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jayeray-hq · 3 years

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He’s My Best Friend: Miya Atsumu

The start of a new series celebrating having 50+ followers thank you all so much! 😊💖 Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff

Choose your own ending platonic or romantic!

He’s My Best Friend Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Big thanks to Bri from our Haikyuu Headquarters discord server for beta reading for me she’s amazing! 😊💖 The Past : How You Met

The day you’d met Miya Atsumu for the first time, you never would’ve guessed he’d become your best friend. After all, you’d been at an age where you were utterly convinced that all boys had cooties and were absolutely gross and boring. However, you’d just moved to Hyogo prefecture with your family and you’d honestly been feeling a little lonely.

It was the end of summer break and you were going to be starting school in just a week, in what would technically be the middle of the school year as a second grader, and the whole thing had made you more than a bit anxious. Luckily one of the perks of your new house was that it was right next door to a nice park, which meant your parents were more than happy to send you out to distract and entertain yourself.

You’d done so with aplomb setting on to one of the swings and deciding to see if you could break your personal best for how high you could go, fully believing that if you just pumped your legs high enough you might actually be able to go over the bar the way some older kids had told you and your friends from your old school.

There’d been a few other kids at the park that day, but you hadn’t felt the need to approach them, though nowadays you couldn’t remember whether that was from shyness or because you’d been too focused on your aerial goals. What you did remember though was him, or them actually; the Miya twins.

They’d caught your attention because they’d taken up seats on either side of you. They hadn’t had a choice because there were only four swings, you’d chosen one in the middle, and the other one on the far-right end was clearly broken, the seat dangling from one of the chains. It wasn’t until later that you’d learn that the broken swing was their fault in the first place.

The two boys had barely seemed to notice you, swinging in between them, shouting over your head about how one of them was going to beat the other. You weren’t sure who’d said what, all you could remember was how incredibly annoying the two of them had been, so much so that you’d quickly gotten over your awe that there were somehow two of them that looked just alike.

It had been especially annoying because, despite their argument, it was very clear that you were the one who was going the highest, being the lightest of the three. Finally fed up with them ignoring you, and shouting over your head you’d decided to perform the neat trick you’d always done with your friends back home.

With all the absolute fearlessness of youth you let the swing get to the highest point of its arc and leapt free, landing in a perfect crouch in the sand. Your little maneuver had managed to shock the twins into complete silence, and you’d turned to look at them in surprise as you dusted off your shorts, freeing them of sand. Both had been gaping, and you’d managed to catch the eye of one of them, the twin you now knew as Atsumu. You’d given him an absolutely haughty look before sticking your nose in the air and stalking away, completely ignoring their shocked cries, and their calls to wait up, figuring it served them right for ignoring you in the first place.

Much to your dismay it turned out the loud twins lived nearby, and ever since your little stunt they’d been determined to befriend you. Atsumu in particular was relentless, chasing you everywhere and insisting on being your friend. You’d even ended up in the same class as him once school started, much to his delight.

In the end his persistence had paid off, and the two of you had become good friends once you’d gotten used to his loud, unabashed, blunt personality. The two of you just fit together well, though it helped that you were far more willing to be dragged into Atsumu’s schemes than his much more realistic twin. While you did become good friends with Osamu, an inevitability given the twins were practically attached at the hip twenty-four seven, you were always Atsumu you were closer with, who you considered your very best friend.

The Present : Your High School Days

“What happened to your face?” you demanded shocked and a little appalled that your friend had shown up on your doorstep his face covered in scrapes and a nice bruise forming over one eye, “Did you try to receive a volleyball with your forehead again?”

Normally you walked home every day with the twins, as you still lived close to one another, but you’d had a doctor’s appointment earlier that day and so had left school early. It just figured that somehow in the scant hours between the time you’d last seen him and now he’d somehow gotten himself into trouble. Honestly, trouble probably should’ve been his middle name; bold and brash Atsumu could be entirely too impulsive at times and Osamu tended to either egg him on or ignore him entirely. You, on the other hand, had taken the firm stance of compromise and while you did allow yourself to be dragged into his schemes far too often you also did your best to discourage some of his wilder ideas to keep both of you safe.

“I only ever tried ta do that once,” Atsumu protested in response to your accusation, as you stepped back to let him into your house and ushered him toward the bathroom.

“Once was one time too many,” you informed him dryly, “Especially since you’ve accidentally received with your face before and should’ve been well aware that it was an incredibly dumb idea.”

“A man screws up once and ya hold it over his head fer ever,” he grumbled unhappily, as he hopped up on to the counter at your urging, folding his arms over his chest, a slight pout on his lips that had you rolling your eyes in fond amusement.

“So, if you weren’t practicing receiving with your face, what were you doing?” you asked as you dug in one of the cabinets for the first aid kit. You’d had more experience with the thing than you cared to remember, patching up both yourself and the twins after all the scrapes you’d gotten into over the years, and made sure to keep it well stocked.

Of the twins Atsumu had always been quicker to anger, though he was also quicker to cool down and forgive, unlike Osamu who was a bit of a grudge holder. It meant you had lots of practice patching him up, not that you could complain as half the fights from when you were younger were started on your behalf. Despite how he would tease you at times, often viciously, only he was allowed to do it, not even Osamu was allowed to make fun of you without Atsumu taking extreme offense and getting vicious on your behalf.

It was why you never got angry at him when he got a bit snappy or came to you to be patched up. You knew you could always count on him to have your back though you were infinitely grateful he’d gotten much better at using his words over using his fists as the two of you got older, saving the physical fights almost exclusively for Osamu.

He grumbled something unintelligible in response and you pulled your head from the cabinets to give him a look, one that long experience meant he interpreted perfectly as ‘spill your guts or else’.

“I got in a fight with Samu,” he repeated a little louder so you could hear the words properly.

“What did you do this time?” you asked as you set the kit on the counter, flipping it open and pulling out some disinfectant.

“What makes ya think it was me? It coulda been Samu, it’s not always me!” he protested annoyed.

“Because if it was Samu you’d be with him gloating over what a terrible person he is and whining to your parents, but instead you’re moping around here at my place and clearly hiding,” you informed him bluntly, ignoring his indignant spluttering as you demanded, “hands.”

He offered the appendages without complaint, letting you gently clean his scraped knuckles, even as he sulked over what you’d said. You’d cleaned him up after fights both with his brother and with others he didn’t get along with more than once, so you knew despite how utterly vain he could be his priority was always his hands. Which was why you always started there, and were most careful with them.

He’d told you more than once that a setter was nothing without his hands, and he was always incredibly meticulous about their care. Funnily enough it was also only you he’d ever trusted to help him with his hands. Not even Osamu was allowed to touch, and certainly no one was allowed to wrap his fingers or put bandages on them but you.

“So, what did you say to Samu that ticked him off bad enough to try to break your face?” you asked, as you carefully dabbed his hands with the antiseptic.

“He was bein’ scrubby,” Atsumu protested clearly still moping, “My sets were perfect, he shoulda been able ta get them.”

“And let me guess, instead of just shrugging it off as him having a bad day, you decided to tell him he sucked to his face,” you finished with a sigh, already able to predict how your best friend would’ve behaved in a scenario like that. Honestly you wouldn’t be surprised to look up the definition of tactless in the dictionary and find a picture of Atsumu’s face next to it considering how utterly inconsiderate and blunt he could be at times. It was a good thing you’d managed to grow a thick skin over the years, otherwise your friendship probably never would’ve lasted as long as it had or been as strong as it was.

“So, what if I did?” Atsumu protested, annoyed, though he didn’t pull his hands from your grip as you carefully bandaged them, doing your best to ensure he’d maintain proper mobility of his fingers.

“Pretty sure Osamu would know he was having a bad day Tsumu,” you told him with a sigh, finishing up with his hands and moving on to his face, “He didn’t need you to rub his face in it.”

“What so yer takin’ his side then?” he demanded petulantly, eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger, his quick temper rearing its ugly head.

“Don’t be stupid,” you told him flicking him hard on an undamaged part of his forehead, “You’re my best friend Tsumu and you know it. I’m always on your side, even when you’re being a scrub.”

“I ain’t a scrub,” he muttered sullenly, “An ya shouldn’t go beatin’ on me. M’ already beat up enough, what kinda best friend are ya anyways?”

“The best kind,” you told him completely unbothered by his whining and well aware he didn’t mean it, amused at the pout he gave you in response, even if he would vehemently deny ever doing something as unmanly as pouting at you, “The kind that tells you when you’re being an inconsiderate jerk to people.”

“Nope,” you cut him off before he could open his mouth, “You were a jerk and you know it Tsumu, otherwise you wouldn’t be here moping.”

“I ain’t mopin’,” he protested half-heartedly, the fact that he didn’t protest the other part of your statement was as good as a confession and you both knew it.

You hummed in amused agreement not saying a word, simply patching up his face with infinite care, and absently ruffling his hair when you finished, laughing at his protests off with practiced ease.

“Can I hang out here for a little bit?” he asked quietly, the words almost inaudible as he refused to meet your gaze.

“Of course, you can,” you told him fondly, “You don’t even need to ask.”

He slumped forward, nearly making you stumble as he leaned on you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder in a rare moment of vulnerability, the ones that as his best friend you were privy to, his quiet ‘thanks’ muffled into your shirt. You rolled your eyes at him fondly, and gently pet his hair for several long moments until he lifted his head up and hopped off the counter fully prepared to pretend the moment of weakness hadn’t happened and loudly challenging you to defeat him at videogames.

You huffed in amusement but allowed yourself to be sucked in, well aware that this was what it meant to be best friends with Miya Atsumu.

The Future : Platonic

You grinned down at the court, decked out as usual in your MSBY jersey that had Atsumu’s number on the back. These days you didn’t always get to go to every game the way you had in high school, even if Atsumu always made sure you had a ticket if you wanted one. You honestly just couldn’t, as the two of you were living very separate lives. Still that didn’t stop you from trying to go to every game you could, even if it took you a little out of the way at times.

Your lives after graduation had been pretty hard on your friendship, what with Atsumu deciding to go pro right away and you off to fulfill your own dreams as well. Atsumu in particular had, had it rough as neither you nor Osamu could be there all the time for him anymore, and you knew he’d struggled to find and stand on his own two feet.

You’d done all you could for him at the time, keeping your door open and your phone on you, ready to talk him through his temper or chew him out if he needed you to, the same way he always made time for you when you needed a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear, even if his advice wasn’t the greatest.

Honestly, you’d been a little worried that your friendship would fall apart, that the two of you would grow apart because of the distance between you. You should’ve known Atsumu would never let that happen. He held on to your friendship with the same dogged persistence he’d used to procure it in the first place, reminding you of his presence and his support, brutal though it sometimes was, at every moment he could.

In turn you could do nothing but return his fervor, reaching out to him and ensuring you scheduled things like meet-ups, phone calls, and more. The two of you had a snap streak that had lasted almost five years and counting, and neither of you had any intention of breaking it.

The only small bit of trouble you’d had over the years was when the two of you had significant others. You’d noticed right away that the people surrounding Atsumu could be incredibly jealous and suspicious of you, the same way you’d had a partner or two who hadn’t liked how close you were to the nationally ranked pro athlete.

However, Atsumu had always been possessive and protective of what was his, and your relationship was something he treasured just as much as he treasured the one with Osamu. It meant that if his partner so much as hinted that they wanted him to stop talking to you or hanging out with you, he dropped them, oftentimes ruthlessly and with no remorse.

You did your best to do the same, hanging on to your friendship, and telling the people you dated flat out that if they had a problem with Atsumu then you wouldn’t continue to date them. After all you’d been friends with him for over a decade at that point, and there was no reason why you should put more value into a new relationship over the one you had with him even if one was strictly platonic and the other romantic.

Your combined stubbornness meant your friendship was still going strong even now, enough so that Osamu often referred to you as his twin’s other twin, because the two of you had proved to be inseparable.

Yes, he was rude, blunt, and still a little temperamental despite maturing a lot in the past few years, but he was also fiercely loyal, supportive in his own way, and goofy adorable dork. He was your best friend, one you knew you’d someday be sitting with side by side in the future, the two of you old and wrinkled as you argued over whose grandchildren were better as you reminisced about the good old days. Honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The Future : Romantic

The fact that your relationship had bloomed from a steady strong friendship into something romantic had surprised absolutely no one except for you. Even Atsumu, who you’d thought to be completely and utterly oblivious to pretty much everyone’s feelings, had known before you had, much to your eternal shame.

You weren’t exactly sure where it had started. If it was in the moments where he’d lean on you physically and emotionally showing you the vulnerable moments he went out of his way to hide from everyone else. Maybe it was the way he’d go out of his way to touch you, ruffling or gently tugging on strands of your hair, an arm over your shoulder or around your waist, hugs everywhere in public and in private, completely and utterly shameless. Or it could be the times when he’d listen to you, simply making time, even when the two of you were busy, even when he wasn’t close by, pursuing his career as a professional athlete while you chased your own dreams, to hear anything you felt you needed to say. Whatever it was it had all come together in one moment, hitting you with startling clarity.

You remembered it clearly, you’d been sitting in one of the booths of Onigiri Miya, you plus the team and their significant others, all celebrating Osamu’s success at finally opening the restaurant of his dreams. Atsumu had been sitting next to you, a casual arm slung over your shoulders, gesticulating wildly with the onigiri in his other hand, talking with his mouth full as usual, and showing no table manners whatsoever.

Despite that you’d seen the way the light had caught in the gold of his hair, the brightness and clear joy in his eyes, and the wide smile on his lips and your heart had flipped over in your chest and squeezed near painfully as you looked at him. It had hit you then with all the force of a freight train. You loved him, you were in love with your best friend, with Miya Atsumu, the man who’d been by your side since that very first moment you’d met on the playground over a decade ago.

You must’ve had an odd expression on your face because Atsumu had abruptly stopped talking, and turned to you with clear concern in his eyes, and demanded in his usual tactless way to know what was wrong with you.

In a stunning moment of sheer blunt bravery and absolute recklessness that proved Atsumu had probably rubbed off on you a little too much over the years, you’d turned toward him looked him in the eye and blurted out ‘I love you’ right then and there.

Osamu would later congratulate you on managing to do something no one had ever managed to do before by stunning his twin absolutely speechless, but in that moment, you’d been too focused on Atsumu’s eyes to notice how quiet both he and the rest of the restaurant had gotten at your confession.

No matter what, Atsumu’s eyes had always given away exactly what he’d been feeling, and in that moment, he’d been staring with such blatant hope, and longing in his face as he searched yours for any sign of deception that you hadn’t been able to look away. Though you couldn’t help the way they fluttered shut as he leaned forward to press his lips to yours, cupping your face sweetly and holding you more tenderly than most probably would’ve thought he was capable of.

The kiss was everything you’d looked for in previous relationships, warm and sweet, with a feeling of rightness and familiarity that made you feel safe and completely and utterly loved. You’d broken apart to the sound of cheering from the rest of the restaurant’s occupants, all of whom had been extremely happy for the two of you, even if Osamu and Suna did tease you rather relentlessly over it.

Apparently, everyone knew the two of you were head over heels for one another, and Osamu had been listening to Atsumu pine over you since high school. That you’d finally realized your feelings had come as a major relief for the younger twin and you and Atsumu had been together ever since.

It was almost strange how easily the two of you fell together, years of experience meaning nothing surprised you. There were no ugly habits or dirty secrets to hide. You knew all about his temper, how blunt and vicious he could be, you knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you. It was comfortable, warm, and everything you could’ve asked for because there wasn’t anything better really, than being in love with your best friend.

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babbushka · 4 years

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Hide Your Smile

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

11.5k ; Warnings for: Dark!fic (graphic depictions of violence [drunken violent outbursts, domestic violence, domestic abuse {physical and verbal}], blood and gore, graphic brutal murder, mild stalking, possessive behavior), & NSFW content (Car sex/fingering)

Also available on AO3!

(this fic was written in collaboration with my amazing friends and followers here. Thank you all so much for voting in the polls to determine this oneshot, I hope you enjoy it!)

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You don't own me I'm not just one of your many toys You don't own me Don't say I can't go with other boys

And don't tell me what to do Don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display 'cause

You don't own me...

Darkness, all around.

Nothing but hot wet earth, mud sinking under your feet, swallowing you whole.

Rain, thudding against the ground, against your back as you are chased by a monster in the night, bitter breath haunting the back of your neck, the hair rising on your arms only to be drenched down by the torrential downpour flooding your lungs.

The world blurs around you, and you can’t tell, can’t tell which way is up, which way is forward. Things feel slow, thick, you blink but the spots only multiply. There’s a rush in your ears, a gruesome thud thud thudding – is that your pulse? You don’t know.

Blood stings your eyes, dirt caked into the backs of your molars. You can’t see, you can’t hear, you don’t know what’s going on, you see lights in the distance but when you run towards them they seem farther and farther away. Claws and teeth nip at your heels, you can’t stop running, can’t stop no matter how badly your legs ache, because if you stop even for just a moment, he’ll get you, and who knows what will become of you then.

Somewhere far away, a million miles away, Leslie Gore sings and your friends dance in a cookie cutter house in a cookie cutter town. But there in the woods, as something closes around your arm and drags you down to the ground,

you scream.

