#if being shot in the head twice and not dying is considered unbelievable then what about 5 times

[not-your-lifeline]

I just realized Fallout's damage is kinda bullshit

I mean, I'm repeatedly shooting this raider in the head. How is that any different from sneak attack? Why does it do so little damage??

I get that sneak attack can catch the enemy off guard and one shot kill them, but shooting someone in the head several times and not dying is ridiculous. Let alone charging at me with almost no staggering.

#Fallout #does the bullet slow down in the air or something #shitposting #it's not like fallout universe has some kind of shield technology like in borderlands #power armors and helmets? sure. but how are you going to explain feral ghoul/scorched/animals #or everyone in fallout universe has thicc skull like Courier 6 #if being shot in the head twice and not dying is considered unbelievable then what about 5 times

[appleflavoredkitkats]

stagnant;

author’s note: been a while! this isn't as long as my other fics, but i wanted to write this because i just like the concept of fundy in las nevadas, okay? and smoke breaks. i love writing smoke breaks. and of course, i will be writing about fundy because i am biased and he deserves better lmao. this is all written before the las nevadas arc ever occurs, so if there are any discrepancies by the time las nevadas finishes, that ain't my fault.

also! all of this is platonic! i view schlatt as fundy's other father figure. for quackity, i don't necessarily view him as 100% manipulative towards fundy and schlatt, but you're free to interpret him in any way you want. and yes, i know the situation about schlatt, and i don't support the actions of the cc, but i do enjoy his dsmp character nonetheless.

DO NOT SEND THIS FIC TO ANY CONTENT CREATOR!! be nice!!

laslty, special thanks to my good friend dany from the dsmpanalysis discord server for beta-ing my fic!

relationships: platonic fundy & schlatt (father-son relationship)

warnings: trauma, smoking, gambling, drinking, alcoholism, substance abuse, self-harm (accidentally burning oneself), slight mentions of fire, parental neglect (from wilbur), unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied depression or mental illness, mental health struggles, addiction, references to past violence, death idealization, underaged gambling, arguments (in the background), and general angst!

word count: 1878

summary: fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps are then heard behind fundy, but even then, fundy doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk.

or, it's midnight in las nevadas, and fundy has a smoke break with schlatt. he reflects on the state of the server, and he reflects on himself.

( ao3 link )

a click of a lighter, the tapping of dress shoes against chiseled quartz, the rummaging of pockets to fetch another fresh pack of cigs. his paws work automatically: slicing the plastic cover with his claws, fumbling the top open, and finally selecting a cigarette from the batch, twirling it between his fingers to the sound of muffled, jazzy tunes in the background.

with the smoke in between his sharp fangs, he guides the lighter to the end of the stick. there’s a deep inhale, letting the smoke fizzle into his lungs, latching onto every feeling of remorse, regret, guilt, sadness, pain, hurt, trauma, everything— 

and fundy exhales, all of those icky sensations evaporating into misty smoke.

this cycle of mindless smoking continues as fundy stands idly on his hotel room’s balcony. up ten stories high, fundy looms over almost everything in las nevadas. despite it being midnight, las nevadas’ visitors never relent. from above, staring with droopy eyes, fundy sees all four casinos lit up brighter than a neighbourhood during the holidays. no bulbs malfunction, thankfully; all of them flicker and twinkle as if there was something to celebrate about in this place full of deceit and temporary bliss. the bars, while more mellow, have the calmest of tunes blasting from their jukeboxes. when fundy first started working here, he remembers being fond of upbeat tunes like these, but they’ve quickly grown stale, or maybe fundy’s just grown tone deaf overtime. who knows?

everything about this place grows on fundy like a terrible rash. sometimes, he does enjoy the outgoing crowds and customers, but sometimes, the noise overwhelms him— ear-piercing, annoying, inharmonious. so, he ends up in places like his dishevelled room, unkempt from all the alcohol and exhaustion and the fact that he just doesn’t  want to give a fuck anymore. but as much as his room is reminiscent of the rubble he left in his original base, he at least feels at ease with the sounds he hears from above. there is the same jazz music, the same victorious yelling at jackpots, the same rolling from the slot machines, but it’s in diminuendo. 

it’s a symphony fundy will willingly listen to because he feels like he can separate himself from the chaos present downstairs. when he is with the others, when he serves tequila shots and shuffled decks, he feels like he is at the center of his own friends’ descent but from his own bedroom, he can pretend that he is fine, that everything is fine. he can live in the delusion that his friends are shouting from a well-deserved victory when deep in the back of his head, he knows that they’ve gotten inexplicably attached to machinery that he knows is programmed to bring about their demise.

fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps is then heard behind fundy, but even then, he doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

the guy who enters pats his back twice gently as a greeting, settling himself next to fundy. fundy averts his gaze from the saturated lights to look at the goat hybrid. with a newly tailored suit and freshly manicured horns, schlatt has never looked more dapper, but his skin was still heavily scarred and immensely graying. 

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk. fundy lowers the smoke, coughing a little before raising an incredulous eyebrow at schlatt.

“i learned from the worst,” fundy replies as his free hand shuffles through his pockets, holding out the box of smokes for schlatt to get one for himself. fundy doesn’t need to ask schlatt if he has his own lighter; he somehow always does. he’s been used to his mannerisms ever since a darkened flag with glowing, orange lace loomed over a dying country.

schlatt easily raises the smoke to his chapped lips and lights it easily. he falls into the rhythm of the scenery, slouching against the metal railings as he watches the same fluorescent bulbs fundy had been watching. 

moments like these, no matter how incredibly fucked they are, are the closest fundy can get to tasting peace. his father once described peace as a taste of freedom. it is the image of bright-eyed soldiers under swathes of redwood trees, free from the shackles of tyranny and violence their oppressors have imposed on them.

but fundy knows, as always, that his father is a liar, because at this very moment, fundy connects the concept of peace with the disgusting taste of smoke.

it is a habit he’s picked up from a man he’d once considered perfect. back when the server first hit its grayest of days, sometimes fundy’s claws had itched to strike a match, to spark stones. the scorching blaze igniting was the most colorful thing  he’d had in that wasteland of grey. he’d kept doing it more and more and more, until his own fur and skin burned and he realized that he too is graying like the place he called home. when schlatt had first discovered it, fundy remembers a lot of talking—all kind, kind words that have tarnished his perception on what a caring guardian, or a father, may be—and then, out of the blue, fundy asks for a smoke. while a confused eyebrow quirks, schlatt gives him one to try out, saying that there is a first time for everything, especially since their lives have been as mundane as they possibly can be.

and here fundy is now, able to finish an entire pack in the span of a few days as if it is a part of his diet. 

but if all this substance abuse and addiction and self-sabotage and self-deprecation have become so widespread in the server, so normalized, would one even consider it awful? if everyone is traumatized or hurt, does the concept of trauma even exist in the first place?

“you know, i— don’t take this the wrong way, but i thought that you would be much happier to see all your friends reunited,” schlatt speaks, fingers gesturing to tiny specks on the ground that move in sync with the jazz. fundy hums non-committedly as a reply, not really knowing what to say. 

“well, sucks to be you, i guess. mopey ass,” schlatt jokes with the same half-smirk he uses whenever fundy is notably graying like he did in the past. fundy chuckles at it, at least, but his shoulders droop immediately after. the smallest bouts of happiness and joy make him unbelievably tired nowadays.

fundy attempts to lift his smoke again to his lips, but surprisingly, schlatt interrupts, forcing fundy to lower his arm. fundy stares at him acutely with furrowed brows. “fundy, i—” schlatt begins, and his lighthearted expression dwindles into something much more anxious and apprehensive. schlatt clears his throat and continues, “fundy, kid, i know i’m not the type to get all grossly emotional and whatnot—that’s more of tubbo’s thing—but you have to listen to me when i say that you need to leave.” schlatt grips fundy’s forearm now, firm yet slightly shaking. “kid, you’re not healthy here. it’s— you— this—” schlatt gestures towards the buildings, the lights, the entire shithole that they are stuck in, “this is not somewhere you need to be. you need to leave when you can.”

fundy blinks, and then he blinks once more before his free hand shrugs off schlatt’s grip. he returns to his original position of leaning against the railing, and through the reflection of the cold metal, fundy can see the unpleasant surprise on schlatt’s face transform into something more defeated. a pregnant silence precedes a long, exasperated sigh from schlatt. the edges of fundy’s lips slightly curve downwards.

