be jealous even though you don’t ever have to be. Because you’re the only one I see in a crowded room. Because every time we go to a wedding I imagine it’s us standing up there in front of our friends and family. Because I can’t fucking stand being away from you. Because you’re the most important person in my life,” he said emphatically, vehemently. 

“You love me?”

“Yeah, (Y/N), I love you,” he said with a smile on his face. This all felt so confusing and so surreal and you wanted to pinch yourself because this couldn’t be real life. In real life, Jake was the one who decided that the two of you were friends with benefits. Jake was the one who didn’t want to take it any further. Jake was the one who talked with girls at bars.

“Since when,” you murmured. Jake’s smile only brightened.

“Since always,” he told you.

“But, Jake, you said you didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You never seemed like you wanted to take us any further, where is this coming from?” At your words, Jake released your arm and rubbed his palm along his face. The tables turned and now he was the one pacing through your kitchen.

“I thought you wanted that. I thought you were going to tell me that it was all a mistake, that you didn’t really like me.” His words made your stomach squeeze and it felt like you had been slapped in the face. As much as you wished you could wrap your arms around him and kiss him madly, telling him that of course you wouldn’t do that. Because he was Jake and you were you and that would never be a mistake. But you knew that if you fell into him now you wouldn’t get clarity, so you pushed on. “Then what have we been doing? If you were so scared, if you really felt that way, why did we keep happening?” 

Jake stopped his pacing and shoved his hands in his pockets. He refused to look at you, trailing his eyes along the mess in your kitchen and the pictures on your fridge before settling on the floor.

“I couldn’t keep myself away from you. I thought that if that was all I could have with you it would still be better than nothing,” his words were quiet but you still heard him. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and you opened your mouth to speak before Jake interrupted you.

“But then I called Troy last night asking where you were, what happened to you… and he said that you liked me too and I needed to snap out of whatever I was doing and man up,” he brought his eyes up to yours, “he said he was sick of me whining about you like a lovesick puppy and that I needed to, quote, go get my girl.”

His eyes read nothing but love and sincerity. You trusted and believed him. You didn’t want to stumble around your feelings anymore so you stepped forward until you were chest to chest.

“I love you too, Jake,” you said drawing your hand up to his neck. His face erupted into a smile, but instead of leaning in to kiss you, he spoke.

“Do you want to do this thing with me?” Your responding laugh was watery but he waited for your response.

“What? Being in love?”

“Well, yes, that’s pretty important. But I meant being in a real relationship. Y’know? Hold hands in public, change our relationship statuses on Facebook, the whole deal.”

“You don’t even use Facebook,” you teased. He groaned dramatically but the smile seemed to be glued to his face.

“You know what I mean,” he said, “do you want to do this thing with me?”

Jake’s eyes sparkled and you bit your lip. You didn’t deign his question with a response, just brought the hand that rested on his neck down so you could capture his lips in a kiss. For a few blissful moments, it was just you and him. You arched your back to press yourself more fully against him as he planted one hand on your hip as the other snaked up your back. As he moved to press scorching hot open-mouthed kisses down your throat he broke the silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You pulled on his hair until his mouth was back against yours and you whispered against his lips an answering yes.

And if Troy Stecher whistled and hooted an “I told you so,” when you and Jake showed up to the next Canucks gathering, hands tightly intertwined… well, would he be wrong?

#jake virtanen #jake virtanen imagine #vancouver canucks #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nhl fic #vancouver canucks imagine #j.virtanen

[hibiscusangel15]

Why Tragedy Exists

An angsty @ichirukimonth 2020 fic this time.

Summary: When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

Ichigo’s life during the seventeen months without Rukia. For Day 7 of Ichiruki Month 2020.

Rating: Teen

(Belated) Day 7 Prompt: why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief.

Also crossposted to FFN and AO3!

When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

“Hey, bleached-hair kid! I’m talkin’ to you, asshole!” Another faceless thug snagged his collar. Yet another nameless gang gathered to back up their cookie-cutter character of a leader.

He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t want to be here. But where else did he have to go?

Another meaningless scuffle. Another bruise, another scrape, more blood to be cleaned later.

Flurried fists and tiny pocket knives and screamed obscenities never seemed so dull before.

Other boys his age often picked fights with him. Had done so as far back as he could remember. All over trifling, inconsequential matters that seemed so laughable to him now. His hair, his attitude, his existence was all wrong.

Only now he had the strength to take them all on by himself. Only now did he choose to fight them for no reason at all.

Chad interfered in one of these fights once. For a moment, they were a team again. They fought side-by-side without the burden of death or the balance of the worlds looming over their heads. This was just a brawl on the street. Nothing more, nothing less.

Once Chad called an ambulance for all the knocked-out thugs, he offered to treat Ichigo out to some food.

Ichigo said nothing. Didn’t even thank him. Just spat out coppery blood on the concrete and stalked off without looking back. Chad wouldn’t chase after him or insist, he knew. Knew all too well how to take advantage of his friend’s inherent kindness.

He never felt more disgusted with himself.

Time moved on. Everyone around him recovered. They all got over the horrors they’d just barely survived. Only he remained stagnant, falling behind, grasping at something forever out of his reach.

He never thought that saving the world would be so thankless.

Tatsuki once invited him to watch her karate team practice and give them a few pointers. None of the upperclassmen were all that stoked about it, but they’d heard about Kurosaki’s reputation. One of them even challenged him to a fair match to test his skills.

He nearly refused. Until the guy went on and on about how Ichigo’s only fighting experience came from fights in the street. How a punk like him couldn’t possibly have learned the discipline or technique a real warrior possessed.

Tatsuki told this smug upperclassman off, stabbing him with reminders that he didn’t even qualify for nationals last year. The upperclassman—Ichigo was never very good at remembering names—snapped something at her, and it was only then he stood up and accepted his challenge.

Ichigo took him down in a few minutes. Then another upperclassman claimed he cheated and demanded a match with him, and another one after that. Their pride as one of the top karate teams in the nation was staked on this.

Unfortunately, these guys were all weak.

None of them would last a day being a Shinigami.

They begged and begged him to join their team despite all their injuries. Despite how afraid of him they all were. To them, to normal humans, Kurosaki Ichigo was little more than a monster.

So he refused. Such things simply didn’t hold his interest anymore.

And then they offered to pay him.

Ichigo hadn’t had much need for money before. Though his father didn’t make much running the Kurosaki Clinic, his family lived comfortably enough.

Now those bills waved in his face meant something else. Something new to latch onto.

With enough money, he could move far, far away from Karakura Town. He could leave everything behind. Go to a university where no one knew him. Start fresh. Start anew.

Ichigo could forget last year ever happened. He could finally forget her.

He took the deal, but made his own conditions as well. This much would only pay for the week. He wouldn’t ever be considered an official member of the team, so they couldn’t ask him to participate in competitions.

They were not comrades. They were not friends.

Word got out about Ichigo’s “services” to the other sports teams at Karakura High.  Soon enough, he found himself making weekly and bi-weekly contracts to help them out during practices.

It was a decent way to make money, he supposed. Looking into how much apartments cost outside the city, though, he knew it wasn’t enough.

He’d have to find another job soon.

Ichigo was out with the track team when he spotted Ishida alone in the park. No, not alone. He couldn’t sense the enemy, but the pocks in the grass and suspiciously trampled playground equipment more than spoke for itself.

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he took off. Instinct never really left much room for rationale, after all.

He leapt high over Ishida’s head, grunting in surprise when his foot connected with an intangible figure. The earth rumbled underneath as a plume of dust kicked up a few feet away.

Definitely a Hollow. A big one.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kurosaki?” Ishida snapped. His arms were extended before him, holding a bow Ichigo couldn’t see anymore.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping you! The least you could do is thank me.”

Idiot! I’m not going to thank you! The echo of her voice rang so unbearably clear in his mind. He wished he could cast it aside, wished the memory of her would not linger in every little thing he did.

Ishida's eyes flickered away, and he leapt a distance much wider than any normal human would’ve been able to cover. A fist-shaped crater bloomed before him. Ichigo raised his arms to block the debris flying past, choking on the dust swirling in the air.

As a habit, he reached behind him for a sword that did not exist anymore. Would not exist ever again.

Fate was once again the millstone, he the grist. It turned relentlessly, endlessly onward, further away from her and back again.

Powerlessness. Normality. Both synonymous with complacency.

Both equaled death.

“You’re only getting in the way, Kurosaki! Just back off and let me handle this for once,” Ishida yelled.

Ichigo watched him mimic pulling an arrow back, deliberate and steady. Watched Ishida fire that shot above his head. There was no fanfare, no sense of accomplishment to accompany it. He didn’t even know where the Hollow was.

“Is it...dead?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Ishida lowered his arms. “Yes.”

“I see.”

Silence weighed in the air far heavier than any reiatsu ever could.

“Hey, do you ever feel bad about the Hollows you kill?”

Ishida frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”

It was pointless to ask him this. It was pointless to continue.

“Quincies completely destroy souls with their arrows, right?” Ichigo clenched his own shirt in a fist. He had to stop talking. “Don’t you ever feel bad that any random Hollow you killed might be some lost soul in pain?”

Ishida studied him for a wary moment then shoved his glasses further up his nose. “It can’t be helped. If it comes down to saving a Hollow or an innocent soul, I’d choose the innocent one without hesitation. Surely you’d do the same, Kurosaki.”

“I could save both of them.” The words were so quiet, so riddled with hollow confidence. “I’d save them both without even thinking about it.”

“Funny, you once said to me that you knew you couldn’t protect everyone.”

His friends didn’t always have the right words to say. He couldn’t expect them to understand.

And yet….

“But I did save everyone! I saved Karakura Town. I saved the entire damn world as we know it. What makes you think I couldn’t save two souls at once the way I am now?”

His chest ached. The strain was unbearable. He was drowning.

“Are you calling me weak? Do you think I’m so incapable of protecting anyone that you’d rather cast me aside than even let me try?”

Ishida looked away. “Quit putting words in my mouth, Kurosaki. I never said any of that.”

“Oh yeah? I’m in the way? I should back off?” He trembled with directionless rage. “All of you guys think I’m some weakling that needs to be protected. That I can’t fend for myself anymore. And I’m so fucking sick of it!”

“Uh, h-hey, Kurosaki, are you okay?” the captain of the track team asked behind him.

Any idiot would know he wasn’t.

Ichigo turned away. “I’m fine.”

The captain paled at the sight of his scowling face. “Um, you can finish your conversation with your friend—”

“We’re not friends.”

Ishida sucked in a sharp breath, but said nothing. Did nothing. Again.

“Kurosaki!”

Ichigo didn’t turn back. How could he? They’d all turned their backs on him. It only seemed fitting he return the favor.

The wheel continued to turn.

Finals were a pain to deal with, especially with all those remedial classes he had to take for missing so much school before. Though difficult and boring, they weren’t entirely unmanageable.

He hadn’t really talked much to the others in a while. Better to distance himself now. Better they all learn to let him go so he’d have no further reminders of the last year. Of her.

It was stupid to think they’d ever go so quietly, though.

“Ichigo!” Tatsuki called to him on the street.

He stopped walking but refused to look back.

Several sets of footsteps scraped along the concrete behind him.

“You’ve been avoiding us for weeks now, Kurosaki,” Ishida said. “But now that Finals are over, you can’t hide from us anymore.”

“I wasn’t hiding from any of you. We’re all in the same class,” Ichigo replied, keeping his tone unaffected.

“You know that’s not what we mean, Kurosaki.”

Fate was cruel in each revolution. In each turning of the wheel, he would always be crushed under its power.

“Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue piped up, her voice wavering just a bit. “You’ve been acting very strangely since...that day Kuchiki-san left.”

Her name. The mere sound of it dragged him down when he’d tried so desperately to claw himself to the surface.

He hadn’t said her name in months. Didn’t even dare to think it.

“Ishida-kun and Sado-kun and Tatsuki-chan told me everything that’s been happening with you. And...we’re worried.” Her voice bubbled and warped, and he was drowning again. “We don’t know why you’re pushing us all away, Kurosaki-kun.”

They didn’t know? They really didn’t know why he couldn’t bear to be near them?

“I can’t stand the way you all look at me.”

Such a disgustingly petty reason. Such a terrible excuse. When even he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore.

“Ever since I lost my powers, you’ve all been acting like I'm fragile and useless!”

Enough.

“I can’t stand it!”

Shut up.

“I don’t want your pity!”

Please stop.

“I can’t wait to get the hell out of Karakura Town so you all can finally leave me alone!”

The rain would follow him, though. That cursed rain would always follow him.

He was drowning. Why couldn’t they see?

Tatsuki was the first to speak. “You’ve always been like this.”

“...What the hell did you just say?”

Even now he refused to look at them.

“What, does being mad all the time make you deaf, too?” she snapped. “I said you’ve always been like this, Ichigo. You don’t know any other way to express your grief outside of lashing out.”

“Is that right?” Ichigo stood up straighter. “And what makes you think I’m grieving, Tatsuki?”

“Don’t you dare act like I don’t know you, Kurosaki Ichigo!” Her voice rippled through the water. “We’ve known each other for so long—we’ve been friends for this long—and you couldn’t even bother to tell me what was going on with you from the beginning. I had to learn about all this Shinigami stuff after the fact! And not from you, either! From Orihime! From Chad and Ishida! But you didn’t tell me anything! Not when you left to rescue Kuchiki-san, not when you went to save Orihime…. I know you’re grieving because this is the exact same thing you did when your mother died!”

Ichigo finally whirled on them, eyes burning with so much fury it was difficult to look at him head-on.

Ishida stepped in front of her, arm outstretched like a shield. “So you’ve become the sort of person that would attack your friends over something like this? Do you think Kuchiki-san would be happy if she knew she’d left you in this sorry state?”

They kept saying her name so freely. As if she was so commonplace. As if his heart could bear that burden.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Didn’t she tell you she’d be watching over you, Kurosaki? Do you think she’d approve of anything you’re doing now? All your fights. Your rage. And for what?”

Ichigo gritted his teeth. “I don’t need her approval! I don’t need anything! I’m happy without her! I’m happy I’m finally normal!”

Ishida’s usual calm demeanor cracked, and his face twisted into a scowl. “What you’re doing isn’t normal, Kurosaki! Constantly picking fights with strangers, ignoring all of us, butting into simple Hollow fights—”

Inoue sucked in a breath. Clearly there were some things the others hadn’t told her.

“Does it make you feel strong, Kurosaki? Does it help you forget that, just for a moment, you aren’t completely pathetic?”

Ichigo punched him square in the jaw. His glasses flew off. A sickening crunch sounded under his foot when he took a bewildered step back.

Inoue ran to him immediately. “Ishida-kun!”

Tatsuki grabbed his arm, tried to pin it behind his back and get him to submit. Ichigo wrenched his arm out of her hold and turned to shove her away.

Chad stepped in between them. There was that awful pity reflected in his eyes again.

Ichigo wanted to wipe it away.

Chad took blow after wild blow to the chest, to his stomach, each one more frustrated than the last. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but he did not move. The pity in his eyes did not change.

Ichigo shoved Tatsuki to the ground when she tried to intervene again. There was yelling. So much yelling. None of it was enough to pierce through the rain. It wasn’t enough to save him.

His hand suddenly bounced off an invisible barrier, bruising the knuckles and his pride all in one shattering blow.

“Kurosaki-kun…” Inoue muttered, her voice cracking.

She flinched when he glared back at her. That look on her face made him hate himself all the more.

It was the same look she wore when he first protected her with his Hollow mask. It was that look every other human threw his way.

Monster.

“Please...stop this.” Tears spilled down her face. Ishida wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, and she folded into the embrace. “We’re your friends! So please….”

Ichigo couldn’t take it anymore. All his sorrow and grief and aimless rage collapsed around him and he screamed.

Chad caught him before he sank any further. “Ichigo!”

“I can’t…. I don’t….”

He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. He was dying.

A steady hand squeezed his shoulder, another placed flat on his back. They held him above the water. They lent him their strength.

The rain still echoed around him. He still struggled to stay afloat. But maybe now he would rely on his friends to protect his heart.

A single tear crashed to the ground as bright as a falling star.

“I’m sorry.”

                                                        * * *

Quiet mornings were practically nonexistent in Karakura Town.

“Maaaaan, I can’t stand not talking about this anymore! Doesn’t it drive you insane?” Keigo screeched while walking alongside Mizuiro.

Mizuiro scrolled through social media on his phone, only half-listening. “I’m not sure what you mean, Asano-san.”

“Don’t you ‘Asano-san’ me again, Mizuiro! I’m talking about all the weird stuff Ichigo and the others did a while ago! I mean, I know Ishida and Chad and all the others said it’s better if we don’t talk about that stuff with him, but c’mon! How’re you not supposed to talk about ghosts and monsters and Shinigami after finding out they exist? It’s impossible!”

“Considering your track record, I’m surprised you managed to hold out for this long.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean? I can be sensitive to others’ feelings!” Keigo insisted. “But it’s been forever. Ichigo might be okay if I talk to him about it now.”

“Might be?”

“Don’t make me second-guess myself, Mizuiro! I’m gonna talk about this so much, even I’ll get sick of hearing about it!”

Mizuiro finally looked up. “Everything that happened to us was pretty unbelievable. Sometimes I want to believe it was all some weird nightmare I had. But...I don’t really want to talk about it. There isn’t much left to be said anyway. Not if reminding Ichigo of it all will just depress him.”

At this, Keigo’s enthusiasm deflated. “Well, yeah, I guess. But don’t you wanna know what he thinks about Rukia-chan not coming to visit all this time?”

What a tactless idiot.

Mizuiro’s smile was more polite than genuine. “I think she’s the main reason he’s been feeling down.”

“What? So you’re saying that they—”

“I’m not saying anything, Asano-san.”

His cold facade nearly fell at Keigo's childish pout. Honestly, if he wasn't able to pick up on these things after all the time he'd known Ichigo, then there really was no hope for him.

Keigo didn’t get a chance to talk to him until lunchtime.

“I wonder what Rukia-chan’s up to.”

Ichigo nearly spit out his juice. “What’s Rukia got to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying, would it kill her to pop in and say hello from time to time?” Keigo flopped about on the floor like a fish. “Don’t you think it’s cold of her to not show her face even once since then?”

Yes.

“It’s not cold,” Ichigo replied.

Liar.

“She’s not in charge of Karakura Town anymore, so it’s completely normal for her to not hang around.”

Keigo squinted up at him. “You don’t miss her?”

More than anything.

“No reason to.”

He rattled off the same bullshit excuse he always did whenever anyone brought this up. He always wanted this slow peace. He didn’t need his powers anymore.

He didn’t need her in his life.

Before today, when was the last time he’d spoken her name aloud? When did Rukia become someone who never left his mind?

Ichigo stared up at the sky. Dark clouds blurred through a once-clear blue.

A black butterfly fluttered past. His absent hand trailed after it, chased it in the hopes it would perch itself on his finger. It flew up higher, further than he could reach, and he slowly let his hand fall away.