The party had been going well enough, hadn’t it? Josh hadn’t taken his hand off of you all evening, and wasn’t that something just dandy. Things had been getting tense between the two of you lately, you try not to think about all those heated arguments and cold shoulders that your boyfriend had dropped atop your head. You could ignore all of that now, he didn’t mean it, you knew that.

Maybe he did mean it, but he wasn’t meaning it now, as he dances with you in the dimly lit living room. You weren’t so sure what time it even was, gosh the rain was coming down so hard and making the skies nearly pitch black; why, it coulda been two in the morning for all you knew!

You give a strained smile to Josh for a brief moment, before laying your head back down on his chest. You think he looks relatively dashing tonight, dressed up for the party. New Year’s Eve 1962, could you believe it? Or well, it’d be 1962 in a couple minutes, but still.

You wore a mini-dress with the grooviest pattern you could find, some bright purple tights and white block heels, and you’d done your hair up so high you were sure you could feel it swaying on top of your head. It was very on trend these days, this sort of hairstyle. From what you could tell, anyway. You knew that this party was important for Josh, was important that he show up and make a good appearance with his football buddies, there were guys here that knew NFL draft scouts and he needed to impress them so he could get on their good side.

You wanted to look nice. He looked nice too, in his letterman jacket and jeans. Maybe he could have dressed up a little more, put a little more effort in. It was alright, it was fine. He gelled his hair down, that was more than you were expecting.

Thunder cracks across the sky and you involuntarily press yourself closer to him – he’ll hold you, won’t he? You wait for his arms to tighten around you, but they never do. Disappointed, but not surprised, you think.

“What’s your problem babe?” He asks, his voice slurred. You realize you’ve stopped dancing, stopped the short back and forth of your feet and he’d picked up on that.

“Nothing Josh. Just you know, the thunder and all.” You shrug, but he only scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“It’s not even real, it can’t hurt you, get a grip.” Josh steps away from you, away from the dance floor.

There are prying eyes there in the dark, and you’re embarrassed by the volume in his voice. He doesn’t realize how loud he can be sometimes, you know that, especially when he’s a little more buzzed than normal. He’s been getting more and more buzzed these days, you didn’t think it was good, was healthy. Just because he was of legal drinking age didn’t mean that you should dump alcohol into your body, not the way he did anyway.

“Right, of course Josh, sorry.” You grit your teeth, clench your jaw.

“Why don’t you go get me another beer, make yourself useful.” He dismisses you, turning towards his group of friends on the football team, towards bigger and stronger boys than he is, an attempt to weasel his way inside their group.

You’ve had quite enough of being dismissed, pushed aside. You’ve had enough. You’d been thinking of leaving him for a while, thinking about telling him what for, for once and for all. It never felt like the right time, something about him always made you feel like something bad would happen if you tried. But you’re at a point where you’re not being given any other choice.

You watch him laugh with his friends, with these college seniors, big boys on campus, and your heart races in your chest. A very small part of your brain fantasizes late at night about killing him, pushing him off some cliff or into traffic, an accident. Always an accident.

You’d never do it of course – of course not. Good girls didn’t kill their star athlete boyfriends.

But.

But maybe…maybe if something were to happen to him, you wouldn’t be so upset, would you?

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” The words tumble past your lips without much thought, and you don’t really even register it until the whole group of jocks go silent and Josh turns around slowly, menacingly, to stare you down.

“…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, angry.

“You’re supposed to drive me back home after this, I just want to make sure you’ll be alright to drive.” You’re unrelenting, shoulders square and jaw tight. If he thought he was going to be a jackass to win brownie points, then he had another thing coming.

The jocks only sip their beers, carefully watching. You wonder if any of them would come to your defense, but their silence is telling. You decide you hate them.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion, I asked you to get me a fucking beer.” Josh shoves his red cup into your hand and you decide you hate him too.

Without another word, you accept the cup and with a forced smile, make your way to the kitchen where people are crowded by kegs and bottles.

You give a small sigh while you pour a cup of whatever shitty draft they’d gotten for the party. Part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all, you knew it could have only ended like this, being ignored and belittled all evening.

You wish that Flip were there, and you sigh again.

Philip ‘Flip’ Zimmerman, your best friend. The handsome basketball player, the guy who’s got his life together. A good job at the lumbermill, probably going to be a manager or something, the CEO one day. Smart, so smart! You can’t help but think of how many nights he tutored you for math with gentle eyes. And funny, and kind, and nice to you. He’s a couple years older than you and probably doesn’t think of you as anything other than a friend, but…but for a moment, you imagine what it might be like to call Flip your man.

You wonder if Flip would hold you tight when the thunder cracks across the sky, and a small smile threatens to creep up on your face. He definitely would, he’s done it before, hasn’t he? Given you his jacket to keep you dry from the rain, strong arms around your shoulders. Your cheeks begin to warm at the thought, at the way you can practically smell the cologne he wears whenever you’d rest your head on his shoulder.

You wish Flip were here. Or maybe no, maybe you just wish you were with him alone, were with him anywhere that wasn’t here. You wish you were cozied up on the couch in his Ma’s house, watching some scary movie and tucking yourself under his chin while you share a bowl of stove-top popcorn.

Lightning splinters across the clouds through the window in the kitchen, and you sigh again.

You had asked him to come, you really did try. But he said he was busy with work stuff, and he couldn’t. You admired that about him, his work ethic. He was so dedicated to everything he did, and even though you wanted to be selfish and whine and complain about needing his attention, you respected when he put his foot down.

Watching the froth begin to fade from the top of the beer cup, you think to yourself that tonight’s it, the last night you’d deal with Josh. You decide that you’ll go over, give him his beer, and then as soon as he drops you home whenever this party is supposed to end, you’ll tell him not to bother calling you ever again.

Something inside of you lightens up at the thought, like a weight slowly slipping off your shoulders. You can’t help but smile a little bit, at the thought of no longer being with him. Maybe…maybe if Flip saw you were single, he’d make a move of his own. Your head is in the clouds thinking about Flip, when you accidentally bump into someone on your way back to the living room.

A little bit of beer sloshes onto a boy’s shirt, and you recognize him as one of Josh’s new pals.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologize for the mess, he grabs you by the arm. His grip is harsh, and he yanks you around for a second, the beer spilling everywhere, all over the floor, onto your new white shoes.

“Hey J, are you gonna control your woman or what?” The guy – was his name Tommy? – sneers down at you. He’s tall, and he’s strong, you can start to feel a dull ping of pain on your arm where his fingers are digging in deep.

“I’m not his to control.” You wrench yourself out of the guy’s hold, stumbling backwards a few feet from the force of it.

Josh is up off the couch in an instant, infuriated with you.

He’s drunk, eyes glassed over like some shark, dark and empty. He backhands you across the jaw, sends you falling to the floor despite your best efforts, the crack of your skull against the wooden panels calling spots to your vision.

“Don’t ever speak back to someone like that, are you out of your fucking mind?” He wrangles you back up off the floor, grabs you by the front of your dress and hauls you up roughly, unkindly.

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, your nails scratching at his face, teeth bared in a rage of your own, pent-up anger that you’ve been swallowing for six months as you smack him across the face back in retaliation, angry and spitting, “Get off of me!”

Josh doesn’t let up, in fact he doubles down, kicks at your ankles so your knees cave in to try and support yourself as his hand shoots up from the collar of your blouse to wrapping around your throat. He drags you like that through the party, and you can’t help but wonder why no one is saying anything, doing anything? Do they not hear you? Do they not care?

“I’ll make you regret that – I’ll make you regret everything.” Josh hisses lowly in your ear as he forces you through the house by the scruff of your neck, sour breath of a drunken stupor stinging like a brand across your cheek.

“I already do.” You choke, struggling against his hold, against his hands.

You manage to elbow him in the stomach, hard, hard enough that he doubles over from the wind knocked out of his lungs, and you run.

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Don't try to change me in any way You don't own me Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

I don't tell you what to say I don't tell you what to do So just let me be myself That's all I ask of you

Shoving through the crowd of people, a hundred faces you don’t recognize, smiles fading into confused glares, you run.

Thunder, rain, lightning, music deafens in your ears as you look for the door. Why is it so dark at this party? Where in the house are you? Hallways lead to doors that lead to nowhere, and you can hear his footsteps, can hear him running running running after you.

Didn’t you pass through this room before? Where was a telephone, surely whoever’s house this was, surely they had a telephone. But who would you call? You couldn’t call your parents, couldn’t let them know you snuck out of the house. You could call Flip, yes, that was it! You’d call Flip, if only you could find a phone.

They laugh at you, the people at the party. Laugh with their drug addled eyes, high off mushrooms and LSD, acid trips going wrong wrong wrong. They dance and laugh and laugh and dance, chugging spiked drinks with wild abandon, lights flashing red yellow purple green blue, a cacophony of psychedelics.

He’s there, somewhere among them, he’s there, you know he is. The smack of your footsteps sound like gunshots against the wood, your head throbs. You want to sob and scream and shout and cry cry cry but you can’t do that until you are safe, and if you stay in this house, there’s no telling where you’ll find safety again.

Or at all.

You try every door, locked ones, unlocked ones, looking for a way out. Eventually you lock yourself in a bathroom, lucky that there’s a window. It’s a single story house, the jump isn’t far.

You abandon your shoes, they don’t stay on your feet that well anyway, and you don’t have the time to groan about the frigid mud that squeaks between your toes as you splash down onto the ground from the window.

“Help!” You cup your mouth and shout, hearing something, a twig snapping not too far away. You see him, he’s coming after you through a side-door, and you have to run, you have to go. “Oh fuck – ”

You bolt, freezing rain soaking your clothes.

You don’t know where you are, don’t recognize this part of town.

Josh knew the area, not you, not you. These were his friends, not yours, not yours.

You just run, hoping your legs carry you to safety, carry you away. There’s woods, in the distance. You whip your head around, try looking for a road, any road. Where’s the driveway? It must be on the other side of the house, it must be –

Josh is gaining on you, athletic legs more powerful than your own.

“You can’t outrun me, don’t even try, don’t bother, get the fuck over here!” He hollers at you, voice guttural and deep, primal in a way that strikes fear into your heart.

You wish you had something, a weapon of some kind, any kind, to fight him with, but you don’t.

So you run.

“Shitshitshitshitshit – someone help!” You toss your voice to the wind, the howling wind which carries sheets of rain, pounds it down sideways against your back, your face, hair sopping wet and sticking to your eyes, nose, getting in your mouth as you pant pant pant, sobs of terror spiking through your chest, salty tears whisked away by the rain.

You don’t know how far you’ve gotten, you don’t know if anyone can hear you, don’t know if anyone would even come if they did. You need to form a plan, need to put enough distance between you and this monster of a man, need to catch your breath.

Your adrenaline pounds in your ear as the earth slips and slides underneath your feet, your nylon stockings not doing anything to help gain traction. You skid your knees on rocks and trip over gnarled roots, but every time you get up, each and every time you have to get up, otherwise he’ll get you.

You can feel how close he is, his hands reaching out to tear away at your clothes, can feel the ghost of his fingers trying to hook around your dress, and you can’t help but let out a high-pitched scream, something that pierces into the blackness of night, something that sends the birds from their branches.

“How dare you! How dare you embarrass me like that!” Josh manages to snatch you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground from the momentum, rolling in the mud. It’s in your eyes, mouth, a sharp hot pain at your temple makes you think you’ve hit your head, maybe on a rock? You don’t know, you taste copper in your mouth. You feel hands, no, fists, hard against your jaw. “I’ll kill you, you whore, I’ll fucking kill you for embarrassing me.”

“Don’t touch me – !” You scream, searching the ground for something, for anything, relief flooding through your body when your hand closes around a rock large enough to do some damage.

“Quiet, just be quiet!” He’s annoyed with you, annoyed with how loud you’re being, as if you’re inconveniencing him by not taking a beating politely. You take in a deep breath and muster all the strength you possibly can, to slam the rock against his face, making him knock backwards with a loud, “Fuck!”

“Someone – please!” You cough and sputter as blood streams down your face, washed away by the heavy rain which does not relent.

In an instant, the hands are yanked away from you, and you scramble to get away as fast as you can to catch your breath. You cough and hack up blood, dirt, mud which grinds between your teeth, the pounding against your temple making you dizzy, making you sick. You feel like you’re going to be sick, the adrenaline rising up up up your throat.

“Who the fuck are you – ” You hear Josh start, before the sound of punches and grunts cuts through the air again, and you squint in the dark to see who came to your rescue, who heard your calls.

“Flip?” You nearly can’t believe it, can’t believe your widened eyes, but there he is – you’d recognize those broad shoulders and the pattern of his breathing anywhere. Despite all better judgement, you rush back to his side, slipping and sliding on mud as rain beats down with such fury as your best friend’s fists, “Flip!”

“You don’t get to touch her, ever again.” Flip does not yell, he does not scream.

He does not raise his voice, he is calm, eerily calm, unnervingly calm.

You almost don’t hear him speaking at all, from how softly his voice comes out as he kicks the shit out of Josh, as he holds his head in place and knees him so hard in the face once, twice, three times, hard enough that the sick crunch of bone and cartilage echoes the thunder all around you, and he goes limp.

But Flip doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop beating Josh’s face in with his fist until the man is a mess of blood, teeth coming loose, broken nose and busted lip bubbling hot, steaming in the freezing cold air. He doesn’t stop still, and you watch in awe, in twisted admiration as Flip hauls the ragdoll of your former boyfriend up enough to get him in a chokehold and snap his neck.

Only then, does Flip drop him, face down into the mud.

You look at the lifeless body, and then up at Flip, who you find is already looking back at you. His chest is heaving, he’s panting, out of breath and exhausted. The rain has soaked him through too, but he’s not shivering, not the way you are. He must have ran too, had to have ran to catch up with you. You don’t know how deep in the woods you are, how deep he had to go to find you.

But he did, he did.

You’re numb, standing there. Numb from the cold, from the shock, you don’t know. You want to comfort Flip – and isn’t that fucked up? You wanting to comfort someone else right now? But you do.

Everything feels like it’s going to be okay now, now that Flip’s here.

“Oh my god.” You say, because you don’t really know what else to say, don’t really know what else to do other than stand there. You’re frightened, you can feel the fear bubbling up in your stomach, but there’s calm now too, a calm that’s got you more afraid than anything. You look at Josh, then back to Flip once again. “Do you think…”

“Are you okay?” Flip pushes the hair out of his face with a bloody hand and takes a cautious step towards you.

“Me? Yeah – yes I��m…Do you think you killed him?” You ask, holding a hand out to Flip.

You know he’s worried about scaring you, and warmth cuts through some of the chill in your bones at the thought. You extend a hand and encourage him to take it, smearing blood between your palms which the rain washes away, carries down into the wood in thick muddy rivers.

You’re not afraid of Flip, could never be afraid of Flip.

“Look at me,” He’s hung up on it, presses his forehead against yours and goes nearly cross-eyed in the dark to peer into your eyes, your soul, “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” You finally answer truthfully, taking another step closer to him, trying to get as close to him as possible. You feel safe, your brain screams safety with this man, with your friend, your Flip. “But I’m better now that you’re here. What are you doing here? I thought you had work.”

Confusion dawns on you, and you frown a little bit, just because it doesn’t make sense for him to be here right now, it doesn’t make sense for him to be here at all. Flip’s eyes widen a little, and even in the scant moonlight you can tell he’s blushing. He tries pulling away, but you don’t release your grip on his hand, warm and solid and real against your own.

“I just – I’m sorry I – well I got off early and I wanted to make sure that you would be okay so I came over and just kind of watched from the car in case you needed me for anything.” He rushes out in one big breath, winces, waits for you to berate him.

“Do you do that? Watch me from a distance.” You ask him, the both of you standing there in the rain.

You know it’s absurd, somewhere in the back of your head a small voice tells you it’s absurd to have a conversation like this while standing over a body in the middle of the woods, but you push it away, push it away and step closer to Flip. You’re not accusatory when you ask, you’re not condemning him – you’re just curious.

“No – I – well yes, sometimes, but only when you’re out with him.” He admits, nudging Josh’s back with the toe of his boot. His voice is dark, low, gritty in the back of his throat but he doesn’t yell, you sigh against him, your heart breaks for the anger in his voice, the sadness. You wish you never started dating this schmuck, wish you never said yes to him, wished that it had been Flip who asked instead. “I don’t trust him, (Y/N), I don’t like how he treats you. I worry, and I know that it’s creepy I know, I’m sorry, I’m not a creep I swear, I just. I care about you.”

You’re quiet for a little while, and then you move away from him only far enough to plant your stocking-clad foot onto the back of Josh’s head, push him deeper into the earth, the mud. The body gives no resistance, and a sick satisfaction makes your vision go blurry.

“Have…have you done this before?” You ask, that numbness starting to fade, the tremble of shock at what you witnessed, experienced setting in.

Flip looks like he would fall to his knees before you in that moment, as he blinks water out of his eyes, as he trembles too.

“No, I swear. I don’t even know what came over me, but I heard you screaming and begging and I couldn’t stop, I had to help you somehow.” His voice breaks, and all you want is to be close to him, so you go, go rushing into his arms, and he holds you tight.