“well, it would be easier if it weren’t for the fact that i literally have nowhere else to go,” fundy replies monotonously, as if this statement is something he’s rehearsed several times before. “i’ve hit rock bottom, schlatt. i have nothing else to lose,” fundy continues, huffing out a melancholic chuckle. he doesn’t think this situation he’s stuck in is anything comedic, but it sure is amusing how his life has continuously spiralled further and further for the past five years. he’s amused by the fact that he is still very much alive and breathing by this point despite the—fundy looks at his half-finished cigarette, the livid circles under his eyes, his furrowing ears as being exposed to multiple explosions has caused a permanent, high-pitched sound to ring in them sporadically—small, little missteps. 

it’s quiet again as schlatt stares at fundy uncomfortably. “you’re really out here wishing for god to strike you dead in front of a dead man— how very respectful of you,” schlatt replies sarcastically. fundy knows schlatt only wants to lighten up the mood. schlatt has been very persistent in helping fundy find the brighter side of things for a while, but lately, they’ve fallen flat. is schlatt’s eloquence gradually deteriorating, or is it fundy who’s only gotten more numb towards schlatt?

fundy doesn’t know, and both possibilities are undesirable, really, so fundy decides to speak. “i’m sorry,” fundy says, and he doesn’t know if it is for himself or for schlatt. maybe it’s for the both of them.

schlatt’s look softens, and he raises his free palm to grip fundy’s shoulder, thumbing it for comfort. a part of fundy wants to sob, to cry, but he chokes all his tears back with an inhale of smoke. “i’m sorry too,” schlatt murmurs, his voice the softest and the most caring it has ever been. when fundy exhales, he can feel tears prick the corners of his eyes as schlatt continues, “you deserve better.”

fundy hums and his eyes trail downwards to gaze at las nevadas’ visitors once more. he spots ranboo, possibly exhausted judging by his sloppy movements, forcefully pulling a crazed tubbo from a slot machine. fundy remembers that inside, he has seen purpled, foolish, and puffy shout over a simple card, a two of clubs, arguing on whether they should split the fifteen stacks of diamonds or not. he remembers finding sam outside the bar next to the trash bins downing his own personal bottles of alcohol, gripping tightly on a withered rose as he sobs uncontrollably. at the side, he can now see a distressed bad and ant incessantly begging the blackjack booths to accept their territory offers as they’ve lost all their possessions to far too many rounds of roulette wheels and texas hold’ems. he also spots a jovial yet sly quackity skipping through the streets energetically as a stern techno and phil trail behind him, ready to smite anyone who dares terrorize the place. 

and lastly, he stares away from the crowds and returns to gaze at schlatt—tired eyes, frayed hair, drying skin—with a bittersweet smile. fundy replies, “i think we all do.”

#mcyt #dream smp #fundy #jschlatt #fanfiction #writing #long post #las nevadas #quackity

[anotheranimestan]

Criminal Behavior

Dabi angst + chaotic energy + a lil suggestive language

Disclaimer: I don’t condone any of y/n’s behavior here. Y/n is a bad role model lol

wc: 3.5k

Raise your hand if you want Dabi to teach you how to be a villain! 🙋‍♀️ he could teach me a lot of things 🤤

You had a date tonight. With some guy who you were honestly not that into. So you agreed to his “wanna hang out tonight” text. He probably only wanted to hook up. Boring. And you’d definitely turn him down. But you needed something to do. Some entertainment.

Despite the level of disinterest you were still going to look nice. You needed some new make-up but of course you had no fucking money. You’d just have to ‘borrow’ some from the convenience store down the road. It’s not like you haven’t done it a million times. No one gets hurt. Not really a big deal.

Plus the little bursts of adrenaline you get during that final moment of walking through the censors was somewhat addictive if you were honest. Life in your town was so unbelievably boring. There weren’t even any good villains around to watch get beat up. You needed some sort of thrill to get through the day.

When you entered the store there were a few people around. No one you recognized luckily. You’d developed a little bit of a method to this game. You’d monitored the isles and cameras. No one was anywhere in sight. You’d managed to get a bunch of the good stuff and slip it into your sleeves and waistband without any eyebrows raised.

You were deciding on which eyeliner you wanted when an abrupt voice pierced you, making you jump.

“What’re you doing?”

“Huh?” You spun to look at the inevitable. Some employee or back room security man coming to take you to convenience store prison.

But when you saw the man peering down at you, you were far more scared. You wished it was an employee.

“Did I scare you?” His voice was thick with amusement and he rested an arm against the shelves.

You’d never seen a sight like him. Mildly horrifying. Staples lining his face, holding together sections of his skin, if you could call it all that. Spiked black hair over deep hooded eyes that looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. He looked like he could easily kill you and nobody would find the body. But at the same time, for some reason, he was undeniably hot. You didn’t know how to reconcile his ominous vibe that he has with his playful, interested tone. It was like you’d just told him a joke. Except you hadn’t said a single word yet.

“What? You don’t want to talk to me?” He pressed with a smirk as he watched you gawk at him.

Your heart was racing in mild horror. But something about his tone struck a nerve. It felt like he was toying with you. And you hated that.

“Uh, who are you?” You said suddenly remembering where you were and just what you were doing. “Do you work here or something?”

“Does it look like I work here?”

He had a point. His absurd amount of piercings and his ripped jeans said he didn’t work anywhere respectable. However, the thick dark chained jewelry that weighed down his neck and wrists and the expensive sneakers on his feet said he had no problem getting money.

“You going out tonight?” He questioned, blatantly looking you up and down.

“What?” You spewed, feeling extremely self-conscious of his traveling eyes.

“I mean shit, with all the make-up and shit shoved in your pockets I just assumed...”

Your body froze. He’d caught you? Did he actually work here, was he lying? “...Not to mention the bottle of liquor you hid under your shirt...” How did he see that? You did have a small bottle of alcohol stashed in your bra but nobody was in any of the isles with you. You hadn’t seen him in the store at all since you’d arrived here, you definitely would have noticed him. “...If you’re going on a date you should really find a guy who can get all this stuff for you instead...”

Fear really started gripping you at these realizations. Plus he was minding no attention to his volume. He was basically outing you to the whole store. Your fear melted into anger. This fucker definitely didn’t work here. Just like you thought, he was fucking with you. Your temper started flaring up in your face making it hot.

“Shoplifting is the gateway drug to villainy you know. And that’s a rough world kid. I’m not sure if you could handle it...”

Kid? He looked barely older than you. And he was starting to get really annoying. At this rate he was going to get you caught.

“Speaking from experience?” You jutted back, looking around to see if any employees were hearing this.

He chuckled again. “No, I don’t do drugs.” He stated with a grin and a poor attempt at sounding sincere.

You scoffed. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Why—”

“Did you want something? Cause if not I’ve got somewhere to be.”

He looked at you for a moment. Soaking up the irritated look on your face. Dying to get away from him. Desperate not to get caught. It was cute. He merely shrugged. It was honest. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted from you yet.

The irritation now bubbling over, you huffed and walked away. What a waste of time. Surely you look suspicious now. You were monitoring the isles as you headed to the door. No one seemed to be looking. You were about to make a run for it when you heard some footsteps directly behind you and felt eyes on the back of your head.

“The alarms are going to go off.”

You hissed, dipping into a snack isle as an employee’s head started turning in your direction. Why was he talking so fucking loud?

“Can you shut up?”

He put a hand over his heart dramatically. “Is that how you repay me for trying to help you?”

“Help me?! You’re going to get me caught. So can you just fuck off—”

“Oy.” He growled. Sending a wave a intimidation to wash away any bit of confidence you had mustered up. “Go ahead and walk out the door then if you want. Fucking amateur.”

You were about to run but self-doubt washed over you. He did seem like he’d know about this better than you.

Mid-thought, his movements shocked you. He was standing so closely now, with that same face of complete intimidation as before. His eyes steady on your features, not breaking away for a moment. Without even having to look, he slowly slipped his fingers under your shirt. You weren’t even breathing at this point as your heart started throwing itself around your chest. If it were anyone else you’d immediately deck him for touching you like this but for some reason he felt like a near death experience. He had you completely frozen in fear and adrenaline, victim to whatever he wanted to do to you. His fingers were warm as they grazed the skin on your stomach, sending streaks of electricity to the part of your brain that was sounding off warning alarms. He pulled the bottle of alcohol out slowly from your bra.

He smirked as you stared at him wide-eyed. Like he’d just blown some fuses in your brain.

He turned the bottle so you could see a little black tag on the bottom. You hadn’t noticed it before.

“A sensor. They’re new.” Was all he had to say and you knew you had almost completely fucked up. You were beating your head against a wall knowing you’d have to acknowledge this guy was right. Except the look on his face told you he was already enjoying every second of this.

“Okay, fuck, you got me. You were right.” You said suddenly exploding. Your mind was overloading with information. You’d expected this to be a simple thing. And this asshole just shows up out of nowhere for no reason.

“You’re supposed to say thank you.”

You scoffed. “For what? You gonna buy it for me or something?”

He considered this for a moment. “No.”

You shot him a incredulous look. “The fuck? Then what do you want?”

“Honestly it was painful watching you attempt this half-assed little petty theft.”

“Well sorry to dissapp—”

“And despite this nasty little attitude you’ve got...” He continued with a devious grin. “I’m gonna show you how it’s really done.”

“How what’s done? Taking make-up?”

“Robbery.” He deadpanned.

Your insides exploded now. You didn’t even bother mistaking that for a joke.

“Um no—”

“Don’t be a pussy.”

“What?! Are you fucking crazy?”

“Yea.”

“No! I’m not—”

“It’s either this or I’ll call over that guy.” He pointed to an unknowing employee stocking shelves. “And show him this.” He yanked up your shirt now to expose all the shit you had tucked into your waistband and bra.