Fate turned on relentlessly. It would not falter, would not pause even for them. He had wished, foolishly perhaps, that he could go back to the moment Rukia disappeared from his eyes. Go back just to tell her everything he could not say.

He loved her.

He loved her with every fiber of his weak human heart.

The wheel kept spinning. The butterfly grew more distant.

Rukia would not come back to him.

The wind picked up, and he finally turned away.

I wonder if I can keep up with the speed of a world you’re not in.

#ichirukimonth #ichirukimonth2020 #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Bleach #my fanfiction

[vikingsarememes]

I love your Modern Ivar fics. Could you write something about Ivar coming home after a long day’s work, in pain and angered (maybe because of Sigurd). How would the reader react? A bath? A massage? A glass of wine? It’s up to you! 💖

Pairing: Ivar x Y/N

summary: Ivar had a very bad day at work and when he returned home, Y/N was there to make it all better

warnings: mention of bullying

word count: 1701

A/N: I really hope you like this one just like I enjoyed writing it!

After months of trying you were finally pregnant with Ivar’s child, you and your spouse were finally expecting a child of your own, after everyone told you it was impossible since Ivar’s productivity was questionable, you were four months pregnant and ever since Ivar discovered the news he’d create conversations with anyone he meets just to share the news and the updates on his child’s health.

You used to work as a high school teacher, but Ivar convinced you to take a break until you safely deliver the child, at first you opposed, but then he played the cripple card, and talked about his fears, the way his voice breaks when he speaks about those subjects was your weakness, so you ended up staying home, not that it was a bad thing, it was a little boring for your likings, but eventually Ivar would return home and make it up to you, whether with endless making out sessions or cuddles.

So it wasn’t unusual for you to prepare a nice meal and wait for your husband to return from his work, he was the IT specialist at Lothbrok’s company, family business, but your man was the best in his field, you were a little worried when he was twenty minutes late, he’d usually be hugging you now but he wasn’t here, and after an hour of being late, you started panicking, it wasn’t like Ivar to be late without giving you a notice, you called his brothers and they all told you he went out on time.

After two hours your husband came, the minute he opened the door, you rushed to him and hugged him, he didn’t hug you back, you knew something was wrong instantly, you pulled away and noticed the scars on his lips and forehead “Ivar, what happened?” you asked, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he limped to the couch, without answering, that was his way of telling you his legs hurt, you helped him sit down and pushed the coffee table closer to him, unstrapping his leg braces and lifting his legs up, Ivar looked down the whole time, even after all those years together, he still feels embarrassed of being in so much pain, he’d never admit he’s hurt, not because of his legs at least.

You went to the kitchen and brought the first aid box from under the sink and returned to your man, treating his injuries and giving him his painkillers which he took gratefully, you sat down next to him and placed your head on his chest, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you made him feel at peace, you took his free hand and placed it on your belly bump, it took him a while to soothe himself down, to gather his thoughts, you didn’t say anything, you knew your husband well enough to understand he had a terrible day, you knew him well enough to know he’ll tell you what happened when he’s ready.

“Sigurd is an asshole” he finally muttered, you looked at him, waiting for further explanations “he pushed me off the stairs” he added, you decided that Sigurd was a dead man “accidentally but not that he tried to help me get up, I hate him” he continued “what happened love?” you asked so sweetly, he breathed “Bjorn and I were talking, you know, Gunnhild is pregnant as well, five months now, so he told me about how soon we’ll be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat, he said he cries every time he hears his little ones’ heartbeat, and that the minute I’ll heart it too, I’ll be a changed man” you smiled a little, remembering in your next visit to the doctor, you’ll finally meet your baby.

“Sigurd heard, he kept acting like a bitch, Ubbe stopped him eventually, but when I was heading out, the elevator was under maintenance, I hate the stairs, I fucking hate them but I wanted to come back to you, as soon as possible, so I took them, and Sigurd was there, we descended together” he sighed and took a deep breath, “he told me to stop talking about baby stuff, it was making him sad, if the child lives, it will be a cripple or sick, and if not, then it will be even sadder because eventually they’ll learn how to walk, while I still crawl my way around sometimes” his voice was breaking with each word until you were able to see tears in his eyes, you caressed his cheeks “I talked back, of course, I did, like I always do, but he shoved me in the arm, my hand slipped from the crutches and I fell, he just walked away, without a second glance” 

“Sigurd is the worst brother of all time, don’t pay him attention” you heartened him and brushed his tears off, you got up and placed a kiss on his forehead “I’ll be right back” even though you hated leaving him alone, but after a day like this, your husband needed to relax and there’s one thing he loved to do when he wanted to relax, a fancy shower, you headed to the bathroom, and filled the bathtub with warm water, just the way he likes it, a little hotter than warm to stop his legs from aching, you put his favorite bath bomb, Jasmine’s scent, and candles, you put essential candles everywhere, your bathroom looked like a fancy one from a movie or Pinterest in ten minutes.

You returned to your man with his wheelchair, he hated it sight but he didn’t argue, he sat and allowed you to push him, being too exhausted to argue that he’s fine to walk, you pushed him to the bathroom and he raised an eyebrow at you “what? If you think I’ll let you sit and feel sorry for yourself you’re so damn wrong” he smiled a little and nodded, taking off his clothes, piece by piece, this you didn’t help him with, Ivar’s pride would be damaged the moment he thinks that you see him incapable of doing such a simple task when he’s in this state, he then helped himself into the tub.

You stood in front of him and took off your clothes, he likes watching you get naked, if it was up to him he’d keep you naked all the time just to admire your beautiful body, even more, that you’re with his child now, but this time, his eyes were focused on your belly, you sat down on his lap and relaxed on his body, letting the warm water take away all of your stress, you cuddled for a while quietly, until you decided it’s time to address the elephant in the room “Sigurd is just bitter, that he’s all alone now, and he sees his younger brother, loved, successful, better man than he’ll ever be, don’t mind yourself with his words, he’s jealous and pathetic” 

“Y/N, I didn’t think you had this darkness in you towards my dearest brother!” he laughed, you traced circles on his chest “I don’t like people who hurt my family, you are the man I love, and Sigurd just made a  pregnant woman very angry at him” you pouted, he placed a kiss on your lips then looked at you nervously “do you think it’s true? I mean, mother knew something was wrong with me before anyone else, do you have a similar feeling?” you sighed and shook your head “our child is okay, and next week we’ll visit the doctor who will only confirm my words, I feel radiant, so I suppose it means our child is healthy, your legs, it doesn’t happen genetically, you have my word as a biology teacher” 

“They’ll be ashamed of me, for being a cripple” he grumbled and you held his face, making him look you in the eyes “Ivar Ragnarsson, have I ever told you anything that didn’t come to reality?” he shook his head no “then hear me, and hear me well, our child will be born healthy, with kicking legs, and they’ll grow up to be strong, and loved by us, they’ll see you as the strongest man alive, they’ll be so proud of their father who told everyone who told him he can’t walk, get married, have children, be successful on his own, to kiss his ass! They’ll do the impossible  because that’s what they learned from you, they will be smart, and they’ll be loving” 

Ivar gave you a little smile which you returned “they’ll have everything good from us, I know this because mothers always know the best! It will be alright, I promise you that” you assured him again “what would I do without you in my life? My queen, the only person in this world who makes me feel complete” he whispered against your ears, his hand was on your belly, this time, his touch was soft, warm, it only made you happy, he was feeling better now and you loved it.

However, his other hand gave your breast a squeeze, only earning a moan from you and a smirk from him, “you know, I’m starting to think the whole bad day act is just to get it your way tonight” you giggled, teasing him a little, he did it again and you bit your bottom lip “so what if it was? You don’t seem to mind”, “get your ass to our bed, I want you now” you whimpered and got up.

The two of you dried your bodies then headed to your bedroom, Ivar can’t physically pick you up, but he can definitely set you on his lap and make out with you until you reached the bedroom, the two of you had a very hot sex, both so lust for each other, by the time you were done, you were exhausted, Ivar ended up falling asleep on your arms a few minutes later, but you, you picked your phone and sent a text to a particular Ragnarsson “the deal between us is off, I will come after you Sigurd for hurting him” you turned off your phone and fell asleep.

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr @lol-haha-joke

#vikings season 6 #vikings fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings oneshot #vikings imagine #ivar x you #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar the god #ivar x reader #modern ivar #modern au #modern sigurd #sigurd snake in the eye #oneshot #imagine #fanfic #vikings

[ballumsecretvalentine]

A Little Bit of Spice

For @benthighway​! I loved reading your angst and AU’s so I am thrilled to gift you a Restaurant AU! Hope you enjoy and Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

“Hiya. Is Shirley around?”

“Who’s askin’?”

Ben fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m Ben, the new host.”

“Oh, yeah.” The woman’s entire demeanor changed. “Sorry ‘bout that. Sometimes some shady folk come ‘round looking for Shirl. Gotta man the door, y’know?”

Ben smiled with a nod, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

“Well, anyway, I’m Whitney.” She offered her hand and a surprisingly firm handshake. “I run the front of the house here, so we’ll be working together a lot. You got a tour on your interview?”

Ben nodded again, taking off his coat and straightening his tie. When Shirley had told him a uniform would be required, he almost walked out. When he saw one of the waiters in the uniform looking hotter than Hades, he figured he could give it a go.

With Whitney giving him an obvious once over, he knew he fit the bill.

“I’ll show ya the break room. You get a locker an’ all that, then you can meet everyone quick. You’ll be shadowing me tonight. Gotta learn from the best an’ all.”

Ben laughed and followed her to the back. She seemed harmless enough, pretty girl but trying way too hard. He’d make his preferences clear in due time.

After hanging up his coat in a locker and going through the process of punching in and out for a shift, Whitney led the way into the kitchen, a swarm of hustling bodies and loud voices.

No competition for her, though.

“Hey, arseholes!”

The entire kitchen stilled and looked to them. Ben was immediately impressed. She commanded the room like the captain of ship. Only she did it with fake nails and four-inch heels.

“This ‘ere is Ben. New host. Be nice, introduce yourselves and don’t bloody drop anything tonight.” Whitney glared at a skinny, blonde guy who made a face and turned right around, getting back to work.

With that, the action returned, and Ben was practically chasing Whitney as she went back out front.

He was grateful when two hours later the doors opened, and the customers flooded in. He could only take so much talk of napkins and cutlery before he’d wanted to chop off his ear with a salad fork.

Most of the customers were lovely, sopping up his charm like sponges, but there were always those dining who thought they knew better than everyone else.

“This isn’t medium rare. It’s medium.”

Ben smiled even though it hurt his face to do so. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of that for you.”

Practically stomping into the kitchen, teeth clenched tight with curses sliding through, he tossed the plate down in front of the nearest chef and said, “Gordon Ramsey out there says this isn’t medium rare.”

“Oh, alright. Not really Gordon Ramsey though, right? Think I’d piss myself if it was.”

Ben looked up and found himself speechless, a feat he didn’t think possible. The kindest smile and the most gentle set of eyes met his.

He cleared his throat and tried to get a grip. “Nah, mate. Not tonight.”

The other man laughed, prepping another steak. Without looking up from his workstation he asked, “are you the new guy Whit was yelling about?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Ben. Mitchell.”

“Callum Highway. I’d shake your hand but,” he held up a filthy, gloved hand.

Ben laughed and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ben. Here ya go.” He slid a new steak across the counter. “May Gordon be kind.”

Ben’s heart raced as a blush crossed his cheeks against his will. “We can only hope.”

The rest of the evening went by without a hitch. The customers seemed to enjoy him, and he could tell Whitney was impressed with how quickly he fell into his new role. The few times Ben had to return to the kitchen, he went out of his way to catch a glimpse of Callum.

The man was tall, an immediate yes in Ben’s book, with those bright eyes and that wide smile. His shoulders were broad, and Ben’s thoughts had wandered to the nasty, wondering if that sturdy frame could hold his in those big paws he had.

Everyone seemed to like him, giving him pats on the shoulder and sharing jokes, so it was clear the man really was as nice as he seemed.

Determined to learn more about the cook, Ben said his goodbyes to Whitney and the other front-end staff and collected his stuff from the back. He popped into the kitchen, hoping to catch Callum before he left for the night but, stood at his station, Callum was laughing, with Whitney wiping something off his cheek, head tilted and smile full of flirtation.

Dammit, Ben thought. The radar must be broken.

******

The next night went much the same, Ben working on memorizing some of the menu items as well as the variety of wines the restaurant was trying to push. There was a noticeable lack of miserable customers which was wonderful, of course, except it meant he had no good reason to go into the kitchen. The pull to see Callum, to chat with him again, was something Ben wasn’t used to. It had been years since he’d felt more than just a surface attraction to another bloke.

This felt different.

And Callum was straight.

“Hey, Mitchell!”

Ben spun round at his name to a beaming Whitney. “Excellent job tonight. You’re catching on quick.”

He pulled on his coat and smiled in return. “Thanks. So far so good.”

“Listen, a bunch of us are goin’ for drinks. You interested?”

Ben thought about it, knew he needed to make some new mates here in Walford, but then he caught an eyeful of Callum, waiting patiently by the door, twiddling a hat between his hands. The idea of watching the two of them all over each other all night while the drinks flowed made him queasy.

With a sigh he said, “nah, I’m knackered. Next time though, yeah?”

Whitney nodded. “Suit yourself. Have a good night, then.”

He watched her leave, getting a small wave from Callum before the two of them headed out the door, Callum throwing his arm around Whitney’s shoulders as they left. Bopping his head lightly against his locker, he closed his eyes and groaned. First time attracted to someone again and it’s gotta be at work and with a bloke who don’t fancy men.

You pick ‘em well, Ben.

******

A few weeks later, after a few particularly boring days off, Ben found himself at the local, a nice little place everyone called the Vic. He was propping up the bar, feeling a bit sorry for himself, a damn bit lonely, too, when another pint appeared in front of him.

“I didn’t order another yet, mate.”

“S’alright,” the barkeep smiled. “From that one over there.” He tilted his head to the side and Ben melted where he sat when Callum lifted his glass.

Taking a deep breath, Ben stood with his fresh pint in hand and met Callum at one of the tables.

“Cheers for this.”

Callum shrugged. “No problem. It’s tough bein’ new ‘ere. Everyone already knows each other. Kinda tough to break the ice.”

Ben nodded, taking a sip and licking the foam off his lip. “You sound like you can relate.”

“Yeah, I only moved ‘ere ‘bout a year ago. My brother lives ‘ere and thought I’d like it.”

Ben took another drink, ignoring the heat choking him under his collar. Just being near Callum, listening to his voice and seeing the way his eyes sparkled up close was doing his head in.

“How’d you start cooking?”

Another big smile. “The army. I wasn’t in long, but I cooked quite a bit there; learned a lot.”

Eyebrows raised in surprise, Ben double checked. “Army?”

Callum had pride smeared across his mouth. “Yep. Not as soft as I look, y’know.”

Ben coughed on his drink, Callum giving him a few pats on the back in concern, missing what Ben felt was an obvious inuendo.

The rest of the evening was spent sharing stories and a few more drinks. Turned out they both came from fathers they’d prefer not to see again and mothers who tried their hardest but never seemed to get it right.

When Ben’s vision started getting blurry around the edges, the conversation shifted into talk of relationships. Callum seemed to shrug it off. “I’ve got, like, no experience, mate.”

Ben gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “Aw, c’mon. All them sights you seen in the army, never picked up a date or a shag?”

Callum laughed again, mouth open wide and so pure, Ben stared in awe. If Callum was being honest, which he seemed damn near incapable of being anything but, it just didn’t make sense. Why would no one pick him up? He was bloody gorgeous and sweet, tall and strong, and those hands—

“I can’t just hook up with someone. Not my style.”

Ben couldn’t help but wonder why Callum wasn’t telling him about Whitney. Objectively, even though he certainly wasn’t interested, she was sharp and beautiful, a good catch for any bloke.

“No one catching your eye at work, then?”

Callum’s head snapped with what Ben thought looked a bit like fear on his face. “I dunno what you mean.”

Ben shrugged, taking a drink and trying to steady his hands. He’s usually much smoother than this, easily chatting up any bloke he fancied, not afraid of an honest conversation.

But, fuck, Callum made him nervous.

He cleared his throat and put on his best teasing face. “Mate, everyone’s got a thing for someone they work with. That what it is? One of the waitresses catch your eye?”

He winked dramatically, trying desperately to downplay his nerves. It was like ripping off a plaster, right? Hearing Callum talking about Whitney directly would be better than drawing it out. That way he’d get over this ridiculous crush and move on.

“Nah. Most of them’s married, you know.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ben mumbled, “wouldn’t ‘ave stopped me.”

The look of judgement that was thrown his way made Ben want to disappear into the floor. He didn’t know why he said that, he’d never been with a married man before, and he could actually see Callum losing respect for him by the second.

“Is that your deal, Ben? Mess around with whoever you like? Don’t matter if they’ve got someone waiting at home?”

Scoffing, Ben finished his pint. “Yep. I like ‘em tall, dark and silent, Callum. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

It was definitely the booze brandishing some liquid courage, but Ben was fuming. He made one stupid, off handed comment and that was all it took to be judged once again. And why the hell wouldn’t Callum mention Whitney? What was the big bloody deal? He’d been at the restaurant less than a week and could name a handful of people screwing around. What made them special?

He threw a bunch of cash on the table, not bothering to count it, and headed out into the cold January night. All he’d wanted was a quiet drink. A mate or two. A job. A fresh start.

But then Callum bloody Highway had to muck it all up.

******

When the hangover started fading the next day, Ben seriously debated calling in. He wasn’t a coward; he’d always faced up to his shit in the past. Callum, though, made him feel…vulnerable.

He hated it.

Ultimately, his brain voted in favor of a paycheck so he forced his body up, took the longest, hottest shower he could handle. Feeling close to human again, he got himself dressed and picked a pair of too tight trousers to go with his uniform. He’d be worried about ripping ‘em all night but he’d look damn good doing it.

Feigning confidence and nonchalance, he moved through his shift like a man with no worries, no concerns. But all night he kept an eye on Callum and could have sworn Callum was watching him in return.

As the last of the customers were finishing up, Ben used the quiet to debate his next move. Something was sitting uncomfortably in his gut, churning and tossing with the idea of Callum thinking less of him, especially over some nonsense comment. He could try pretending it never happened, picking up a conversation like they never stopped speaking. Or, and this would be horribly unpleasant, he could just be honest.

I’ve got a crush and it made me word vomit absolute bullshit and I’m sorry.

Shockingly, he decided the truth was the only safe way to go. They’d worked together for a bit now and, if Callum was weird after the confession, they didn’t have to see each other that often anyway. Plus, Ben reasoned, Callum was too nice to be that petty. He pictured the chef now, smiling and shaking his head at Ben’s stupidity, laughing it off.

Decision made, Ben headed into the kitchen, ready to confess.