He holds you and you hold him back, two people under the moonlight as lightning illuminates the body with picture-perfect clarity for a split second. He’s face down in the earth but you can tell, you can just tell he’s brutally mangled by the damage Flip did to him, and as you shove your face into Flip’s chest, for the briefest of moments, you smile.

“We have to get rid of him.” You say softly, trying to think of a plan, trying to think of what to do.

Flip gently pushes on your shoulders to separate the two of you, and shakes his head with a frown.

“We? No (Y/N), you can’t be involved at all, you can’t, just please go to the car and get dry and warm, I can handle this.” He’s sweet, so sweet with the way there’s sincerity in his eyes, but you’re not having any of it.

“I’m already involved, Flip, I’m not going to let you do this alone. Whatever it is, we’re in this together now. We can’t go to the police, they wouldn’t understand, they wouldn’t believe us. I’m with you.” You squeeze his hand lovingly in your own, and you can’t help but think how good it feels, how right it feels, to hold his hand.

“I think I have an idea, but first, we need to get him to the car.” Flip chews the inside of his cheek, a nervous tick of his that you always scold him for.

You don’t scold him now, there’s no time, that’s not what’s important now.

What’s important is hauling dead weight down the woods without a trace, without any evidence other than what will be washed away.

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

I'm young and I love to be young I'm free and I love to be free To live my life the way I want To say and do whatever I please

And don't tell me what to do Oh, don't tell me what to say And please, when I go out with you Don't put me on display

The body rolls around slightly, in the trunk. You’re in Flip’s dad’s '58 oldsmobile, the heat is blasting, and you hug your knees in the passenger seat, as Flip maneuvers through the winding Colorado roads. It had taken quite some time to get back through the car, out of the woods.

He had been parked out front, only a few feet from the driveway the whole time. All evening, sitting, watching, waiting. Hoping you wouldn’t need him, but prepared to do anything for you if you did. He’s silent on the drive to wherever it is you’re going, the radio is playing softly. The music helps calm your nerves, and you’re thankful for it, you try not to freak out.

The little clock on the dashboard says it’s only about midnight, but you feel like it’s way later than that. The rain fucks everything up, you think, the rain’s been pouring for hours and hours now, but it feels like days.

Every time the car makes a sharp turn, or goes up and down a hill, the body thuds against the walls of the trunk, and you just hug your knees tighter.

“Where are we going?” You ask eventually, voice soft. You’re afraid if you raise it, you’ll scream. Your throat hurts, you’ve done enough screaming already.

“Hospital.” Flip replies easily, not taking his eyes off the road, his hands at perfect ten-and-two. You wonder if he’s afraid of screaming too.

The thought of the hospital sends a spike of fear through your blood, makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What? Why?” You demand immediately, confused, scared.

“You still haven’t stopped bleeding and I need to make sure you’re okay.” Flip says evenly. You can tell he wants a cigarette, you can tell. But this is his dad’s car, and he can’t smoke in it. You wonder what his dad would say to knowing that there’s a dead body in it, wonder if smoke would be more of an issue.

“No!” You shake your head, turning yourself towards him fully, a hand on his arm. “No, Flip please, they’ll call my parents and they don’t know I’m out this late, please just – let’s just get rid of him, and then take me home, Flip I’m begging.”

“But what if you’re seriously hurt? What if he did something severe?” Flip’s grip on the steering wheel is white-knuckled, and your stomach flutters as the windshield wipers beat back and forth, whisking the rain away.

“I’m okay, I promise I’m okay, I’ll be fine.” You don’t know if that’s the truth, but you have to believe that it is, you have to. “Philip, please.”

The use of his full first name convinces him, you don’t think you’ve ever said it before, not out loud anyway, not like this. He chews on his lip and sighs, nods his head to your supreme relief.

“Thank you.” You want to kiss him, want to embrace him desperately, but now isn’t the time. He’s driving, there are more important things right now, more important things to deal with. “What are we going to do with him? We can’t bury him in the woods, the rain’s logged all the dirt.”

“Logged – we can go to the mill.” Flip snaps his fingers, and it’s like a light bulb has gone off inside his head.

You just sit back and press a bundled up wad of wet napkins against the wound on your temple, hugging your knees, knowing that you’ll be okay, as long as you’re with Flip.

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

The lumbermill is a family-owned and operated affair. Flip’s grandfather had founded it sixty-two years ago way back during the turn of the century in 1900, and it had remained in the Zimmerman hands ever since. Once a small business, now stood a proud industrial center for logging and clearing away trees to produce more logs and square away neat pockets of land. Where there used to be only hand-held tools and traditions, now there were the highest-end types of machinery.

You thought Flip was brilliant, absolutely brilliant – you knew exactly what he was thinking.

Just last month, Flip’s dad had been bragging about the new woodchipper that had finally been ordered. You remember sitting at Flip’s Ma’s shabbat table and listening to him go on and on about the new sharp blades, how much more efficient it would make everything, not to mention how little waste they would have, considering the wood chips could be sold for all kinds of uses.

At the time, you had thought it was a little annoying how he wouldn’t let anyone else at the table get in a word, but now you’re thanking your lucky stars that you had been paying attention.

It’s strange, being here this late, being here at all. You’ve visited before of course, Flip has always been eager to show you around. It never felt like you were sneaking about or anything, not considering his family owned it, considering he’d own it one day too.

But it’s strange, with the flood lights filling the night sky with a brilliant white, the usually bustling lumbermill quiet, nothing but the sound of harsh rain clanging on machinery and metal roofs. Flip parks the car in the lot, reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a key-ring. There must be a dozen keys on the little circle, but Flip seems to know exactly which ones are for what.

“Emergency backups of all the gates,” he explains, jingling it on his index finger for a second, “No one will suspect anything.”

You nod, chew on your cheeks. The thought of going back out into the rain is unpleasant, but you suck it up and open the car door, bracing yourself for a minute before the icy water plunges down the back of your dress once again, body already shivering.

He meets you at the trunk, pops it open. With the flood lights, you can see the extent of the damage to Josh’s face – if you could even call it a face anymore. It was nearly caved in completely, soaked with blood and mud, all the planes of a face that should push out were indented inwards. You manage a glance at Flip’s knuckles, and you see they’re busted wide open, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Follow me.” Flip says, hoisting the body over his shoulder like a fireman would rescue someone from a burning building, and his boots splash in the mud towards where he knows the woodchipper is set up.

You regret not going back for your shoes now, as more freezing mud stains your tights. You regret dressing up at all, dressing for fashion instead of comfort. Flip is in a flannel and jeans, and normally you tease him for being like a cartoon character always wearing the same thing, you wish that you weren’t in a fucking miniskirt and tights in the dead of winter.

Lightning backs the machine dramatically, after a few minutes of trudging. The ground here is much more substantial than the woods, and you push your legs across a developed terrain instead of through the wilderness of the mountains. It stands tall, proud, the woodchipper, and you swallow a lump around your throat.

“Is that it?” You ask, close enough to Flip that you only have to raise your voice a little bit to compete with the sound of the rain.

Flip dumps the body onto the ground, goes over to the woodchipper and turns it on. You can tell that using it in the rain is a poor decision, but it’s the only option you have. Flip adjusts some settings, and the thing roars to life, metal blades whirring whirring whirring.

“Yeah but it – he’s too fucking big he can’t go in all in one piece, it’ll get jammed.” Flip runs a hand through his hair as he comes half-jogging back over to you, and you just blink for a moment.

“Okay then we cut him up.” You say matter of factly, your heart pounding in your chest, aware that time is not on your side, that you have to get this done and get out, have to get this done and go as quickly as possible, in case someone comes, in case someone sees.

“(Y/N), are you sure you want to do this?” Flip asks you seriously, puts his hands gently on your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.” You whisper, eyes wide, feeling more liberated and free, feeling so light, determined. Maybe it’s the shock, maybe you’ve lost your fucking mind, you don’t know. But you can’t stop now, you’ve done this much, you can’t stop now. “It can’t be too hard, like breaking down a chicken, right? Split at the joints.”

The analogy is lost on Flip, because as much as you love your friend, he cannot cook to save his life. Flip isn’t one to smile, and he doesn’t smile then, but you know he’s agreed with you because he looks around, tries to find something.

“Hold on.” He runs across the yard, finds one of the sheds that’s tucked against the back wall of one of the main buildings.

You stand there and wait, arms crossed, staring down at Josh. While Flip searches for whatever it is he’s looking for, you just grow more and more angry, watching rain flood the spaces in the dips of his shoulders.

“Fuck you.” You say to his lifeless body, “You say I embarrassed you? You tormented me. I wish I could have killed you myself. You’re lucky Flip did it, I wouldn’t have been so merciful.”

You don’t know what’s come over you, but the words sound like the most truthful ones you’ve ever told this boy, this husk of a monster, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You can’t help yourself, spitting onto the ground in his direction, sneering through the rain, blinking it and the shocked fury out of your eyes.

Flip returns with an axe, brand new from the looks of it. The blade glints in the floodlight, freshly polished metal dripping with silver rivers of water as Flip swings it lightly in his hand.

“This should work, fuck, okay. Okay. Okay alright okay, you come over here, stand over here I don’t want you getting hurt accidentally.” He’s steeling himself, psyching himself up for this, and you put a hand on his back to calm him.

“Want me to do it?” You offer, not knowing the first fucking things about even how to hold an axe, let alone swing one.

“No, no let me.” Flip huffs out a laugh, shakes his head. You can’t help but feel silly for asking, you know there’s no way you’d have the upper body strength to cut through a person. You’d never even chopped wood before, and well, Flip was an actual lumberjack.

“Okay, I can count to three?” You acquiesce with a tremor in your voice.

“Please.” Flip whispers, getting the body into position.

You stand where Flip tells you, a little ways away, as he raises the axe high above his head.

“One…”

There’s a ringing in your ears, a pounding in your chest. You’re doing this, you’re really doing this, you can’t help but think. Flip plants his feet firmly on the ground, takes in a deep breath. You can see his hands flex and grip the handle, as he liens himself up.

“Two…”

Your face shakes, teeth rattling in your skull from where your jaw chatters, shivers in the cold. It’s so bright, so bright with all the floodlights, you feel like you’re being watched, you feel like you can hear the whispers, the murmurs of ghosts all around you, the ghost of this monster you’ve killed.

“Three!”

Hot blood sprays from Josh’s shoulder as the axe swings down, cleaves into his shoulder. The blade is bran new, terribly sharp, and it nearly goes all the way through. The bone splinters, you can hear it, can hear it slicing into pieces. Flip pries the blade out and lines himself up again, does not wait this time for your count before taking aim and slamming it into the body again.

Blood hot and thick bubbles up, gurgles around the wound, and when Flip tosses a severed arm away from the rest of the body, despite yourself, you turn around, brace your hands on your knees and throw up. Everything you ate and drank at the party comes back up in an acrid stinging cough that has you nearly choking, but you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and get yourself together.

You don’t know how Flip has the stomach for this, for it, but he has a steady hand as he works on the other arm, separating it from the body.

The machine is still on, the machine is hungry.

You want to give it what it wants, you want to see the spray out the other end. Without waiting for his instruction, you pick up the arm, grab it by the wrist. You make sure there’s no jewelry, no watches or anything that could get jammed, and you rush it over to the woodchipper, drop it into the basin.

The sound it makes is horrific, the sick squelch and crunch of bone, the shredding shredding shredding of the blades. Mincemeat blasts out the other end, and even as some of it sprays back against the wind, even as some of it lands on your face, speckles of blood and guts and shards of crushed bone, you find that you’re grinning, because it worked.

“Another one, give me another one.” You say eagerly, holding a hand out to Flip.

He smiles too, eyes too bright, as he gives you Josh’s other arm, hacked away in nice clean segments. He watches as you dump the second arm into the machine, gets to see as it eats up the flesh, grinds and slashes it into nothingness, watches as the bits of this man land in wet smacks on the dirt.

Piece by piece, you obliterate the monster that had tormented you for months.

Piece by piece, you free yourself of the hurt and pain, the lies and manipulation he shackled you with.

Piece by piece, you destroy the evidence, watch as it washes away, watch as the rain carries it down the drain, into the sewers where he’ll rot among the rats like he deserves.

The rain absolves you and Flip of the muck and grime of the deed, and now that it’s over, now that he’s gone, you close your eyes and tilt your head up towards the sky, letting the rain patter down onto your cheeks, your forehead. You feel clean, though you are cold, so so so cold, the only thing you can focus on is the cleanliness, the relief.

“You never should have fucked with her.” You hear Flip say, and that makes you open your eyes, makes your turn towards him.

Flip looks down to the drain, and you smile, because he looks lighter too.

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

You’re leaving the lumbermill, when it hits.

You’d been so caught up in the euphoria of getting rid of him, of this man who had made your life a living nightmare for far too long – that you hadn’t stopped once to think of the consequences of these actions.

“I – holy shit I can’t believe we did that.” It slams into your chest, the realization that you’re a murderer, you’re both murderers, you’re going to go to prison for this, they’ll send you to the chair for this, they’ll kill you for this the same way you killed Josh. Your heart races, pounds pounds pounds as dread and terror and fear all come rushing back, all come slamming down inside your brain. “What the fuck did we just do? Flip what did we do?”

Flip must have willpower of steel, because he doesn’t even blink when you whip around to face him, when you immediately freak the fuck out, when you start to hyperventilate, holding the sides of your head.

“It’s okay, it’s fine. Things like this happen. It was an accident that spiraled out of control, it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Flip is calm, so calm, and that almost freaks you out more, maybe you were going to scream, maybe you were already screaming, you don’t know, you don’t know anything except you just murdered a man.

“Oh my god what are they going to say when he doesn’t come back to the party? Or go home?” You panic, shifting around too much in your seat, legs bouncing, back aching from the way you keep twisting and turning, “What’ll they do if they find the pieces of him?”

“You have to breathe it’s going to be okay, we’ll be okay – fuck, what was that?” Flip is cut off by a loud thud, the car coming to a complete stop.

Your eyes begin to well up with tears as you hiccup out terror, hands shaking. You want to slam your fists against the window, want to throw yourself onto the street and beg for forgiveness, you want to be sick, you want to tell Flip to drive and never look back.

“Oh no, oh no no no this is it, this is the karma catching up to us already.” You can feel the tethers of reality start to slip, black splotches dancing in front of your vision – will you pass out? Are you at your limit? You don’t know, you don’t know but the car isn’t moving, it’s not going anywhere no matter how hard Flip pushes on the gas pedal.

“Stay here.” He says, and you’re in no mood, no state to defy the instructions now.

Flip puts the car in park, gets out and shuts the door so water doesn’t come pouring in. You watch him through the warped view of rain on the windows as he walks around the car, his hands on his hips, trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

It doesn’t take him too long to find the problem, and he comes back into the car with a sigh, soaking wet and unsure of what to do.

“We’re stuck.” He tells you, and that’s the last thing you want to hear. A flat tire you knew he could change, even in the rain like this, but being stuck left nothing to do except wait for someone to come un-stick you.

“So we’re stranded out here?” Your voice creeps up higher and higher in octave as the consequences of that stab you through the chest.

You never should have snuck out of home, you lament, hot tears finally stinging the rims of your eyes. You never should have left home through your window, never should have agreed to the party. You never should have agreed to date this fucking guy, you think, because if you hadn’t maybe you’d be safe and warm somewhere, maybe you’d be asleep soundly in your bed and not stranded in the pouring rain, in the middle of you don’t even know where.

“Yes but – but this is good. This is good, this is our alibi. We don’t know anything, because we were stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere in a ditch.” Flip knows you’re freaking out, he knows, he can feel it, can see it, it’s happening right in front of him.

“Wh—what will we say that we were even doing out here? What if someone asks why we’re here in the first place?” Your whole body wracks through with terrified sobs. “They’re going to kill us for this, Flip if they catch us they’re going to kill us – I don’t want to die, I don’t --”

He collects you in his arms and holds you tightly against his chest, rocks you to soothe you, calms you. The rain is unrelenting, and you wonder how much water the sky can hold, how many clouds are up there to maintain such a downpour. Flip’s arms are so warm around your shoulders, and his neck is blazing hot where you tuck your face against it.

“You called me to pick you up from the party, I came, we got lost, wound up here. It’s dark and raining, that’s all the truth.” Flip whispers, “We don’t know anything, we’ve been here, waiting for someone to pass by.”

You nod, because it’s all you can do right now. You had almost forgotten how cold you were, the stark comparison of your own body temperature compared to Flip’s making you feel even colder.

“I’m f-f-freezing.” You say, because you don’t have anything else to say, and Flip hums in the back of his throat.

“I don’t have any spare clothes, I’m sorry.” He frowns, but then you pull away for a moment, begin stripping off your dress. You peel away the layers until you’re in your bra and underwear, just wanting the wet cold fabric off of your skin. Flip’s hands drop from your body, and he nervously looks away with a very gentlemanly, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry – I just – I figured maybe if we use body heat – ” You explained, suddenly feeling stupid, feeling unwanted, feeling --

“Don’t stop, I’ll do it too, if you want. I’ll keep you warm.” Flip nods, understands what you’re doing now, what you mean. He looks at you cautiously, not ever wanting to be imposing, not wanting to make you comfortable. “Only if you want.”