You hissed again, yanking your shirt down, but words drained out of your brain. He was seriously dangerous. It was written all over that amused look on his face as he watched your face go red from him being under your shirt twice already after meeting him literally five minutes ago.

You felt like he’d sucked the air out of the room. How was nobody hearing this? How had you fallen into this psycho’s trap?

“Fuck.” Slipped out under your breath.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He cooed in your ear as he started to walk past you. “Stay here.”

You immediately considered running as he disappeared around the corner of the isle. But now you didn’t know how much of this merchandise in your clothing had censors. And you couldn’t take it all out without that employee noticing for sure.

Fight or flight was wrestling in your brain. Red flags were gleaming in your eyes as the alarms in your head continued blaring in your ears. You should have ran before he even had the chance to speak to you. But that’s not really how you felt. Something about him was addicting already.

He was exhilarating in the worst and best kind of way. Even now his short absence had you dying to know where he went and when he’d come back.

Then, like someone stabbed you in the ears, the alarms in your head were drowned out by the sudden blaring of real alarms in the store. You nearly jumped out of your skin. Looking around, the employees were looking around in shock. People started rushing past you with concerned faces as they evacuated the store.

You just spun around in confusion. Had he done this? Did someone set of an alarm on him? Were the police coming? You should run. You should definitely fucking run. Now would be the time. They’d never catch you with all these other alarms going off.

“Ah. Good girl. Just where I left you.” His voice was in your ear in an instant.

“Did you do this?!” You whispered wildly.

“Me? How could I have done it? Those are fire alarms.”

For some reason relief rushed over you. “Oh.”

“Put this on.” He said putting a black face mask in your hand. Did he have these on hand? To protect from smoke inhalation or something? That’s fucking weird. ”Come on.” He said strolling away like nothing. Like there wasn’t fire alarms blaring in your ears, drowning out any logic or comprehension.

You hastily put on the mask and followed his large body which was dressed in black head to toe.

Luckily it seemed like his plans were foiled. Once you got outside you could dip and escape him.

But he suddenly stopped at the check-out. A guy about the same age was standing there looking around. The store was mostly empty now of regular customers. You wondered why he hadn’t evacuated yet along with everyone—

“Okay. Make this easy on me. I’m trying to make a good first impression here.” He said to the guy.

“What?”

“You know what I mean.” He replied with a grin, discreetly gesturing to you.

“Uh...look man you should evacuate with everyone else. I don’t know where the fire is but—“

“Ah yea, about that....I am the fire.” And for the first time he smiled. A wicked smile with wide eyes and complete exhilaration on his face.

The guy jerked back at the sight of it. “The fuck?”

You gasped as he put his hand up and a blast of blue flames shot out. You could feel the heat from where you were standing behind him.

“Just give us the cash and I won’t do anything crazy. Okay?”

The guy stood like a deer in headlights. Unable to process anything as fear washed over him. You could relate. The blue flame was mirroring in your eyes as you stared at it in shock. The alarms still blaring in your ears.

But he wasn’t done yet. He raised his second hand and now both hands were ablaze. It was horrifying. The attendant scrambled to take all of the money out of the cash registers and put the stack in a shopping bag. Throwing it onto the counter and stepping as far away from the flames as possible.

“Thanks man. I’ll owe you one if this goes well.” He said with humor laced in his deep voice.

He jutted his head toward the door motioning for the guy to run. Which he did. He sprinted out the door to join everyone else who was evacuated outside.

“Ready?” He was facing you now. Putting the grocery bag of cash in his hoodie pocket.

You were definitely going to jail.

“Let’s get out of here.” He said and strolled toward the back door.

He paused for a moment in front of a stand of alcohol. Picking up two bottles after grazing over the options for a moment.

He was nearly at the door when he realized you hadn’t moved a muscle.

“They don’t let you wear make up in jail.” He called over to you. “Ugh.” He sighed. “Come on amateur. I’ll leave you here if I have to.”

Suddenly your legs sprung to life as you ran to him. “Want anything else?” He poked as he examined the adorable look of trauma riddling your blood drained face.

The back alley was empty. You heard police sirens in the distance. This guy was dragging you straight to hell with him.

You both looked up as a body flew overhead in the sky above of alley. You only saw the person for a brief moment but it didn’t take a genius to know heroes were closing in.

You needed to run. Now.

“Oh shit I forgot something.” He said in realization.

You looked at him utterly dumbfounded. What could he possibly have forgotten?!

“Be right back.” He assured as he walked back inside.

“What?!”

But he was gone. Leaving you there. The sirens were getting louder. You just wanted some fucking eyeliner.

Just then you heard an explosion. You looked up and saw the glow of bright blue flames growing in the windows.

Fuck. He was dead. This is so beyond fucking bad.

And finally after all this your flight response triggered. You started running down the alley. Except your legs only managed a slow jog as you struggled to stay in reality.

Where would you run to? Would the cops know it was you? And him? Whoever the fuck he was. Did they get you on camera?

“Wow you were just gonna leave me? That’s kinda fucked up.”

You jumped three feet as the voice appeared next to you.

“What the fuck?” You spun to see electric blue eyes looking at you under hooded eyelids.

“What?” He said with a cocked head.

“I thought you died!” You spewed, feeling almost relieved somehow that this psychopath was back.

He chuckled. “Dead? How.”

“There was a fire!” You said pointing at the growing fire inside.

“You just figured that out Sherlock? Shit I told you those were fire alarms.” He started mumbling to himself a few things under his breath that sounded like ‘you don’t look like a dumbass but who knows these days I guess.’

“Why did you go back in there?” You were yelling now. He was making you seem like the crazy one. He’s the one who basically just committed armed robbery!

You heard the rustling of plastic as he held something up for you to see. “Chips. These ones are my favorite.”

“Chips!?” You were seething now.

“Hey why are you mad? I got you some too. I didn’t know which ones you like so I just took a bunch.” He said holding up a grocery bag filled with a variety of them and the bottles from before.

You stared at him dumbfounded again. He just risked both your lives over some chips?

“I’m going to lose my mind. Or I’m currently losing my mind....” you said with wide eyes.

“Well can you hold on that for like five minutes. We still have something to do.”

“Huh?” You cried desperately.

“Get the fuck out of here before those cops come looking for us.”

He led you down the creepy dark alleyways until you could barely hear the police sirens in the background.

“So amateur, learn anything?” He crunched down on a chip.

The adrenaline was draining now and you were starting to really process what just happened.

“Yea, I learned you’re a fucking criminal.”

“You’re the one who was shoplifting.” He scoffed.

“What?! You just robbed that fucking store!”

“Why are you yelling?”

“Yelling?! You’re fucking crazy!”

“Yea and?”

“And you-you—”

He stopped in his tracks. You nearly ran into his back. He turned and faced you, towering over you. Eyes intense. His chain dangling as he leaned down closer to you. Giving you another chance to notice how strangely attractive he was.

“Are you scared or something?” He said in a deep quiet hum.

You should have just said yes. And said that he was scary. And that you wanted him to leave you alone. But you didn’t. You didn’t even want to. Despite all the shit spewing out of your mouth you’d be lying to say you weren’t high off this chaos. That he wasn’t ridiculously intriguing and sexy. That this wasnt the most exciting thing that’s ever happen in your bland life.

“No.” You lied. Hoping he’d think you weren’t fucking boring.

He grinned. “You’re a bad liar.” With one finger he hooked the side of your face mask and peeled it off to expose your lips for his admiration. “Good thing you look cute when you’re scared.”

The real scary thing here was that you were already into this psychotic criminal.

“So do I get to know your name yet?” He said playing with a strand of your hair, yet again invading your personal space with no regard.

“Y/n.”

He hummed. Like he was agreeing or something.

“I’m Dabi.” He said darkly. Leaning in even closer. He was standing so close it made you lose balance and you stumbled backwards. But he easily caught you by grabbing the front of your sweatshirt. The movement caused some the make-up you stole to fall out onto the gravel.

He laughed at you and pulled you back close to him. Which made you blush intensely.

“Speaking of which. I think we have someone to cancel on.”

Your mind flashed to your boring date tonight.

“Go on. Get out your phone.” He patiently waited with his hands in his pockets for you to bring up his messages.

Just as you went to type he snatched your phone away.

“Hey!”

He shushed you, pushing your face back to keep you at arms length as he read the last few of your messages.

“Want to hang out tonight?” He mocked. “Fuck and you said sure?” He gave you a judgmental look. “This just screams missionary.”

You squeaked at his vulgarity. “Shut up!”

He chuckled again. “Relax I’m talking about him. Although you do need higher standards. This is fucking boring.”

You shrunk in horror as he pressed the call button and put your phone to his ear.

“What are you doing?!” You hissed trying to snatch the phone back.

“Stop I’m trying to make a phone call.”

“Well I don’t want you to!” You squealed in horror.

“Why not?” He feigned confusion.

You both stopped wrestling when you heard someone answer on the other line.

“Hey man.” He smiled deviously. “Glad I caught you.” He paused. Probably listening to your date stuttering in confusion as to why a smug asshole was calling him on your number.