Regretting it instantly, Ben stood frozen with his hand holding open the swinging door as he watched Callum holding Whitney close to his chest, lips on hers and eyes closed tight.

Feeling lightheaded, he put too much weight on the door, making it bang into the wall behind it. Whitney and Callum jumped apart, both with surprise on their faces. Ben scoffed, confused as to why two people going at it in the wide open would be shocked when someone walked in.

“Ben, it’s not what it looks like, okay?” Whitney wiped the back of her mouth with her perfectly manicured hand and moved away from Callum who looked about a minute away from passing out.

Ben just shook his head and headed to the break room, thoughts of the Albert and a warm body for a distraction running through his head. He stared at Callum, looking small and blushing the color of a rose, when he said, “don’t worry about it. Everyone’s got a thing for someone they work with, right?”

He bit his lip, willing the embarrassment and disappointment away. He threw on his coat and called a cab. There were plenty of fish in the damn sea.

******

As soon as he sat down with a pint, it was like moths to a flame. One after another, blokes of all shapes and sizes came to chat him up. It definitely helped build the ego back up, but he cursed himself as each one did nothing to light that spark.

They were all too short or way too tall. Too arrogant or too quiet. They tried too hard to make him laugh or put on moves that had him grimacing into his drink.

A few hours later, he was well drunk and thinking about his bed. He felt old and ridiculous then, sat in a bar with music blaring and lights flashing, blokes throwing themselves at him left, right and center, but he’s daydreaming about sweatpants and warm blankets and soft pillows.

Oh, and of course the man with the most genuine laugh, and thoughtful eyes, most stunning smile.

Ben rubbed his face, willing images of Callum away with the pressure, and signaled to the bartender for the tab.

“Leaving already?”

He tensed, concerned he’d had so much to drink he was hallucinating that voice in a gay bar.

Even in the dim light, Callum was beautiful.

Ben let out a breath and stared blankly behind the bar, trying and failing to sober up. “What are you doing here?”

He saw Callum’s shoulders rise and fall from the corner of his eye. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Smiling at the bartender, Ben signed for his bill and turned in his seat. “Don’t bullshit me. I’m not gonna say anything about you and Whitney, alright? What you do is your business.”

Callum shook his head but Ben was out of his seat and calling a taxi before he could say anything. Outside, his breath moved in a cloud in front of his face and he buttoned up his coat. He would freeze in this weather but there was no way he could sit next to Callum for another second.

“Hey.”

Ben groaned, frustration overcoming his buzz.

“What, Callum? What?”

“You got it wrong, okay? What you saw today, at work, it-it wasn’t what it looked like.”

Ben made a face. “Yeah, Whitney already said that. I’m sure I just got confused. I mean, that’s how I say goodbye to folks. With my tongue.”

Callum threw his head back with a sound that came out like a growl. “That’s not what I mean! God, Ben, what is your problem?”

“I liked ya!”

Ben’s confession hung in the air, stuck between the two of them. His chest felt tight and his eyes stung, a sensation he refused to allow to win.

He turned, looking up the street and praying to the universe for his cab to suddenly appear. He’d give it just another minute or so before he’d be walking home. Maybe he’d get lucky and the bloody cab would just run him over.

“I-I don’t understand.”

Laughing, Ben met Callum’s eye. “I’m gay, Callum. And I like ya. Sorry I’m not interested in seeing you with other people.”

Huffing, he started to move, feet going numb and hands burning from the cold. Ben turned his collar up and dug his hands deep into his pockets.

He heard feet on the pavement jogging to catch up. “But, the other night. You were talking about—”

“Jesus, Callum!” He spun around so quickly Callum stumbled over his own feet, giving Ben a wide berth. “I just wanted you to keep talking. And we were drinking. And you make me bloody stupid! I’ve never been with a married man before, it just came out. But you shut down, judging me, making me feel—”

“I wasn’t judging!”

Ben scoffed and started walking again.

“Ben, wait!”

“I’ll see ya at work, Callum.” He turned back, walking backwards up the street. “And, no worries. Your secret’s safe with me!”

If he spent that night shivering alone in his bed, holding a pillow tight and feeling completely empty, it was no one’s business.  

******

Ben woke the next day with puffy eyes and a sore throat to discover, in horror, that it was Valentine’s Day. He’d barely slept at all, embarrassment and regret running through his mind all night. He downed a glass of water with a slice of dry toast while planning the phone call to play hooky from work when the bell rang.

On the other side of the door sat the largest stuffed bear Ben had ever seen holding a single red rose. He looked up and down the street, forgetting in his confusion he was in nothing but his underwear, searching for whoever dropped the stupid thing off at the wrong address. When no one was in sight, he groaned and mumbled to himself about inept delivery drivers as he hauled the brown bear into his flat.

With the distraction of the bear, Ben had lost track of time and found it was too late to call out of his shift. He showered quickly and threw on what he hoped were some clean clothes. As he headed out the door, a tag hanging from the bear’s big ear caught his eye; he hadn’t seen it earlier. Flipping it over he read:

Ben,

I hope this is a Valentine’s Day you won’t forget.

Your Secret Admirer

He froze, excitement and nerves churning in his gut. Was this real? Was someone messing with him? Who the hell would take the time to send something like this? And to him, no less.

Yanking the tag off the animal, Ben read it once more before shoving it in his pocket. He’d worry about it all later.

******

The restaurant was absolutely slammed that night, the holiday filling their patrons with romance and generosity. Ben found himself forgetting about the tag in his pocket and focusing on the money filling them instead.

On his break, he popped into his locker and almost got knocked out when something shiny, covered in cellophane fell out. He stared at the offending object, a red, heart shaped box, and looked around the room, starting to get worried he was being pranked.

Carefully, he picked it up and peeled away the wrapper. Inside, were a handful of fancy and, he learned later, delicious chocolate truffles. Inside the cover of the box was a scribbled note.

Ben,

A little pre-dinner snack. Don’t work too hard tonight.

Your Secret Admirer

His heart raced and his cheeks flushed. Pre-dinner snack? Like, a date? Or was it just that this person knew he’d be opening the gift before he ate?

Again, he looked around the space. The bear could have been ignored but now he was definitely getting curious. As he went back onto the floor, he looked at each of his co-workers in a different light. He realized he hadn’t made his preferences known to everyone so there was a good chance he might actually be hurting someone’s feelings tonight and a disaster would ensue.

No one seemed to be looking at him any differently, though. Lee gave him a polite nod and Mick asked if he had any plans for the night of romance. He knew Whitney and Callum were out of the running and annoyed himself briefly with visions of their sexy Valentine’s night. The rest of the kitchen and wait staff were nice but no one stuck out; no one had blatantly flirted.

With a sigh, Ben decided he was just being pranked, give the new guy a hard time kind of thing. No one knew him well enough to like him let alone admirer him. He’d grab his stuff as soon as his shift was over, stop and get a bottle of something nice for himself and then head home. Maybe watch a slasher film or something.

The night finally came to an end, the love in the air eventually becoming too overwhelming for Ben to stomach. He stuck to his plan, making a beeline for his coat and heading out the back door. What greeted him outside stopped him dead in his tracks.

Callum stood in front of him, nervous smile on his face and a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. Exhausted and so disappointed, Ben could only offer a nod. “Have a good night, mate. She’ll love ‘em.”

Before he could walk away, a large hand turned him around and roses were being shoved under his nose. “For you, Ben.”

In slow motion, with a pitiful expression on his face, Ben took hold of the flowers and looked at Callum. “I don’t get it.”

Callum laughed and shook his head. “We have to start over, Ben. I’ve messed this up since day one but it’s Valentine’s, so I figured I’d just go for it.”

With a shake of his head Ben asked, “go for what?”

“You can be so thick. You, ya idiot.”

In his confusion, Ben tried giving the flowers back. “But you’re with Whitney.”

Callum stepped forward, gently pushing the flowers back into Ben’s chest. “You saw me panic, Ben. Whitney and Lee have been dating for months now.”

“Okay, remember when you called me thick?”

With a laugh that sent a shiver through Ben, he explained. “I’ve been thinking that I’m, well, not exactly straight, for a while now but no one was catching my eye enough to test that theory, ya know? Then you walked in the kitchen on your first night and it was like a switch went off. Yep, I’m gay.”

They both laughed and Ben found himself relaxing, allowing himself to hope this was all real. “But that scared me. And then you were so, I dunno, bold? When we had drinks that night, remember? And I just felt unsure. So the next day, Whit was talking to me and being real nice, she’s one of my best friends, and I kissed her like the moron I am. You just ‘appened to walk in before she could give me a slap.”

“You know I got blasted that night at the Vic ‘cause I convinced myself you two were together.”

“What?”

Ben bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah. I figured you two were together and I didn’t stand a chance, so I drank too much and the muck started fallin’ outta my mouth.”

They stood together in the dark alley sharing breath and laughs for a few minutes. Eventually Ben looked at his hands, clenched tightly around the first flowers he’d ever received, and wondered what was next.

“Ben?”

He looked up and met Callum’s beautiful, blue eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I’m gay.”

Ben laughed again. “Okay.”

“And I like ya.”

Wrapping his arms around Callum’s waist, Ben moved in and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, still in complete disbelief this was actually happening. With foreheads resting against one another and lips turned up in matching grins, Ben whispered, “I like ya, too.”

With a satisfied sigh, Callum stood tall and offered his hand to Ben. “I thought I’d be crazy and made us reservations at that Italian place around the corner.”

“Whoa, big man. Very bold of ya,” Ben teased with eyebrow raised.

Callum leaned down and kissed Ben once again, gentle and soft and filled with the promise of so much more.

“C’mon, let’s get this date started.”

Ben smiled, pulling Callum in close by the waist and melting into the strong arm thrown over his shoulders, flowers swinging happily by his side.

“Let’s.”

#bvd20 #ben x callum #ballum secret valentine #ballum #eastenders #fanfic

[rusty-guitar-strings]

Sleep Schedule

or This Fic Switches from Fluff to Angst so Fast it Gave Me Whiplash and I’m the One Who Wrote It (Not Sponsored by Starbucks)

Summary: Someone can’t sleep. Two someones, actually, and neither of them want to do anything about it. They do want the other person to sleep though. How could this possibly be solved?

or

Logan has work to do. Remy has no work to do, but is staying up anyway, for some reason Logan can’t comprehend. Remy is hiding something. Logan intends to find out what.

Rating: G or T

Pairings: Losleep/Sleep Schedule (goin’ full RWBY on these ship names)

Word Count: 2,025

Warnings: cursing, playful arguing, two very slight sexual innuendos, use of an undesired name (not deadnaming but similar), crying, one mention of religion

Note: This was written on request/suggestion from @blinksinbewilderment. My first kind-of sort-of request. I do take them!! Anyway enjoy. Also I love Remy. (If you can find the nod to blink I crammed in there, you win a hat)

All-nighters were better when they weren’t ‘all-alone-nighters’ as Remy liked to call them. Luckily, Logan wasn’t currently dealing with loneliness. No, it was quite the opposite.

“Oi, Squid-nerd, check it.” Logan’s very important financing for props of an upcoming video was suddenly blocked by the Sleep aspect’s phone, which contained a meme of some sort. He squinted wearily and adjusted his glasses, leaning in to get a closer look. It appeared to be Winnie the Pooh (what was a ‘pooh’ anyway?) effectively mimicking Logan’s current expression. The top mentioned something about someone’s mom looking at memes, and it was all he could do not to sputter.

“That is not nearly as amusing as you seem to find it, Remigius, and it doesn’t- it’s not even accurate, I can’t- I’m not your mother, that’s impossible- stop laughing-“

Remy was rolling on the floor now, knees to his chest, absolutely weeping with laughter. He got far too giggly when he was sleep deprived, in addition to the sass, and it was as frustrating as it was endearing. “I can’t believe that worked! Girl, you are too much!” He shrieked and wiped his face, chest seizing with giggles.

“How do you expect anyone else to be asleep with all this pandemonium?” Logan couldn’t quite hide all the fondness from his voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be monitoring Thomas’ dream activity, anyhow?”

“Boring business,” the diva wheezed, waving Logan off dismissively. “Same old stuff, weird self-inserts he won’t even remember when he wakes up.”

“Remigi-“

“Remy.”

“Yes, fine, Remy. Your job is important, you should be taking every aspect of it seriously.” Logan lifted an eyebrow at him, managing to pull a serious enough expression for how late at night it was.

The figment in question was sitting up in the blink of an eye, grinning smugly. His shades obscured his eyes for the moment, but Logan knew they were gleaming with mischief.

“Ha. You said ‘Spec.’”

“Really? That’s what you went with?”

“The best jokes are unanticipated and take time to understand,” he stated matter-of-factly, in an infuriatingly accurate impression of Logic himself.

“You shut your mouth, sir.” Logan shoved a hand in Remy’s face in a feeble attempt to get him to stop.

Instead, he took Logan’s hand and, making eye contact over his shades for a split second, pressed a gentle kiss to the back of the side’s knuckles. “Like this?” He purred, lips curling into his usual smirk.

“That’s acceptable, yes.” Logan, determined not to be deterred from his signature stoic state, took back possession of his hand and patted Remy twice on the head before returning to his laptop. He bit the inside of his lip to avoid smiling at Remy’s obvious deflation. He continued his budgeting uninterrupted for a few blissful moments.

“Hey L, I have a proper- poorpro- a propsit-“

“Proposition?”

“Yes, a that. I have one of those for you.” Remy stared up at him through his shades, now kneeling next to Logan’s swivel chair. His arms were folded on one arm rest and he had his chin on them, successfully equating him to the puppies that Roman summoned so often.

“All right, Remig- Remy, what is it?”

“Get your ass in bed and go the fuck to sleep.”

“Profanity does not make one more appealing.” Logan didn’t stop typing. “And you should also be sleeping.”

“I don’t need sleep, honey, I am Sleep.” Remy stuck his tongue out teasingly.

“Falsehoods are not a good look on you, sweetie,” Logan deadpanned. Remy fell backward with a gasp.

“Who are you and what have you done with my Logan?” He demanded. At the end of his accusatory point, the side in question tried not to preen at the (admittedly over-dramatic) reaction to his outburst.

“I am still present.”

“Good. Go to sleep.”

“Why?” Logan waited patiently for his desired statement.

“Because you need it.”

That wasn’t quite it, so he tried again. “And why is that?” He asked evenly, adding Roman’s desperately important party poppers to the budget and scrawling a sticky note reminder to warn Virgil of the prince’s plans. The last thing they needed in a lighthearted video was an attack from him. Or on him. Logan added another sticky note directing future Logan to further explore Virgil’s role as anxiety, if he was the cause or effect, or if he could be both. He almost missed what Remy said, which would have been a disaster.

“Because sleep is important, Dumbo!”

“Ah ha!” Logan whirled in his chair triumphantly, the tip of his pen pointing directly at the figment’s nose. “So we are in agreement, then.”

Remy blinked in bewilderment. “What?”

“We both agree that you-“

“Stoppin’ ya right there, babes.” He waved a hand and conjured green tea in a Starbucks cup (not sponsored), a peculiar ability of his that Logan had yet to discover the reasoning behind. “I didn’t say nothin’ like that.”

“Why are you using double negatives? That is a disgusting misuse of the English language.” Logan, a certified nerd, gave Remy the dreaded Stare of Disappointment™️. Everyone in the Mindscape trembled in their figurative boots. But they were also asleep, so… figurative dream boots. Unless they weren’t wearing boots. They trembled in their figurative dream boots-or-other-footwear. Logan almost missed what Remy was saying for the third consecutive time.

“English is already disgusting, she doesn’t need my help.” He waved a hand. “End scene. Go to bed.”

“Roman appears to be rubbing off on you.” The creative side was the one to originate the habit of saying ‘end scene’ when he wanted to drop a conversation, and lately had begun to use it more and more seriously.

“Bitch, what did I say?” He pointed sternly at the bed, sitting with his legs crossed in the floor like toddler.

Logan tilted his chin upward defiantly. “Only if you sleep with me.” He was promptly hit in the face with a pillow.

“Ew! Nasty! No ma’am! Not in my good Christian household!” A multitude of other objects were thrown at him, luckily light and mostly harmless.

“Remigius, please- Remy! Let me rephrase, I did not intend to imply that we would, ah-“ he cleared his throat. “-have intercourse. If I am going to sleep, I want you to as well. Nothing more.” Logan adjusted his glasses awkwardly.

“Oh. Well, in that case, you’ve got a deal.” Remy looked around at the mess he’d made. “This looks like a problem for future me. I’m gonna get changed, see ya in a bit, boo.” He stood, winking. “Unless you want to join me.”

“No. I can change quite well on my own, thank you.” In a split second, Logan was wearing a science pun t-shirt (courtesy of Patton) and constellation pajama pants, and was idly removing his glasses to place them on his nightstand. He smirked to himself as Remy disappeared into the closet, complaining under his breath about how unfair his powers were and the fact that he had to change by hand.

About ten minutes later, Remy was in a tank top and shorts and his sunglasses still, lying next to Logan in bed and scrolling through his phone idly while the other attempted to sleep.

“Remy,” Logan whispered after a moment, harsh and sudden enough to make the figment jump and drop his phone. “Go to sleep.”

“Not until you do, wise guy.” He immediately regained a cool composure and reached for his device carefully.

“Are you always this hard-headed?” Logan sat up.

“Darling, have you met me?” Remy quirked an infuriatingly perfect eyebrow.

“Remigius-“

“Don’t call me that!” Sleep looked as stunned as Logan felt at his own outburst, then stiffened up and focused on his screen again instead. “Please.”

“Apologies. I wasn’t aware your proper name was a… sensitive… subject.” Logan rubbed one eye, staring downward. The other didn’t look up.

“It isn’t. I just don’t like how similar it is to… his.” He tapped his phone once with odd finality. “End scene.”

“I’m sorry, Remy, truly. I just believe that things should be called what they are, but I shouldn’t have applied that to-“

“End scene, Logan,” he persisted. “Please.” His voice broke a little, startling Logic, which was a rarity.

“Of course.” He fell silent and turned back to the blankets, rewinding the events in his mind and wondering what he’d done. It was unusual to see Sleep silent, still, and just… not causing general mischief. Where was the giggly figment he’d seen less than an hour ago? “Will you at least try and rest?”

“No rest for the wicked.” Remy smirked, typing something to someone, but it lacked the usual fire. “I meant what I said earlier. After you.”

“Remy…”

“It’s no biggie, Issac No-Fun. Go ahead and nod off, I’ll be here.”

“Rem-“

“I can hold down the fort, you know. My incredible humility prevents me from sharing my immense capability.”

“Remy. Look at me?”

“‘Course, I’d never complain about getting to- woah!” He jumped slightly when Logan took a light hold of his jaw, not daring to pull away.

“You mean that literally, don’t you?” Logan swallowed, all of his late nights or totally sleepless ones crashing back with a wave of a guilt to accompany them. “You are incapable of sleeping until everyone in the mind palace is no longer awake.”