You lick your lips and nod, and in mere moments, he’s shedding his clothes too, until he’s just in his underwear.

Flip climbs over the bench seat and lands in the back, laying down on his back and spreading out. There’s significantly more room in the back seat, and without another thought, you unclip the straps of your bra, letting your breasts breathe, before arranging all the clothes in the direct line of the heater so they might have a chance to dry, before climbing over too.

Flip welcomes you with open arms, and as you settle against him, body flush with his, your heart pounds. He rubs your back, warms you with his palms, palms which feel like the most comforting iron brand, heating you through.

“You know…” You whisper, listening to the sound of his breathing and the rain that pitter-patters onto the roof of the car, “I’ve been thinking about doing something like that to him for a long time.”

“Yeah?” Flip asks, voice thick.

You’re nuzzled against his chest, feeling the most safe that you ever have. The panic has subsided for now, for now at the very least.

“Yeah. It was never a real idea that I had, at least not in the beginning. But more and more lately, I’ve been thinking about how good it would feel if he were gone forever. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. I guess I just…I liked that someone liked me, wanted me. It felt good to be wanted, for a minute there.” You’re honest with Flip. Sometimes it feels like Flip is the only person you can ever be honest with.

“Just a minute?” He asks softly, teasing and playful in a way that makes you want to cry.

“Yeah, just a minute.” You whisper back, propping your head up onto your hands, looking at him.

“There are…other people, you know. Who are out there, who like you. Want you.” He looks back at you, eyes filled with apprehension, but hope.

“People like you?” You ask, hope in your own lungs, in your heart.

“Yeah, people like me.” Flip nods, caresses the back of your head with his strong, capable hand.

“You know, the entire time I’ve been with him, I wished I were with you.” You confess, because now feels like as good a time to confess something as any, doesn’t it? What’s this admittance, compared to the thing you have just done together?

“This isn’t the shock talking, is it?” Flip’s hand smooths around to hold your cheek, pinch at the apple of your smile, because you are smiling now, smiling how he hasn’t rejected you, how he never would have, now you know.

“No, no I promise. This is me talking.” You turn your face into his palm and press a light kiss to the creases in his hand, those hands, the hands which have only ever protected you, defended you, loved you.

“Why are you crying?” Flip frowns, confused, worried, but you shake your head, unable to stop, unable to quit the smile, the tears.

“Because I’ve dreamt about being in your arms like this for what feels like forever, and I – I kept thinking that there’s no way you could ever want me, I thought I was just delusional for thinking maybe we could be something. And here you are, coming to my rescue, the way you always do, and we’ve just killed a man but all I want to do is kiss you.” You huff out a laugh, a laugh that’s tinged with regret for the past, all the time that could have been.

“Can I?” Flip asks suddenly then, innocent and gentle, “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh Flip, yes, please.” You nod, pushing yourself up a few more inches so that your lips can meet.

They press together in the softest, sweetest of kisses, and all at once it feels like the gates of your heart have been unlocked, and all the love you feel flows out with wild abandon.

Flip deepens the kiss when your mouth opens in a small gasp, and you let yourself be rolled underneath him. The car rocks a little from the effort, but you don’t care. A kiss or two becomes making out, and you feel your head fill with the thick perfume of lust, your whole body warm now, on fire almost. His mouth is hot, tongue thick and heavy against yours, but he tastes delicious, tastes like home.

He kisses you until your breathing begins to quicken, until the smallest noises start to moan and hum in the back of your throat. Your nipples are stiff, so hard from where they’re brushing against his chest, your arms looping around his shoulders, legs parting so he can settle between them.

“Did…did you two ever…?” He pulls away, lips kiss-slick and flushed, and you blink, forgetting all about your boyfriend, or one you used to have.

“No, no I didn’t want to, it didn’t feel right. Not with him.” You tell him honestly, suddenly feeling inexperienced, feeling self-conscious, “Have you?”

“No, I’ve been waiting for the right person.” Flip shocks you by blushing out his own truth. Your eyebrows shoot up, you really would have pegged him for a womanizer type, he was certainly handsome enough for it. But thinking back, you realize in all the time you’ve known him, he’s never once mentioned a girlfriend or even a fling, nothing. It’s always just been you, and him. Flip blushes deeper when you don’t say anything right away, stammers out, “I know it’s cheesy.”

“It’s not cheesy.” You shake your head quickly, dismissing the idea that you’d make fun of him for something like that. You’re relived, it means you can be together for the first time truly together.

You kiss him, invigorated, no longer feeling shy or inadequate. He kisses you back, and when your eyes close there’s nothing but the welcoming embrace of his warmth and affection to pull you in. Your mouths and tongues slide against one another, and your hips raise up, your underwear rubbing against his, wishing there were no barrier between you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I don’t ever want to pressure you or – ” Flip shakes his head, so caring, worried, nipping at the corners of your mouth.

“Maybe, maybe you could just touch me? Just for now, touch me and then, then we can see where we go.” You’re desperate for him though, desperate for him in every way.

He smiles against your mouth, and you smile too, his hands sliding down your body. He shuffles back a little, straddling your hips, knees digging into the upholstery as his hands roam your body, touch where he didn’t have permission to touch before.

He’s drawn to your breasts immediately, kneads them. He licks his lips and rolls your nipples between his fingers, and your back only arches for him, pushes your chest up into his hands further. His breathing is heavy, and you decide that you’re tired of holding yourself back from the things that you want – after this, after tonight, you won’t deny yourself anything ever again, you’ve spent so much time bending to the will of other people, from now on you are going to ask for what you want.

You cup the back of Flip’s head and push him down, gently nudge him. He takes the hint, immediately nuzzles his face into your cleavage, rubs against your breasts. His mouth latches around one of your nipples and he kisses and licks and sucks, and you moan, the pleasure going straight to your pussy.

So does his hand, tentatively skimming over your panties until your legs spread enough to give him permission. He tugs the cotton aside and you hiccup out a little cry of pleasure when he reverently pushes his fingers through your folds, pushes his way through into the tight wet heat of your cunt.

“Oh, oh, that feels good.” Your eyes fly open, hand tangling in his hair where he makes out with your breasts, grunting and groaning with need that the praise spurs in him. His fingers are more insistent, more purposeful, and his thumb swirls over your clit making your hips lift up up up against his hand. “Yes, yes! Flip – do that again, please do that again.”

“Good?” Flip lifts his head from where he’s been smothering himself in your tits, eyes so big and brown, eager to please.

“So good! Phil, it’s so good, I’ve wanted this for so – ah!—long.” Your head tips back against the seat as your toes curl, his fingers moving faster, your stomach expanding with each deep breath you take, trying to suck down the air, trying to lose yourself in the bright white hot light of pleasure.

“This doesn’t count as our first time, okay?” Flip bites a mark around the bottom of your ribs.

“Okay.” You grin, elated that this means maybe maybe maybe he’ll want to have sex with you again, maybe he’ll fuck you with his cock. Maybe he’ll want you forever, maybe he’ll ask you out and take you on dates and do all the things that you’ve always hoped but never dared to dream for.

“I want our first time to be sweet and good and gentle, and not in the back-seat of this car.” He fingers you faster and faster, and you struggle to pay attention to his words because his fingers are so thick and so full and they know just where to touch you to get your feet searching for purchase as you moan and whine and gasp. “I’m going to take you out to dinner and then a movie, and then I’m going to make love to you on a big bed with rose petals like you deserve.”

“Oh fuck – I’m – I’m gonna – ” You gasp out, hips rolling, undulating against his palm, grinding your pussy against the warmth of his hand to chase your orgasm, your body thick with pleasure, sweet and sticky like molasses in your veins.

“Come on my fingers, it’s okay, you’re okay.” Flip encourages you, presses a little harder, moves a little faster, the car shaking shaking shaking from the way your body trembles, rain thudding against the roof as your orgasm crashes through you, a wave of nothing but good, nothing but love.

“Fl-Flip!” You shout, eyes shut tight, the first couple hints of tears clinging to your lashes.

“You’re so beautiful, holy shit.” Flip strokes your pussy through it, coaxes out come that shines on his palm, shimmers on your inner thighs. He kisses your neck, your chest, bites and sucks and marks you so thoroughly, marks you as his, you’re his you’re his and he’s yours and, “(Y/N) you’re – you’re so beautiful.”

“Can I, I want you to come too, I want you to feel good too.” You try, you offer, but he’s still sliding his fingers through your pussy, two – no, three? -- stretching you wide, stretching you for him, for his cock. You want it, you want it so badly, want to be filled, but an aftershock of pleasure builds builds builds and you’re not sure it’s just an aftershock anymore, as your toes curl again, knees shaking, bones aching to come again, “Flip I’m, I think I’m – oh!”

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything for me, this is more than enough, you’re more than enough, thankyouthankyouthankyou.” He smudges the words into your chest, your throat, litters you with sweet nothings and gratitude, and you want to ask for his dick right then and there –

But there’s a sound, coming from the window.

A knock on the window.

Someone is there, knocking.

“Wait – what was that?” You freeze, the rose-tinted glasses ripped off.

Flip carefully pulls his hand away from your pulsing cunt, sucks your come off of his fingers until they’re clean. He reaches for something, anything, to cover you with, to cover himself with.

“Cop.” Flip says quietly, and you want to panic but he shakes his head, “Don’t, it’s okay, follow my lead.”

You are suddenly very very aware, of what you both look like. Flip with his torn up fists, you with the split lip and wound on your temple. You’ve both finally stopped bleeding, but you know – you just know – that this officer is going to question you on it, normal people don’t go driving around in the rain with head wounds and split knuckles.

Fuck, you think, you haven’t even cleaned the car yet, there’s bound to be blood in the trunk from where the body had been stashed, what if the officer decided to search the car? There were no weapons in the car, but there didn’t need to be. Your stomach does little flutters of panic as the impending anxiety drips cold down your spine, and just hide yourself behind Flip’s denim jacket, cover up as much as you can, cover your face.

Flip rolls down the window, and a flashlight peers inside the car for a few moments, before you hear a resigned sigh.

“Alright you kids, come on, break it up.” The cop says, tapping his flashlight on the roof of the car. “The middle of the road isn’t the place for this kind of shit, let’s go.”

“Our car is stuck, we’ve been waiting for someone to drive past to ask for help. Could you help give us a push?” Flip asks, and the officer looks at him like he’s crazy.

“No.” The man scoffs, before sighing again, realizing that he can’t just leave the two of you out here. “But I’ll call someone. Then off you go, okay? It’s late.”

“Thank you.” Flip says, and then, like some miracle, the cop goes back to his car, radios for a tow, and leaves.

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

You both are dressed by the time the tow arrives and pulls you out of the mud. Leaving the clothes in front of the heater did wonders, and though your dress is still fucking filthy and caked in mud, it’s not freezing, or soaked. You feel awful, Flip’s dad is going to be pissed when he sees the car like this, but Flip assures you that he’ll have Jimmy help deep clean the whole thing before his parents come home after the weekend.

The tow truck driver doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t really talk to you at all. By the time he arrives, the rain has stopped, slowed enough as the storms moved across the mountains. You don’t say anything, just sit there and wait for the wheels to come free, holding your breath until the tow driver leaves too.

The radio is soft and gentle, the time on the little clock reads just past three. Flip drove all the way to your house with a hand on your knee, reassuring, comforting. You can’t help but think it feels so different from Josh’s hand, how gentle Flip’s hold is on you. You wonder if he’s trying to ground himself, or keep you calm. Maybe it’s both.

He shuts the lights off and the radio when he rounds the corner. Puts the car in park, and the two of you walk the last few yards to your house. It’s not raining anymore, not at all. That feels like a good sign, somehow.

“Will you come in?” You ask him softly, standing under the streetlamps, careful not to step on cracks in the sidewalk.

“If you want me.” Flip nods, and you smile, and he smiles, because you both know that you always will.

The climb up through the window is a little difficult because of how wet everything is from the rain, but you both manage easily. Your bedroom is warm, and you both shed your clothes in the tub of your private bathroom, knowing your parents wouldn’t ever look in there. You want to shower desperately, but doing so this late would raise suspicion, so you don’t, you’ll have to wait until morning.

But that’s alright, because for now it’s enough to be in clean clothes. Sheepishly, you offer Flip some of his own clothes, clothes that you’ve accumulated over all the time you’ve known him; jackets accidentally forgotten on your couch, sleep shirts and pajama pants he let you borrow that you never returned.

Flip doesn’t tease you for them, he only accepts them gratefully, and the two of you lay down on your bed in the dark. You face one another, so close that your noses almost touch. He’s so handsome, you think. You’ve always thought it, but up close, this close, it’s like the thought consumes your whole mind.

“We can’t ever tell anyone about this, ever. Not even when we’re old. This is something we take to the grave.” You whisper, rubbing the tip of your nose against his.

“Agreed.” He breathes, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, lean into him.

“I don’t want to think what would have happened if you didn’t show up.” You confess, and in the silence of the room, the thought of what might have been is more terrifying than anything you two had done together. Flip is quiet, but his jaw clenches as he gently touches the closed wound on your temple. You don’t know what prompts it, but suddenly you’re asking, “Do you believe in alternate universes?”

“Hm?” Flip frowns, and you shrug in the dark.

“You know, like, a different version of our world, existing in some other dimension out in space.” You explain, shuffling close to him, tucking yourself under his chin.

“I never thought about it.” He admits with a shrug of his own and you close your eyes against his throat, warming yourself with his heat as his arms wrap around you.

“Maybe there’s a world where this never happened.” You whisper, “Maybe there’s a version of us out there that never had to do this. Maybe there’s a universe where we’ve always been together.”

“We can be together now, here in this one. If you want.” Flip whispers back, and you can feel the rabbit of his pulse jump jump jumping in his chest, and you smile.

“Phil?” You ask, not opening your eyes, not moving, barely breathing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He responds right away, with enough feeling behind the words to make you think that maybe he’s loved you just as long as you have loved him, maybe even longer.

A grin spreads across your face as you snuggle up closer to him, impossibly close, suppressing a thrilled little bubble of laughter as he cards his fingers through your hair.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know that? Forever.” You tease with a smile in your voice – but you both know there’s some truth to it. No matter what happens, you’re bonded by this, this nightmare of an evening.

“Happy New Year, (Y/N).” Flip teases right back, kissing the top of your head, before you reach up to kiss him properly.

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

When the sun rises the next morning and you find him gone from your bedroom, tub empty of soiled clothing and the car driven away to the cleaners, you aren’t afraid, because there’s a note on your nightstand written in the most incomprehensible handwriting that could only be Flip’s, asking you on a date, and a brand new pair of heels to wear for it.

And when they ask about Josh you’ll say you don’t know, and when they launch the investigation you’ll testify lies, and when you attend his funeral you might shed a tear, but only only only if Flip’s there by your side, so you can stand behind him, and hide your smile.

You don't own me

I'm not just one of your many toys

You don't own me

Don't say I can't go with other boys

You don't own me

You don’t own me

You don’t own me.

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

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valkyrieofsmut · 3 years

Note

I should be asleep but this haunts me. What head over heel romantic nervous like tropes so the skeletons usually do? I mean the whole "i can't stop staring at your lips when you talk ." Or "You smile and my brain short circuits." Or "I am usually really smooth but when you come around I get tongue tied." Or "I cant stop blushing when you're around" or "I talk a mile a minute" and etc etc I hope I worded this right

I JUST REALIZED THAT THE WAY I WANTED TO ASK THE LAST QUESTION WAS HOW ARE THE BOYS LIKE WHEN THEY'RE YEARNING FOR THE READER. I'm sorry im sleepy

I think what it boils down to is "what are the skeletons like when they have a crush?" If I'm reading it right. Yes?

Classic- When he has a crush on someone, he plays it cool. He’ll be all buddy buddy with them, and very cheeky/ punny, throwing out humor, but none of this is really different than being really close friends with him- except the staring. In a situation of watching tv and hanging out; friends- joke, watching the show... joke about the show... laughing and watching the show with stupid commentary. Crush- joke, pretending to watch the show, steeling glances at them from the side of his socket. Joke about the show, laughing... watching them out of the corner of his sockets. Joke about the show, maybe a friendly bat with a pillow or soft food item like popcorn... It turns into an all out rough house, tickling, flailing, trying to escape, knocking each other over... whatever he can do to get close to them without it being obvious.

Creampuff- It is really hard to tell when this boy has a crush! And also not at all. He will be more excitable than usual, though he’s pretty excitable already, and he gushes about them, more than he does his friends, which is still quite a bit. It would look a little something like; friend- THAT PERSON IS AMAZING! THEY’RE MY FRIEND! THEY’RE ALWAYS DOING AMAZING THINGS, AND WE DO THEM TOGETHER, TOO! or crush- CAN YOU BELIEVE HOW WONDERFUL THEY ARE? THEY’RE AS GREAT AS ME! I HOPE WE GET TO SPEND MORE TIME TOGETHER, SOON! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!!