“Well I’m just calling to let you know y/n isn’t going to make it tonight to Netflix and chill or whatever other lame way you were going to attempt to sleep with her.” He paused again, completely ignoring your aggressive gestures to give your phone back or you’ll kill him. Surely he found you very very intimidating. “She’s cancelling on you because....well because I told her to.” He chuckled. “Shes got new plans. With me.”

He grinned down at you. Absorbing the way you were timidly looking at him now. Holding onto every word with slightly parted lips that he’d be looking forward to kissing at some point soon.

“Anyways. Don’t text her anymore or I’ll probably have to come kill you.” He chuckled again. You heard someone say something on the other line but Dabi hung up on him.

He must have noticed the look on your face. “Relax I’m kidding.” He lied, handing your phone back. “Anyways, I’m tired of this alley. You ready or what?”

You didn’t know what his plans tonight were for you yet. But you were dying to find out.

~~

Lord have mercy...he could rail me.

General tags from masterlist: @midnight-mochii @waluigis-wang @lilachusworld @seokjinniemysun @xodrea @the-sass-goddess @whore4hq @reghan-darling @channieboiiii @animexholic @strawberrysalwa @expensivechimmy @gotta-get-back-to-johnlock @themajesticunicorn @dxddydrea @tee2cute @fullsundear @dumbbird89 @chargeandinlarge @wackichris @myherosilhouette @r0zyp0zy0zy @frosted-flakes @halietigges @ladybeautiful18 @waywardcowboyllamavoid @edgyb1tch

Like my masterlist to be added!

#dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi angst #dabi mha #dabi oneshot #mha dabi #dabi #dabi is a todoroki #dabi imagine #mha angst #mha #mha scenarios #mha todoroki #mha fanfiction

[authoressofdarkness]

Guide Me Safely To Shore

Only one thing ever made Tony Stark think twice about fulfilling his full potential. Two little words on the inside of his wrist, where his soulmark sits, ghostly, waiting for him to recognize his soulmate in some unredeemable way. He always knew he’d hurt them. But when he discovers his soulmate is none other than the feisty little Spiderling swinging around his streets, he realizes things are a lot worse than he ever could have thought.

Notes: So this just hit me in the middle of the night while reading fanfiction and avoiding hw the other night. I’ve got several ideas for it going forward, so this isn’t a one shot, but with midterms right around the corner I can promise nothing. Sorry. But I love you all and I’m hoping to get the next part out soon. <3 Enjoy, and I’d love to hear what you think!

This is unbetaed, so sorry for any mistakes.

Also, if anyone is interested, I realized while titling this that the song I took inspiration from is actually a lot more relevant to this story than I thought, and even more so the play itself. You can consider it the theme song for this story. The song is called “All That Matters,” from the Broadway cast of Finding Neverland. If you ever get the chance to see it, you most definitely should, or at least listen to the soundtrack. So listen to that if y’all get a chance, and do with that what you will.Okay, now enjoy! 💙

Only one thing in the world had made Tony think twice about fulfilling his full potential.

It wasn’t his friends. Or family — not that he really had any to speak of. Not his position at SI, not fear for his life, his work, his legacy, or anything of the sort.

It was the last thing someone would expect, honestly. Even for a man like Tony, an alpha with such power, who commanded such respect, had to have a soulmate. One he was expected to love, cherish, and yes, even a man like him craved that. He hadn’t met them yet, though, his soulmate, but the two words branding him, marking him with the words from his soulmate that will seal their bond, are there, have always been there, carefully hidden away from the public eye… and terrifying him in a deeper way than anything else could.

Please don’t.

Those two little words, branded onto his skin, reminding him every day of the horrors he may be wreaking on his soulmate without knowing it. There was no way to interpret them in a good light; and he knows that they mean, to some extent, he is going to hurt them.

And what’s worse, is that he hears them so often. People begging. It’s almost become part of his reason behind his cruel reputation — forcing people to beg, just to make them say it, just to make absolutely certain before he does something irreversible that it's not his soulmate he holds. Each time, he has to hold his breath, think about everything he’s ever done in that split second while he waits to see if hearing the words this time will change his life.

It’s the only thing that’s ever made him think twice about the things that he does. If there’s one person he doesn’t want to hurt, that he’d protect with his life at all costs, it’s his soulmate.

Yet he has no idea who it is, and the only thing he does know is he’s destined to fucking hurt them. Probably make them beg for their life before he realizes that they’re his soulmate. That he’s hurting his other half.

Most of the time he relishes the power, the fear and respect he gets from other people. But the idea of his soulmate being afraid of him just makes him sick to his stomach.

Tonight, the thoughts weigh heavy on his mind as he flies around the city in his suit.

In the years since he’s come to power — subtly, of course, then slowly less so — there had been little resistance from the masses. His influence is good for them, for the most part. It’s more peaceful than it’s been in years. Most people go about their lives business as usual. So long as they don’t challenge him.

Except there’s still a couple of people who challenge him.

The Avengers are, by far, the most pesky. But in recent times they’ve rather given up. There’s bigger problems in the rest of the world, still, and they can’t trick him or infiltrate him, can’t operate in secrecy the way they usually do. Tony is isolated — few friends, and none that would dare betray him, especially not after what happened to Obie. His company is firmly in his own hands, and his technology gives him virtually limitless access to information. He can see virtually anyone, anywhere, anytime he wants. There’s no way to hide from him. And what’s worse for them — he doesn’t try to hide what he’s doing. There’s nothing to expose when you’re honest from the start. He’s practically untouchable.

But… wait, did he say no way? That’s not… entirely true. He doesn’t know how, but someone has found a way around it.

Because there’s one person other than the Avengers that still bothers him.

Spider-Man.

He’d let him go for a while. It’s his own fault they’ve gotten so confident, if he’s being honest. Letting them run around and play vigilante. At first, they’d been a help, in truth — dragging in some of the street trash even he couldn’t control, and couldn’t be bothered to deal with personally. But then he’d started to get bolder. Bold enough to interfere with him. And while he couldn’t do any major damage, he sure was annoying.

Mostly because he was succeeding. In interrupting little things, at least. And, going back to his earlier thought, because he can’t fucking find him.

Whoever the guy is, he’s careful. Smart. Smart enough that Tony hasn’t been able to find basically any footage of him, anything to link Spider-Man with a normal persona. And he’s obviously just a normal person under the suit. He has to be. And there’s no way he lives in that thing all the time. Especially not with the way he’s avoided his detection so well.

He’s made all the harder to track by his erratic schedule. He can come out at night or during the day, every day for a month and not be seen again for a month the following days. The only consistency is that he tends to be out and about in the Queens borough. Even that is a wide enough area that he has a hard time using it to pin the man’s identity down. He’s narrowed it, certainly, but calculating the amount of people that could make it there every so many days, accounting for the inconsistent schedule and what it could mean, age, height, and hell, even gender — because really, all they would have to do is use a voice modulator and let people see what they wanted to for the rest — means that the number of suspects is still in the thousands.

Speaking of pinning the other man down…

He hopes to be able to do that tonight. He’s let the vigilante go unhindered for long enough. It was time for them to have a little talk. Preferably a short one. He’s tired and temperamental tonight. The day has been long, and all he really wants is someone to help bear the load, but… he can never be so vulnerable. Not with just anyone, particularly, and there’s no one he trusts around tonight. That’s part of the reason why he’d decided to come out and fly around.

That, and because he’d gotten a pretty reliable tip that Spider-Man was going to be out and about himself tonight. And they have some business to attend to.

He finds the vigilante, to his surprise, perched on the edge of the roof, legs swinging in the breeze, looking out over the city through his lense-covered eyes.

He descends from a distance, loudly enough there’s no way the other man doesn’t hear as he’s approaching. But he doesn’t move. In fact, Tony is surprised to hear it when he comes up behind him and he still hasn’t moved at all except to suddenly say, “I wondered how long it would take.”

“For what?” Tony can’t help himself; he bites, immediately, curious. Fascinated, he’d dare say. The confidence in his own abilities he must have to sound so calm, to stay put upon hearing him approach, is almost unbelievable. Either that, or he doubts his own ability to make a clean escape, and so didn’t bother. He’s not sure which option he prefers, but either way, this will be interesting.

“For you to come looking for me. Everything I’ve done to keep my identity a secret, I’m sure you’re dying to know by now.”

He says it so matter-of-fact, emotion undistinguishable in his voice. Tony tilts his head, unsure whether he should be impressed with his ability to sound so cool and self assured, or annoyed with the fact his assessment was correct.

It hardly matters. Part of the reason they had to have this chat in person was so that Tony could begin to work on figuring it out. The AI in his suit is no doubt already working on it. And he doesn’t sound like, for all his seeming self-assuredness, that he was smart enough to use a voice filter, so no doubt Jarvis is well on his way. Not that it would have stopped him, but it might have delayed the inevitable enough that he may actually have had a chance to escape this time before a verdict came in.

“I suppose you’ve got me there,” Tony finally says, after a long moment of deliberation. “I don’t suppose now that I’m here you’ll just tell me? I can go easier on you if you come quietly.”

Spider-Man lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head. “Can. But you won’t. You could just let me go. But we both know you wouldn’t have come all the way out here just to do that.”