Remy shrugged and opened his mouth, as if preparing a snarky comeback. Instead, what came out was, “It’s my job.”

Logan pushed Remy’s sunglasses up into his hair carefully, revealing dark, watery eyes shadowed by sleepless nights too numerous to count. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, “that you feel the need to use caffeine to stay awake.”

“I’m so goddamn tired, Logan,” the poorly named figment whispered, head falling forward to rest against Logan’s chest. “I can’t even take naps, it’s so fucking miserable…”

Logic softened, lifting his arms after a moment to wrap them around Remy. One hand cradled the back of his head as his body trembled against Logan’s and he let out a single, shuddering sob. “I know. We are- I am going to set a more steady sleep schedule. For all of us, including you. Would that be alright?”

Sleep nodded slightly against him, sitting up enough to try and rub his face. Logan lifted a tissue. “May I?” At another nod, he wiped Remy’s eyes, then handed it to him. “Blow. I will return with some water.” He pulled away slowly, then left the room after pausing to glance back.

Upon his return, Logan found Remy still sitting up smirking a little at something on his phone. He tried not to focus on how nice the figment’s eyes looked now that he could actually see them. He offered him the glass of water instead, then slid onto the bed next to him. “Drink at least half,” he advised.

Remy nodded, downed the water according to his orders, then wiped his mouth on the back of his arm. “Thanks, L.”

“No need. Lie back.”

“Dominant, are we?”

“Remy, lie back before I push you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m doing it. No need to get your tie in a twist.” He shifted to lay on his side, eyes still a bit teary. Logan reached out a hand to wipe them away gently. The tears. Remy’s eyes remained stationary. He tugged Remy’s shades from his hair and placed them on the nightstand next to his own glasses.

“Good. Relax, I am going to sleep so that you can. Please take advantage of it.” 

“I will.”

“Good.” Logan closed his eyes, lying down as well. He scooted a bit closer to Remy to wrap an arm over him from behind, no matter how it made his skin burn with heat. No one else was around to see.

“Night, babe,” Remy whispered, and that was the last thing Logan heard until morning.

The next day, the two would share knowing glances while going about their daily tasks. Logan would present his sleep schedule, Remy would deny everything that happened the previous night, and then eventually he would confess the nature of his powers. He would receive shock and some concern, and everyone would abide to Logan’s plan. And everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remy sanders #losleep #angst #fluff #hc #author ari #im remy trash i cant stop writing him #send help #also logan is a delight #and i like roman and am gonna do him next #send requests pls

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans- Chris Evans AU Chapter Seven

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: TeacherxStudent relationship. Slightly Underage reader x adult teacher. An almost-sexual-assault scene. If this triggers you please don’t read. Violence. (just a small fight scene)  Disclaimers: I don’t own CE or you. I don’t condone any relationship of this kind. This is for fictional and entertainment purposes only. 

A/N: Also, can we all just agree that if at any point a woman or anyone else says “no” or “stop”, you have to respect their wishes? CONSENT IS EVERYTHING PERIOD! Word Count:  4, 392 words

Read Chapter Six Here!!

*

(Gif isn’t mine!)

The thing you hated about parties the most was the fact that they never seemed to end.

Well, actually, that was the second thing you hated about them the most. The thing you actually hated the most about parties was having to dress up.

“God fuckin- Margo,” you groan, tugging at the soft fabric of your black cocktail dress.

“What?” She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gaze trained on the road ahead of her.

“This thing is too short.”

Laughing, your best friend shakes her head at your apprehensiveness. “You can not be serious, Y/n. That dress is like, six inches above your knees. Max. And it’s long at the back so...”

You lean back into the comfy seat of Margo’s sedan, grumbling. “I don’t like heels.”

She wiggles her brows. “They make your legs look great, though.”

You can’t argue the point with her any longer and hated to admit she was right. The strappy heels which wrapped all the way just below your knees and off-shoulder dress that hugged your top but spread out at the bottom required a considerable amount of cash from your father's bank account but looked really good on you.

The style was so far from your usual jeans and sneakers minimalist fashion but tonight you actually looked...pretty.

But that was just you. Margo insisted that you always looked pretty. The only difference tonight was that you looked “extremely fuckable.”

Not your favorite choice of wording but fair enough.

While getting ready, you’d asked her to go easy on the makeup (which she did not want to do) in exchange for you to let her do whatever she wanted to your hair.

She’d reluctantly agreed, only applying a thick layer of mascara to your lashes, shimmering eyeshadow to your lids and a pink-tinted lip gloss.

She didn’t do as much as you would’ve thought with the hair though, opting to curl it all instead of the crazy up-do you’d been expecting. The curls were big and loose and sexy. You looked bold and sophisticated and for once you felt good about your appearance.

“So this party,” you start. “How long is it gonna last?”

“Oh. As long as you want it to, baby.” She smirks in that typical Margo fashion that made you uneasy as hell.

“Oh no,” you groan softly under your breath.

Tonight was going to be a disaster, you just knew it.

*

Jenna Miller’s mansion was huge. Huge as in it may actually have been an entire estate.

The music was loud and even as you made your way up the steps of the front lawn, your feet still vibrated with the strong bass of “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster The People.

You almost hold back a wince at the multiple couples on the literal brink of having sex right then and there. Almost.

Margo, who wore a tight red dress showing off all her incredible curves and monstrous black heels, hugged you to her, puckering her ruby red lips. “C’ mon Y/n. Stop being such a prude. A little kissing never hurt anyone.”

You laugh at her incredulously, pointing to a nearby couple practically dry-humping eachother. “That is not kissing. That is full-on sex.”

She smirks. “You mind now, but I’m sure if it was a certain English teacher kissing you, you wouldn’t mind in the least.”

You flush almost immediately at the sound of Mr. Evans and kissing in the same sentence, gulping a lump in your throat. If only she knew.

“Let’s just go in, yeah?” You rasp, walking in ahead of her.

She mumbles something about you “acting weird lately” under her breath but follows you all the same.

The inside of the house is not much better than the outside, with people drinking and hollering loudly. Some are making out in various places of the living area and most are just dancing like crazy.

You link your arms with Margo almost instinctively, your social anxiety kicking in at the overwhelming sight. I should’ve stayed home watching the rest of the third season of Breaking Bad, you think regretfully.

Margo smiles down at you softly. patting your hand reassuringly. “It’ll be okay, Y/n. Just relax. I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

The third thing you hated most about parties happened to be that Margo thrived in them. 

Which meant it’d hadn’t even when an hour before she’d gone to get you drinks that she’d been surrounded by a crowd of her other friends, obscuring your view of her except for her head as another crowd of sweaty teens came in, blocking her off completely.

This immediately makes you anxious and you push your way through the crowd but it’s almost impossible. A string of “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” follow close behind as you practically shove people away in desperate search of your friend, but when you make it to the other side where Margo had previously been in, she was gone.

You look around the immediate premise for her a bit more, but she’s nowhere to be found. You just hope she’ll eventually make her way back to where you’d been last.

You assumed she’d gone off to mingle and didn’t want to interrupt whatever socially-strengthening experience she was having right now. Just because you were incapable of holding a casual conversation with others doesn’t mean you had the right to hold her back from doing so. You were already enough baggage as it was.

So you sigh, throwing yourself back onto the couch you had found in a dark corner. You hoped no one else happened to stumble upon it in the time it took Margo to come back.

Time ticked by torturously by. You watched a game of beer pong going on in front of you and laughed along to some of the stupidities the dares these kids had come up with. Somewhere nearby, a clearly not-sober girl had begun a striptease to the tune of “Partition” by Beyoncé. Guys hollered and you gasped, about to go save the poor girl’s dignity before another girl quickly steps in and takes the girl off the table, giving her her shirt back and using it to cover her as she tugged her away. 

So there you are, bored out of your fucking mind, playing random games on your phone and trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. It's been twenty minutes already when you feel the spot on the couch next to you sink.

Looking over, you raise a brow at who’s decided to sit next to you. He smiles that well-known charming smile of his and you suddenly realize why every girl in your school is in love with him.

“Hey,” James greets you warmly.

James McDaniels. Typical fuckboy. Hot as hell, dangerously charming and your town’s resident golden boy. The son of some big CEO who’d moved from another town down south, everyone believes he’ll make it to play football professionally.

But that’s beside the point. Why was the most attractive/popular guy in school talking to...you?

“Um...hi?” Rather than a greeting, you sound like you’re questioning yourself. You don’t wait for him to respond before you turn your attention back to your phone.

“Want a drink?” he draws your attention back to him, offering you a red solo cup.

You look at the cup then slowly trail your eyes from his hand to his -quite honestly- muscular arm to his handsome face which is pleasantly curved into an eye-blindingly sexy smile.

Immediately, your defenses go up and you shake your head disinterestedly. “No thank you. I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

He chuckles lightly, clicking his tongue. “I didn’t spike it if that’s what you’re thinking. Not that kind of guy, princess.”

His voice is incredibly attractive. Raspy and smooth and he has the hint of a southern accent which somehow makes it all the more attractive.

You finally look at him, putting our phone away in your clutch.

James McDaniels is not your type at all. He’s not dumb per se, but he’s not exactly an intellectual either.

And most importantly, he’s not Mr. Evans...

His eyes were a pretty hazel but they weren’t that gorgeous baby blue that occasionally turned into a deep aqua blue you loved so much. His hair was a dark brown, not a light dirty blonde you always have the urge to run your fingers through. His face was freshly-shaven and didn’t have the hints of a beard you utterly loved scratching your face. And his lips were nice, but they weren't Mr. Evans’s lips.

The thoughts infuriate you. Why are you still thinking about Mr. Evans, Y/n? That was a one-time thing and it was never even meant to happen. It’ll never happen again anyways. He’ll never be able to be with you in the real world. Wake up.

Shocking even yourself, you take the cup from James’s hand with a small smile. “Thanks.” And then you throw it back, drinking its contents in one go.

Immediately, you start coughing erratically, the alcohol burning your throat intensely. James laughs, patting your back lightly.

“Not used to drinking, I assume?”

You smile lightly at him, wiping your mouth. “Nope.” You frown. “What was that?”

He shrugs, downing his own drink easily. He crushes the cup in his hand and throws it over his shoulder. “Vodka maybe? Who even cares? It’s good, right?”

You find yourself smiling lightly, nodding along. “Yep.”

He smirks mischievously. “Wanna get more?”

You nibble on your lip, considering the offer lightly. It sounds fucked up, but for a few seconds, you were able to forget about Mr. Evans and the torture of not being able to ever really have him. You felt...good. Numb. So nothing, really. But that still was better than feeling the pain. You wanted to feel like that forever.

Plus, James McDaniels didn’t seem like bad company. You’d be cautious anyways.

You smirk at him. “Yes, please.”

*

Needless to say, as someone not used to drinking at all, your body did not grow accustomed to the alcohol that was constantly flowing into it fast enough whatsoever. 

It started out casual, but over time you’d become less and less defensive about the drinking, simply craving the feeling the alcohol gave you. The freedom from the memory of Mr. Evan’s lips on yours it offered you.

You were a lightweight and before you knew it, you were drunk.

Everything felt so much better when you didn’t feel like yourself. Even James, who you had no particular interest in became much more interesting with the alcohol. 

He was nice and flirty and over the time you’d spent conversing, he’d slowly moved in closer to you, expressing his interest in you with little brushes on your shoulder and face and legs...

You barely noticed, too lost in the euphoric feeling of the alcohol currently coursing through your system. Your muscles were loose and your smile came easy and you’d never felt so careless and free.

Margo never really made her way back to you but you were too buzzed to give a shit.

“So I fell off the fucking bleachers and landed on my ass,” James finishes his story and you can’t help but snort, quickly falling into a fit of giggles thereafter.

You don’t even know why you’re laughing so much, it’s not even that funny but you can’t help it. 

You calm down enough to ask, “oh my God, you really let that tiny guy shove you like that? For a girl?”

He shrugs with a soft smile, caressing your arm softly then looking into your eyes sincerely. “For the right girl, yeah. Sure princess.”

You can’t help but scoff, downing your tenth to eleventh vodka shot of the night.

“What?” James chuckles a bit confusedly.

You look at him with a grin. “Nothing, it’s just...you’re good.”

He raises a brow. “Good?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah. Dangerously good. I mean c’ mon! ‘For the right girl, sure’?!” You huff. “That has got to be the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard!”

He smiles in a cute sheepish way that you suspect might also be rehearsed.

“Did it work at least?”

Feeling strangely bold, you smile flirtingly at him, slowly leaning in close enough to have your lips brush slightly. Your chest pressed against his, your finger makes a small trajectory from the sharp line of his jaw to his neck, chest, abs then lower... lower... it stops just above his belt.

You bite your lip seductively, looking into his eyes from underneath your lashes.

“Hm...” you hum softly, watching as his breath falters and his pupils dilate with desire. His lips part and his lids drop halfway.

“No.”

You lean back with a smug smirk on your face, almost bursting into uncontrollable laughter at the look in his face. He looked so disappointed. Your humor grows uneasy, though, when you think you think you see a pissed look flash across his face. It’s gone just as fast as it came and you wondered if you were imagining it when he laughs loudly along with you.

Shaking your head, you get up, slightly wobbling on your own two legs. You giggle at this.

“Where are you going?” James frowns up at you.

You smirk. “Calm down, dad. I'm going to piss, I’ll be back.”

You spin on your heels, almost tripping in the process and make your way to the back patio in an utterly clumsy manner. Truth be told, you just needed to breathe a little. All those people pushing up on you was suffocating. The heat was unbearable.

Stumbling your way outside, you take notice that the place was practically empty and sigh in relief. Silently, you take your phone out of your clutch. Typing quickly, you press Margo’s contact and write her a text message.

To: Bestie❤

Hey, where the hell are you? You better not be drunk cuz I’m hammered and you’re our driver.

You laugh stupidly at the text and it only takes a few seconds before she answers.

From: Bestie❤

Shit. I tried calling you, Y/n! After we got separated I was pulled off to talk and a few minutes later I got a call from my mom that there was a family emergency I had to leave for. I tried looking for you too, but you were nowhere to be found so I assumed you’d left.

I’m soooo sorry, babe!

You frown down at your phone. Crap.

“Shit!” You curse into the cool night but before you know what’s happening, the alcohol seeps into your brain, dismissing any coherent thought you could have. Soon, you find yourself shrugging dismissively and going back into your contacts in search of someone to call to come to pick you up.

“Dad? No, he does not know I’m here and we’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much,” you mumble to yourself. The rest of your contacts are Margo and fast food services and restaurants. 

“Should I call Dylan from Dominoes to come to pick me up?” You snort at your own little joke feeling careless as shit. “Hm...it’s times like these I wish I had more friends.” You sigh, about to give up on when you suddenly stumble across an unexpected contact name.

“Mr. Evans? When did I get his number?” You let out a small confused sound then smirk mischievously, a dumb idea suddenly popping up in your brain.

“Hm, doesn’t matter either way. I can have some fun with this.” You squeal excitedly and without a second thought, press on the contact name and put the phone to your ear, biting your lip to hold back the excitement equivalent to that of a five-year-old child on Christmas morning.

The plan was no plan, really. You just had a sudden urge to call him. To hear him. You felt so brave doing this.

It takes three full rings before he answers, his voice raspy and sexy with sleep.

“Hello?”

You can’t help but laugh, biting your lip even harder to suppress an inexplicable enthusiasm within you.

“What the-” you hear shifting for a second and assume it’s him moving the phone away from his face before he puts it back on, his voice suddenly more alert. “Y/n? What the hell is going on? It’s two in the morn-”

“You’re hot,” you impulsively blurt, immediately covering your mouth afterward.

“What?” You can hear him moving around as you giggle.

“You are. Like, stupid hot. You’re like out-of-this-world hot. I mean, you must know that right? Someone that looks like you do has to know they’re stupidly attractive, no?”

“Wh-”

“And you’re smart. Oh! A-and kind. Actually, you might be the kindest human being I know. It’s kind of funny actually. You are the one person I want to hate the most. But you’re literally impossible to hate.” You giggle. “Impossi-bleh. Ha. That’s a funny word. Impossi-bleh.”

“Y/n, are you drunk?”

You ignore his question, babbling off with a slur in your words. “It’s not fair you know? How can one person be so perfect? And why does that same person happen to be the only one I want but can’t be with?” Your voice grows softer towards the end, cautiously tender. 

He doesn’t respond at first so you continue, your voice strained with pain and utter desperation. “A-and why did you have to kiss me? That just ruined everything, ya’ know!? I was fine with having a stupid crush on my stupid English teacher because I was convinced it’d go away. But then-” you swallow the sudden and painful lump in your throat. “B-but then you kissed me, and that just ruined fucking everything!” You whine like a little girl. 

He sighs dejectedly over the phone. “Where are you, sweetheart? I’ll come to get you.”  

You laugh humorlessly, your mood abruptly turning sour. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about! Here I am telling you I literally hate how fucking perfect you are and here you are, saying shit like that and being all concerned for my wellbeing.” 

He sighs exasperatedly. “Sweetheart-”

“Stop calling me that!” You find yourself screaming hysterically into the phone, your grip on it tightening before you speak again. “You can’t call me that and assume it means nothing.”

“Okay, okay. Y/n,” he corrects himself gently. “Can you just tell me where you are so I can come to get you?”

You huff into the phone. “James is nice, you know? And cute. And he likes touching me a lot. I don’t really like it, but he brings me drinks so I guess it’s okay.” You giggle, shrugging and disregarding the fact that no one could see you.

“Oh no,” he mumbles worriedly. “Y/n can you please just tell me where you’re-”

“Anyways,” you cut him off. “I’m going to go back to drinking and forgetting about your stupid lips now Mr. Evans. Bye!”

“No! Y-” He tries to protest but doesn’t get to finish before you end the call, heading back inside with a small smile on your face.

That’ll show him, you think triumphantly.

Once you’ve made your way clumsily back inside, a red plastic solo cup is already waiting for you. You grin, walking over and sitting next to James excitedly.  

He smiles lazily and swiftly moves his hand to rest on your knee.

You paid it no mind, opting instead to squeal as “Toxic” by Britney Spears came on.

“I love this song!” You grin excitedly.

James gets up, offering you his hand and motioning to the dance floor where a bunch of people were already dancing. 

He smirks. “Would you give me the absolute pleasure of letting me take you out to dance, princess?”

You giggle softly, shaking your head. “Oh. I can’t dance.”

He raises his brows. “I can’t either.”

You laugh a bit and reluctantly place your hand in his. “Fine.”

He pulls you to him, placing a hand dangerously close to your butt and leading you to the dance floor.

Immediately, you’re squished together with James, the bodies of sweaty drunk teens sliding up next to you. Usually, you’d be gagging with disgust, but you just didn’t care right now.

James wraps his hands around your waist, pushing your hips to move. You look up at him weirdly for a second but your mind is far too fuzzy to even care about what he’s making you do, so you begin to dance as he instructs.