Red- Strangely, it’s hard to tell when he has a crush, unless you start looking for patterns. He flirts with everyone, and tries to get into anyone’s pants, casually. Friend- heh, nice shirt. it’d look better on my floor. Enemy- heh, if ya wanted me ta fuck ya up, ya coulda jus’ took off yer pants and bent over! Crush- hey, doll, nice haircut, it’ll look better after ya roll around in bed wit me. The patterns are what gives it away. He’ll fluster someone he’s good friends with, or even strangers if he’s feeling it, he’ll also just hit on them and proposition a one off with them. If they say yes, he’ll either tell them he was joking (if he’s just messing around) or they’ll go to it. If he likes what they’ve got, he’ll come back around, play a bit of game, and get another round if they’re agreeable. The next time, less game, and so on until it’s just, “hey, feelin’ horny. wanna fuck?” With a crush, when he jokingly offers a night together, if they say yes, he’ll get flustered, instead. “i- i mean- i was kiddin’, but if ya wanna-!” The second time he comes around, more game, more flirting, like he’s working them up to ask them for the first time again. The third time is like that, too, and so on, and so on, until their relationship changes. And then it’s just a cute little lean over and nuzzle to their neck and a soft, “hey, sweetheart, i got an idea... wanna go do somethin’ fun?” They’re also the only one he doesn’t talk about at all. He doesn’t generally boast about his conquests, but he’ll mention something if some asks about things he’s done, or needs advice. But his crush? He may admit that they’ve been together... but not much more than that.

Edge- One word- tsundere. He for some reason always ends up having to be in the same place that his crush is. “IT’S NOT LIKE I’M HERE BECAUSE YOU ARE! I JUST ALSO HAPPEN TO NEED TO DO LAUNDRY TODAY!” He also has a tendency to do things for them because of their “incompetence”; “JUST LET ME DO IT- IT’LL BE DONE FASTER!” Somehow, this mess of a boy can manage to be super abrasive, but also super sweet at the same time. And the glare when he’s trying to hide a blush... pretty cute...

Blue- The most noticeable thing? He’s quiet. And very talkative. In shifts. It’ll make your head spin! “I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE SHOW THAT’S ABOUT THIS HERO WHO CAME TO EARTH AND WAS CONFUSED ABOUT THE CUSTOMS HERE- I RELATE TO THAT A LOT SINCE IT’S SO DIFFERENT FROM MY HOME- AND THEN HE HAS TO DEFEAT THE BAD GUY AND HE HAS THIS PERSON HELPING HIM THAT IS REALLY COOL AND HAS NO POWERS BUT A LOT OF SKILLS, AND WE SHOULD WATCH IT TOGETHER SOME TIME! WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE SHOW?” *silence as he listens intently* He also stares a bit (a lot), and is silent while they just relax together. He’s also somehow made them believe that he’s just a super cuddly skeleton! He wants all those cuddles! ... so he can practice what makes them comfortable, and when they’re all comfy laying there one day, he plans to smoothly nuzzle them, and say, “You Know, We Do A Lot Of Cuddling For Just Friends... Do You Like Cuddling Me? ... I Like Cuddling You, Too... Maybe We Should Do More Than Just Friendship Cuddling... Maybe... I Could Kiss You, And We Could Work From There?”

Stretch- He might be the hardest to know. He has that thing where he doesn’t really like someone, but somehow, he still ends up being nice to them...? what the fuck... god damn it... i meant to tell you to go eat dick, not that your shoes are nice... hell... And the emotions that show on him the easiest are amusement and irritation. So he could hate someone and be laughing at their misfortune, but they think he’s just sharing friendly comradery. The easiest way to tell if he likes someone is if he actually spends time with them, not just, he happens to be in the same room and they’re both watching tv, but, he actually meant to find them and sit down to watch the show with them. Maybe share some snacks.

Black- For some reason, it seems like he’s always just trying to control some people, but... he’s really just trying to be friendly and spend time with them... It’s just a bit awkward when you don’t know how to people in a society where you don’t have to pretend to hate everyone, or be sucking up to them or that you're more forceful/ powerful than them. Back home a conversation between him and Alphys might go, “ARE YOU GOING TO COME EAT LUNCH WITH ME, OR GET WEAK AND DIE?” (want to eat lunch together?) “Fuck off, I’m doin’ other shit.” (can’t, have to finish this work/ bullshit) “OH, GOOD, GO EAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S TWAT, THEN!” (fine, be like that (friendly)) Nice, friendly conversation! But he’s lost here, and when trying to show affection, he’s just so caught up on how much danger it will put on those he loves/ wants to love, so he tries to protect them by making it seem like he’s big and tough, and forcing them to hang out with him- so that his enemies don’t hurt them.

Mutt- He cuddles them. He becomes super cuddly. But he's from the same world as Black where any affection puts a target on their back, so, by being super cuddly, he's basically taunting everyone else, telling them that he's not afraid of them, and he can take out anyone who tries anything, he won't even have to let go of his crush. Come on, bitch, I dare you to try, with a dash of, the second you get too close, you're dead, and a whole lot of, this person is mine. They're mine. Mine! Mine mine mine! Touch them and die. He actually loves that due to the cultural differences, his crush thinks he just wants to cuddle all the time, but he's actually being super territorial and getting his scent all over them so there's no mistaking it. They are his, and anyone who challenges that will be at the wrong end of a burst of overkill attacks.

Axe- Protecting. When he has a crush, he wants to make sure they don't get hurt, and will do whatever it takes to do so, including stalking like behavior, threatening those he thinks has put them in danger or maybe just done things he doesn't like, like make them uncomfortable.

Crooks/ Bun- He wants to be around them. He wants to spend lots of time with them, and take their wants and preferences into consideration. He'll stand up for them, do his best to find and give them things they like, and always try to defer to them. He's ace, so there's not a lot of making out, tension, that kind of thing, but there is lots of fond, friendly, loving cuddles.

Dusty- You won’t know. Hell, he won’t know. He’ll have no idea, just start the yandere insanity of, “i’m really obsessed with this person... i must be really wanting to kill them... i wonder why...” So... until about forever later, when he figures out that he doesn’t want to kill them, they should probably stay far away.

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kpopcotton · 4 years

Text

Warm ~ Yang Jeongin

a/n ~ another request !! thank you again, and i’m so so sorry for the wait !! • Prompt: cuddles with best boy jeongin • Genre: fluff, college student!au • Warning(s): none • Reader Gender: gender neutral • Word Count: 1.6k

it had been a rough week, to say the least, your courses deciding to lay the work on thick. you barely had any free time between your class schedule, your job, and your assignments. there was a collective six hours of sleep over the span of the seven days under your belt, and you were practically living off energy drinks and junk food at that point. sadly, your friends had a mostly free schedule, meaning they could hang out. jeongin, being the saint that he is, gladly provided you with updates on the adventures through texts and the occasional meme so you wouldn’t feel left out or out of the loop when the time came for you to rejoin them in their ventures.

luckily, you finally could, the last of your assignments completed and submitted, however, exploring the city at night with friends was the last thing on your mind. all you wanted to do was switch your laptop over to Netflix, find a boring show, cuddle up in bed, and pass out. it seemed like the most pleasurable thing in the world.

you texted jeongin your excitement and plans, him sharing the same sentiment which put a smile on your face. you texted him good night and he wished you “sweet dreams” before you stood up to get ready for bed. with your head full of comforting thoughts and the promise of a quiet night in, you decided to hop in the shower to wash away the stress that had come with your studies. you had started to rinse the conditioner out of your hair when you heard the front door open. three familiar and distinct voices filling your dorm room. your roommate, jisung, was home. with company.

a steady thrum of annoyance started to pump your heart instead of contentment. you have nothing against your roommate, being as he usually is so sweet and considerate, but dealing with his so-called group “3racha”, was not in your plans for the night. you do remember a rushed text that had quite a few misspellings from him saying he might be home late, yet he failed to mention bringing his friends, chan, and changbin with him.

you dried your hair as best you could, departing from the shower and glowering at yourself in the mirror when you heard their laughter, before you wrapped yourself in a towel and left the bathroom. you bumped right into chan upon stepping out, his ears turning red as he took in your appearance, he tried to stutter something about not knowing you were home. you didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed, more tired than anything, so you just muttered something to ease his nerves and continued to the living room where you knew the other two would be.

“han jisung,” you whine, causing said boy to look up from his phone on the couch with a confused expression, though even in your sleepy haze you noticed the fear in his eyes.

“you’re still up?” is his response. you roll your eyes and instantly tug at his ear. changbin’s laugh burst from him, watching jisung struggle.

“you didn’t tell me some friends were coming over,” you say with clenched teeth, a fake smile pulling at your lips. you aren’t sure if jisung heard you over his own whining, but you weren’t sure if you cared.

“‘m sorry, y/n! believe me! i meant to text you! i coulda swore i did! h-have mercy!” jisung manages to pry your hand off his ear and hold it in between his own as he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “they’ll only be over for a little bit! chan wants to go over a new idea of a song!”

“hey, don’t throw me under the bus!” chan suddenly speaks up from the hallway, his ears still red. “i swear han was the one to suggest his place! if i’d known you were home, i would have declined!”

you appreciate the honesty, but you notice jisung doesn’t. his eyes are wide and staring straight at chan, trying to tell him an earful without saying it out loud. you breathe out a chuckle, adjusting your towel with a sigh. “it’s okay, just -- just please keep it down, i really need sleep.”

“yeah, no worries!” chan says instantly, smiling shyly.

“you can count on us,” changbin smiles as well. “you won’t even notice we’re here!”

“i better not,” you laugh, though your tone is more directed at jisung as you look him in the eye. “and you owe me dinner, han jisung.”

==≎==

you realize you shouldn’t have trusted 3racha when they said they would be quiet. they’re three lively boys for goodness sake, they have enough energy to power a small town during a blackout. you had to give them credit, though, you could tell for the first hour they were trying to stay quiet for you. perhaps they thought you had fallen asleep, that maybe they could be louder as the night progressed because it seemed like they hadn’t calmed down for at least thirty minutes. you wished you had fallen asleep when they were quieter, but there was always something loud to wake you up just as you were on the cusp on falling into dreamland.

you had given up all hope of falling asleep in your dorm, the only thing your exhausted mind could think of was to call jeongin in hopes that he would save you. before you could process what you did, he was already picking up the call.

“y/n? shouldn’t you be sleeping? i thought you were done with your assignments?” he sounded worried, and there was something that told you he hadn’t gone to bed yet. you felt slightly thankful for that.

“i am. but -- but guess who’s staying at my apartment?” you cringe at the sound of your voice, but power through it when you hear your best friend’s faint laugh on the other end of the line. from somewhere in the house, you hear jisung yell something.

“3racha?”

“3racha.” you could feel a smile start to grow on your face, glad jeongin knew exactly what was going on.

“want to come over?”

“i thought you’d never ask.”

==≎==

you luckily lived in the same building as jeongin, him living on a higher floor than yours, which made the trip so much easier for someone as sleep-deprived as you. your eyes were barely open as you made your way to the elevator, pressing the button to his floor and then the one to close the doors faster. you decided to lean against the wall with your eyes closed for the duration of the ride upwards, it already being so much more soothing than your dorm with its soft music. the gentle ding notifying you that you had reached the floor almost didn’t wake you, however, the doors opening and a soft call of your name did.

your heart melts when you open your eyes to see jeongin waiting for you outside the elevator. he has a sweet smile as he holds out a hand for you, which you gladly take. you walk yourself into his embrace as a hello. he’s dressed in a big pink hoodie and grey joggers that engulf you in his scent and warmth.

“you were waiting for me?” you mumble into the fabric covering his shoulder.

“of course,” he laughs, the thought funny before he can even get it out. “who would wake you up if you fell asleep along the way?”

“good point,” you smile, your arms tightening around his waist.

“i mean -- uh -- hyunjin and his boyfriend are sleeping too, so i also didn’t want you to knock on the door and, you know, wake them up,” he adds sheepishly, you feel his arm reach up to rub at his neck. you simply nod against him. “let’s head inside, it’s cold out here.”

you’re barely there mentally when jeongin pulls away from you, you register his warmth leaving from against you and his hand slipping back into yours as he leads you to his door. he punches in his lock code and opens it for you, his hands occupied by both holding the door open and leading your worn frame inside. he lets you go for only a moment to do his best to silently close his door before he wraps you in a blanket he prepared and leads you to his room.

his laptop is open on his desk showing a history article and you take notice of the multiple tabs he has open. there are a few papers scattered on his desk as well. you feel a sinking pressure in your chest when you realize you probably won’t be getting the cuddles you were sleepily hoping for. jeongin sits you on his bed and notices a soft pout on your lips with a smile.

“don’t worry, that’s,” he gestures to his laptop. “not due for another week. i was getting a head start. let me save everything and we can cuddle, okay?”

you nod, your spirits instantly lifted, and lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and watching the shadows dance across the surface. soon, the room is bathed in darkness and jeongin’s warmth returns to you in his bed. he awkwardly slides into place next to you, moving his comforter to lay over the both of you.

once he stops moving, you know he’s waiting for you to cuddle up to him. you instantly leave the blanket he gave you behind for his arms and you can’t help the sigh of relief that leaves you when his arms wrap around you and pull you close. all you can feel is the softness of his clothes, his body heat, and the rise and fall of his chest and it is the most amazing thing you’ve felt all week.

“thank you,” you sigh dreamily, snuggling your face into his hoodie. you barely register his response, your sleepless nights catching up to you faster than a muscle car on a race track, and you let yourself sink into the peaceful sleep your best friend brings you.

#i'm actually proud of myself #i really enjoyed writing this #i hope you enjoy it :)))#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids x stay #stray kids x you #stray kids x male reader #yang jeongin x reader #i.n. stray kids #i.n scenarios #yang jeongin #bang chan #seo changbin #han jisung #hwang hyunjin

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violetwolfraven · 4 years

Note

belmerttons?

*panicked singing* it’s after midnight and I can’t fucking sleep so of course I’m writing!!! I have school tomorrow and I’m gonna die!!!

This is gonna be my first time writing this ship as the main focus of a fic, so we’ll see how it goes, I guess. I’m gonna need to figure out how I want to portray their dynamic.

Tw: head injury, referenced child neglect

...

“Ya can’t keep doin’ stuff like this,” Buttons mumbled, “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

Elmer winced as the other boy tied off the bandage around his head definitely harder than necessary.

His head was already pounding, and seeing Buttons—who barely even pranked back in prank wars even when Race really deserved it—angry wasn’t helping. Especially since he wasn’t quite sure why he was so angry at him.

“We all knew what could happen with the strike.”

“That ain’t what I’m talkin’ ‘bout,” Buttons muttered as he crouched down to start checking out Elmer’s bruised knuckles, “You think I didn’t see ya jump between that thug and Smalls? He had a club, El. He coulda killed you.”

“And if I didn’t jump in, he coulda killed Smalls,” Elmer argued, “What was I supposed to do, huh? She’s a lot smaller than—ow!”

“Sorry.”

Buttons didn’t sound sorry, but he did unwrap the bandage, winding it looser the next time.

“This is what you always do,” he grumbled, “Get hurt defendin’ other people, then I gotta patch you up. What’re ya gonna do when we ain’t Newsies no more and ya can’t come to me anymore, El?”

Elmer shrugged, still annoyed, “I dunno, but what do you want me to do, Buttons? Scab like Sniper, Tommy, and Blink?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem? Everyone else is hurt, too! Jack gets soaked fightin’ opponent’s he can’t handle every other month and ya don’t care!”

“I never said I don’t—“

“Oh, so it’s better that the only one ya call on it is me?”

“You have a family, El!” Buttons exclaimed, standing up suddenly, “For Christ’s sake, ya act like you’s the same as everyone else here, but ya ain’t! What would your family do if you didn’t come home, huh? Who’d have to go tell ‘em?”

Elmer was stunned, “Buttons—“

“Me,” Buttons growled, “Jack’s missin’, so it’d be me. I’m the only other one who knows where your family lives.”

Elmer recovered from the shock and promptly got angry again.

“You have a family, too, and I didn’t see you bein’ careful.”

Buttons snorted, “Then you wasn’t payin’ attention.”

Elmer really wished he could say he had been.

In truth, he’d been a bit preoccupied trying to keep that thug distracted long enough for Smalls to escape, then keeping said thug from killing him. After that, everything was kind of hazy until apparently, Davey found him passed out in an alleyway.

He hadn’t been paying attention to where his friend was at all.

“El...” Buttons made a frustrated noise, “You always gotta fight for everyone—and that’s a good thing—it means ya got a big heart, but... I’m serious. Since nothin’ else has made ya listen: what would your family do if you didn’t come home?”

Elmer snorted. He was a little mixed up in the head right now, but he very clearly knew the answer to that one.

“They’s got 8 other children, don’t they?”

“El...”

“Nah,” Elmer chuckled, even though he was pretty sure this wouldn’t be funny under normal circumstances, “I’m just the youngest and smallest. It ain’t like I bring in that much income. And ‘sides, nobody pays attention to me ‘cause I’m the stupid one.”

“Elmer, you ain’t stupid.”

“My big sister spent years tryin’ to teach me to read, but I couldn’t. Polish or English. I just can’t pick it up. It takes me hours to get through a article if I feel like tryin’. Why do ya think Jack reads headlines out loud most mornin’s?”