“Well you could go back to fighting low-level crime instead of infringing on my operations, couldn’t you?” Tony retorts. “And flattered as I am by your assessment of me-“ he can’t say much, as he’s not entirely wrong, “-I thought I’d at least give you a fair chance, first, before we go quite that far.”

“I don’t think your definition of fair chance and mine are the same.”

Tony ignores him, continuing on. “Go back to fighting your low level crime and having a good time and whatever else it is you do. Stop interfering with my operations. I’ll even give you my endorsement so the police won’t bother you.”

It’s a generous enough offer, all things considered, but the vigilante is having none of it.

He snorts. “Is that all you’ve got? Really? I expected some kind of bribe, at least.”

“Maybe if you show me you can keep your word, we could talk about it.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m not giving you my word on anything.”

“Shame. Here I thought we’d make a good team.”

“In your dreams, Stark. Just because the Avengers have given into you doesn’t mean everyone else has.”

“That would be a dream, wouldn’t it?” Tony muses, then heaves a sigh. “Fine then. Have it your way.”

For a moment, neither of them move. Then, by some unspoken signal, Tony’s hand comes up, repulsor glowing red hot, just as Spider-Man shoots his first web.

The shot hits the web halfway, making them both disintegrate into thin air. Already moving, Tony flies up in the suit, only to feel a tug on his leg halting his upward momentum — a web. In the second it takes for his suit to disintegrate that one, as well, he’s being covered in more, the force of them pelting him back into the roof, feet sticking to the concrete and torso forced back against one of the light poles, sticky and irritating.

Of course he’d figured out a way to make it so the webs didn’t stick long to his suit as soon as the Spider-Man had made an appearance, but it wasn’t perfect, yet. Couldn’t be without the formula. So while he wasn’t pinned down for long, it’s just enough to get on his nerves.

Even more so because for all his big talk, he’s not actually fighting. Spider-Man pinned him down… and fled.

Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it?

Tony engages the full force of his throttles to just break through the webs faster, and gives chase. He can’t just let him get away with that, after all.

As he flies, he gives himself a minute to focus on the internal calculations flashing in front of his eyes. “How are we doing, Jarvis?”

“Nearly there, sir. Calculations based on body scan and public records have erased quite a few suspects. Cross referencing voice clips with all accessible video including the remaining suspects, but the sheer number is immense. I require a bit of time.”

“I’ve given you a bit of time. I need a name, Jarvis. Something for blackmail. I need to end this tonight.” He doesn’t have time for playing games with the Spider-Man, especially because he’s managed to disappear so effectively every time he tries to. He doesn’t know when he’ll find him again if he doesn’t tonight, and he has a lot of things happening in the near future he does not want messed with.

If he doesn’t find the information he needs, then this night isn’t going to end near as pleasantly as he’d hoped.

Spider-Man is fast, swinging through the city, but not fast enough to shake him. Especially not with his AI’s ability to analyze his every move and know where he’s going to turn next.

He lets him swing around for several minutes, pretending to give chase and hoping to tire him out. He has to just be waiting for him to get bored or lose sight of him so he can drop in somewhere and hide until he leaves or take off the suit to blend in with everyone else. Unfortunately for him, that trick isn’t going to work on him the way it probably does for normal people.

Tony just lets him swing around and tire himself out with him in hot pursuit, then, when he’s sure he has to be running out of energy — and webbing, he could hope — he flies up, into the clouds, dodging and weaving and utilizing his tech to keep an eye on the vigilante while staying out of his line of sight.

It works. Spider-Man drops onto a nearby roof, stumbling a little and bracing himself against a light pole. With a dangerous grin, Tony swoops down to meet him.

By the time he hears him coming and spins around, it’s too late. Tony closes the suit’s hand around his throat and flies him forcefully into the wall of the rooftop exit. Brick crumbles around his outline at the force of the impact, and the lenses of the suit go wide as he claws at his throat.

Almost at the same time as the impact, a picture flashes up in the visor of his helmet. “One almost perfect potential match, sir.”

For a second, Tony just stares at it. Looks through the analytics and double checks them. Then he laughs, unable to help himself. It’s just unbelievable enough that it explains so much. So young — hardly even a man. Spiderling, then, more so than Spider-Man. And even better — an omega. No wonder no one looked twice at this kid before as a potential threat.

He lets the helmet melt away, now, and looks down at the kid, grip around his throat tightening just a little as he watches him wheeze out a breath. His hand around Tony’s wrist is tight, tight enough his suit issues a warning, but not enough to actually dislodge his hand.

“So.” Tony tilts his head. “We meet again, Spiderling. Should probably stop doing that, hm?” He gets a strangled sound in answer, which is about all he could expect, really. He just shrugs. “Oh well. It’s not like it’ll happen much after tonight. Because I’m going to put an end to this, right here.” He leans forward, helmet reappearing— just in case he would do something like try to head butt him, because frankly, while it wouldn’t work, it would hurt — until their noses are almost brushing through their respective suits. “Last chance, Spiderling. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Are you gonna be a big boy about this or not?”

Tony releases his throat just enough for him to draw in a few breaths to answer. He holds his breath as the vigilante sucks in a few huge gulps of air before spitting out, “Go to hell, Stark.”

Tony just chuckles, clicking his tongue. “Oh, I will, I’m sure. But at this rate, you’re going to get there first.” He presses him a little harder against the wall, grip tightening again and ignoring the way the bits of brick and concrete pour down around them like rain. “I didn’t want to do this, kid, truly. But if you think I won’t kill you, you’re wrong. And if you think your loved ones won’t be targets if you don’t quit your shit, you’d also be wrong. I don’t like to be cruel, but I am what you make me, and I won’t stand for this any longer, Peter.”

The use of his name has a visible impact on the kid. He gasps, and his grip on his wrist tightens enough around the metal of his suit that it bends around his fingers and it actually hurts. Tony’s grip around his throat slackens a little automatically, and he frowns. It’s weird. It almost… burns? That’s not what a bruise or metal cut should feel like...

And then he hears it. The teen sucks in a breath, and in a broken, raspy whisper, gasps, “Please don’t...”

The effect is instantaneous. The slight burning in his wrist turns into a wildfire, like a brand, hot and burning and fuck does it hurt for that second. He responds automatically, jerking his hand back as if scalded, and watching almost in slow motion as the younger man crumples to the floor. It takes a moment longer than it probably should for him to realize exactly what’s happening, and then the suit melts off his body and he stares in horror as the color seems to settle in his soul words, now shining a bold black from where they sit on the inside of his left wrist.

Heart thundering in his chest, he stares for a long minute before snapping out of it and rushing to his side. He’s passed out, now, though from lack of oxygen or shock or what, he can’t be sure right now.

Carefully, so carefully, he tugs off his mask, both wanting to see his face for real and knowing he should see how bad the damage to his throat is. It catches him off guard at first, how gorgeous he is, and then how young, despite Jarvis already showing him both of those things earlier. He’s still marveling, though. Could this really be his soulmate? Oh, what is he going to do?

He forces the thoughts away for a moment, checking Peter’s throat. It’s ringed with finger-shaped bruises, but it doesn’t look too severe. He leans his head down, listening at his chest. Now that he’s got proper airflow back he doesn’t seem to be wheezing or otherwise struggling to breathe. So he should be fine.

Fine, physically, except for the fact that he’s Tony’s soulmate. That they’re branded together now, a link between their very souls keeping them from being able to end this in a way either of them would have imagined.

It’s funny. With how long he’d wanted this, he should be ecstatic. Instead he’s just… numb. A whole host of emotions rages inside him, and he can’t allow himself to acknowledge any of them until he figures out what to do.

For now, there’s only really one thing he can do. His soulmate is hurt, in more ways than one. He needs medical attention, to a certain extent, and they need to talk. Waiting around here until Peter wakes up isn’t going to be ideal for fixing either of those things.

So he bends down and scoops Peter up, cradling his unconscious form close to him. Then, with a tired sigh, he takes to the skies again, carrying them back towards the tower, glowing in the distance like a lighthouse in the sand, beckoning him to shore.

He has a feeling actually finding the shore is going to be a long time coming, but this is the first step he can take to finding it. He just hopes they’ll both be able to tread through these rough waters long enough to get there.

#starker #ironspider #iron spider #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #sim tony #alpha tony stark #omega peter parker #abo dynamics #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #soulmate au #soulmates #soulmarks #soulwords #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker

[masjestickingdom]

The Waiting Game

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: one shot, fluff, slightly suggestive (implied smut)

Summary: It’s been a month since you last saw your boyfriend. When it’s finally the day to meet him, his late appearance has you coping with feelings that make you go out of character.

Note: Along with the previous post, this is a lighthearted scenario to “lighten” up the mood for what’s to come... (*hint, hint*) Until then, enjoy this scenario!

_______________________________________________________________________

   When you hear the music of the keypad, you jump up from your couch and rush your way over to the door. When the music comes to a stop and the door handle is angled, your eyes widen in anticipation. The door swings open, and your face immediately drops.

   Today is the long-awaited day you’ve been waiting for: at long last, you get to spend the evening with your lovely boyfriend, Jaehyun, since his departure for his world tour a month ago. Waiting for a month without any physical contact or voice calls was unbelievably painful, but you managed to pull through. Right now, though, you’ve been waiting for him all afternoon and all that waiting is starting to mess with your brain.