The music was far too irresistible to your intoxicated ears and you couldn’t hold back from moving your hips along to the beat, letting your hair be free in its movement. 

It doesn’t take long and frankly, you barely notice when you spin around and begin grinding on James, brushing your ass against his crotch and kissing his neck teasingly light.

He pulls you close to him, thick arm wrapped tightly around your waist and hips still moving against you.

“I knew behind all that good girl act you put up you’re actually a freak in the sheets, princess,” he rasps sultrily in your ear.  

Something about that doesn’t rub you right, even in your drunk state and you immediately cease your movements, looking up at him. “Let me go, please. I’d like to sit down.”

He frowns. “What? Why? We were having such a good time, princess. I like you and I know you like me.” He leans down, kissing your neck softly.

You don’t like the feeling and immediately shove him away, stumbling back on your unstable legs and heels. “What the hell makes you think that?” You snap drunkenly.

He laughs incredulously, reaching out for you again. “Uh, maybe the fact that you were practically flirting with me the entire night?”

You purse your lips, recognizing how that might’ve looked on your behalf. It’s just...you’d never really felt powerful and sexy and the alcohol gave you the courage you’d never had otherwise to express your sexuality. 

You were still sticking to your plan though. And giving your virginity to a guy like James McDaniels was not your plan. 

“Hey, James. I’m really sorry if I g-gave you any reason to believe this was going to go any further than what just happened.”

You struggle to stand upright and suddenly it occurs to you that James didn’t look all that drunk despite having been bringing you drinks all night.

“I-I think I’m just gonna go.” You point shakily over your shoulder, unable to keep from laughing at the stupidity of, well, you.  

At that moment, the same pissed off look you thought you’d been imagining before comes onto James’s face again, and this time it doesn’t leave.

“The hell you are, you big tease. You’re were the one who started this. And now you’re going to finish it,” he growls, gripping your wrist tightly, his fingers digging into your skin and making it abundantly clear he didn’t plan on letting you go.

You immediately tug at your wrist, shaking your head firmly. “Let me go, James.”

He grins darkly. “No can do, princess. You got me all ready for action and now you’re going to come through whether you like it or not.” 

And just like that, he starts dragging you away toward the staircase where the bedrooms were situated, you assume.

An uneasy feeling grips your gut painfully tight. He looks like he means it. 

“James! I’m serious, let me go!” You tug harder to no avail as his nails dig deeper into the skin of your wrist. You yelp in pain. “Someone help!” No one seems to even notice you, too lost in their little worlds. Your panic intensifies and your heart starts racing at an erratic pace. “Please James, let go of me!” He spins around in a fit, gripping your jaw bruisingly tight.

Panic takes over your mind, but you’re weak in your intoxicated state and not a match for the football player’s strength.

“Listen, slut, either you shut your trap or it’ll be worse for you. That’s a promise.” He roughly shoves your face back. 

But he doesn’t get a chance to spin back around and tug you into your worst nightmare before a fist comes crashing down into his jaw.

James groans in pain at the powerful attack, falling on his back with a hard crack.

You gasp, holding a horrified hand to your mouth as the figure, who you now realize is wearing a dark hoodie and sunglasses hiding his identity, straddles James and begins punching the living hell out of him.

Fist after fist strikes the harasser in the face, painful groans and yelps leaving his mouth whilst your aggressive savior only lets out breathy grunts and under-his-breath mumbles when his fists make contact with James’s face.

And although you were thankful to have been saved, blood was spraying on your legs and you knew if this continued, he’d kill him.

James begins picking himself up, though, landing some blows of his own. The stranger barely grunts in pain upon impact, his blows to James becoming twice as powerful as before and pummelling his fists down on him.

People quickly gather around you three, creating a huge crowd of people recording the fight and a string of “oohs” from multiple of them. No one steps in to stop them from killing eachother though.

Suddenly feeling sober, you jump in, gripping the stranger’s bicep tightly in your small hands. “Hey! Hey, stop! Stop it! That’s enough!”

At the sound of your voice, the stranger instantly stops the assault and gets up, gripping your arm firmly without a word. The grip was not enough to hurt you, but enough to easily sweep you out of the house, past the probing crowd and down the front lawn. 

You stumble along in your heels, still trying to make sense of everything that just happened.

“Hey!” You scream at him. “Where- ah!”

But before your still-buzzed mind can place exactly what it is that’s happening, the man is picking you up bridal style.

You squeak a little, wrapping your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself.

“What the hell, dude!? You just saved me from a scum-bag and now you’re-”

“Damn it, sweetheart. We need to get out of here!”

You freeze. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Mr. Evans?” you breathe.

Read Chapter Eight Here!!

***

Hehehe... Told ya’ shit was gonna go down this chapter...

A Special Thanks To:  ( I apologize for those of you I said I’d tag, but didn’t. I’m bad at keeping track of things. So please if you’re not here when I said you’d be, let me know!)

@bombsandsparkles

@meowsekai

@godohammers

@sp2900

@multifandom-foreverx

@missbosstown

@supernaturalyloki

@jungkooksbowlingskills

@spettrocoli

@woodworthti666

@tshollandlove

@weirdvishy

@buckysrcse

@doritoevansxwinterschildren

@superwholockwannabe  

@emmiejames

@rissamonique97

@zofty15

@sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack

@sydneynix8305

@badkatthings  

@pinnedandneedled

@taliarosej00

@lowkey-love-loki

@tomoyaevaans

@dontstopfreddienow

@notbexmader

@celestiial-angel

@primavera-nymph

@littlecherrydoll

@panic-naran

@chljmntgy

@phanmatch

@moonlightimagination

@cap-just-said-language

@covergirl122

And of course my forevers!

@jessikared97

@sherlockedtash88

@lilypalmer1987

@mogaruke

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans au #chris evans imagine

[freewheelshippin]

DRAGON pt 1

Idly worked on this a while back while trying to get my mind off of an injury. Takes place in my own little offshoot of @dekiaibadchoices ‘s lovingly crafted Dragon AU; thank you so much for building something so much fun to play in!

No idea when (or how) I’ll wrap it up, but I’m stuck and mid many long-haul projects and figured I could stand to release something for fun into the ether, haha. 

“Someone,” Ai said pointedly. “Is on our territory.” 

Ranmaru continued to ignore him, rolling over on the couch and facing away from him. 

“They have been there and stationary for a surprisingly long time.” 

“So maybe they’re dead and it’s not our problem.” 

“You know as well as I that it doesn’t feel that way. The scent is not putrid. There is no miasma of death hanging about.”

Ranmaru harumphed, stretched, and rolled onto his back, eyes closed, attempting to ignore the feeling of Ai’s stare. 

“Ranmaru. If I recall correctly, you said yesterday you were so sick of how stagnant things were and would attempt to court a bride today.” 

“Don’t wanna anymore,” he snorted. 

“A groom.” 

“It’s not that,” he growled. 

“A spouse.” 

“Ai, you pearly piece of shit, I’m not in the mood.” 

“Are you unwell and unable to deal with it?” 

“....Sure.”

“I suspect you are lying. I suppose I will tell Camus, then, and request he dispose of them properly.” 

Ranmaru sighed heavily, thinking about Camus taunting him later for being too dim-witted, lazy, simple, whatever other insult he felt like hurling. He growled and sat up, transforming into his full-dragon form as he trudged to the nearest exit big enough for him. He stretched his wings as he lumbered. 

“Good luck.” 

“I’m just getting you off my back.” 

He took off with a gust and headed for the edge of their territory. 

******** 

So it was an injured mortal. She sat with her leg conspicuously out, and she seemed to have been in the middle of fashioning herself a crutch from whatever scant few things were within reach. Now she was just on guard, a knife clearly meant for crafting, not defending, in her hand as she seemed to wait, ready to defend herself from him, presumably. 

Mortals were so stupid and fragile. He landed with an impressive gust in front of her. She stared him down after it cleared, not looking eager to either fight or back down. 

“If you want me gone, just pretend I don’t exist for a couple more hours and I’ll be out of here.” 

Ranmaru was and had been bored but likewise sick of the company he had, so he figured he might as well puff himself up and toy with this defenseless little thing to pass the time. Maybe try and take this one for a bride, though something in him still felt wretched at the thought of chasing one now. He snorted a small flame.

“You think trespassing on dragon territory doesn’t warrant punishment?” 

“I sure don’t,” she replied unenthusiastically. “Look, I can’t walk without help, and I’m making ‘help’ right now. Just leave me to it.” 

“You haven’t heard about what happens to mortals who dare enter uninvited, huh?” he said with an admittedly forced grin, leaning his face closer to her, trying to rile her as he flared his spines. She smelled of sweat, fear, and adrenaline. 

“No, but it’s easy to guess.” 

“You don’t know?” he growled, though genuinely surprised. Though when he thought about it, with how little they’d done lately, it wasn’t very surprising if their hold on the local villages and lore had waned. 

“Listen,” she said exasperatedly. “I’ve already had a fuckin’ day, and I know that’s meaningless to a being like you. But can you just let me finish building some kinda crutch so I can hobble off to somewhere you don’t care?” 

Ranmaru laughed, licking his teeth as he did. “You think I’ll let you.” 

“Yeah, you will!” she barked. 

“And why the hell would I do that?” 

“Oh, ‘cause I asked so nicely,” she said with a terse laugh. “And I’m not worth your time.” 

He thought about that. What was worth his time, at this point? It’d stretched into such a languishing numbness at this point that it lost all meaning, especially while the spare rooms had laid empty in grief for this long. 

He was bored of it and even more bored of the lack of progress forward on any of their parts. A small part of him he barely acknowledged also ached for the other three dragons, whom he was sure were all silently suffering worse than him. Nothingness was stretched into their shared forever, and Ranmaru knew his was less tinged with grief and guilt than the others. 

“You should be more careful what you say,” he rumbled as he closed his claw around her. 

---------------------------------- 

She was very dazed after the flight, but not unconscious. He deposited her unceremoniously on the cold castle floor before transforming into something she’d be more comfortable with, theoretically, but she was too dazed to react with much of anything but a glower. 

“Show me,” he ordered. 

She held her hands out, palms forward, and waved them facetiously. “What, dragon man?” 

He frowned at the nickname. “What do you fuckin’ think? Your injury,” he barked. 

“Is this like when a kid picks up a hurt animal in the woods, nurses it back to health, and decides it’s their pet now?” 

“You wanna try calling me a child again?” Ranmaru glared threateningly at her. 

“Toddler. Infant.” 

“I’ve got more years on me than you’d dare imagine having.” He grabbed her by the shin of the leg she held out. She yelped in surprise and panic, trying to push him off. He backed down, but bristled somewhat at her. 

“Do you want help or not?!”

“What the fuck do you mean by ‘helping’?! Threatening and kidnapping me isn’t helping!” 

“You were doing a shit job helping yourself out there,” he growled. “Take off your boot already!” 

“No!” 

“What are you, stupid? Why the hell not!?” 

“I’m not doing a damn thing you tell me to, dragon man!” 

“My name,” he bellowed, golden flames flickering at the corners of his mouth. “Is Ranmaru, and you’re gonna call me by it.” 

“Oh, a pleasure,” she snapped, though she instinctively shrugged closer into her jacket, which he’d long recognized as fire-retardant wyrmleather. Ranmaru paused. He’d grown so used to her smell of fear and adrenaline, it’d become like background noise. 

“Look,” he said, painfully aware of how harsh he was, but also feeling helpless to keep himself from seeming the scary, intimidating brute he was. “I’m not interested in eating you or taking you or whatever your tribe of humans say I’ll do to you,” he tried to offer calmly, but it came out as aggressively as everything else. 

“Really,” she replied flatly, her hands still tucked back into the jacket. 

After a deep breath and holding his harsh-tongued, instinctive replies back, he explained. 

“I don’t have anything better to do with myself,” he admitted, looking her dead in the eye to convince her. “And I’m sick of everyone else I’m stuck with. Just...have a conversation or whatever with me, and I’ll help you out.”  

She looked apprehensively at him.

“...Look, the sooner you die, the sooner I go back to dying of boredom. It’s in both our best interests if I keep you alive, human.” 

“.....Well. There are worse ways to spend an afternoon,” she commented, testing the waters. 

Ranmaru snorted with a wry smile. “Don’t speak so soon. I’m still bored as hell.” 

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

This human was so irritatingly stupid, it circled into amusing. It was almost impossible, getting off her boot, since her injury had swollen like ripe fruit and even the gentlest shift made her yelp in pain. How she thought she would manage to hobble anywhere was stupid, even by mortal standards, and as more mottled purple and red surfaced on her injury in admittedly pretty blooms, it was obvious she would be off her feet for a number of weeks. 

Maybe she just hated help, because even after her expression made it clear she’d accepted just how bad her injury was, she wouldn’t let him do a thing. Not bandage her, not carry her anywhere, not even be a shoulder so she could get off of the cold, hard floor. 

(She at least knew that was stupid -- “but so’s trusting a bored dragon who just kidnapped me.”) 

He thought to find Ai to conjure a spell to heal her, but just as quickly he decided that sharing her with the others would be unbearable. Maybe cruel. 

“So what’d you do?” He sat with her on the floor where he’d first deposited her, a hall with a large opening in the side, a comfortable size for all their dragon forms. Now with none of them going to and from, it was just an opening to a clear view of the mountainside. 

“I fought a titan and won,” she said flatly, “but I didn’t get out unscathed.” 

Ranmaru snorted, not sure if he was amused or annoyed. 

“I hate liars.” 

“Who’s lying?” 

Ranmaru saw that despite the circumstances, despite the pain, despite everything around her, despite her clearly trying to fight it, her lips curled into the dumb, transparent smile of someone completely, totally incapable of guile. 

For a moment, he felt a flash of comfort. That someone could smile around him? That someone did smile around him? That someone wasn’t instantly cursed by the stale grief hanging around them? 

 She played it off like she were wiping her face, back to something neutral and tough. “The point is...the goddess of fortune has just fucking abandoned me.” 

Ranmaru snorted. “Yeah, if the likes of me found you,” he said with derision.

“I’d like to say it’s cool of you to admit you’re the worst,” she replied, “but you don’t completely suck so far. I’ve had worse first meetings.” 

“....Alright, enlighten me.” 

She looked at him hesitantly, maybe incredulously, and he just looked back expectantly. “...Uh, I had this student and their parent...” 

She had talked very quickly until now. He’d assumed this is just how she was, but as she talked about how this human parent tried to ban her from a town for reasons -- Ranmaru was stunned he even strung together the thought--  even Camus would find needlessly petty, she slowed down enough that he could just listen. 

She talked a lot. And loudly. Maybe it was nerves, but he got the idea she was at least somewhat like this normally. Some other time, he might’ve found it annoying, but now it just felt like sunshine. 

He gestured he would try and tie up her leg. She looked mistrusting, but she nudged herself to face him, and even though she tensed when he grasped her, she let him. 

------------- 

He offered her a room. She gave him an incredulous but somewhat terrified look. 

“I mean to rest in,” he barked hastily. “What the fuck do you think I’m going to do to you?” 

“I dunno, whatever happens to every mortal you hear about getting taken by the Garnet Dragon,” she replied grimly. 

Ranmaru hesitated. “The others and I only bring them here. I don’t demand anything else. Except that they let me fucking carry them if they can’t walk.” 

She looked down at her leg, now snugly tied up, knowing fully well that she still couldn’t bear weight on it. 

“So where are they? This castle is empty, and you clearly have a conversation only about once a decade.” 

“Gone. Some tried the mountains. Others threw themselves out the tower. Some just….” He hesitated again, and his voice shrank as his stomach gnawed at the thought. “...died.” 

“....” 

“We’re cursed, you know. Me and the other dragons stuck here.” 

“Oh no, should I worry it’s contagious?” she said facetiously.

Ranmaru laughed hollowly. “Maybe.” 

She sighed. “...Ah, whatever. Maybe it’s just as well.” 

She was blankly staring off into the scenery when Ranmaru looked at her, surprised. 

“...Well, if you aren’t scared you���re gonna catch it, I’ll carry you to that room where you can rest.” 

“No. No, no. It’s fine. Just give me a shoulder to lean on.” 

Ranmaru gave her a look before scooping her into a princess carry.

“I’ll get your shit in a minute. You’re real fucking stupid, you know that, right?” 

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

She had a lot of things with her, so much that Ranmaru wondered vaguely if she’d been on the run and this was her entire life. There was the predictable stuff -- survival supplies, clothes, food, some things for cooking, some trinkets that were probably sentimental. But she also had what looked like an entire library of books and a complete set of printmaking supplies, down to silk that had the dark halos of words and pictures that had been pressed through it. 

“I teach, I draw, I share, and I print things, that’s all,” was all she said when he brought her belongings and asked. 

“Didn’t I say I wanted a conversation out of you?” 

“Yep. Hand me that bag.” 

Ranmaru did, somewhat disdainfully, and he sat heavily on the bed he left her in. He stretched his tail around it as she dumped its contents out beside her -- a selection of books filled with stories and pictures -- and he couldn’t help but wrap himself around this horde in some small way. She grabbed his tail by a spike and plopped it elsewhere, to which Ranmaru answered with a glare and putting it right back where it belonged. 

She first checked on the condition of the books, but soon made a smaller pile, which she then shoved towards him. 

“My recommendations for a bored asshole,” she commented. 

Ranmaru made a face at her. “You don’t know anything about me or what I like.” 

“I think stories are good for anyone. They’re an especially good cure for bored assholes.” 

Ranmaru looked at her darkly as he snatched the first book off the pile, as if this were now a challenge of how little he could enjoy. 

The pile had a myriad of different styles and subjects, some of which interested him, others of which didn’t. But he flipped through and saw one that featured long, lovingly rendered scenes of military conflict with strategies he recognized -- had enjoyed learning, even -- but had only found scant records of in his various hordes and treasure. He glanced up at her as he began to thumb through it, and even through their tough expressions, there was an exchange of some small hope and excitement. 

Ranmaru smiled slightly, but genuinely, and she relaxed a little in turn. 

---------------------------- 

They spent the first few days or so mostly talking in her room, in between hearty meals he conjured, sleeping (once she let herself sleep, she slept like the dead -- Ranmaru guessed she must be working off sleep debt), and reading more books from her stash. He learned they shared a taste for the savory and meaty, less so for the sweet. And that she travelled to teach, collect works for her travelling library, and printed new ones for herself, her students, and the various people she met, but she had been on hard times as of late that culminated in her being desperate enough to cross dragon territory to reach a new town, hopefully full of work. Before that, though, she fell into one incredibly stupid trip, fall, injury, and kidnapping.

“But as far as kidnappings go, this is pretty comfortable.” 

He was straightforward with her -- that he, frankly, didn’t want to deal with the other dragons’ reactions to her, or just with them in general -- and though she joked about how this made her seem like a secret affair, she seemed quietly grateful for it. 