Dimly, Elmer registered the thought that he’d never told anyone that he couldn’t read, that letters on a page didn’t stay still for him. Jack was the only one who knew, and that was because he’d guessed after Elmer asked the headline several days in a row. Apparently, there’d been boys like him before.

Buttons shrugged, “That don’t make ya stupid. You’s good enough at math to make up for it, anyway, and even if ya can’t read it, you speak two languages. What makes ya stupid is pickin’ fights you can’t handle, constantly.”

Elmer groaned. This again? He thought they’d already covered this.

“My family wouldn’t miss me if I didn’t come home, Buttons, so—“

“And what about everyone else?” Buttons interrupted, “El, maybe your family wouldn’t, but what about Jojo? What about Race, huh? What about me?”

Elmer shrugged, “You wouldn’t have to patch me up anymore.”

He stood up, but it was definitely too fast as purple spots swam before his eyes.

“Oh, shit...”

Buttons tried to catch him as he collapsed, but that just ended in both of them hitting the floor.

“Sorry,” Elmer mumbled against his friend’s chest. He was really tired.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for,” Buttons muttered, and Elmer felt him sigh, “I just... don’t see how ya don’t see it.”

“See what?”

Being curious was helping him want to stay awake.

“Y’know how it is when Crutchie smiles?” Buttons asked quietly, “Really smiles. Not when he’s bein’ sarcastic.”

Elmer nodded, then winced as he regretted it, “It’s like someone lit a candle in the dark.”

“Yeah. That’s how it is.”

Buttons was silent for a second, and Elmer wondered if he was asleep, and they were just going to take a nap on the floor.

“Yours is like that, only... God, Elmer, it’s like someone put the goddamn sun in your smile.”

Elmer was processing things pretty slowly right now, but he was pretty sure he’d be confused even if he wasn’t.

“What?”

“It’s amazing,” Buttons whispered, “It’s like a minute of summer in the middle of winter, but better. It makes everybody else want to smile, too. I wish I could show you, but mine don’t do that.”

“Sure it does,” Elmer mumbled, “I like your smile.”

“Thanks, but it’s not like yours.”

“Your smile is like...” Elmer tried to think through his headache, “Like when the trees start gettin’ green again in spring. I ain’t much good with words, but it’s that.”

Buttons was silent for a second, and when Elmer looked up, he was... he was a little red in the face.

They both sat up, but stayed on the floor.

Elmer was a little surprised when Buttons’s hand found his, but it felt right, so he didn’t pull away.

“How would you feel if ya never saw my smile again, El?”

He frowned, “I don’t wanna imagine it.”

“Okay, well...” Buttons sighed, “I don’t wanna imagine not seein’ your smile, either. So if ya won’t be careful for yourself or your family... do it for me?”

Elmer’s thoughts were still a bit fuzzy, but he was pretty sure he had a grasp of what was going on.

He’d been a newsie since he was 10, and he’d noticed how the older boys usually started getting interested in girls around 13 or 14.

Or, some of them started getting interested in boys. Which, as Manhattan’s old leader had explained it, was dangerous but natural, even if they had to keep it a secret.

Elmer was 15, now, and Buttons was the same age. He was just now realizing that as his friends’ eyes started getting drawn to girls or boys on the street, or each other, in more than a couple cases, he’d never really focused on anyone besides Buttons.

There was a weird feeling in his stomach, but not like he was going to throw up. It was more like... butterflies.

Elmer has done some pretty dumb things—mostly at the encouragement of friends—over the years, but he wasn’t stupid enough not to recognize what he was feeling, and...

Well, he wasn’t sure, but the look in Buttons’s eyes looked almost like how Blink looked at Mush and Jojo looked at Mike.

But he was kind of loopy right now, and not sure enough to act on it.

“I’ll try to be careful. For you.”

Buttons smiled, “Thanks. Next time you’re about to do somethin’ stupid, consider how you’d feel if it was me doin’ it.”

That was actually a good point.

“Uh, Buttons?”

Buttons stopped on the way out the door of the washroom, “Yeah?”

“Thanks for always patchin’ me up.”

“No problem, El.”

#newsies #belmerttons #buttons x elmer #buttons davenport #elmer kasprzak #angst #during strike #violet’s writing

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jo-dracona · 4 years

Text

Thought:

We’ve seen Castiel fight quite a bit, he’s actually decent at it, and he has plenty of cool abilities that we see him use like once and never again. He can shoot lightning down from the sky, twist knives that he’s not touching, and he’s obviously pretty good with a dagger/knife because Angel Blades. So, here’s my Supernatural Better Ending idea.

So, after the confession Dean and Sam fight like hell to get Cas back. But, they make a rule: No more of this self-sacrifice garbage. It always gets us into more trouble than we were in before, and it hurts us all. So, we get Cas back by any means necessary, except that. Spells, trickery, killing demons, angels, reapers, all powerful creatures we’ve never even heard of, whatever, just not ourselves.

And they succeed!! It was... oooohhh my god it was fucking hard. The boys need a fucking nap.

After said nap, they sit down and discuss what they all want, and what they’re gonna do next.

Dean says that hunting is really the only thing he’s ever known, it’s what he does best. Sam got a year off to think and feel what living in the real world is like, but Dean’s never really done that, and he doesn’t really want to. He likes kicking in the door of abandoned factories and killing whatever ghoul or ghost is traumatizing or killing the local townspeople.

Sam says that he’s really tired, even after that nap. He wants to live a normal life, and he feels like he’s got the chance because for once it feels like the world isn’t hunting them down, or that he needs to go hunt someone else down to go save them. He’s got a knack for fixing things, for making things work and tick, and well... there’s this girl... But, there will always be this little voice in the back of my head saying that there’s lives to be saved, there’s ghosts to be killed, so maybe I can still help out?

Cas says, he’s not really sure what he wants, other than to be with them (it goes unsaid but they all know he has a uhhh preference if he “must” choose between them)

And Dean pipes up that, well “we’ve seen you fight Cas and you’re pretty good at it, a bit stiff” Sam snickers a bit “but, uh, you can handle yourself quite well.” He snickers again. “You can use an Angel Blade, I’ve seen you shoot lightning down from the sky in the past. Why don’t you come with me on my monster hunting trips?”

“Would I have to learn how to use a gun?”

“It might be good to know, but there’s other ways of fighting that work almost as well.”

“Alright, I... like the sound of that” Cas says, as he cracks a little bit of a side-smile.

Dean, on a bit of a roll, says “and Sam, you’ve always been more partial to research anyway, would you wanna be our...” he pauses for a moment, because this is an emotionally charged title he’s about to offer Sam, and a lot of memories and feelings come flooding back. He smiles warmly and with pride, but undertones of sorrow creep in. “Our new Bobby? I mean, like, part-time since you want a mostly normal life, right?”

Sam, seeming a bit taken aback by this proposition “d- uh- y-yeah! I’d- I’d be glad to do that! Oh and uh, I was thinking, since I’m good at fixing things and making things work, well, I could maybe design you two some new tools. I mean, we’ve got salt pellets for the shotgun and iron tools, and silver bullets, but there’s gotta be other ways to further simplify those kinds of techniques, make them more efficient.”

Dean face lowers a bit and he seems... sceptical. He’s always been one for tradition, “if ain’t broke don’t fix it” is a very old phrase and I think he’s a fan.

“Of course, never to the point where hunting would be un-fun. The danger is part of it! But, I wanna keep the number of hits you- two- (he pauses and gestures to Cas, getting used to this new dynamic) take before you kill whatever you’re hunting to a minimum, right?”

Cas, having been just kind of standing, listening mostly in silence until now, says “yes that would be good. Also, since the main weapon I use is an Angel Blade, would it be possible for us to get other, similarly styled blades for me to use? Because, as powerful as an Angel Blade is, it only kills some supernatural beings other than demons and angels.”

“Uh, yeah I’m sure we could get you that. I don’t think I could make it but I can definitely look into it.”

And then they go, they get right into a decent rhythm (I’m not technically caught up so the details of what’s going on with Sam are going to be lacking.) Sam goes and talks to his girl, tells her that he’s going to be living a mostly normal life from now on, just with a bit of research and a bit of tinkering. He gets a job as the local plumber, but also does work on cars, on electrical things. He’s kinda known around town as the fix-it guy. If you’ve got a problem or somethings broken, he’s a pretty safe bet. In his off time he designs this heavy cloth rope that’s been soaked in salt-brine and then dried, leaving it full of salt, so that you can more easily encircle a room with it. It works best for ghosts because they’re mostly incorporeal. He designs a little box, kind of like a craft supplies box, with a series of small tools and materials in each spot. Gold, silver, copper, a coin of each, a piece of iron, and all sorts of other little pieces of equipment and ingredients.

We jump to Cas and Dean, in The Car, having a laugh when Dean’s phone rings. Sam says he’s got a lead and that he has some stuff he wants them to try out while they’re there. He gives them the rundown and say he’ll mail the package to the local shitty motel.

Normal Supernatural episode stuff happens, they follow the lead, get the package, find the house, and get to work. And we get to see Dean and Cas dance-fight their way through like 12 ghosts. They flow around the room with such synchronicity, despite the difference in pace between their weapons of choice, shotgun and throwing daggers. A beautiful sweeping shot around the room of them annihilating ghost after ghost after ghost. The only interruption being that Dean takes just a second too long reloading and gets scratched across his left cheek. Cas quite promptly stabs that ghost in the back, and the room falls silent.

“I think we got them all.” Cas says, without looking around the room, eyes fixed on Dean.

“Thanks, Cas” Dean says in a near-whisper

“No worries. Let’s go get that patched up.”

Cut to Dean sitting on the edge of the trunk, with Cas patching up his cut. Can’t Cas heal people? Well... they prefer this ritual to magic-y insta healing, it’s not as fun. Cas will make sure it won’t scar, however. Cas finishes bandaging him up, and makes one more good press on it to smooth it out, leaving his hand gingerly on Dean’s cheek.

“There we go, all cleaned up.” He says, smiling and looking over Dean’s face once more, just to make sure that’s the only scratch, or is he looking for more personal reasons? Maybe both?

Dean was kinda looking off in the distance while Cas patched him up, but now he looks right into his eyes. He grabs onto Cas’s caressing hand gently, smiles ever-so softly and leans in and kisses him. It is the exact kind of kiss you would expect from Dean Winchester, if any kiss could be described as “gruff”, this would be it.

They both let go after a long moment, Cas’s eyes are full of so much: shock, confusion, excitement, joy, and for a split second, fear, thinking he might just get sent back to turbo hell the empty.

Dean however, simply has a cheeky grin on his face with a touch of embarrassment. “Y’know... we haven’t had a chance to talk much since you got back.”

“Uh- Dean- I...” it looks as though Cas’s mind is going about a trillion miles a second.

Dean revels in his love’s adorable awkwardness, that often shines through even if he isn’t the only one in his vessel, even if he hasn’t spoken, damn he’s the cutest. “I wish I coulda done that sooner. I just... felt I wasn’t ready. That one had to be 100% on my terms.”

Cas wants to say something, anything, but just- there’s so much happening in his brain right now he can’t- he just- ah! This is amazing but he just cannot get any words out.

“Hey uhh, you good there buddy? Did I short-circuit you?”

“I think maybe, yeah!” Cas finally says with a chortle and this expression of relief and excitement and at least a little bit of embarrassment.

We cut to the next scene, back at Sam’s house, giving reviews and suggestions about his inventions.

“Okay okay, I can probably fix that by adjusting the drying time based on the humidity, and you’ll probably need to keep it in an air tight container from now on.”

“Yeah I was uhh... a little distracted when we put it away last. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright Cas, it’s good to know that proper storage matters for this one.”

Suddenly, a bunch of pinging comes from Sam’s computer.

“What’s that?” asks the ever-paranoid Dean.

“I set up a series of notifications on my computer to go off if it found any news article that had a series of key words. This seems like a big one, vampires most likely, telling by the key words it found. You guys down?”

“Always.” They say, in tandom. Somewhat surprised, they glance at eachother a moment.

Sam raises his eyebrows. His face then says the word “anyways” without him making a sound.

“The article says it happened in [town], [state]. A man was killed in the...” Cas and Dean step around the desk and Dean leans in to look at the laptop, both hands on the desk, Cas leans in slightly and looks intently as well. They begin to discuss, likely speculating what type of vampire and what to do as the camera pans back and up in an arc as Sam’s voice fades, Carry On Wayward Son begins to play (because it has to) and it fades to black.

(Honestly wanted to write that last scene as if it was far later, well after the kiss, so that I could mention an Easter egg, that would be for eagle eyed viewers if this was an actual episode, where Cas and Dean both had wedding bands. Couldn’t figure out how to make it work though, and not seems like a big, weird jump.)

#destiel #spnedit #spn rewrite #spn #supernatural #spn fix it #spn fic #whoopsies I just write destiel fanfic +extras for the last 2.5 hours.#long post #destiel fanfic #casdean #deancas #fanfic

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lemoncakepanda · 5 years

Text

Top 50 NaLu Anime Moments {Pt 3}

I am so sorry it took me so long to write this! This week has been a roller-coaster to me, especially since Tuesday. I got so busy, and every time I would log into tumblr, I would only look at my dashboard and have absolutely no energy left to write. Without any further delay, let me show you guys the rest of my top 50, and today we’re covering moments 30 through 21.

Part 2 can be found here.

30. “I’ll be lonely, you idiot!” (Ep 265).

This moment still makes me so emotional. Like... i’ve said this before on my previous top 25 moments, so there’s nothing much to add, but I love this moment because it shows how much Lucy began to rely on Natsu. How much she needed his presence around her, despite always kicking him out and scolding him. And then to lose all that? Just like that? To be filled with such a huge sense of security, the certainty that someone will always be there for you, and to have that ensurance taken away from you? That must’ve hurt. That must’ve broken her heart and it’s no wonder she’s so upset with Natsu when he comes back (again, I get why Natsu had to leave and I’ve already given my thoughts on it, but I also get Lucy’s side) and must’ve stung extra harder bc she’d just lost Aquarius, something she also never thought would happen. But yeah, this is why I like this scene, despite it being sad. It was great character development for Lucy, showed the development in NaLu, and it also pushed the ship forward by giving if conflict and separation, which only resulted in bringing them closer in the future. Also, I also like how Natsu only left a note to Lucy and no one else. She really is his most precious person, along with Happy.

29. “Let’s save the tears for when we win.” (Ep 159).

As a big sucker for moments where Natsu comforts Lucy, this one’s gotta be in the list. Despite being in a team of 5, despite her whole guild being there, only one person came to pick up Lucy and lift up her spirits and that was Natsu. It could’ve been anyone, really. Erza or Gray. But Mashima thought (and I agree) Natsu would make the most sense, because of how deep the NaLu relationship runs, to showcase how they’d grown even stronger since Tenrou Island, and it worked! Natsu, who’d once called Lucy useless to her face, coming up to her and telling her she was amazing, even though she lost? Lucy, who was always so annoyed with Natsu and his fighting, looking up to him with tears in her says saying “i’m all fired up”? That’s the kinda development we strive for.

28. “You’re Lucy of Fairy Tail, aren’t you?” (Ep 23).

I swear, this ship makes me want to scream. And here we come back to a time when Natsu and Lucy were still growing as a team, and still didn’t know each other that well, but already had so much faith on one another. This, I feel, is the first time (after, you know, the tower jump) where it showed that they actually cared and understood each other, mostly Natsu, in this case. Everyone else told Lucy not to cry, not to blame herself because of what her father did, meanwhile, Natsu merely reminded her of who she was. Where she belonged to. And like Lucy said later in the arc, she believed her mother would want her to follow her heart and do what she wanted, and this was probably the first time someone other than Layla showed Lucy that her choice was hers to make, and hers only. Like i’ve said before, what Natsu said, what he did for her here, helped shape Lucy into the person she is today, as well as it’s what also helped Lucy to start relying more on Natsu emotionally, whereas she relied mostly on him physically, to protect her.

27. “Lucy!” (Ep 303).

This moment... is much lower on my list here, whereas it was so high on the first one, but that’s mostly because my opinion has changed, as well as new moments have arrived that I loved much more, and some other moments too I now realize I took for granted, and took a high spot in my list. But nevertheless, it’s still a very special moment. And despite my problems with the animation, I have to admit that I like the desperation in Natsu’s eyes as he holds onto Lucy for dear life, after almost losing her (big sigh bc we know what happens a few eps later); and he even forgets about the other people around them: Mest, Brandish, even Happy! I like how she came first here to him, how he didn’t even hesitate before grabbing her. Now, how he came from that position to groping her boobs with all his might later, I can’t even explain, just... you know... Mashima.

26. Natsu and Lucy versus Jacob. (Ep 299).

Listen, this... this is one of the funniest fights I’ve ever watched on anime. While I like the pacing better on the manga, I really liked the execution of it in the anime, and hearing Natsu and Lucy’s “dirty talk” was one of my dreams coming to life, lmao. Natsu and Lucy once again showing how great they are at teamwork, and why they work so damn well together, how their thoughts align and how their trust on each other plays a huge deal on their victory. Plus, hello, it’s this moment which gives Mavis the inspiration to defeat Zeref, so it’s an extra big moment, i’d say, despite being severely underrated. Still on topic, I liked how when Lucy was undressed in front of him, Natsu was like “how is this supposed to be hell?” and say what you want, but just because he didn’t blush didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying that view.