   “What’s with the face?” the man standing in front of you asks, taking off his sneakers.

   “I thought you were Jaehyun,” you answer with a visible pout. “But you’re just Johnny.”

   The tall man rolls his eyes. “Gee, I’m glad to see you too.”

   He steps out of the entryway and swings his arm around your shoulders, guiding you away from the precious entrance.

   “Your boyfriend’s still working on the dance he missed out on yesterday,” Johnny informs you, but his words mean nothing to you.

   You turn your head around, hoping to hear the same notes from the keypad.

   “He’s not going to come back sooner just because you’re staring at the door like a weirdo-”

   There they are, those notes, the notes you’ve been another minute waiting for. You and Johnny simultaneously exchange looks at each other, yours being smug and Johnny’s reflecting the image of a surprised kangaroo.

   “How did you do that?” he asks in wonderment as you slip out of his touch.

   You’re back to square one, staring at the door, waiting for the handle to be angled. This time, Johnny joins you with an amazed expression. During the three long seconds you wait, you hear indistinct conversations, to which you hope that among the numerous voices behind that door, one of them belongs to your boyfriend.

   “Who takes so long to press the keypad?” you say, impatience evident in your tone.

   “Kim Doyoung,” Johnny replies easily.

   After an eternity of three seconds, you see the door swing open in the same manner it was done before. You and Johnny stand there, watching the door open as if everything is in slow motion.

   The first person to walk in is, as Johnny predicted, Doyoung. The moment you realize it’s him, you get on your toes to see the faces following behind him.

   “Jaehyun?” you call, hoping that you get a response.

   “Nope,” Johnny responds instead as another member comes into view. “It’s Yuta.”

   “Jaehyun?” you try again.

   “Nope,” Johnny says, popping the “p”. “It’s Taeil.”

   “Jaehyun?”

   “Nope. Haechan.”

   “Jaehyun?”

   “Nope, Mark.”

   “Jaehyun?”

   “Hey, there’s no one left,” Johnny points out.

   There it is, that empty feeling in your heart once again. You feel dejected, wondering if Jaehyun can hear your telepathic message, pleading him to come early.

   Your misery catches the eyes of the incoming members, causing them to crowd around you.

   “What’s wrong?” they ask, genuinely concerned about your state.

   You were never like this before. In fact, you’re considered to be the chiller one of the friend group.

   “She misses our hardworking Jaehyun,” Johnny replies for you, gently patting your head.

   Upon hearing the problem, the boys try to cheer you up.

   “We can play Mario Kart,” Haechan suggests.

   “And eat ice cream,” Mark adds.

   “If it makes you feel any better,” Yuta speaks, “he says that he can’t wait to come back.”

   You look up at him with glittering eyes. “Really?”

   “Yeah,” he assures you, proud that he’s the one to lift your spirits. “Don’t worry. As long as Mia isn’t late today, he’ll be back in no time.”

   “Mia?”

   The light in your eyes fades, overshadowed by the growing sense of jealousy. You can feel your blood starting to boil.

   “Mia?” you repeat for the second time in disbelief. “Isn’t Mia a girl?”

   The boys exchange glances at each other, all ending up at Yuta, who raises his arms up in the air.

   “It just slipped,” he says, defending himself.

   “So Jaehyun’s working with a girl?” you pronounce slowly. “A girl. Alone.”

   The boys are quick to correct you, “No, no, definitely not alone.”

   “Taeyong and Jungwoo are there too,” Mark reveals, practically rapping.

   Yuta furiously nods. “And Mia’s not the only teacher there, so the more, the merrier, right? In fact, the name’s Ale-”

   Your dangerous gaze cuts him short.

   The wide-eyed boys silently look at Yuta, swearing through their eyes.

   “Oi,” Johnny sighs, rubbing his temples.

   “So that means there’s more room for Mia to spend with Jaehyun while the other teacher focuses on the others?” you say, your voice rising with volume each passing second.

   Your heart is racing and your hands are shaking. Your breath is becoming unstable and, for some reason, so are your fingers. Jaehyun is spending time with some female instructor before he’s spending time with you? That’s completely fine--except it’s not. It isn’t something you can do anything about--it’s his job--but knowing that he’s a fine-looking man, you can only imagine what the instructor will do to him. Heck, if you were her, you would probably feel him up too, no doubt.

   And here comes that aching void in your heart.

   “Hey, why don’t we all relax and go do Mario Kart like Haechan said?” Taeil urges after taking into account the time you spent sulking at the door.

    As the boys drag you away, Johnny and Doyoung are left behind, watching you refuse to play Mario Kart.

   “Well this is a first,” Doyoung remarks, stunned at your behavior. “I’ve never seen her so... mopey. It’s a shame that Jaehyun couldn’t be with us when she paid a visit to the company last week.”

   Johnny shakes his head, pitying your downcasted state. “Not seeing him for a month and not being able to call him because of his schedule, that’s gotta be tough.”

   No kidding. You’re dying without his touch, without seeing his face or hearing his voice. You’re literally going crazy.  

   “Hey, hey, hey, she’s biting me!”

   Who’s yelling? It doesn’t matter. You’re going crazy. 

   ...

   The boys somehow managed to calm you down with a few rounds of Mario Kart. Technically, you calmed yourself down, considering you were so furious that you were a beast in the game and came out on the top.

   “That’s right!” you shout, winning another round.

   So you aren’t calm, but you’re definitely not thinking about Jaehyun and that female instructor the boys call “Mia”.

   All is going well until you hear the all-too-familiar melody of the keypad. You speedily pause the game with your controller, earning you a few complaints, which quickly die down when you silence them with a simple glare.

   “All I’m saying is that she obviously faked her stomach pain so that she could leave early with Alex,” you hear a voice you know all too well.

   “At least our practice ended early,” another distinct voice responds. “I don’t think I could have handled being in that room for another moment.”

   The boys’ eyes rapidly scan your face as they mentally prepare themselves for another biting session.

   “I’m surprised that Jaehyun’s still practicing,” the second voice says, nearing the living room.

   “He’s probably immune to the couple-y things Mia and Alex do because he has a girlfri-”

   The former voice halts.

   “Taeyong, Jungwoo, where’s Jaehyun?”

   The two boys, who were innocently waltzing into the living room, stop in their tracks when they see the fiery look in your eyes. Before they have the chance to comprehend the situation, they are saved by the keypad. You hear the door open for the last time, and you vanish from the boys’ sight.

   “Jung Jaehyun!”

   You see the growing smile on your boyfriend’s face and tackle him with the biggest hug you can offer.

   “I’ve missed you!” you cry, taking in his sweet, natural scent. “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

   He snuggles his face into your neck. “I was going to practice a few more times, but I couldn’t let myself be away from you any longer.”

   He pulls his face away from your neck to get a good look at you.

   “I’ve missed you too,” he coos lovingly, leaning in for your lips, to which you move away.

   You aren’t going to let go of your jealousy that easily.

   You hear a couple of feet shuffling behind you, and your boyfriend peers over your shoulder, sending a questioning gaze to his fellow bandmates.

   “Mark?” he calls, remembering how the boy once accidentally ruined your surprise birthday party.

   The boys shake their head and point at Yuta.

   “Hey, I was just trying to help,” the accused boy utters.

   “Twice,” Johnny adds.

   “Mia,” Doyoung words to Jaehyun silently, directing him to the source of the complication.

   Grasping the situation with remarkable speed, Jaehyun nods, signalling to his friends to give them some space.

   “I tried,” Yuta mumbles while the others leave you two to be.

   Although you’ve missed Jaehyun, there’s this voice in the back of your mind that constantly reminds you of your jealousy towards the time he seems to be spending with other people more than you. You love him and understand him, but you simply want to see how he’ll deal with this jealous side of you, so you act childishly.

   When you don’t look at him in the eye, he smiles and says, “You know Mia’s taken, right?”

   “But it’s you,” you murmur, staring at your feet.

   “You’re right,” he says, resting his hands on your shoulders. “It’s me. I’m in love with you and my eyes are only set on you.”

   He senses that you’re starting to become looser, so he takes your hands in his and tilts his head forward to see you eye-to-eye.

   “I’ll make up for the lost time,” he promises. “Pinkie swear.”

   You still don’t respond, which takes up a lot of your energy not to do because you really want to lose yourself in those striking brown eyes of his, but you’ve been with him long enough for him to know how to work his way around this type of situation.

   He lowers himself to your ears and whispers, “Hey.”

   One word and he already has you melting with your legs turning into jelly.

   And one final impactful statement from him has you hooked: “Let’s go to my room.”

   ...

   Fifteen minutes have passed and there is still no word from either you or Jaehyun. The boys, gathered around the couch, start to feel anxious.

   “Maybe they’re giving each other the silent treatment,” Mark speaks, breaking the silence.

   “Shouldn’t we go check up on them?” Yuta asks, glancing at the door you and Jaehyun disappeared behind.

   Johnny gets up on his knees and says, “I’ll signal something if anything’s wrong.”

   He carefully makes his way to the door. When he presses his ear against the door, an instant smirk forms on his face.