She learned much about him. Maybe more than some of the lost brides. The book she recommended got him to describe his horde and talk about acquiring it, how he enjoyed learning about human military strategy and weaponry. The unique fun of battle when you’re a seemingly all-powerful dragon, but also how he’d just as rather settle into a warm bath and a nap. Even music. That was, strangely, one of the easiest things of all to discuss. Dragons’ music (as far as he was concerned, anyway) had far different purpose, sound, and execution to humans’, for the most part, but he learned that some humans had come to love and adapt that sound. And she had come to enjoy it, and he found himself talking about old passions that had been left to grow stale as the curse distanced him more and more from any semblance of a real life.

It was easy to talk. Silences weren’t tense. She liked to joke and tease, even if he only scowled in reply, and while he knew she was just trying to diffuse her nervousness, it still made him feel a bit lighter. 

“I know you’re just doing all this to keep me happy,” he said during a pause in the conversation. “But I appreciate it all.” 

“...Honestly, I’m just thinking of this like a weird vacation with a weird new friend,” she offered, still with a nervous laugh. “Who could kill me really easily? If he felt like it? I guess that’s not entirely unique to you, though…? I mean, can’t anyone just up and gut you if things went that way? Haha....” 

Ranmaru snorted and gave her a look, though he turned away when he realized how derisive and tense he probably looked. The word ‘friend’ twisted in his gut. He wondered how long it’d been since he had made a new friend. Maybe since before the curse took, and even then they were just a scant few other beings he saw occasionally. 

He knew he was either truly desperate or on the cusp of something terrifyingly right when he told her she could stay in his room, if she liked, and she hesitantly agreed.  

“...I’ll bring you back to the spare room whenever you want,” he offered her. She walked by herself on crutches, at her insistence, while he carried her belongings, at his. 

“....I really appreciate that,” she said, uncharacteristically quiet. 

When he pushed open the door to his room, she gasped, remarked excitedly, and even whooped in awe at his space, and Ranmaru began to remember a feeling of pride he’d never realized he’d forgotten. 

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

Ranmaru banished whatever Essence lingered in his room before she came. Bonding seemed wrong, especially at a time like this, but it didn’t take being a bondmate to see very clearly she’d appreciate good, hot soak in the bath. He offered her privacy, but she instead asked something he didn’t expect. 

“...I’ll wear something. I kinda wanna keep talking, if you’re up for it.” 

“....What the hell am I supposed to do, just dip my toes in while you sit around my bath?” 

“I don’t know, just do what you want.” 

Not sure what else to do, he wrapped a towel around himself and escorted them in. 

“I want to know more about your curse,” she said, after they spent leisurely time letting the heat seep down to their bones. 

“Why,” Ranmaru said lazily, not even opening his eyes. 

“Oh, I gotta check and see if I caught it. You know.” 

“It’s Fae magic. It’s all spite. Did you piss any off?”

“I don’t fuck with Fae.” 

“Smart.” 

Ranmaru considered the silence for a while before he explained. The other three dragons. their failure, their bond, their fate to all find true love together. And, more evasively worded, the unending losses since, and their lives, frozen in time and, recently, grief. 

“...I won’t lie to you.” 

“Mm, cuz you hate liars.” 

“It crossed my mind to bring you here as a bride, but only because that’s my only way to escape. I’m not expecting anything. You’re here now because I like talking to you, and you’re pretty helpless with that bum leg.” 

“Ah, so I am like a pet a kid found in the woods, except you’re a big scary dragon.” 

“....You’re not a pet. I mean it. You’re the best thing that’s happened since she died.” 

“Oh, wow,” she said with a terse laugh. “Good to know you have low bar of ‘nice’ to work with.” 

“Hey.” Ranmaru cracked his eyes open and roused himself to look at her. “I mean it.” 

“....Thank you,” she replied, a bit stiffly, but it seemed like she accepted the sentiment. 

They soaked in silence for a while more before she had something to add. 

“...I dunno about rushing out of this curse, you know,” she mused. 

“You don’t,” Ranmaru growled. 

“I know, but. I…envy that you have all that time. You literally have all the time someone could ask for to mess up and try again as many times as you need ‘til you’ve built the life you want, done all you need to do, made all the impact on things you could. That....I know I’m looking at it from the other side…but I wish I could have that. More than anything, some days.” 

He considered that, briefly. 

“Sounds like a real human take to me,” Ranmaru murmured. “...Are you scared of that whole ‘I’m gonna die without any real purpose or whatever’ thing humans freak out about?” 

“I mean. Sort of. I mean, no. I know what my purpose is, if you wanna pull my leg and make me call it that. I like what I do, and I know that if I do it right, it’s the impact I want to have on this world. I just….” she trailed off. “...You know what it’s like, feeling like your time’s been stolen. I feel like most of mine was stolen.” 

“By what?” 

“.....People,” she said with a laugh that didn’t feel nearly grim enough. “Who just didn’t want to believe that nobody comes into this world obligated to save you.”  

Ranmaru’s stomach twisted hearing that.  

“It’s tiring,” she continued, seeming not to notice. “Realizing that you’ve spent almost your entire life believing you were only worthwhile if you didn’t live for yourself. And realizing how much you’ve lost as you sweep up the pieces and rebuild, wishing someone knew or cared.” 

“Well, I do, now,” he murmured. 

“Haha. I guess so. And I guess I know a little of how much it sucks to be where you are.” 

“.....Funny,” he started, resisting letting out his heavy, honeyed Essence, “how you’ve got too few years and I’ve got too many, but both of us call it a life stolen.” 

She sighed with another disconcerting laugh. “Time is awful.” 

He wondered, in that moment, if it would be selfish to ask her to stay longer than it would take to get back on her feet. And he acknowledged it was, but maybe there was something in all his extra time and her lack of it that could even out into something bearable. 

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

#iron maiden & rocka rolla #dragon au #scribblings

[mrsrhys23]

Be alright (Chapter four)

Paring: Colt x MC

Warnings: Just language. 

Word count: 1,815 

A/N: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

A massive thank you to @desiree—1986​ for beta reading and helping me with everything else! 

Permatag: @cordoniaqueensworld @desiree—1986 @itschoicesstuff  @emilypowell001

RoD tags: @lovehugsandcandy​ @troublemakerinspace​

“Do you know how to pick up a phone?” he asked, almost jokingly, like everything that had happened over the last week had been forgotten. Like it didn't matter. 

“Colt…” she said quietly. Ellie looked up from the floor up to him. “What are you doing here?” 

“What are you doing here?” Colt asked, completely avoiding her question. She knew he was there for her but they weren’t  together anymore, at least not in Ellie’s head. 

Ellie looked up to him, very briefly locking eyes before she let out an almost bitter chuckle. “What am I doing here? You threw me out of our home. I couldn't go to my dad not after everything so here I am. To be quite honest I didn't really want to even be in the same state as you,” she snarled at him. 

“Oh so I'm suddenly the bad guy? You're saying it was all my fault? He asked, in complete and utter disbelief. 

Frankly, Ellie wanted to beat the shit out of him. He really knew how to piss somebody off when he wanted to. She was aware this conversation needed to happen sooner or later but she didn't expect it to happen on her grandparents porch. Colt turning up had knocked her off guard. 

“We’re not doing this here,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside then led him into the living room. 

The dogs went mental, barking and jumping up at Colt. They were friendly but always got too excited when somebody new came. Colt bent over slightly rubbing behind both the dogs ears. 

He looked up to Ellie as she started to pace almost being able to feel the anger radiating off of her. 

“Babe…,” Colt started, as he stood up properly. 

Ellie turned to face him seething. “Do. Not. Call. Me. That!” she yelled. 

Colt looked taken aback. This wasn't their first row. They’d always be pissed, one of them normally left for a little while, normally for just a few hours, then they’d come back and kiss and make up but never had Ellie reacted like this. But then again never had their arguments turned violent. 

“You think everything is just some kind of joke, you take nothing seriously. It’s like you’re incapable of acting like an adult. You always have to be clever so think carefully about what you’re going to say next,” she warned. 

Colt stepped towards her but she stepped back. Colt felt his heart beginning to pound against his rib cage, he honestly thought it was going to come right out of his chest. “Ellie-” Colt said, calmly. 

“You just don't get it do you?!” She bellowed at him, startling and making both dogs whine. ““Get what? We had a row, it’s over, we’ve had time to calm down.” 

She shook her head, “No.” 

“No? What do you mean no?” Colt could be a dick, a massive one at that but Ellie always forgave him. He’d always say sorry...eventually and they’d move on. This time it felt different, he was scared he’d actually lost her this time. 

He knew that he didn't quite deserve her, she was a much better person than he was but he did love her. More than he’d ever loved anyone. 

“No, I'm not doing this. Not anymore. Why are you here?” she snapped. 

“Because somebody doesn't know how to pick up a phone, I  was worried about you. I even had to go to your dad to get him to help me find you. You can't just disappear, Ellie.” 

“And you can't tell me what to do! Colt you seem to have this  extraordinary superpower where you can just forget every fucked up thing you've ever done!”

“Sorry, I'm the fucked up one?” he asked, seething himself. “You’re the crazy bitch who beat the shit out of my bike with a tire iron!” 

“Well, it was either your bike or your face so…,” she shrugged. 

“You got a good hit the other day though, didn't you?” he said, pointing to his yellow and green bruise over his nose and right eye socket. She swallowed hard, she hadn't even noticed it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn't have hit you.”

“Well, you did it anyway,” Colt retorted childishly. 

“Another thing: you need to quit calling me a bitch! It hurts! Every time we get into an argument that's the first insult you use. Frankly, I think it’s the only one you know. And it’s not just when we’re arguing, it's all the time, you mutter it under your breath when you think i can't hear you.” 

“No, I don't,” he insisted. 

“Yes, you do! I’m not deaf Colt and I’m not an idiot! You literally just said it! There you go using your superpower again!” she said, giving a condescending round of applause, “It’s either that or you have short term memory loss.” 

“Well, maybe if you stopped being such a bitch all the time and criticising everything...”

Ellie grabbed at her hair, “God could you be more self involved?!” She let go of her hair, looking back up to him. Her vision became clouded by the tears starting to well but she didn't want to let them fall. “I gave you everything, Colt. Everything I had I gave it to you. I even lost my fucking virginity to you! All you have ever done is make me feel like shit, like everything I've done means nothing, like it’s never good enough. Like I'm just a toy to you. Something you can fuck and play with until all my tricks don’t work anymore and you get bored!” 

“That’s bullshit!” Colt interrupted, “You know that.” 

“No I don't! I don't even remember the last time you said that you loved me!” She yelled, her voice cracking. “ I mean the only time you ever show affection is when we’re fucking each other! Never have you spontaneously said that you love me, or given me a hug and kiss or anything! I always have to make the first move unless you’re feeling  particularly horny then you're more than happy to.” 

“You are actually full of it! None of that is true Ellie. It’s all in your head,” Colt snarled at her through gritted teeth. 

“Yes, it is Colt!” She screamed, “And you fucking know its true. Answer this: when was the last time that you said you loved me? Eh? Can you even remember?” 

Colt thought for a second. He shouldn't have needed to but he did. It had recently been their anniversary but he didn't even say it then. “I-I don't know,” he stuttered. 

“That’s because you’ve only said it once Colt. Once, while we were having sex months ago,” she explained now unable to hold the onslaught of tears back. “I tell you I love you everyday and you always ask me why. It’s becoming a daily occurrence that you ask why I'm still around. Why I put up with you and I truly do not know the answer to that!” 

Colt quickly wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to stop his voice cracking but failing to do so. 

“Sorry is not bloody good enough,” she growled. “Why am I not good enough Colt? Am I not pretty enough? Not smart enough? Not good enough in bed? I don't know! Why don't you tell me what’s so wrong with me that you can't just love me? Because I love you. I gave up everything to be with you, my dad, friends, college,  absolutely everything to be with you and you never said thank you or showed me in any shape or form that you appreciated it,” she cried, there really was no holding back those tears, not now. 

Ellie  thought that over time, if she showed him how much she loved him then that would magically fix everything. That they’d be okay, that he’d love her but it didn't work. 

Ellie’s tiny body wracked with sobs as she looked down to her feet. After she took in a deep breath, steeling herself she looked back up to him. Her heart shattered seeing tears streaming down his own cheeks but that didn't matter, not now, this needed to be said.  

“Do you remember the day your dad got hurt by the Brother Hood?” 

Colt raised his eyebrow, “Why? Why does that matter?” 

“Do you remember it or not?” She asked, her voice sounded croaky. 

“Yes…,” he muttered, wiping his eyes. 

“Why do you think I helped you Colt?” 

“To prove that you could? To impress everyone? Prove that you're quite the badass? I don't know.”

Ellie scoffed, “Is that what you really think?” she asked, quietly. “God you are so stupid!” 

“What does that mean? This happened over a year ago. It doesn't matter anymore.” 

“Maybe not,” Ellie shrugged, “ Proving a point? Is that why you think I did it? I helped you because you were scared, whether you will admit that or not. I helped you so your dad wouldn't get hurt again or killed. I didn't do it to impress someone, to prove a point, I did it because it was right! Because I loved you and I didn't want you getting hurt or your dad!” She screamed. 

“Loved? That’s past tense.” 

“Love. I-I meant love,” she explained. 

“That’s not what you just said,” Colt retorted. 

“At least I say I love you! I don't act like a scared little boy that's afraid to confront his feelings!” 

“I’m perfectly in touch with my feelings thanks.” 

Ellie laughed bitterly, “That is the understatement of the year and we’re only two months in! We don't work so why are we trying to force it?” 

“Are you breaking up with me?” 

“Why shouldn't I? Eh? I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you, constantly  wondering if I'm good enough. I think this has been a long time coming. Lets just call it quits,” she shrugged. 

“Are you really doing this?” 

“Yes...You scared me the other night, Colt,” she said, honestly, watching Colt’s expression fall. He wasn't thinking. “You made me leave our home when you knew full well I had nowhere else to go. You hurt me,” she said, putting her hand unconsciously on her own fading bruise, Colt followed her hand to it, noticing it for the first time as Ellie took her hand away. 

“Ellie, baby-” He said, wiping away a stray tear. He didn't mean to hurt her, he didn't even know that he had grabbed her that hard. 

“I thought I told you not to call me that! I’m not yours anymore. I don't think I ever was not really, not like you were mine. The worst thing about all of this is I don't think I can trust you anymore,” she explained, calmly. 

“So that’s it? You’re really doing this?” 

“That's it,” she shrugged, “We’re over.”  

#rod fanfic #colt x ellie #colt x mc #rod colt #rod ellie #ride or die #choices:stories you play #choices rod #be alright

[rami-hoe]

Confessions (Part Two)

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 2.1K

CW: pressure to have sex

The last month had been interesting, to say the least. Josh and I started testing the waters of our newfound relationship. For the first three weeks, as far as anyone in our friend group was concerned, nothing had changed. I liked to think we had them fooled, even though Sam insisted she knew it all along. We thought it was better to test the waters first, get used to the new dynamic of our relationship before we went public and had to deal with a hundred questions from everyone we knew. Unfortunately, discretion wasn’t one of Josh’s strong suits, and we found ourselves dealing with near misses on a regular basis. After a while, we agreed that answering the questions would be less work than trying to keep up the ruse. As expected, everybody freaked out. His sisters ran to hug me, Chris clapped him on the back, and while I can’t prove anything, I’m pretty sure I saw some money exchange hands. The excitement died down after a couple days, and Josh and I were able to focus on each other.

Jess and I weren’t exactly close, but after Josh and I got together, she seemed to take more of an interest in me. She kept pestering me to hang out and have some girl time with her, despite the fact that we had never spent five minutes alone together before. After a while, I gave into the demand. We went out for lunch. I figured that was the easiest of all the suggestions she made. I could get through one meal with her, couldn’t I?

As I suspected, all she wanted was to talk about Josh. She wanted details about everything: what kind of dates we went on, if he had bought me any presents, how often we texted. I tried to answer her questions well enough to get her to stop asking without giving her any unnecessary details. I seemed to be able to sate her curiosity well enough. Well, at least until we reached the one particular subject I got the feeling was all Jess really cared about.

“Does he live up to all the hype?” She sipped on her coke and stared at me with those bright blue eyes.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean the ‘bone zone.’” She laughed and set down her glass. “He talks such a big game- I gotta know, can he actually play?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re both girls.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I popped a mushroom into my mouth and took my time chewing.

“Girls talk about how their man is with their girlfriends,” she said. The condescension in her voice made my muscles clench. “How big is he? I’ve been wondering. I mean, he’s so tall- my guess is at least seven inches. Am I right?”

I pushed my food around with my fork. “I, uh… Well, I’m not sure-”

Jess reached across the table and slapped my forearm. “Oh my god, you haven’t fucked him yet?” Heat rose in my cheeks and I stared at my suddenly enthralling plate. “Why not? I can name fifteen girls who’d kill to get in his pants right now.”

I didn’t doubt that she could, but I didn’t want to hear the list. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks,” I said.

“Josh doesn’t usually wait a few weeks,” she said.

“I know.” I huffed.  

Jess leaned back in her chair. “Hey, don’t get pissy,” she said. “I’m just surprised. Josh isn’t the type to play the long game. You know he has plenty of alternates waiting on the sidelines.”

I dropped my fork on my plate with a clank, finding my appetite mysteriously gone. “Thanks,” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She laughed, but I had a hard time finding the joke.  “You can’t make a guy like Josh wait too long.” She stirred her drink with her straw. “Playing hard to get is one thing, but you don’t want him to think you’re a prude.” As our waiter, an admittedly cute guy who was at least ten years older than either of us, walked by, Jess pulled her straw out of her glass and ran it across her tongue. “I’m just trying to help you out. If you wanna keep him, you have to give him something. Especially if he’s spending as much on your dates as you say he is.”  

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself for telling her where she could stick her friendly advice. “What I give him is none of your business.”

“Why so hostile?” Drops of amber liquid fell from the end of her straw and spattered on the table. “Look, sex isn’t a big deal with a guy like Josh. He’s not gonna think you’re too easy if you give it up.”

My left hand clenched into a tight fist. “I know that.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Then why hold out on him?” My eyes moved around the room, settling on anything and everything other than the woman sitting across me. She leaned halfway over the table, her prying eyes attempting to read my expression. “You have had sex, haven’t you?” I didn’t have to reply. My expression gave her the answer she wanted. “Oh my god! You’re a virgin?” Her whisper-yells were just loud enough to earn a glance from the table next to us. “Does Josh know?”

I gave her an answer for the sole purpose of shutting her up. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

Jess had even more questions about my (lack of) sexual activity than she did about my relationship with Josh, and I wanted to answer them even less. I got out of there the second we finished eating, but it was still the longest lunch I had ever sat through. As much as I wanted to dismiss what she said, I found myself incapable of doing so. My mind lingered on the conversation, on Jess’ warnings and advice. As blunt and intrusive as it was, I had to admit that Jess knew more about this kind of stuff than I did. Virginity wasn’t a huge deal to me; I didn’t even believe in the concept. I just hadn’t really had the opportunity to have sex with the right person. There was no doubt in my mind that Josh was the right person, so why was I so hesitant? Maybe I was overthinking this. If it wasn’t a big deal to me, and it would make Josh happy, why shouldn’t I do it? I mean, Josh had spent a lot on me. His family was rich as hell, I knew that. But I wasn’t prepared for the sheer amount of money he was willing to drop on me, like it was nothing. Whenever we went out, he insisted on paying for everything, and the places he took me to weren’t cheap either. The least I could do is give him something in return.