25. “Thank you for protecting our future.” (Ep 187).

Not really a NaLu NaLu moment, but still a very sweet NaLu moment. In case you don’t know (and for that reason, you should not be reading this list), the one in the picture is Future Lucy, and what makes this moment so special is that, even though that’s not present Lucy, it’s still his Lucy. He trusts her word completely and understand she effort she’s made, and all the horrors she’s been through, and he kneels down to the ground, craddles her head and presses his forehead to her, to express how grateful he is for what she’s done, and to show that he appreciates her, even if she’s not from his time. And this must’ve meant so much to this Lucy, because she lost her Natsu; she watched him die (the anime even does a little flashback), and she is back at the warmth and the softness only one person could give her, and she thought she’d never have that again. And then there he was, right in front of her, still the same man she’d always known. Still believing in her. Also, a small bonus: present Lucy is watching all this with a sweet smile and a soft blush on her cheeks.

24. “Don’t worry me like that.” (Ep 310).

And now we’re back to me wanting to scream because of these, bc hey... look at this! How come these two f*ckers started a goddamn a relationship and not even realize it? Like, it’s not even possibly platonic at this point in the story! There’s no friendship that can explain this, especially when it’s purposely being parallel with Gruvia, a canon romantic ship, and especially because we know what led up to this moment. And then you have Lucy holding onto Natsu, so relieved that she found him and squeezing him closer to her, despite not knowing what happened to him or what he’d just done, and Natsu whispering her name, listening to her voice once again when he thought he’d never listen to it again, having her so close to him when he thought he’d lost her... and you want me to not ship that? You want to tell me that’s platonic? I can’t even. I literally can’t even. That’s all I have to say about this.

23. “I want a piggyback ride.” Drunk Lucy round 1. (OVA 4).

While I love Lucy jumping on Natsu and wiggling her body onto his during the christmas ova, I have to admit this moment here has a special place in my heart, which makes it higher on the list. Maybe it’s because it was the first time we saw Lucy drunk, and was still a time when we started to really get NaLu moments, and Lucy’s feelings were still 50/50 to us, and then you get this, and Drunk Lucy is all f*cking over Natsu; she has hearts around her when she’s happy because she saw two Natsus, she makes him omelet (how? idk) and wants to feed it to him, is upset when she thinks he rejects it, wants him to make her purr... this alone should tell you a lot, is all touchy-feely with him, and basks in how warm he is, with her eyes closed. And Natsu, my boy... you coulda just run. You didn’t have to stay there and you didn’t have to obey her, lol. I bet he was freaked out because Lucy had never given him this much attention before, so he didn’t know how to deal with it. Always nice to see some Lucy > Natsu action, so let us all thank Mashima for the existence of Drunk Lucy, who makes this more possible than regular Lucy bc she lives in denial, lol.

22. “Beautiful”. (Ep 73).

A classic moment, and one that is immensely loved within the NaLu fandom, and rightfully so! Not only is this the most beautiful tree i’ve seen in anime, but also gave so much more depth to Natsu and Lucy’s relationship, despite being a simple omake. I’ve mentioned this before, but after Phantom Lord arc, there was very little development on NaLu, and most of their scenes together were reapeats of things we’d seen before: them reuniting after the team is separated, working together to solve it, reuniting again, trusting each other, yada yada. Very nice, but still, mostly just friendship and nothing that really stood out. This moment here, where Natsu uproots a tree for Lucy just because she was sick and couldn’t come to see it, then putting it into a boat so it could float all the way over to the front of her house... can be seen as a platonic gesture, and probably was made with that intention on Natsu’s part, but the thing is, these kinda things only happen with them. Yes, Mashima could have given this moment for someone else like Erza or Mirajane, or even Wendy, who was new to the series and probably didn’t even know about this: so why didn’t he? The answer is quite easy, and y’all know it. Development. Growth. Natsu was upset Lucy couldn’t come and join them, didn’t even crack a smile during the whole festival, but he wanted Lucy to be able to, even if he didn’t get to see it. He wanted to make her happy. That’s very special of him, and I think there was already a little of romance there, he just didn’t know what it was, so he just followed his feelings and went for it. Okay, enough gushing and analysing, time to end this list.

21. “What do I look like to you?” round 1. (Fairy Tail: Dragon Cry).

Please, don’t kill me for not having this on top 10, I wanted to put it there, because HELLO, LOOK AT THIS PICTURE, I NEED 911, I- HOW CAN THEY STAND SO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER! MY BOYFRIEND SAW ME GIFFING THIS AND ASKED “IS HE TRYING TO KISS HER” AND I JUST FREAKED OUT, SOMEBODY SEDATE ME! Mashima, what were you trying to do with this? Were you trying to kill us? Like, why does Natsu want to know what he looks like to Lucy? And why he’s gotta stand so close to her that their noses are brushing, just to ask her this? AHSIAHSJJAOSJAAKA, I KNOW THE ANSWER, BUT I STILL NEED ANSWERS! Okay, I was able to calm down a little. I really truly love this moment (love dragon cry in general), and I love how Wendy interrupted them and knew immediately she’d walked into something intimate, the poor thing, lmao, I wish that was me. But really, this is just Natsu taking any excuses he can to stand super close to Lucy even when it doesn’t make sense, because we all know he’s just got it real bad for her.

Will try to post part 4 tomorrow, but no promises. My baby niece is staying over and she takes up all of my free time, lol.

#sorry for any mistakes i've been awake since 6 am #nalu #natsu x lucy #fairy tail #top50nalu

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sjbuchananbarnes · 5 years

Text

Girls Night

Steve x reader

W.c: 1640+

“Fuck guys!” Wanda yelled at the top of her lungs as she took another swing at the very expensive bottle of tequila .

“Fuck heartbreaks!” A very drunk redhead creid.

“Fuck penises!” You followed your best friends.

Three of you then turned to Pepper waiting for her to yell something but what could she yell at since she was in a happy marriage with Tony.

“Fuck…” But she couldn’t think of any “...boyfriends..?”

And the three of you cheered at her response followed by the chanting of what she had said. The four of you continued to cheer at what the other had said while singing at the top of your lungs, singing was used very loosely, and dancing around.

“You coulda had a bad bitch non-committal, help you with your career just a little!” The four of danced and sang at the top of your lungs and continued to sing about how men aint shit.

“What’s going on with the girls?” Sam asked as he entered the training room.

“I think Nat had a bad date so there supporting her.” Tony answered from the boxing ring.

“Isn’t Pepper married?”

“And Wanda with Vision.”

“And Y/n is single.”

“I think they’re all single tonight, by what there saying.” Clint shrugged,”You know those girls will always anything for eachother.”

“But do they have to be so damn loud.” Bucky grumbled “She went out on that date yesterday night.”

“They started with wine last night.” Steve stated which only caused the rest of the team to look at him wired. “You guys didn’t see the wine bottles in the garbage can?” He tried to play it off, he can’t let out his secret.

“Then it went to brunch this morning, some light shopping which combined I think they spent around fifty thousand dollars.” Clint shrugged like it was nothing.

Which caused Bucky and Steve to choke on there on saliva.

“What?” They both yelled at the same time, still not getting use to spending too much money in just one day, considering that fifty hundred dollars back in the ‘40’s it was close to a little over half a million dollars in today's currency.

“I think you guys forget that Y/n is loaded as well, why do you think she has the best wing.” Tony leaned against one of the ring post.

“But that’s so much money.” Bucky gasped.

“They have expensive taste, especially Y/n, I wouldn’t be surprised if more then half that tab is her’s. The guy that ends up with her is one lucky basterd.” Tony laughed and Steve snorted.

“But why does she live here?” The long hair blue eyed man asked.

“She doesn’t want to live alone, she spent most of her life alone she doesn’t want that anymore.” Clint explained, which to Bucky nodded understanding were you were coming from.

“Guys shut up!” You giggled, trying to get them to shut up but you were just as loud at them.

“Ooh Y/n likes Steve!” The now three extremely drunk friends shrieked, teasing you.

“What no I don’t!” Your voice got extremely higher than what you anticipated.

“You like the stars spangled man, the man with the plan.” Pepper got up on the bed and did a hero pose, with her fist on her hips and her chest puffed out.

“So what you like Tony!” You yelled not realizing what you were saying.

“Ooh Pepper like Tony!” Now the three of you teased her.

“What no I don’t.” The strawberry blonde giggled,playing with her hair.“Wait, I Am married to him.” She threw her head back crackling like it was the funniest thing she ever heard.

“I want to be married.” Your eyes filled with tears.

“You will marry Y/n, marry Captain america.” Wanda giggled at her funny ‘joke’.

“It’s okay Y/n.” Nat pulled you in between her legs and into her arms. “We will all find happiness one day.” She kissed you cheek.

“I love you Nat!” You cried harder as you threw your hands over her shoulders pulling her in. “And that guy is so stupid for not wanting a badass like you.”

“I love you too.” She cried into your shoulder.

“And I love you Pepper.” Wanda weeped as she brought brought her into her arms.

“I love you too Wanda.” Pepper sobbed into her shoulder.

And what seemed like a hour the four of you were done crying and now fast asleep on your humongous bed in which the four of you fit easily.

“I dont think I’m ever going to drink again.” Pepper said from the bathroom as she finish washing her teeth after throwing up.

“Pepper shut up.” Nat groaned as she shoved her head deeper into the pillow.

“Pepper move!” Wanda shoved her out of the way and soon her head was in the toilet.

Nat sighed knowing that she wasn't going to be able to sleep once more. “Where the hell is my bra?” She scratched her head.

“When did you take of your bra?” You questioned her after stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body, chuckling at Wanda as she laid on the bathroom floor.

“I don’t know.” She dragged herself out of the bed and into your shower.

“I’m going to go shower, I’ll see you guys down in twenty.” Pepper yelled as shut the door behind her.

After Wanda and Nat showered and borrowed some of your clothe which was just pair of legging and some band t’s, after Nat still hadn’t found her bra she just decided to borrow a sports bra instead ,and you guys were good to go for breakfast, at one in the afternoon. Were the boys waited for your arrival.

“Afternoon ladies.” Steve eyed the four of you as you walked into the kitchen, his eyes stayed on you the longest.

“Hi Stevie.” Without thinking you made your way into his arms and kissed his lips. “I missed you last night.” You leaned into his chest.

“Uh guys?” Tony’s voice broke you out of trace,causing your body to stiffen not even realizing Steve body was stiff not saying anything.

“Oh no.” You whispered and stepped away from Steve.

“Oh yes!” Wanda yelled.

“What the hell is this?” Sam yelled in excitement.

“What the hell are you!” Steve yelled back, causing Tony to wheeze and press his face into Peppers back, who was sitting on his lap.

“What?” Sam questioned.

“I don’t know.” Steve mumbled and played with his hands.

“Since when was this a thing?” Nat smiled at the two of you.

“Like three months.” You mumbled as you itched closer to him, god you felt like you were a pair of teenagers begin caught by your parents.

“Why didn’t you guys tell us?” Wanda whined, as she fixed her self a plate of pancakes eggs and some greasy bacon and a big cup of coffee from that amazing machine that you bought for the team. “God I love these chefs.” She digged into her plate.

“ We just thought it would be to soon, and we thought it would be best in case we broke up. We didn’t want to make it awkward.” You sighed. “Wait why aren’t you shocked Bucky?”

“Steve told me.” He shrugged like it was nothing.

“You told him, we had a agreement!” You gasped and hit Steve on the shoulder, which only caused you gasp in pain and you quickly grabbed your hand and held it tight to your chest .

Steve let out a laugh and explained “He caught me doing a walk of shame, doll.” he brought you back into his chest.

“Steve Rogers, doing the walk of shame who would of thought.” Tony joked, and got up to fix his very hungover wife a plate.

“Oh trust me I have no shame.” He pulled you into a deep kiss.

“See Y/n I guess you will marry the star spangled man after all.” Nat smirked from behind her coffee cup.

“Nat, we just started to date.” You shoved your head into his chest, but Steve already knew he was going to marry you the day he saw first saw you.

“Sam, I swear I’m going to rip you a new if don’t start to punch like you mean it!” You yelled at the your tall broad friend,your back was facing Steve who was leaning against the door, smirking as you talked to one of best friends.

“I don’t think your going to be able to handle, all of this.” He motioned down to his body.

You threw your head back in glee. “Oh Sammy, stop your going to make me cry.” You clapped your hands together.

He took this as his advantage and charged your way but you were quicker than him , ducking his right and left punch, jumping and swing yourself onto his shoulder straddling him with your thighs, his hand reached to grab a hold of your shirt to flip you over but with a swift move you swung yourself along with him onto the floor, landing on your feet with one foot on his chest.

“If I didn’t like you so much you’d be dead,Sammy.” You offered him a hand to help him on his feet and turned around to realize you had company, your face lit up with joy to see who it was. “Mr.Rogers, pleasure to finally meet you.” You made your way to him and extended your hand.

“Pleasures all mine, and please call me Steve.” He took a hold of your hand not letting go. “Pleasures all mine.” Steve mumbled.

“So ‘am going to kick your ass,like I did your friend.” You nodded over to Sam.

“I’d like to see you try.” He smirked “I’ll buy you dinner if you can actually beat me.” Steve still had a smirk on his face.

“You got a deal Cap.”

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three-houses-text-files · 5 years

Text

caspar/linhardt

c-a support + paired ending

Caspar: You’re looking pretty tired, Linhardt. I think you could use a little more of the fighting spirit! Linhardt: I believe you have enough fighting spirit for the both of us. C: Enough? There's no such thing! You need as much as you can get if you're gonna train. L: I’d rather pace myself. You're becoming too much like your father. L: I still recall with startling clarity the time he forced me to do some training. C: Ha! I remember your father wasn't too happy about that. Our fathers actually got into a fight over it. L: They hate one another so much. I simply cannot fathom what's wrong with the two of them. (pre-skip) L: They hate each other so much. They're likely still bickering away in the Empire. (post-skip) C: I wish they'd just have it out already. One big fight to settle things. My father would win, obviously, but it would still be fun to watch. L: That would be rather cruel. I don't think anyone in Fódlan could beat up your father. L: My father does have the height advantage though... C: Pfft! Height advantage? What does that matter? L: When two opponents are of similar strength, the one with the height advantage wins. It's pure math. C: Whoever forces the other to submit wins. That's how fighting works. It has nothing to do with height! L: Brute strength alone doesn't decide a fight, and taller people have longer limbs too. L: Longer limbs equates to a longer reach. Taller people can hit you from farther away. Oh, and they have more leg strength. L: There’s also th— Well, I'm bored explaining this. I think you get my point. C: No. I don't get it. Now you're talking about limb length and reach? None of that matters when you're up close and brawling! L: You know, I'm going to agree with you just so I don't have to keep talking. C: If you've got something else to say, then come out and say it! Actually, forget this! I'll prove it to you myself. C: Some of those new knights look pretty tall. I'll fight one just for you! C: I don't know if you noticed, but I've grown a lot these last few years. C: I'm going to find the tallest mercenary out there and fight him just to prove my point. L: And off he goes... C: Ugh, they're all so strong... I couldn't land a single blow. L: So it's as I said, then, isn't it? L: The tallest fighter has the advantage...and my father could beat yours in a fight.

——————————————————————————————

C: Why am I having so much trouble fighting these tall guys? They're not even stronger than me! C: You’ve got to help me come up with a strategy, Linhardt. L: Is that not a waste of time? L: Even if I handed you a perfect strategy—something I've done in the past—you'd never follow it through. C: That’s because your plans are always so complicated! But come on, I need your help. L: All right. I will share with you my tactical genius. I call this...my "secret plan." C: You already have a plan? You really are ready for anything. So, what is it? L: Land the first hit. Then keep hitting them—hard and fast as you can—until they stop hitting you back. C: So, you're basically telling me to just...fight? L: Dodge their attacks. Keep up the assault. Then go for the knees. Done. C: The secret is the knees? L: Being tall means short people are closer to your knees. Exploit the enemy's weakness, Caspar! C: Makes sense! That doesn't sound like my style though. I don't really wanna exploit a weakness. L: Then go ahead and continue losing. Or...you can listen to the rest of my plan. C: There’s more? Fine. Tell me the rest. L: Your defense is careless. The last bit of my secret is that you need to train in that area. C: I won't argue with training. Let's go! L: No, I don't think we should— C: It’s been five years. You've got to be at least as strong as I am by now! (post-skip addition?) C: C’mon! You've even got that height advantage you're always going on about. You're the perfect training partner for me. C: Quit stalling and let's go! L: Ugh, fine. I'll train with you, but only for a bit. C: All right, Linhardt! Come at me again! L: Uh... Ah... Caspar, please... I need... I need... L: Water... I need water... I'm going to... Gonna go get some. Bye. C: Huh? Hey! Get back here! C: Hmph! He got away...