   “Why? What’s going on in there?” the boys ask.

   Instead of respecting your guys’ privacy, Johnny decides to gesture the guys over to join him, and when they do, a lot of their faces flush.

   “Th-this isn’t something that we should listen to,” Mark stutters, his ears red and eyes wide.

   But all of them remain there. Another five minutes pass and that’s when it hits Doyoung.

   "Wait isn’t Haechan still a minor?” 

#nct #nct x reader #reader x nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct oneshot #nct fluff #suggestive #implied smut #nct mark #nct jaehyun #nct Johnny #nct taeyong #nct doyoung #nct taeil #nct yuta #nct jungwoo #nct Haechan

[annathewitch]

Like Air

Summary: Jim Kirk x Reader. You’re trying to forget about your relationship problems by drowning your sorrows, when a Starfleet Captain appears.

Word Count: 2000

Warnings: Swearing; a bit of relationship angst; teen rating.

A/N: This was a request from @yallneedtrek ages ago for my 100 follower challenge! Prompt: “I’m only here to establish an alibi”. I’ve not written for anyone other than Bones before so I hope this is okay!

Thanks to @outside-the-government for organising Trek Fest 2018 and to @starshiphufflebadger for the banner!

...

Coming to the bar tonight was a mistake, you think.

You’d assumed that dressing up to the nines, drinking and dancing would help you forget how ridiculously, unbelievably furious you are with your boyfriend. That somehow flirting outrageously would smooth over the raw, jagged hurt that he so casually disregarded your mere existence.

But you're about a half a bottle of tequila down, all the guys seems to be handsy morons, and your anger doesn't seem to have diminished one iota.

You toy with the shot glass in front of you at the bar, lamenting the criminal waste of what is, frankly, a fucking spectacular outfit. Knocking back the drink, it occurs to you that you haven't yet considered the possibilities of any of the other genders… or species. Interesting...

With a sense of renewed possibility and adventure enhanced by the gentle buzz of alcohol, you lean back against the bar on your elbows and survey the crowd. Maybe you might get lucky and find a cute Orion who can show you a thing or two about losing your inhibitions.

Absorbed as you are in watching the crowd pulsing and heaving on the dance floor, you fail to notice the guy in the ‘Fleet dress greys, with the messy blond hair and broad shoulders adorned with Captain’s insignia, squeeze into the space beside you at the bar. That is until he turns around to mimic your pose and dips his head to breathe softly into your ear, “with a dress like that you’re looking for trouble in a place like this.”

Suppressing a snort, you turn to him with a roll of your eyes. You would tell him where to go, except that just maybe there’s a flash of something in his earnest startlingly blue eyes that you’ve not seen before, certainly not in any of the guys that have tried it on with you tonight.

Uncertainty.

Despite the line, and the practiced charm that oozes out of his pores, you just know he’s a tiny bit doubtful that he’ll be taking you home tonight. It’s by no means a given: he’s going to have to work for it.

“Are you gonna be trouble?” you ask bluntly, eyebrow cocked.

“I guess it depends on why you came here.” He’s passing his drink from hand to hand, trying to look nonchalant, you think. Pretending there’s nothing at stake.

“I’m only here to establish an alibi.” You look him dead in the eyes as you say this, liberate the glass out of his hand and take a long, slow sip. It’s some kind of whiskey, and you enjoy the pleasant burn down your throat and the satisfaction that his eyes have widened just a fraction.

“An alibi?”

“Yeah. My soon to be ex-boyfriend is an asshole. I’m considering putting him out of his misery.”

“Ex-boyfriend huh?” He looks you up and down thoughtfully, carefully, before pinning you with his piercing gaze. “The idiot will be crying himself to sleep tonight at the thought of losing you.”

“You’d think, but somehow I doubt it.” You tear your gaze away from him and stare resolutely at the stolen drink in your hand. “He didn’t care enough to consult me before accepting another five-year deep space posting. I doubt he’s losing any sleep,” you spit out bitterly. Your voice trembles a little as you voice your grievance out loud, and you try desperately to ignore the stinging sensation of threatening tears.

All at once you’ve had enough of the twist of anger in your chest, you’re done feeling sorry for yourself. It’s pointless. You came out to get smashed and forget, to replace the hollowness of complete and utter rejection with the feeling of being desired. Breaking down into a blubbering mess is not part of the plan, not infront of him.

“I’m going to dance,” you say, pushing yourself upright and taking a couple of decisive, if wobbly, steps towards the floor. You toss what you hope is a cool glance back over your shoulder at the officer, who’s staring at you like he doesn’t quite know what to make of you. “You going to join me?”

He doesn’t need asking twice, and quickly catches up with you weaving your way into the centre of the press of bodies. As you stumble a little, heels catching on moving feet, you feel him slip a steadying arm around your waist and his chest presses to your back as he steers you to a tiny space.

The music - some kind of alien song that feels a bit Latin - pounds so loud you can barely hear yourself think. The beat reverberates up from the floor through your legs and spine and you throw your arms up in carefree abandon. Your dance partner spins you around so you’re face to face and pulls you close, hands snaking their way down to your ass so that your hips are moving together, twisting and winding.

This. This is what you’ve been looking for all night. So why do you feel so conflicted?

You drape your arms around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and your partner sighs, pressing his forehead to yours. You’d expected him to be wearing a cocky grin at his success, but those beautiful eyes like a summer sky are staring at you seriously, drinking you in like they belong to a man dying of thirst.

A hand skates up your back, grazing hot skin through the cutouts in your dress and you feel sparks shoot to your core. It comes to rest cupping the base of your skull, fingers woven into your hair, and then he’s tilting your face up to his. Warm breath brushes over your lips for just a second of hesitation, before he’s kissing you hungrily.

The music is still washing over you and you’re still both moving with it instinctively as you kiss. It’s hot and open mouthed, his tongue tangled with yours and its not sweet and tender, just pure, needy, desire.

When you break away, the music has slowed and he turns you again to hold you with your back to his chest. You can feel it heaving as he tries to regain his breath, sure that in return he must feel your pounding heart crashing against your rib cage.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs into your ear, swaying you back and forth. You tip your head to the side and he kisses gently the sweet spot behind your ear, making you shiver. “Are you sure it’s over?”

The question makes you freeze. He can clearly feel the stiffening of your posture, and he relaxes his hold. You face him, meeting his uncertain gaze. “How can it not be?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath. You’ve stopped moving, a lone still point in the sea of people. You wonder how they all manage to be so... carefree.

“People make mistakes. Maybe he’s already realised what an asshole he’s been. Maybe he wants to put it right?”

“But why would someone do that? When they said they loved you, how could they decide something so fucking huge without even a word, a second thought even?” The stream of tears you thought you had dammed, rise up and spill over as you speak. He goes to brush them away and you bat his hand back, pummelling his chest with clenched fists. “It makes me feel like I’m nothing, Jim” you gasp.

“Y/N, baby. You are everything. Everything.” Jim tips your chin up with two shaking fingers, forcing you to look at him, as if he can make you feel his earnestness if he holds your gaze long enough. “I’m sorry, okay. So sorry baby.”

Pressing the heels of your hands to your hot cheeks, you swipe the tears away, hands stained with black streaks of smokey eye makeup. “I found out from Len, Jim! I felt so stupid that I didn’t know what he was talking about. What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know! The call came out of the blue, I thought we’d have more time. It’s the Enterprise, Y/N. I thought I could be rational, logical...”

You bark a laugh. “But she’s always been the other woman.” Jim grasps both your hands and you can’t quite bring yourself to pull away again. “Did you think about me at all?” you ask, half afraid to hear the answer.

“Yes! I thought about how amazing it would be to be back in the black, back on my ship, but this time with you. I was going to ask you to come with me.”

“We’re supposed to be a team, Jim. Decisions this big, we’re supposed to make together. Fuck it! I know how important this is to you.” You shake your head, suddenly feeling a little too sober. “The worst of it is, if you’d only asked I would have said yes.”

“I’m good at fucking up relationships, but I want to put this right. I love you Y/N, I need you sweetheart, like I need air.” You let him pull you into a tight embrace and as you breathe in his familiar scent, you feel grounded. He presses kisses into your hair, before pushing you back a little so he can see your face. “I told the Admiralty that I won’t go unless you decide to come with me. If I can’t be with you, I don’t want it.”

You stare mutely in shock. Jim Kirk, Starfleet hero and confirmed commitment-phobe is standing infront of you, telling you he is willing to give it all up for you. It’s a lot to take in.

The lack of an answer seems to make Jim nervous and he grabs your hands again, rubbing circles with his thumbs over your knuckles. “You don’t have to decide straight away, but tell me you’ll consider forgiving your asshole of a boyfriend, and come home with me.”

You’ve known the answer to this question since he appeared next to you at the bar. Despite everything, the anger, the hurt, you never stopped loving this man. You could have looked in every bar on the planet, and still not found a single person worth even half of Jim Kirk.

“Dammit Jim, you’re still an asshole, but I don’t go around kissing guys like I did before unless I plan on going home with them.”