Jess’ words still rang in my ears days later. I watched TV, and I thought about sex. I did schoolwork, and I thought about sex. I met Josh at his place for a movie date, and I thought about sex. I couldn’t say what was on Josh’s mind for certain, but it had to mean something that he invited me over when the rest of his family was out. We curled up together on the basement suite couch and Josh put on some horror movie nobody had ever heard of. He liked thrillers. To more precise, he liked the idea of me being scared into his arms by thrillers. But I couldn’t focus on the movie enough to be scared by it, and it didn’t take Josh long to notice. He paused it half an hour in to ask me what was up. I didn’t have an answer, and I didn’t try to come up with one. Instead, I took what seemed to me was the only sensible course of action: I swung my leg over, straddled his lap, and pulled him into a heated kiss. Josh’s reaction was delayed only by the shock of the sudden movement. He caught up with me in a few seconds, and wrapped his arms around my waist. His tongue slipped into my mouth, gliding against my own. I ran my fingers through his hair before dropping my hands down to his chest.

I broke the kiss and slid back off his lap. I knelt on the floor in front of him, my hands moving down to tug at his belt. Josh laughed. “What’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” I asked. I didn’t look up from my task, but my shaking hands refused to cooperate. Why the hell was I so nervous?

“Hey, hey.” Josh’s hands covered my own and didn’t move until I met his eyes. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I winced at the harshness in my own voice, and Josh pulled his hands away from mine.The shame I had felt with Jess made an unwelcome reprise as I stood up and moved away from the couch, crossing my arms over my chest. Josh’s stare bore into my skull, and I heard him fitting his belt back into place.

“Are you gonna tell me what that was about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m sorry- I’m just being stupid.”

The couch groaned as Josh stood up. “You’re not being stupid.” He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “Weird, yeah, but not stupid.” His fingers used brushing my hair back as an excuse to cup my cheek. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” I sighed. “We’ve been dating a month, and you’ve been so good and patient and everything.” I wasn’t aware I was chewing my bottom lip until I ripped off a piece of skin too deep. The metallic taste of blood coated the tip of my tongue. “It’s not fair, me making you wait so long.”

Josh laughed. “Fair?”

I frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“You make it sound like you owe it to me.” The smile fell off his face when I didn’t respond. “You do know you don’t owe me sex, right?”

“No- I mean, yeah. Of course not.” I shook my head, like that would get my thoughts in order. “But you take me out to all those nice places, and I want to give you something in return-”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” he said. “Y/N, I don’t take you to those places because I think I’ll get something out of it.”

“I know that.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “But I know most of your girlfriends don’t make you wait this long, and I thought-” I stopped myself before I finished the sentence, but Josh knew what I was going to say.

“You seriously thought I’d break up with you for not having sex with me?” His voice was quiet, but the hurt in it was deafening.

I shook my head. “No- it’s just, Jess said-”

“You’re not dating Jess,” he said. “You’re dating me, and I’ve never even implied that I’ll leave you if you don’t put out.”

“I don’t think you’ll leave me, I just...” My eyes began to water against my will.

“Just what?” Josh snapped.

“I just want to make you happy,” I said.

“And sex is the only way to do that?” “I don’t know!” I wrapped my arms over my stomach. “I just know you like it, and it’s not like I’ve been holding off for any real reason- I just wanted it to be with the right person and…”

Josh stepped backwards. “You’re a virgin?” He laughed without humour. “Were you planning on telling me that before you started sucking my dick?”

I studied the floor. “It’s not important,” I said.

“Of course it’s important,” Josh replied.

I looked back up at him, my jaw clenching. “I don’t care about virginity.”

The irritation in Josh’s expression matched my own. “So you don’t want to wait until marriage- that doesn’t mean your first time doesn’t matter,” he said. “Whether your virginity is important to you or not, your first time should be something you want to do, not something you do because you think it’ll make me happy.”

I licked my lips and sighed. “I thought it was what you wanted.”

Josh slid his hand down my arm and took my hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said. “I don’t want our first time together to be something you’ll regret.” He pulled me into his arms, and I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“You really don’t mind waiting?” I asked.

“Hey, I’ve got a fleshlight and a bottle of lube in my bedroom- I’m golden.”

#one shot #confessions #josh washington #josh washington x reader #joshua washington x reader #josh washington imagine #josh until dawn

[09yards]

Chapter 4 - broken hearts club, part one (Days Gone By - NCT)

Days Gone By masterlist | main masterlist

Broken Hearts Club Part One

'Cause misery loves company, so hey, what do you say?

15th June

Renjun had woken up first the morning after. Disorientated, dizzy and drunk on the familiar scent of freshly baked vanilla cookies and general comfort, like a hazy mid-morning daydream. Gradually coming around from his slumber, he began to register his surroundings; streaks of light, streaming sporadically through the cracks in the blinds, dark grey duvet only reaching his hips, his small frame on display, a large hand splayed gently across his back, curling him into a furnace – the source of the cookie smell. The t-shirt he was wearing hanging low and lose off his body - evidently not his - and his head was resting on something  (or rather someone ) far too firm to be a pillow. He was not in his own bed and he was not alone.

The scent was familiar, it was one he had become well accustomed to over the years. Belonging to the ever-so-perfect Jaemin. Shit, he was in bed with Jaemin, wearing Jaemin’s clothes and memories of the two making out and grinding on one another... and (oh god)  the soulmate mark, flooding his mind. Consecutive images flashing every time he blinked, dread flowing through his veins.

Why did he do that? That was his best friend , nothing more. That was not supposed  to happen, Renjun was supposed  to hold in his feelings up until graduation next year when he could happily move to the other side of the country, or another country for that matter, and avoid Jaemin until any and all feelings had faded away. Yes, he very much thought that running away was the best (and only) way to cope with his feelings.

Maybe he could fall in love with a nice foreign boy, forgetting about the picture-perfect, ideal type that was his best friend.

Feelings could be dealt with later. Broken hearts can be mended later. After all, misery loves company and it was beginning to feel like misery was all Renjun knew.

2nd of august [continued]

“Oh, come on Mark, just show us!”

The only time Renjun ever acted cute was when he wanted something, putting on a lilted whiny voice, fluttering his eyelashes and pulling out all his aegyo - which frankly just irritated Mark; he’d never understand how it worked on Jaemin, the younger would practically fall on his knees then and there whenever Renjun used it to get whatever it is he wanted. Maybe he’d just become immune to it after having a no longer adorable little brother who once upon a time didn’t need to try to do aegyo, he just was cute and Mark would’ve given him the world if he’d asked.

Jisung once asked if he could have the moon and Mark ended up spending two hours putting a glow in the dark stars and moon sticker set up on Jisung’s ceiling, which are still there.

“Mark! Why are you hiding it, everyone knows about mine and Yuqi’s, about Renjun and Jaemin’s, Johnny and Ten’s, Doyoung and Jaehyun’s, the list goes on. You’re just the next one to have it, it’s no big deal.”

No big deal that you don’t want to tell your best friend because the moment you see his reaction, you’ll know if he’s your soulmate or not. Sure, no big deal.

“Okay! Lucas leave Markie alone. He’s my shy little brother remember; his soulmate mark is interesting  to say the least and we’ll leave it at that, shall we?”

“Lucas is right though, what’s the big deal, it can’t be worse than Johnny’s.”

Mark inhaled quickly, firmly and very noticeably. Way to be subtle Mark!

“Oh no, you’re kidding its worse than Johnny’s! That’s brilliant.” Jaehyun turned and took a few steps out of the kitchen back to the living room, confusing the others until they heard a, “HEY! Doyoungie come here!” Doyoung appeared instantly from lord knows where amongst the seemingly endless amount of people gathered in his house, navigating his way through and around groups that Mark barely recognised. They were quite disgustingly domestic, as usual, but it was amplified by the copious amounts of alcohol consumed – most of which by Doyoung. Kisses to cheeks and pecks all over, stood just too close together for it to be publicly appropriate, Jaehyun’s hands never leaving Doyoung’s body and consistently moving to inappropriate places for innocent eyes.

Finding his spot with Jaehyun’s arm around his waist, body curled into Jaehyun’s chest but head turned enough that he was capable of conversation, or rather joining in on the teasing of Mark to get him to show the others his soulmate Mark (which had been hidden by his choice of a flannel shirt this evening, resisting the urge to roll his sleeves up despite the heat.

“What’s going on now? Injunnie are you still trying to get Mark to reveal his soulmate mark, I thought I told you to leave him alone?”

Doyoung was actually sticking up for Mark, but everyone knew he wanted to know just as badly. Everyone was desperate to know the moment Mark spluttered when he was first asked, apparently that was just the sign they needed that it was a good one. Not boring like all the other recent ones had been.

“No babe,” shaking his head and tutting at his boyfriend, “trust me, you’re going to want to stop pretending you don’t want to know – it’s worse  than Johnny’s .”

Doyoung’s eyes visibly widened at that, the same reaction as everyone else. Doyoung couldn’t stop laughing, gripping onto Jaehyun’s shirt in order to attempt to balance himself.

“Okay,” barely audible between wheezes as he tried to catch his breath from laughing, “Mark you have to show us, you cannot keep that from us. Seriously, how can  it be worse than Johnny’s, no offence Ten.”

Johnny’s mark was notorious in their small town (possibly village if you were feeling technical about population sizes), everyone knew about it. Word spread like wildfire the moment someone outside of their intricate friendship group overheard - the seal had been broken and that was enough. Johnny would never get over how utterly mortifying it was when his mother returned home to tell him all about the delightful conversation she’d had with Mrs Potter down the road about how scandalous this teenagers soulmate mark was, only to be told she didn’t know the name of the boy who had this tasteful  (said with quotation marks and dripping with sarcasm) phrase emblazoned on his body only that the soulmate was ‘the one who goes by the number rather than a proper name because his names too long’. His mother was devastated she hasn’t been told and that Johnny never explicitly told her that he was gay - although Johnny argued it was rather obvious and that he didn’t watch magic mike, multiple times, just because he loved romantic films. Johnny couldn’t look his mum in the eye for at least two weeks afterward.

Ten slapped his best friend on the arm for his commentary. Even after almost four years, Ten still hadn’t lived that one down and doubted he ever would – but he still hadn’t made his peace with it, the teasing continued to be relentless whenever the topic of soulmates came up and Ten was quite sick of it, his truculent nature sparking every time.

“Shut up Doyoung, just because yours is cute and all because Jaehyun was four and you did look like a fucking  bunny!”

“Correction, he still looks like a bunny, especially when we’re fucking.” Doyoung became visibly flustered at that, Jaehyun never being one to shy away from admiring his boyfriend at indecorous times, “Shut the fuck up Jae. Back to Mark! We were talking about Mark; Mark show us your mark!” Clearly Doyoung was a master at attempting to turn the conversation away from himself whenever he was flustered.

Doyoung was definitely a giggly drunk and a little obstreperous under the influence of alcohol, despite the situation, “oof that rhym-ryhmed, I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it!” He was grinning now, clearly impressed with his efforts towards an outdated joke, prompting Jaehyun to coo over his boyfriend (cough, disgustingly domestic, cough).

“If you not wanting to show us is about Haechannie, we get it, but you know we wouldn’t tell him if you didn’t want us too.”

Ten’s usual bite to his voice was gone and he spoke softly to Mark, despite his tendency to be louder and easily making his presence in a room known, he had a soft spot for Mark – seeming to care for the younger far more than he’d ever let on if asked. Typical tsundere Ten.

“Hyuck’s not here yet, right?”

Ten replied with a simple nod and a quick eyebrow raise to Johnny, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Mark but he was used to being incapable of decoding their years-in-the-making ways of communicating nonverbally.

“Just, I’m not ready to tell him yet okay? If I show you all, he doesn’t hear a thing or I will know who to kill and I won’t hesitate to – I have dirt on every, single, one of you.”

“Okay, okay, whatever Mark, we solemnly swear to not tell Haechan or let him find out. Now show us that freaking tat!” Lucas would be the death of him one day, slapping a hand against Mark’s back and making him wheeze at the sheer force, partially knocking the wind out of him. How Yuqi (teeny-tiny, possibly quite fragile but also rumour had it she had a black belt in martial arts, Yuqi) hadn’t been crushed by one of his death-grip hugs, Mark will never know.

Exhaling deeply, Mark began to roll up his sleeve. He’d managed to tuck the tattoo away, hidden from eager eyes, underneath a long sleeve easily and hopefully he  could find some sort of watch or bracelet in order to cover it up before having to leave the house over the next few days. As he pushed his sleeve toward his elbow and lowered his arm to allow the others to see, the kitchen had gone silent. All four of the onlookers (not counting Johnny and Ten who having already seen it, were no longer completely shocked by the marking) were in utter shock. Silence had washed over them, the thumping from the heavy bass dance music Ten had put on earlier and the ticking of the kitchen clock were the only things heard. That was until Doyoung was, foreseeably, the first one to lose all composure and let out an unattractive snort before clutching to Jaehyun’s shirt once again in a fit of giggles, gasping in attempts to breathe, between muttering ‘ oh my gods ’ and ‘ holy shits ’, the others all swiftly following suit after that. Even Mark managed to crack a smile at their reactions, despite his unwavering feelings weighing down his shoulders. But hey, what’s new?

Lucas was the first to speak, managing to catch his breath enough in order to be able to from a comprehensible sentence. “Okay, you win, that is understandably something you wouldn’t want to share.”

“Damn, Haechannie did not hold back. Babe I’m so glad we were in reception, all these dirty thoughts, you people are so disgusting. I have never been as grateful as I am right now to have bunny written on my hip and for my first thought to have been ‘squish’.”

The seemingly automatic assumption that Hyuck was the one responsible (again), didn’t fully register with Mark, too focused on the conversation continuing – not giving him the chance to protest what everyone was thinking, maybe it was for the best.

“Johnny, please tell me we’ll never become as disgustingly domestic as them, I don’t think I could handle the desire to vomit every thirty seconds. I like fun, I like spice and flirting, not patterns and cheesy nicknames.”

“Shut up Ten, domestic is cute! Domestic shows commitment - don’t be bitter just because you can’t handle that.”

“Go take Yuqi on dates to drive in movies and other corny shit Xuxi, keep pretending you’re in one of those American movies from the nineties.”

“You’re just jealous because you can’t have dates outside of a five-mile radius of this house.” Ouch, wrong place and wrong time Yukhei, not good - not good at all.

“Okay everyone! Ten do not respond to that, Lucas go somewhere else before he starts fighting – you know I can’t hold him back. We’re here for my  baby brothers eighteenth everyone, not arguing over soulmates and relationships. We’re done here, everyone back to the party.” His voice was stern and husky, stretching himself to his full stature - Johnny was a fluff ball but not one you wanted to make angry.

Johnny was always the mediator, the only one allowed to tease either of his baby brothers – as soon as someone else did he would automatically switch into over-protective older brother mode. Mark thought it was his way of protecting them, he’d been instrumental in the raising of Jisung and had grown up alarmingly quickly after having lost their father and as their mother became busier and busier with her work. Then he grew up more after he was pulled into the world of parties and late nights by older friends from various sports teams, desperately trying to forget about his newfound feelings for Ten at the time, at the tender age of sixteen. He continued to mature as he started his A-levels and helping Mark with his GCSE’s and Jisung venturing into high school for the first time. Their mother was busy, always there for them whenever she could be but that didn’t hide the absence of a father figure. Yet, they made do. Their mum did everything she could and more and they’d be forever grateful for that. He’d had to mature once again when Ten got accepted into an entertainment company in Korea – his lifelong dream – and they weren’t ready to go their separate ways, knowing that as soulmates it would only hurt them more. Ten not being able to wander around town or take Johnny on magnificent dates during the daylight hours was a sore subject for the two of them, not seeing each other in person for months at a time was hard – but they made it work. They both remember, unfortunately very well, the pain they went through when they both realised their feelings for each other and Mark remembers listening to Johnny cry to their mum when he realised that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend. Mark remembers the homophobic kids that were the year above Johnny and Ten, threatening them in the hallway, Mark remembers Johnny outing himself in front of a substantial amount of the student body in order to stick up for Ten; not caring about if he was ready or what people would say. Mark remembers Johnny as a protector, a rock, their anchor – always keeping them safe and grounded.

Luckily, everyone knew when to drop a conversation and most quickly dispersed from the kitchen, re-joining the party. Mark let out a sigh of relief – he knew he wasn’t ready to deal with this yet. He could feel himself sobering up by the minute.

“Hey, Mark. I’m really sorry for pushing you earlier. That wasn’t fair, not after how understanding you were about me and Jaemin. Do you want to get some air?”

Getting some air was their secret code, their way of escaping the world – even if only for a few minutes. Mark always thought there was something about the way you could just sit there, watching the world go by without a care in the world. Something about the way the air flowed around them – like it was easier to breathe, easier to let go of your worries. Their words would flow out, sitting with their legs dangling over the edge of the treehouse with the ability to chat the days away. Thoughts, feelings, dreams, all shared with the world and no longer the insides of their minds, eating away at any and all insecurities and worries. It took them back to when they were young, when they didn’t care about what went wrong, whether they messed up or not. Mark liked how naïve they were back then, not a single care about the future - everything would work out in their eyes - now, it was a continuous cycle of crippling anxiety, an overwhelming desire to achieve, sleep deprivation and a strong inclination to do nothing at all. Procrastination was, and always will be, a total bitch after all.

The two took their designated spots, watching the sun beginning to set over the field before them, casting a rose-coloured hue over the scene. Mark always had a fascination with sunsets, he isn’t sure when it started but there’s something about them that draws him in, maybe it’s the colours or the way Hyuck’s skin glowed just like the sun itself whenever the golden hour light was cast over him, highlighting his features and only exemplifying his beauty more. God, shut up Mark. You sound like a stupid lovesick teenager, oh wait... that’s exactly what you are.

“Earth to Mark? Calling Mark back to Earth in three, two and - “

“Sorry! Sorry, got distracted, guess there’s just a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t say. Come onnnnn! It’s your birthday Markie, we’re supposed to be having fun and getting far too drunk off of what will be later recounted to our parents as ‘just the one cider or beer’ and then regretting our entire existence in the morning when we’ve realised all the mistakes we’ve made while under the influence. For example, being three drinks in and already kissing boys that are far too pretty for their own damn good and frankly it’s very unfair.”

“So we’re less than two hours in to the party this time and you and Jaemin have already made out in my bathroom?”

“No, we only got to the hallway and then Hyuck rang him, something about an emergency and Heejin. Oh shit, sorry Heejin free zone.”