——————————————————————————————

L: Huh? Caspar? Whatever is he doing here? L: Oh no. Is he looking for a fight with someone taller than him? The poor boy won't give up. C: This is it. Today's my day. Caspar's day! Come get some! C: Yes, Caspar, just like that! Just as we practiced! C: Yes! Dodge! Yes! Perfect! Right there! C: He’s open! Punch him right in the— Yes, Caspar! You did it! C: Hahaha! And that's how it's done! C: And then I got him—BAM! Right in the solar plexus! I really wish you coulda— C: Hey! Are you even listening? This is when it starts getting real good! L: I'm listening. I am sad to say, however, that the tale is slightly less thrilling the fourth time through. C: You should be more excited! We finally won! L: "We"? C: Yeah! I couldn't have done it without your advice! C: You’re a strategic genius, Linhardt! L: Nonsense. Your strength carried the day. L: I just rambled on. You're the one who did the actual work. L: What's really amazing is how you wouldn't give up. C: Whoa. I've never heard you compliment me before. I don't think I like it... C: Seriously though, I couldn't have done it without you! C: Like you said, I wouldn't give up on fighting, and I'm not gonna give up on this either! L: I should have expected that, I suppose. That's just the kind of guy you are after all. L: I guess this friendship is something that we can never escape from...ever. C: Are you saying you wanna escape from our friendship? L: Not at all. Even if I did, our fates would not be so easily untangled. C: Hah! You got that right! No one can break this bond! C: Even if we argue and butt heads sometimes... C: We’ll never have to fight it out, and that's a promise! L: Understood. I don't desire to fight anyone anyway. This war is the last time I'll set foot on a battlefield. C: Well, that makes sense. L: Let's you and I come out the other side of this war alive and well, OK? That is a promise worth making. C: Definitely! And let's win this thing while we're at it!

——————————————————————————————

paired ending

After the war, Linhardt and Caspar abandoned their noble houses to pursue a carefree journey wandering the world. They traveled to every corner of Fódlan, and even ventured abroad now and again. Caspar got into trouble at every turn on their travels, but Linhardt was always there, begrudgingly, to get him out of it. The records of their adventures were immortalized in a book by an anonymous author, entitled "The Thousand Roads and Seven Seas." It is said they did eventually settle down, after the events in those stories, but where they actually went is unknown.

#fire emblem three houses spoilers #fe16 spoilers #fe3h spoilers #caspar x linhardt #linhardt x caspar

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lizzybeth1986 · 5 years

Text

Quick Thoughts on Is This The Real Life or Is This Just A Very Bizarre Fantasy?

• Here are the tags to block if you don't want to see this post on your dash: #long post, #trh quick thoughts, #trh qts, #trh qt reblogs.

• It's...Chapter 10. Often known as the midpoint. I know TRR isn't exactly the most nuanced series out there, but you know what used to happen by midpoints here? Important plot stuff that had buildup and development prior to it happening.

• Funny enough all three chapter 10s so far had something to do with Constantine! Book 1's had him announce he was stepping down and making Liam king, Book 2 had the reveal that the conspiracy against the MC was his idea. And then he actually dies in Book 3 Chapter 10. Now that he's no more, I guess they brought back another asshole dad to take his place.

• PB if you were really in a mood to bring back Bertrand's dad the least you could have done was build it up properly. You had an entire freaking chapter to at least build up on the Beaumont family relationships and issues! Yet all we see is that motorcycle with a hint that never fully gets told and very little besides that.

• Like, the narrative usually takes soooo much time to build everything properly, right? With chapters and chapters of hints? Look at all these things that you built up over chapters and sometimes over books: Liam's issues with his dad...The whereabouts of Savannah...Drake's connection to Bastien...Drake's mom's ranch...Drake's special relationship with his dad...Drake's duel...Drake's secret wedding...oh.

• Screenshots:

Hana: The Abhirio YouTube channel

Drake: @thefirstcourtesan and the BizzysChoices YouTube channel

Maxwell: @itsbrindleybinch

Title: The Beaumont Bachelor Bash

Alternative Title: Proof That Drake Is Undoubtedly Leona's Nephew. Even When He's Trying To Be Nice.

• Now Playing As Bertrand.

Wh - what...?

Okay but this is probably a tiny section and then my MC will come and save the day, right? Right?? I mean it's happened before (one of the most recent times we got a Bertrand PoV was in a Chapter 10, in fact!)

• ...how the hell did a motorcycle fit inside THAT BOX?

• I know, I know. It's mentioned time and again that the package is huuuuge. But that's...not the kind of packaging I'd be expecting for something that large. It wouldn't be SQUARE, at least.

• Okay wait. What was Maxwell panicking and stress-dancing about again? Bertrand isn't cottoning on to this plan as quickly as Maxwell/the LI was implying in that text.

• Okay wait so their great plan for the BBBB was...Bertrand putting away his cutlery and..."roughin' it"? Aren't bachelor/ette parties supposed to be catered to the guest of honour's needs?

Or is "something you want" only meant for Savannah? Because Hana actually read up and did research and tried to cater the entire party to whatever Savannah liked - not drag her along for something that wasn't her thing with "expand your horizons!" as an excuse.

• Like me, Bertrand doesn't fully trust his brother-in-law's motives.

• Wait what.

.• Bertrand is getting a new outfit. Oh he's wearing it already. Okay good. Must be free!

•

WHAT. WHAT. ARE YOU TELLING ME I'M NOT SEEING ESTHER FOR THE REST OF THIS CHAPTER

• I am NOT buying Bertrand new clothes. I didn't buy any last book, and I'm not going to start buying them now. Even if I didn't buy him the swanky maroon sweater last book he somehow wound up wearing it anyway in the finale. I'm sure he'll survive and they'll probably let him wear it for free some other time lol.

• Drake leads the boys to a nearby river, hoping to catch some fish that they can cook for dinner later.

• Bertrand gets...a dilapidated fishing pole. While everyone has prepared enough to get their own, perfectly alright ones. Drake is truly from Leona's bloodline, giving Bertrand stuff that'll make his task difficult (remember how she gave Bertrand a really rough horse to the country fair?). "I just wanted you to believe in yourself", my ass. You're doing this for your own entertainment.

• Also wasn't Maxwell organizing this party? Why does the end result look so much like Drake's idea? Or maybe the boys are splitting the activities between each other or something idk.

•

• That's a...puffer fish?

• The funniest option is the choose to grab Drake because Bertrand calls him "the Aggressively Rustic Drake" haha. It means of course that Bertrand will not get a fish but that's okay, Drake and Liam catch more than enough for dinner.

• But if Bertrand DOES catch that big fish his chest is all puffed out in pride and he notices no one else caught a fish as big as his 😄

• You can TELL Liam chose the next activity, because it's so aggressively Cordonian 😂 You need to shoot an apple with a weapon (preferably a bow and arrow, but the game offers you a rifle and an ornate gun as well).

• Of course I went ahead and shot Drake with a rubber bullet. Sorry Bertrand but I'm sure you can get your Knight-Marksmanship and Honorary Defender of the Realm award in a kinder person's playthrough 😅

• It's a nice scene, quite reminiscent of the first half of Maxwell's armoury scene last book, which involves Maxwell and the MC playing the same game.

• Now that we're done with the apples, it's time to bring out the bubbly!

• "This is not my bachelor party," says Drake when a surprised Liam asks him about why there's no whiskey. Coulda fooled me dude I've never heard of people giving the groom a dilapidated fishing pole to fish with for that kind of thing. I mean like more than 90% of this entire plan seems to cater to your tastes more than his.

• Bertrand (about the bubbly): This is from an excellent region of France!

Maxwell: Which one?

Bertrand: ...Champagne.

😂

• It's now night, so time for some...idk heartfelt man-talk or something.

•

It starts out with the main LI speaking about Bertrand and Savannah's relationship, praising them for how far they've come and there is some emphasis on the fact that they have Bartie. This leads the LI in question (if they're there) to talk candidly about their relationship with the MC and their sadness that they aren't pregnant yet.

- Liam: Speaks of how amazing the MC is and wonders if he's putting her through too much pressure on his Queen with the expectations of an heir.

- Drake: Very similar to Liam's, but this time Liam apologizes for forcing them into this kind of pressure and promises to withdraw it if that's what they want. (Liam will allow it, the narrative won't!)

- Hana: Since neither of the women are there, the conversation goes straight into Liam wondering if he did the wrong thing by placing that much pressure on them, and Bertrand reassuring him that both are phenomenal women and any child they bring up will be a worthy successor to the throne.

- Maxwell: From what @itsbrindleybinch was telling me, there's no discussion about Liam's offer or the pressure from him! The conversation is more centered around his fear that he might screw up in parenting...to which his brother has some of the best responses:

Istg when the writers really allow for those two to blossom on their own, the Brothers Beaumont dynamic is fantastic. I loved both responses from Bertrand.

I'm still wondering why there isn't much from Liam about the pressure he's placing on them, though! I mean, Maxwell and his wife are put under the same amounts of pressure so you'd expect Liam to speak up there too, right? (correct me if I'm wrong, because I can't find a full playthrough of Maxwell's route anywhere).

• The discussion slowly progresses into one about Bertrand's love for Savannah and not knowing how to show it properly to her...to which Drake responds that Bertrand needs to SHOW what he feels and maybe do a big dramatic gesture like the ones you see in romcoms (racing through an airport to confess your love, or confessing it while standing in the rain)...lmao I love how big gestures are something Savannah wants for herself but somehow she can't do the smallest things to help Bertrand feel more comfortable in her own damn home.

• Also I need to laugh at how desperately the writers are now trying to show us how "open minded" Drake is LMAO. TRR Drake looked down on his nose on practically all things not macho (including authentic Chinese food and pink cakes) and now they're making it sound like he's a romcom fan and willing to experiment with a tutu.

• Not buying that serenading scene. I didn't handhold Bertrand into telling Savannah about the Beaumont finances, nor did I handhold him into proposing. He did pretty okay without my help so far.

• The serenading scene has two main components (besides the logistics of communicating and then climbing up to her window) - telling Savannah his feelings and then singing to her. The first main options include suggestions from the boys:

Liam: Very sweet and romantic, with the kind of flowery language you would expect from Liam, and that Bertrand feels so comfortable with that he smiles as he says the words.

Drake: Very much, "I was an idiot but now I've come to my senses and I'm the luckiest man ever because of you" which...sure I can put it down to bias for his sister but now it just annoys me when I hear this. Esp during a time when he's claiming he actually likes Bertrand now.

Maxwell: Is just so fucking funny 😂

Bertrand: Savannah, I'm here because you're my...boo???

Maxwell: Trust me! Keep going!

Bertrand: Ahem. You are my boo, and I'm your...okay I'm not going to say that.

Savannah: What are you saying???

• For actually serenading her with a song you can either choose to go sweet and romantic, or you go "sexy", which tbh seems to be the funnier option because most of it is Bertrand muttering MmmMMmMmmm in place of all the sexy parts. Which is funny considering he and Savannah conceived a child atop an office desk of all places way before any of us even got to KISS our LIs 🤣

• Savannah is happy, Bertrand is happy, the boys are all back in the camp where they'll be spending the night. There's a tiny bit of "foreshadowing" in the ensuing conversation since Barthelemy is mentioned, but very much in a "Dad would be proud of you" way. I put that word "foreshadowing" in quotes coz there is very little it gives us, as opposed to how other things that have received foreshadowing were built up.

• Uh oh. BEAR ATTACK. From Kenna's pet-bear-from-Aurelia's descendant. Who somehow ended up in the woods in Texas 😂

• Drake tries to distract the bear, and Bertrand can either join him or go with Liam and Maxwell who are leading the way to an alternative location.

• We're out in the wilderness somewhere, and getting back to our tents is a diamond option. It's a fun diamond option though, and it doesn't involve me doing any unnecessary matchmaking.

• Liam is the strategist who makes a battle plan. Why don't I get to see him do these kind of things in his actual job PB!! Drake "knows the most woodcraft" and will therefore make a good scout, both he and Liam can draw the bear away, and Maxwell's hitherto-unseen present is now their secret weapon. Bertrand isn't sure about this plan but goes along with it anyway.

• Everything goes as per plan, and Maxwell unleashes the "secret weapon": Bertrand's beloved Cavilieri Novanta 9S motorbike. There's a small hint about him having to perhaps give it away or sell it when his father, well, did whatever he did, and Maxwell somehow traced it and got it back. I'm kinda certain that bike may feature in Bertrand's flashback if he's having one next chapter. Bertrand is emotional AND ecstatic, learning again to control his bike and to enjoy being on it.

• The best part of the bear scene, is when he uses his Duke of Ramsford voice and gives the bear the ole what-for 😂

(Bottom four screenshots from BizzysChoices' YouTube channel!)

• Even the bear could not withstand the severe tongue lashing LMAO. Bertrand has the option of ending this...um...verbal duel by telling his furry opponent to tell his children he has been bested by a Beaumont.

• The bear slumps back home in shame, but Bertrand is worried about what other tests Drake has in store. 'Tests?' Drake says innocently.

•

You're forgetting the part where you constantly blamed Bertrand for everything, knowing full well your sister made her fair share of mistakes. Or the part where you pretty much sabotaged an investigation just to stroke your ego about Bertrand getting her pregnant. Or the part where you repeatedly made it clear that you thought he didn't deserve Savannah. Or the part where you made him cluck like a chicken just before he proposed, just so you could have your moment to gloat. Or the part where you would shoot looks at Bertrand if he even so much as hinted your sister wasn't perfect. Or the part where your aunt kept making snide remarks about him, disrespected him, and gave him a rough horse, while you and your mother and your sister stood by and watched. And NOW you claim that the only person doubting Bertrand is BERTRAND?

Yeah. Well...tldr:

• My gosh. The amount of retconning happening here is giving me a headache.

• Like...I like that Drake can be nicer to Bertrand now and that most of the tension is gone. But let's not act like Drake wasn't knowingly adding fuel to the fire before??

• Anyway, the boys tell Bertrand they are proud of him and proceed to sleep in their tents or wherever they've chosen to sleep for the night.

• PB gives Liam the very, very rare chance to remind Drake that he grew up in a palace. Doesn't mean much, but I'm fairly happy.

• FINALLY. Esther's home and I can finally play as her again!

• If you bought the serenading scene, there are a couple extra lines showing Savannah and Bertrand looking super super happy.

• There's an old man at the door.

• BARTHELEMY???

• Neither of his sons even look like him. And it reads as if Bertrand is less surprised about the possibility that Barthelemy is alive than Maxwell is. What's going on.

General Thoughts:

• Alright, so it looks like this week we will be exploring the Beaumont family history, looking into why Bertrand lost his zest for life and ended up taking care of the estate when all this time his father was actually alive, and how the Beaumonts wound up so poor. There had better be a substantial amount of Maxwell because he's not been getting a lot of attention this book.

• I'm wondering if Barthelemy's return will cause Bertrand and Maxwell's insecurities to rise again, and we'll probably need to help them through that or something.

• Looks like the next chapter might have a young!Maxwell scene or Maxwell's first diamond scene, or both? Idk. I can't say for sure because I don't exactly trust the team on these things.

• There were...elements of the chapter that were good, I'll give it that. Bertrand's got an interesting narrative voice. You can tell it's him by the way he uses titles, by the way he speaks when he is proud of something he has achieved, the language itself that is heavy in its bearing. The scenes were fun from what I've seen. The bonding was good. Problem was...in a better book this wouldn't have been so irritating and such a sign of how not into the most important things about this book the team is.

• Since they had the time and the ideas, why the hell was the buildup to this reveal so flimsy and half-baked? I mean if you're going to give Bertrand an entire freaking chapter, shouldn't you have been using at least that space to have Bertrand speak a little more about Barthelemy? Or build it up earlier? All this time we'd had to deal with Savannah's griping and complaining and Leona's snide remarks, we could have spent learning from Maxwell a little about his family.

• Usually buildup to a lot of these things happen through hints over chapters. But this? Little to none. Maybe like two half-sentences said just before the reveal. It's all kinds of shitty, and it's what happens when the most important Beaumont is a Walker.

• I'm also pretty surprised Liam doesn't get to apologize to Maxwell the way he does to Drake about the royal heir thing.

• So the Walker Ranch chapters started around Chapter 6, and might possibly end around Chapter 12 (with a detour to Auvernal around Chapter 9). That's 5 whole chapters + one more to tour the States itself.

• I know the original idea was to do an epilogue book revolving around the Walker ranch, so there's obviously a lot more clarity in those chapters than in the others. But that is still no excuse. If they were going to change track they should have been doing it properly. There's no excuse for this kind of selective laziness especially when it's been manifested countless times before.

• I also find the whole idea of revolving the epilogue book still pretty problematic. At the core of it that would be more of Drake and his family (which was already happening honestly) and it would mean they are absolutely front and center of everything. If the original idea was to focus fully on the Walkers...yikes.

• Yeah honestly, this chapter was pretty iffy for me. And I'm not exactly very enthusiastic about writing for it, or playing the next chapter.

• Also! For those who didn't see it, this past week I'd been working on an essay about the treatment for Kiara and Penelope in TRR Book 3, and it's here below in case you haven't read it and you want to!

To Be Not Heard: Kiara, Penelope and the Question of Validation.

• Alright! On to the next chapter.

If you like it and want to discuss it, I'd be only too happy to read your comments! 😀

#long post #the royal heir #trh quick thoughts #trh qts #bertrand beaumont #maxwell beaumont #king liam #drake walker

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