Jim’s intense look softens into an uncertain smile, and you can’t help but stretch up to brush your lips against his. The smile stretches into a grin, and suddenly he’s dipped you over backwards and is kissing you deeply, until your knees weaken and you start to feel a little more tipsy again.

“M’dizzy,” you mumble against his lips, and he stands you upright again with a laugh.

The cocky grin fades suddenly. “Y/N, were you really planning on going home with some random guy?”

“Or maybe a girl. There was a cute Orion I saw earlier, and it would have been a shame to waste this dress,” you tease.

“It would have killed me if you had,” he replies seriously and you feel a flash of guilt for being so reckless in your anger. If you were honest you had wanted him to hurt. You reach up to stroke down his beautiful face.

“I was hurting, and not thinking straight. But in the end, none of them were you. It turns out you’re like air to me as well, and I’m going home with you Jim. We can talk about the rest tomorrow. I still have, like, a million questions.”

“Its a deal. I get to take the most beautiful and forgiving woman in the galaxy home with me tonight, and in the morning I’ll make us breakfast and you can ask me anything you want. Whatever we do, we do together.”

He takes your hand and turns it over bringing it to his mouth to kiss the inside of your wrist, where your pulse is fluttering wildly. Then he starts leading you off the dance floor.

“Good. And then I’m gonna have to call Len, because I’m gonna need to know how I’m supposed to live on a fucking starship with you and manage not to kill you for the next five years.”

...

Tagging some people who might be interested: @musikat18 @yallneedtrek @bookcaseninja @bkwrm523 @fearofdeathkeepsusalive @queenmismatched @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie @outside-the-government @janeykath318 @space-helen @bsotstory

#jim kirk x reader #star trek fanfiction #star trek reader insert #jim kirk #trek fest 2018 #annathewitch 100 follower celebration

[smoaking-greenarrow]

Crisis on Earth-X: Crossover’s Top Five MVPS

Number Five

Number Four

Yep, I’m counting Olicity as one person, because they’re MARRIED so I CAN.

Felicity has always been a hero in her own way. But Crisis on Earth-X saw her willing to die for Kara Danvers twice. And the best part? She looked scared as hell while doing it. Her hero counterparts always look calm when a gun or shaking hand that can rip their hearts out are pointed at them. Felicity looked terrified, but she still did it. And that was okay. It was so okay. It doesn’t mean that she’s less of a hero than them because she gets scared. 

And how fantastic was it to see Felicity Smoak protecting Supergirl? To see her climbing through vents with Iris, making plans, kicking Nazi ass and taking down a spaceship? She was definitely an MVP of this crossover by herself and with the people she was working with, which was such a highlight because she kind of got pushed aside in last year’s crossover.

I cannot tell you how important Felicity Smoak and the special actress who plays her are. If you don’t get it by now, you probably never will. And that is your loss.

Anyway, Olicity. 

I want to count them both as number four on this list, both individually and as a couple, because their relationship, them together is what made the crossover better. But they also did just fine on their own. Even when they weren’t in the same scene, or even on the same earth, they were always thinking about each other. We got so much of them this crossover, more than even Barry and Iris. 

Oliver blew his cover because he couldn’t kill Earth-X Felicity. He didn’t know her, she wasn’t his Felicity, and it still wasn’t worth it to him. I don’t think that it was just that the girl was Felicity’s doppelganger, though. Oliver grows every season, and it is what makes Arrow so enjoyable. Watch the pilot again, I dare you. That guy doesn’t seem like the Oliver I’ve gotten used to on my screen lately at all.

I think Oliver’s empathy for Earth-X Felicity showed us his growth. He saved her because she’s innocent. Oliver’s moral compass may not be as righteous or perfect as Barry’s or Kara’s, but Arrow is a different show because of it. I don’t think that Barry and Oliver were every truly meant to be compared. They’re different kinds of heroes. Still, room full of evil Nazis be damned, Oliver couldn’t execute an innocent person just to keep his cover. He’d rather risk a shoot out.

I love that there was no evil Felicity. I can get on board with this idea. No matter what earth it is, every version you meet of Felicity Megan Smoak is going to be kind, brave, and selfless. I’m down for that. And it would have been even better if every version of Felicity somehow made Oliver into a better human being. But I’ll just block Nazis from my brain and go with that instead. 

I did have one problem with the scene though. Oliver’s “the strong protect the weak” line was bullshit. Earth-X Felicity was living and surviving in a literal concentration camp. She was risking her life to feed starving children. She was not weak. How dare you call someone like her weak???

Since I talked about Felicity on her own, Oliver Queen deserves a little celebration too.

For starters; the one, and only thing that this Nazi invasion did was show that Oliver is better than Kara and Barry in a way. Kara kind of got off the hook, her evil twin was dying anyway, so she didn’t have to deal with the “to kill or not to kill” superhero stuff. Oliver and Barry both had to face the decision, though.

But Barry let’s Thawne go? With a stupid, cheesy, “see ya next time, my evil nemesis!” LAME. I get it, Barry doesn’t kill. But Thawne should have been an exception. I’m sick of him. It’s not interesting anymore. It’s not fun to watch. The story is old. I would have been more surprised if he was really dead than I was that he lived. That’s when you know you’ve exhaused a character. Get some new material. He needs to die and he needs to stay dead. Also, IF YOU ALIGN WITH NAZIS, YOU ARE A NAZI. Barry Allen literally let a powerful, murderous Nazi walk away. And it pissed me right the hell off. So you know what, fuck Barry.

But you know who didn’t hesitate to kill the evil Nazi that shared his face? Oliver Queen. He had the shot and he took it. I didn’t take that as, “well Oliver’s the only one okay with killing.” or “he didn’t have to.” I took that as, “Oliver knows when to kill and when not to kill. And he made the right choice.” He doesn’t have the abilities that Barry and Kara do, so giving Nazi Oliver a chance to live would have been a risk that Oliver wasn’t willing to take. Barry took that risk with Thawne, and it was stupid as fuuuuuck. 

I love Oliver Queen, I really do. And I’m glad that the crossover didn’t overshadow him or the other “non-powers” players. They seemed like they were consciously writing the story to make sure that Oliver, Sara, and Alex weren’t just twiddling their thumbs or contributing to the plan, but they were also leaders.

But anyway, Crisis on Earth-X gave time to Olicity that it didn’t last year and sure as hell hasn’t in a while. Season six scenes have been great, but we still haven’t seen them talk. They had a lot of baggage, and we assume that they worked it out, but we need to see it! That’s how TV shows work! So Crisis on Earth-X took some time to do it. That meant Felicity getting the chance to tell Oliver, and us, what she’s afraid of.

But she sooo wants to marry you. Honey is just scared, okay!? Honestly, the only unbelievable thing about this to me was that Oliver couldn’t guess why she didn’t want to marry him. She yells at him that she doesn’t want to marry him, but then they talk. She assures him that it’s not about him, because she loves him and wants to be in a committed relationship with him. She just doesn’t want the title of husband and wife.

She wants everything about marriage, just without calling it marriage.  Oliver can be thick headed sometimes, but he’s not that dumb. Of course she’s afraid of something. 

Unlike what we’ve seen in the past (SEASON FOUR) Felicity gets a scene where she tells Iris why she doesn’t want to be legally married to Oliver. And everything she says is valid and fair. Slow clap it out for Felicity Smoak, sharing and talking through her feelings with someone she trusts. Once you do that, it’s only a matter of time until you either talk to your person about it or you resolve the issue inside of you and move forward. She did that, finally, and it was wonderful. 

Her explanation was something that I honestly hadn’t considered, which made it powerful and sweet. Felicity was shot and paralyzed on her engagement night. Then they broke up. The night they got engaged, as beautiful as it was, was extremely traumatizing for her. She associates the end of their relationship with the beginning of their lives as a married couple, because that night was when the train went off the rails and they couldn’t get it back. 

She loves him so much, and she still wants the relationship with him, it’s just the public marriage and ring on her finger that scream bad signs to her. I loved being able to see this side of Felicity. I’m glad that they gave her the screen time to explain it. 

And I’m so happy that we got to see this scene. Oliver Queen is moping. He just wants to marry his honey and give her kisses for the rest of his life but she’s scared and she’s not ready to tell him that yet and it’s hurting his feelings. Both of their responses and feelings were honest and understandable. They were kind to each other. They expressed themselves. Oliver was upset, but Felicity still made sure that he knew how much she loved him. And Oliver respected her choice and didn’t push it, even though he clearly still wasn’t satisfied with her answer. This is the kind of fighting I want to see.

What I really loved about this though was that not only was it a fair fight, where they both had valid things to say, but we knew that they would resolve it. This fight had a clear beginning, middle, and end. The writers were not just throwing shit at us and seeing if Olicity would survive it. Which, isn’t that literally what they told us season four was going to be?

The Olicity arc in Crisis on Earth-X was well-paced, fair, and entertaining. What more could you ask for?

Okay yeah, Oliver kissing Felicity while in the Green Arrow suit was fantastic. I didn’t ask for that but fanfic dreams do come true.

Oh, a wedding?

WELL YOU GOT IT.

Congratulations, Olicity!

#arrow #olicity #crisis on earth x #top 5 mvps #legends of tomorrow #supergirl #the flash