“It was a rhetorical question and I’m okay, you don’t have to keep things from me. Honestly, I’m okay. I know it’s the same old stupid, stupid trope but i’m not going to spend the rest of the year pining for my best friend. i’m going to enjoy this year; i’m going to get my grades and i’m going to get into uni and you know what renjun? i can do this, i can; not anyone elise - just me. I’m going to do this. I am sick of waiting around for things to happen. I am not going to sit around and look pretty while he inevitably breaks my heart, he has Heejin now. He’s not gay. School is my priority and that is something I can control. All the things I can fix, why not fix them now while I can?

Me and Hyuck, we don’t act like boyfriends, people don’t assume we are. They assume we’re best friends and maybe that’s all we’re ever meant to be. Maybe i’ve just confused the line between caring about someone and loving them. I am done crying over him, I’ll focus on being friends nothing more. That’s all we need and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“So pining hours are over for you?”

“Pining hours over Hyuck are officially closed.”

“And where do we stand on pining hours for me over Jaemin being open?”

“Still very much open young padawan, it’s time for you to be honest with me.”

“Great because I love him, so much. But I’m also super scared. I know it’s supposed to be us against the world, I know that it’s supposed to be about you and hyuck being able to be just friends but I can’t do that with him - I really love him, like singing and dancing in the rain love him, hold a boom box outside my bedroom window love him. Like one make out session was so intense I forgot everything in that moment, I want to do that again and again.”

“So rather than telling him your feelings, you’re going to keep getting tipsy at parties and kissing him?”

“Yep. He has nice lips okay, don’t judge me.”

“Why won’t you just admit you’re soulmates? You could be happy, you can fall in love and let him look after you.”

“See, that sounds nice and all but after he freaked out thinking I don’t have a soulmate mark and we’re some freak exception to the rules, I don’t really know how to tell him he forgot to take my socks off? It also sounds kinda kinky and he’ll definitely make a sex joke and I’m not ready for that.”

“Well, whenever you are ready, for any of it, you know you’ve always got me.”

“You know this is the part where you’re supposed to tell me to go get that Jaemin dick?”

“I am not telling you to go get that dick-“

“Why are you two always hiding out here? Okay, why do I feel like you were talking about me?”

“Hey Jaemin, we were just coming down. Just wishing Markie a happy birthday.”

“Come on you two, but avoid the snug - Doyoung is giving Jaehyun a lap dance, Jaehyun’s also shirtless so there’s a bunch of girls drooling, mainly Mina so soon enough she’ll be on the vodka crying over the fact that ‘all the cute ones are gay’.”

“Let’s go then!”

You can do this Mark, you can have fun. It’s your birthday, get drunk and dance the night away.

#markhyuck #markhyuck fic #nct fic #nct fanfic #nct mark #nct haechan #nct donghyuck

[sweetener-forever]

People Need Subtitles

Rating: T

Pairings: Iida/Uraraka/Midoriya, Bakugo/Kirishima

Tags: Hard-of-Hearing Bakugo and ADHD Uraraka. Pairings are in there, but they are more of a background thing. Mostly focusing on the weird friendship of Uraraka and Bakugo. This is set in their third year. Shinsou is in Class 3-A, fight me. 

Summary:  Ochako and Bakugo aren't exactly close, but they understand each other well enough to at least be tentative friends.

AO3 Link

Conversations with Bakugo are difficult to say the least, not that he hasn't improved since their first year at school! At least in Ochako's opinion he has gotten loads better at talking to people. Which is to say that he sometimes will actually start a conversation without any prompting.

"If you just took the two and pulled it around-" Ochako really was trying hard to focus on what Bakugo was saying, especially since it isn't often he feels like explaining homework to anyone that isn't Kirishima, or occasionally Kaminari and Sero. But she can't be blamed because math is so boring!

"-not that fucking difficult, if you-" Tenya's gesturing wildly to Deku out on the school grounds, it's hard to tell if he's scolding Deku or explaining strategy, but those look like his excited arm movements, so probably not the former.

Although Deku looks sheepish about something, his face is red and he's attempting to hide it away from Tenya. So, maybe Tenya caught him staring at his ass again instead of doing the warm-ups? Hm, Tenya did have a nice ass, it's a shame Ochako can't see it from where she is sitting in the common room. Maybe later Tenya will be too worn out to be embarrassed over her squeezing it.

Two years and counting of dating hadn't actually done much for Tenya's embarrassment thresh-hold, but he was starting to loosen up. Maybe next week they could convince him to actually drink with the class instead of being on hangover patrol. She's pretty sure Kaminari is supposed to be in charge of getting the alcohol this time, but he always gets so nervous and zappy. It makes touching the metal caps of the bottles dangerous and like a weird game of Russian roulette. Last time Deku had gotten shocked so much that his hair started to resemble Bakugo's. Not that she was dumb enough to mention that to Bakugo.

Kirishima got away with it though and that was funny. The two of them ended up wrestling over the couch and broke one of the tables, so Momo had to fix it. Tenya made them sit on the floor as punishment and Ochako was pretty sure Bakugo must have at least been tipsy at the time since he obeyed the punishment for all of three hours-

BOOM. The explosion startles Ochako hard enough that she pushes away from the small table and tips her chair over. She lays there dazed and mildly bruised as Bakugo leans against the table and smugly grins down at her, as if he hadn't just made a tiny explosion right next to her shoulder.

"You paying attention now, Squirrel-Cheeks?" Her glare is about as effective as throwing a rock at a tank. Which is to say it just makes Bakugo lay his face against the table and laugh at her.

Ochako has changed her mind, Bakugo is still as much of an asshole as before.

~OwO~

On a good day there were very few people in the dorms that would disagree that Bakugo sometimes needed instant karma. There are absolutely zero that would argue with this sentiment on a bad day.

Today hasn't exactly been a bad day, but suffice to say that Bakugo had not started it off on the right foot. Ochako couldn't say for sure what exactly happened, but Kirishima had been snappy at Bakugo since they left their shared floor for class.

And if Kirishima or Kaminari started off a day in a bad mood it had a tendency to spread to the rest of the class.

For Bakugo's part he kept his own sour asshole attitude until lunch time, when he began throwing looks at Kirishima and looking like he was regretting his entire life. It was an expression akin to the one Deku would get if he tried to challenge Toruu for how many sour candies they could put in their mouths before the other person died.

Ochako would feel more sympathy for him if he wasn't also snapping at anyone who tried to intervene and help. Which included her, Todoroki, Momo, Mina, Deku, and Kaminari. Granted she does feel a little bad for him, but only because he does actually try to apologize after lunch and gets the cold shoulder.

It really is a testament to how far he has come though that he doesn't immediately start blowing stuff up and acting like a bigger jerk. Instead he kept trying until he managed to get Kirishima to agree to having a home-cooked dinner an an apology. Kirishima had managed to get that, and an actual apology out of Bakugo in front of the entire class.

Which is really inspiring and all, but also not the point that Ochako is making about karma. No, that was not the instant karma that Bakugo truly deserved, but it was the set-up that allowed Ochako to sneak across the common room in socks and into the attached kitchen without Kirishima immediately greeting her.

Oh, he noticed her alright and could probably even tell what she was doing. But instead of giving Bakugo a head's up, like he normally would have with all the loud background cooking noise going on, he turns back to Bakugo and eagerly starts chattering about the weather.

Ochako gets as close as she possibly can to Bakugo's back without the boy hearing her, her hands poised just an inch above his waist, and she can tell that Kirishima is trying really hard not to compromise her position by laughing. She holds her breath and leans in on tip-toes until she is nearly touching the back of Bakugo's hair.

"BOO!" The reaction is instant, Bakugo yelps and swings around to try and explode Ochako, but she's already activated her quirk on him, sending him bobbing up to the ceiling the instant she pushes him.

"YOU PINK-CHEEKED FUCKING MENACE, I'LL CHOP YOU UP AND THROW INTO THE SHITTY PAN RIGHT ALONGSIDE THE SHITTY STEAK! BURN EVERY LAST SOCK YOU OWN AND THEN SHOVE THE ASHES DOWN YOUR THROAT!" Bakugo screams, cusses, and carries on like this, but Ochako and Kirishima are too busy leaning up against each other and laughing so hard that they're crying to really pay him any attention.

"KIRISHIMA, YOU ASSHOLE, TRAITOR!" He thrashes on the ceiling, punching his hands and feet against it as if that would get him closer to the other two. Incensed and looking like he is out for blood.

But if anyone were to walk by they would probably see the grin on his face and the way he doesn't even try to activate his quirk to get down. Because sometimes even Bakugo knows he needs a little instant karma.

Doesn't mean he has to like it though.

~OwO~

Guest Pro-Heroes coming in to lecture the class and give demonstrations are both Ochako's favorite and least favorite thing. On one hand it's cool to see how different pros use their quirks and what advice they have about being professional heroes. On the other hand it's kind of obvious that they have never had to teach a class before.

"You want to get just the right tourniquet for stopping vikings by holding your shance like this- and then twisting your boudice like so." The pro-hero Wingman demonstrates, his mouth moving a mile-a-minute as he twists a dummy's arm almost over its own shoulder.

"Of course you want to be coffied grounds as any wrong ment could break your villain's arm instead of (?????) them." He cheerily instructs in a softer and somehow even more fast tone as he pulls the dummy's arm clean off. Ochako is completely lost, especially since he started off talking about combat, then pulled a dummy out of his side, went on about vikings for some reason, and now there are villains?

It's impossible for her to follow, but when she glances around at everyone else they seem to be comprehending it just fine. Deku is taking notes in fact and muttering up a small storm from where he is standing next to Tenya, and normally Ochako thinks it's cute how involved he gets when guest heroes come in, but she really wishes he would look at her and see her obvious distress instead. Tenya is also likewise enthralled, only pausing to lean over to cut off Deku's mutterings and to comment quietly on what he has written. Ochako of course can't hear it from where she is standing next to Mina and Tsuyu, but it's still distracting as her stupid brain tries to read his lips. Which isn't actually something she can do.

"-cufflinks of course are excellent for this as well!" What, cufflinks!? Ochako whips her head around so fast to see Wingman doing...something with the dummy's wrists and honestly she can't even tell if cufflinks is what he actually said at this point.

It is all starting to become too frustrating and she's debating just tuning the hero out in favor of daydreaming about the cute dogs she saw the other day while out on at the park with her datemates. That is until Bakugo's loud voice explodes through the field and cuts right over the top of the guest speaker's speech.

"Could you speak up or at least face us if you're going to try and educate us?!" Bakugo is gritting his teeth and Ochako can tell that that is the only thing keeping him from actually cussing or yelling louder like he actually wanted to.

"Excuse me, could you not intro me while I'm trying to give a demon station?" Even though Wingman is now facing the class fully Ochako is still having a hard time understanding what he is saying, mostly because he seems incapable of actually raising his voice. At least she isn't alone as Bakugo's face screws up with annoyance.

"Your what?"

"My demon station!" Demon station, Bakugo keep up. Ochako has no idea herself.

"I can't understand a word you're saying, could you try talking clearly." Bakugo makes sure to enunciate each word with an almost exaggerated tone.

"Well, I'm sorry that my knowledge and wisdom isn't important enough for you to pay attention to!" Wingman actually speaks up, his voice rising out of the near whisper-pitch he had been keeping up for the majority of the lecture. He even made sure to enunciate every word said.

You could hear a pen drop it was so silent. Even the birds that had been hanging out near the training grounds were silent.

"Excuse me, Wingman, sir." Tenya, bless his heart, has a hand raised and clears his throat to get the hero's attention.

"Uh, yes?" Now that the silence has been broken Wingman seems to be coming back to himself, color high in his cheeks as he turns pointedly away from Bakugo to put his full attention on Tenya. A mistake, really, since the class president looks like he is about to lecture the guest lecturer. Which isn't really Tenya's style to question people higher in authority unless he has a really good reason.

"Our classmate, Bakugo, is hard of hearing and located at the back of the group. I would be hard-pressed to say that Bakugo was not paying attention. I simply think he could not hear you, as you were facing away from us and speaking quietly." Tenya nods rapidly with what he is saying and gestures as if he is afraid his point won't get across fully if he doesn't. There is also a nervous eye-shuffle he does to Mr. Aizawa leaning against a near-by tree, but when Tenya isn't immediately scolded he relaxes his posture a little.

Wingman to his credit looks embarrassed and glances between the class and Mr. Aizawa as if he isn't sure what to do. Mr. Aizawa has little mercy and patience for those who can't take criticism, especially if they are pro-heroes, and pointedly does not throw Wingman a life perserver.

Instead his eyes are like the cold waters of the ocean in winter, and all they are saying is: Drown.

Wingman flounders for a little bit more, but eventually has everyone pair up to try out the techniques that he was apparently lecturing about. Something Ochako isn't exactly thrilled about since she didn't actually understand any of the lecture.

"Yeah, right, as if you could understand that loser even if you were in the front." Bakugo says it loudly, but he's looking directly as Ochako instead of Wingman or Tenya. Making his way over to her instead of pairing up with Kirishima like he usually would have.

At least Ochako isn't alone in her dislike of guest lecturers.

Also, apparently he did say 'cufflinks' and Bakugo doesn't really understand what that was about either.

~OwO~

At least some things have managed to stay pretty consistent at U.A. over the years. One of those things is that Monoma somehow manages to stay an unrelenting jerk when it comes to class A.

Ochako had once hoped that when they started doing their once a month movie nights between the two classes that it would ease out some of the tension. Especially after they all agreed to alternate between A and B dorms to keep it fair. No such luck. Monoma still has a talent of pissing off even the most docile of classmates and gloating loudly as if it were his mission in life.

This is one of those such times.

Since they are teenagers who love to procrastinate their homework and relax as much as their strict schedules at U.A. would allow, they manage to get through at least 3 or 4 movies in a night. So, between the two classes they do manage to get around to everyone having a pick, as long the movie isn't offensive or makes students uncomfortable.

Tonight's movie night is in B dorms this time around the B students get to pick the movies they want to watch. Which isn't bad and Ochako for sure is not going to protest seeing what movies the other class likes to watch. Except that tonight Monoma is managing to top all of his previous strings of asshole incidents.

"Subtitles? Why would The Great Class 3-A need subtitles for? We of Class 3-B don't need subtitles, unless The Great Class 3-A is admitting that they need help understanding a kid's film!" Monoma's mocking laugh is thankfully put swiftly to an end by Kendou's neck chop, although it is way too late to reverse the damage done.

"Oi! I didn't say I needed fucking subtitles, I just asked you nicely to turn them on you copy-cat! I don't need your shitty useless subtitles!" Bakugo would probably be standing up on the couch so that he could lean over Monoma's slowly recovering form, if it isn't for Kirishima's ever-tightening grip on his waist.

"Dude, nobody's saying you need the subtitles, but-" Kirishima is cut off pretty abruptly by an explosion to his shoulder and he doesn't attempt to open his mouth again. Although Ochako can see the way he chews on his bottom lip as he eyes the back of Bakugo's head, clearly worried.

It's not like there is much anyone can say to him to get Bakugo to change his mind when he's being stubborn like this. Not even after a day of hard-core training that has most of them yelling so Bakugo can even hear them over the ringing in his ears. Heck, even if they weren't ringing Bakugo still turned on the subtitles if they were watching anything, since his hearing is slowly getting worse over the years.

Instead they all suck it up and don't complain further when the movie is finally switched on.

It's not like this movie is the most riveting or exciting movie Ochako has ever seen before, so she doesn't feel bad for letting her attention drift away from it. Instead she entertains herself by counting the freckles on Deku's neck as he leans up against Tenya, then moves on to drawing shapes around Tenya's engines that rest in her lap.

Of course that gets boring too after a while and her attention wanders to the rest of the class. Ojiro and Tooru look invested in the movie, or at least Ochako has to assume Tooru is since she isn't saying anything. Although maybe she just fell asleep like Mina and Kaminari had. A dangerous decision really as Jirou has procured a marker from Momo and is drawing bunnies and pikachus on Kaminari's face.

Tsuyu, Tokoyami, and Shouji seem like they're having a deep conversation with Kendou and Tetsutetsu, probably about the movie. While Aoyama most certainly isn't paying attention to the movie, instead he's looking out the window and smiling, which is weird, but pretty on brand for him.

Satou got up at some point to make some more popcorn for everyone and enlisted Koda's help in getting all the snacks safely from the kitchen to the common room. They haven't returned yet, but Ochako is pretty sure that they're just lost in class B's kitchen set-up.

Todoroki looks like he is about to fall asleep at any second, head nodding and eyes blinking slowly as he tries to stay awake and pay attention to the commentary Shinsou is saying next to him. Which is more than Sero is doing since he seems more interested in braiding his tape in with Kirishima's hair; who is doing a great job of pretending to be interested in the movie, but seems more invested in staring at the back of Bakugo's head.

Bakugo, who is leaning forward and squinting at the screen because he can't hear the movie, and can't read the animated character's lips. Ochako had noticed a long time ago that it is something he does when he can't hear what someone is saying. Like squinting is an automatic reflex that will magically make it easier to hear the other person talking. Mostly it just helps telegraph how frustrated he is. Monoma is clearly enjoying himself watching Bakugo struggle.

It's something Ochako can really only put up with for about 20 minutes. Her and Bakugo aren't particularly close or anything and he really isn't missing anything with how boring the movie is, but he should at least get the choice to ignore it like everyone else.

Her plan isn't exactly rocket science or anything, but it does take her another few minutes to willingly extract herself from her warm boyfriends to put it in motion.

She stretches out her limbs and makes like she's getting up to go to the bathroom. Then when Monoma moves his legs to let her past she grabs the remote to the TV.

It's clearly shock that keeps Monoma from immediately chasing after her as she hops out of his reach. She does trip over Tooru on the floor though, but Tenya is her angel in disguise and catches her, pulling her into the safety of his lap.

Ochako locates the subtitles button quickly and floats the remote up to the ceiling before anyone else can so much as inhale; and the struggle is over.

Monoma's jaw is hanging open like he can't believe what just happened, but Ochako is too pleased with herself to really pay him too much attention. Instead grinning up at Tenya and feeling extremely satisfied with herself when he smiles back fondly.

The room settles back down after Kendou silences Monoma with another chop and practically has Tetsutetsu sit on him to keep him from complaining.

The only real change is that Bakugo settles back against Kirishima and isn't squinting at the scream anymore. His screwed up expression is more from annoyance with the movie now rather than from the frustration of being unable to follow it.

When he catches Ochako looking at him and turns his head to face her, she gives him a grin and a thumbs up. In return he snorts and rolls his eyes, but she doesn't miss the small twitch of a smile as he turns back to the movie.

Yeah, Ochako and Bakugo aren't exactly close, but they understand each other well enough to at least be tentative friends.

#My Hero Academia #BNHA #fanfiction #My Fanfic #Uraraka Ochako #Bakugou Katsuki #Boku No Hero Academia